People were coming in droves, some to say thanks and some to ask for things. There were women wrapped in shawls and women wearing jeans, men with curled moustaches and men wearing the typical orange garb of the malangs[1] –and then there were the others-whose identity was still whispered in some circles of the society. The people who were neither men nor women and nor humans according to some. This was one of the few places of refuge for them…and for me.
There weren’t many places where I could hide. They would all be looking for me now and considering the manpower coming after me, this seemed the best place to be. Other than the obvious advantage of the huge crowd, there were many hiding places here, where one could become invisible. This shrine-considered one of the holiest places in Lahore, had given refuge to many desperate men and women, or so I had heard, and now I was one of them.
“Child, are you okay?” I jumped and looked around. It was one of them. I do not know if it was the fact that he was even more persecuted than me…that he must have seen so many women and many of his friends with marks on their bodies that I almost collapsed against him with relief and just shook my head.
He seemed to gauge the situation quickly. In an instant, another one of them came to help him almost carry me to a small street separating the eastern wall of the shrine from the boundary wall topped with barbed wire. A cup of water appeared in his hand and he put it to my lips. I drank a sip and then grimaced when I could not swallow it.
I finally looked up to the two people standing over me. They were both dressed in the usual clothing of malangs*- long orange coats which covered them almost to the foot.
“I am in trouble,” I mumbled.
Their eyes roamed over my face, taking in the swollen eye, the emerging bruise over my left cheek, the split lip and then the eyes went down for their inspection. I instinctively wrapped the shawl around me even more tightly and looked away. I didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes when they would see the blood below my breasts, and everything else.
“No shit!” one of them said. Hearing the amusement in his voice, I looked up to see him smiling sardonically at me. “You sought refuge in Data Darbar*. You are far from the comforts of your life. You were brave to run, but the hard part is not over yet.” He said somewhat dispassionately.
“How many times have you repeated this before now?” I asked.
He raised a perfectly threaded eyebrow, looked me over once again, and then said with an appreciative grin “We got ourselves a lioness, Chandni! She is wounded but she will recover.”
Chandi started to say something and then stopped, her gaze fixed on something behind me. I started to look around then realized that my neck was in no condition to turn, so clutching Chandni’s arm I got up and then looked.
They were here.
He looked at me, his gaze calculating. ‘Who are you?’
I wanted to tell him but my tongue did not seem to be cooperating with my brain I just gaped like a fish. He waved a hand and then asked, ‘How did they find you so easily? Do you have your phone with you?’
I shook my head. Chandni was now bearing all my weight, I wanted to pass out and not deal with anything at all. ‘Did you use any card somewhere near here?’
‘I do not have my wallet or anything with me.’ I mumbled. I clutched at him in desperation, my hand grabbing his arm. ‘Please’ I said, not able to articulate what I wanted, I looked up at him to see him staring at the ring in my hands. The one piece of jewelry I always wore.
He took my hand in his and examined the ring. They want payment, I realized. ‘Do you always wear this ring?’ Chandni asked while keeping a wary eye on the plainclothes men who were merging with the crowd, clearly looking for someone.
‘Yes, it was given to me by my grandmother right before she died. I was twelve. It is not expensive, but it has a lot of value for me.’ I said, desperately hoping they will not demand it as payment.
Some silent understanding seemed to pass between them both. ‘I’ll take her, Shamim’ Chandni said addressing the one clutching my hands.
Shamim easily took off my ring and looked at me. He must have seen the pleading in my eyes because he got down at my eye level. Chandni was still holding me upright. ‘There is a tracker in this ring. Whomever you were running from must have realized that you will do it at some point and put it here. I will try to get rid of it and bring your ring back to you.’
I threw my arms around him, just the idea of him caring enough about me, willing to do something for me for no charge and my guilt at false assumptions…I tried to convey it all through the hug. After a moment, Chandni pulled me back, Shamim smiled slightly at me and then we were separated.
I did not know where she took me. There were many narrow streets; sometimes we passed through houses to get from one street to another. Chandni was almost carrying me now. I did not have the energy to even drag my feet as she pulled me along. Finally, she put me down somewhere.
‘There is a lot of heat for this one’ I heard Chandni say to someone and then the bliss of oblivion.
***
The raindrops felt lovely on my face. The cool drops a sharp contrast against my warm and sweaty face. I had always loved monsoons when the hot and humid weather gives way to torrential rains and gales. When all the kids would go out on the streets to jump in the water gathered in the abundant potholes; when we would make paper boats which were soaked even before we put them in the water; when there was innocent laughter and fried samosas to eat…a snarling face…I sat bolt upright which was a bad move.
I ached everywhere. I could feel tears of pain as I tried to sit as still as possible to give my body a chance to catch up. I could feel movement around me but did not want to open my eyes to see who was there because if there was someone who wanted to kill me, I wasn’t sure I would fight anymore.
I felt soft hands on my shoulders, a touch which seemed to convey comfort despite being feather light. ‘It’s okay. You are safe here.’ A soft voice assured me.
I finally opened my eyes to see a small room. I was lying on a decrepit sofa, my legs dangling off the edge and someone sat behind me. I tried to see but even the slight movement caused me to wince. My neck was still raw and bruised.
‘Wait’ the soft voice said. I felt movement behind me and then a woman came into focus. She seemed to be around 60 with salt and pepper hair and kind brown eyes. She dragged a chair from outside and then sat in my line of sight.
‘Now that you have seen me, do you want me to help you sit with your back supported?’ She asked.
‘Yes please.’ My voice was barely above a whisper, but she got up and helped me sit more comfortably.
‘Where are Chandni and Shamim?’ I asked.
‘Shamim should be back any minute now. He distracted your pursuers and took them to Defence apparently. Chandni just went to get a numbing cream for your ribs.’ It was then that I felt the bandage around my feet and on my left arm.
‘Who are you?’ I asked.
‘My name is Fehmeeda. I live nearby. They come to get me when they find someone in need. Sometimes people feel more comfortable with a woman.’
I laughed and then immediately winced. My ribs felt like someone had pushed a hot red poker in them. ‘They want to be rescued but then feel more comfortable with people who were not their rescuers.’
Fehmeeda smiled as well. ‘I am glad that you are not a hypocrite at least. The last one wont eat anything Chandni brought him; would only eat from the plate I brought.’
Seeing the look of incredulity on my face, she smiled slightly. ‘The folly of humans my dear.’ She fluffed a cushion, put it under my calf to make me more comfortable. ‘I was once like you. My father sold me to a brothel when I was 9 years old. He needed to buy cold medicine for my brother and to him selling a daughter to save his son from some discomfort was a good idea. I was brought to Sargodha and eventually made my way to Lahore. When I got too old to bring in any new customers, the owner of the brothel gave me a choice, I could stay and do odd jobs there or she would arrange for me to work somewhere else and give me some money to transition as long as I did not compete with her. I couldn’t believe it, someone had finally given me a choice. I chose to leave. I have been living and working here ever since.’
‘How many times have you told that?’ I asked with a slight smile, thinking of how I had asked Shamim the same question.
Fehmeeda smiled as well. ‘This is my twelfth time.’ She turned her head at the sound of a creak. Moments later Chandni entered with a small bag.
‘You’re awake.’ She said looking at me and turned to look at Fehmeeda. ‘Aapa,[2] Shamim will be here soon. He requested that you make your famous kadak[3] chai.’ Fehmeeda smiled and got up turning to look back at me in the doorway. ‘Will you like some as well?’ At my nod, she smiled and left.
‘I have some numbing cream for you. Aapa said your ribs are badly bruised. I sanitized the wounds on your feet and Aapa did the rest. She ran out of cream by the time she was doing your back. I have brought some more. We get it from a different store each time. You never know who tells what to whom.’ She said all the while tidying up around me and putting medicines neatly on the table beside the sofa.
‘Thank you’ I said quietly and put my hand on one of Chandni’s. ‘It is a small word, but it is all I have. I would surely be dead if you and Shamim had not helped me. I will never be able to repay your kindness and bravery. All I can do is say thank you.’
Chandni looked down at my hand and then at me. ‘You are welcome.’
‘Hey, I was the one who ran all around Lahore with three Vigos full of armed guards and a very handsome chap after me!’ Shamim stood in the doorway. He looked tired but the sparkle in his eye was the same.
‘Tha-’ I started to say but Shamim cut me off, ‘I heard what you said to Chandni, and I am guessing you want to say the same thing, and I will say the same thing Chandni has said; you are welcome.’
Fehmeeda came with four steaming cups of tea. ‘Aapa, you are my one true love.’ Shamim said and Fehmeeda laughed, letting him take the first cup of tea.
When we all had tea in our hands, all eyes turned to me expectantly. I closed my eyes for a moment, praying for strength.
‘I met him at the university while I was pursuing my Masters. He was handsome, charming and rich…belonged to a political family. There were many girls he could have had, for fun or for something serious but for some reason, he chose me and I him. My parents were upper middle class, nowhere near as rich or as connected as his family, making them uneasy. They tried to talk me out of it, but they could not pinpoint what made them uncomfortable, so I chalked it up to their aversion to their daughter marrying for love.’ I paused, ‘Conveniently forgetting that they were the ones who convinced my aunt and uncle to let their daughter marry the person she loved.’ I stopped to take a sip of tea.
‘Things started to go downhill fast after we were married. I was not allowed to venture outside the home without getting permission and telling every detail of my activities. I got approval for every single thing from what I would wear to what I would eat and when I would do anything. If something changed, I immediately had to inform him otherwise there were shouting matches which seamlessly transitioned to physical abuse after around 4 months of marriage. It was so effortlessly done that I never considered leaving and then Ammi died.’ I closed my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. Feeling a hesitant touch on my arm, I opened my eyes to see Chandni’s hand. I clutched at it, trying to draw comfort and courage.
‘And then the berating took another turn. I had not gotten pregnant, and it had already been 6 months to our marriage. I did not want a baby, I do not know why but this was something which I have held onto. I do not want a child with him, so I paid a maid in jewelry to get me birth control pills. I hid them in the toilet tank and took them regularly for three years. I took all the beatings, and went through all the medical tests but did not consider leaving the birth control pills. I cannot explain to anyone, least of all myself why I do not want a child with him. It was not like I was thinking of leaving him, I was just adamant about not getting pregnant. I left everything that brought me joy, but I could not get over this. And today he found the pills.’ I swallowed and took another sip of lukewarm tea. ‘I thought he would kill me. I am not even sure if I want to live, but I ran. The minute he left me in the room, I escaped. I guess he did not think to lock the door or tell the guards not to let me out.’ I shrugged, ‘He must have thought me beyond running now. I ran and ran and did not stop until I fell down. A woman helped me up, took one look at my face and whispered Data Darbar before moving on. So I came here.’
Three pairs of eyes were looking at me intently. ‘Why didn’t you go to your parents? Will they not support you?’ Shamim asked.
‘My father and brother will move heaven and earth to help me, but they will not be able to. My father is the regional president of the Arabian Bank and my brother just qualified as a neurologist. They are nowhere near as connected or rich as my in-laws. If there is even a whisper of them knowing anything about this, they will pay dearly.’ I took a deep breath, knowing that the next sentence could have me thrown out of this refuge in an instant. ‘I am the daughter-in-law of Talib Ghazi.’ At the sharp intake of breaths all around me, I knew they recognized the name, but then who wouldn’t? The Finance Minister of Pakistan was well-known.
I finally looked at all three, Chandni was pale and looked ready to pass out. Fehmeeda looked thoughtful and Shamim looked ready to tear someone’s head off.
‘I understand if you want me to leave now. They tracked me to Data Darbar. You might have put them off my scent for now, but they will be back soon. They will retrace my steps and offer millions for the slightest bit of information. They will find me here.’
There was silence for a long time. I was getting ready to try and get up to leave when Fehmeeda spoke.
‘You are lost right now but you are braver and stronger than you realise; most of us are. You have taken more abuse than any one person should, but you stood firm on your decision not to involve anyone else in it, not even your family. You have been numb for a long time. You will survive this and yes it will be difficult for us to help you but we will.’
Shamim had his head in his hands, and Chandni was pale but looked determined. Fehmeeda alone looked relaxed.
‘You two need to step outside. I need to put the cream on her bruises and then she needs to rest. I will move her in a couple of hours. From now on, only I will know where she is.’ She shooed them both out.
She helped me lay down, lifted my shirt and gently massaged the cream on my bruises, singing softly. I sighed and closed my eyes. I was not safe, but I was with people who cared, and that was enough.
[1] Sufi saint
[2] Endearing term for an elder sister
[3] strong
Ms. Noor ul Ain is a voracious reader and an amateur writer. She works in the field of education in various capacities e.g. teacher, trainer, and curriculum developer. Her favourite authors include Bapsi Sidwa, Gillian Flynn, and S.A. Chakraborty. She can be found on Instagram @bakedbooksreviews