A wanderer Episode 21

 

Before they knew it, a week had passed. One day before the wedding, Morgan stepped out after offering his prayers. She was standing by the window, like a wilted red rose. On that day, there was sadness in her eyes. There was silence. There was no verse for Morgan to read in her gaze, only messages of separation. Morgan took a glance and moved on.

As he was passing in front of Master Mahmood’s door, a voice called out, stopping his steps: “Come inside, dear…!” Maryam Bibi said after surveying her surroundings briefly and stepped inside through the door.

There was no one in the street. Morgan was in a dilemma. He thought for a moment, then he too went inside the house through the door.

“Sit down, dear…!” Maryam Bibi invited Morgan to take a seat in the drawing room.

Morgan sat down hesitantly. “Tonight is Maham's wedding procession. Guests will start arriving any moment now. Some guests have already arrived. I’ve accommodated them in the village mansion. From tomorrow, you won’t be coming here,” Maryam Bibi informed him before issuing her command.

“Why?” Morgan asked, meeting her gaze confidently.

“Because from tomorrow that window will close forever,” Maryam Bibi replied sternly.

“There’s no condition of seeing for attendance,” Morgan said politely.

“Respectful people don’t disobey orders,” Maryam Bibi pointed out in a rough tone.

“I will obey all orders except those related to infidelity,” Morgan replied humbly.

“Those who speak of loyalty do not defame their beloved,” Maryam Bibi said, gritting her teeth.

“Her defamation has neither occurred… nor will it… this is my promise,” Morgan tried to assure her.

“How long will you keep coming here?” Maryam Bibi asked brusquely.

“Now I don’t want to leave here at all. I’m thinking of shifting right here,” Morgan confessed in a trembling voice.

“Why?” Maryam Bibi asked angrily.

“So that I can keep watching that window,” Morgan answered softly.

“What’s the point of looking at a closed window?” Maryam Bibi mocked.

“In love, gain and loss are not considered,” Morgan replied sadly.

“Now everything is seen in terms of gain and loss,” Maryam Bibi remarked with a sarcastic smile.

“I am a businessman; I only see gain and loss in business, not in love,” Morgan clarified.

“You trade and talk about love,” Maryam Bibi teased.

“I conduct business with love… I don’t love business…” Morgan stated, meeting her eyes.

“You can make good talks…” Maryam Bibi complimented with sarcasm.

“Love has taught me,” Morgan said, placing a stone on his heart and smiling. Maryam Bibi felt a flicker of anger at Morgan's smile and snapped:

“Listen Morgan! We’ve played enough with love and romance. Now come back to the real world. I said, starting tomorrow you won’t come here… that’s final!” Maryam Bibi declared with authority.

“If you command as a mother, I will obey. But if you speak as a feudal lord…” Morgan said politely.

“Then what…?!” Maryam Bibi asked with a frown.

“Then nothing…” Morgan smiled again as he replied.

“What do you think I am…?” Maryam Bibi glared at him.

“A mother to her child… and like your mother… no, no… I regard you as my mother,” Morgan recalled Lana Herry’s words. He had mentioned it while respectfully elevating Maryam Bibi's stature.

“What’s this everything…! What’s with ‘that… that…’ Why don’t you take her name?!” Maryam Bibi questioned with probing eyes.

“I only mention her name in prayers…” Morgan replied affectionately.

“Why do you only mention her name in prayers?” Maryam Bibi inquired defensively.

“For that, you don’t need permission to pray,” Morgan stated frankly.

“What do you pray for her?” Maryam Bibi asked softly.

“Oh God! Grant Maham the health that leaves no room for illness,” Morgan expressed earnestly.

“Ishaal is right. You two are really mad,” Maryam Bibi quickly changed her tone and approach.

“Listen, dear Morgan…! I can’t do anything. No boy can be better for my daughter than you. Despite my wishes, she cannot marry you. Who knows what will happen after the marriage,” Maryam Bibi said worriedly.

“And I have no clue about anything else either. One thing is certain: I will definitely veil my eyes,” Morgan said quietly, bowing his head as he left.

#…# “Will you keep this window open even after your wedding to Shiman?” Ishaal shook Maham and asked.

Maham was still in a daze. Ishaal shook her again. “Tell me.”

“No… never. I will close all windows that open towards Morgan, whether they are of the heart or wooden.” Maham wiped her tears with the back of her left hand.

“Maham Chaudhry! Okay, I accept you can close the window opening toward Morgan… but can you open one for Shiman?” Ishaal asked with a teasing tone.

“I will try…!” Maham replied in a wounded voice.

“Herry says, Ishaal, remember! The doors of the heart do not open at every knock…”

“They open for a husband,” Maham said decisively.

“My mother’s didn’t open…” Ishaal revealed bitterly.

“A wife’s duty is to love her husband; some fulfill their obligations, others their debts…”

“Father says every woman has the right to have her choice included in her marriage,” Ishaal supported with her father’s words.

“I have exercised that very right for Shiman,” Maham declared.

“Maham! For God’s sake… don’t call deprivation of rights as a rightful claim,” Ishaal said in a tone of reasoning.

Maham remained silent, bowing her head. Despite her restraint, tears welled up in her eyes. Ishaal observed her closely, moved closer, and embraced her. Ishaal wiped Maham's tears, took her hand, and said:

“You must remember that night when there was a heavy storm during the rain? Just a day after my birthday, I thought he wouldn’t come in the morning. Water was everywhere. The lights were out. After three or four hours, the UPS also stopped working. I couldn’t sleep. Dad came with his torch to check on me in my room. He saw me and said, ‘Are you still awake?’ I replied, ‘I can’t sleep.’ Dad said, ‘Turn on the emergency light.’ As I was about to turn it on, I noticed the candles and matches that had been extinguished the previous night before the cake cutting.

I picked up all those candles, lit one, and placed it on the shelf in front of me. One by one, the candles began to burn out, submerging into their own wax. Those candles illuminated until the morning call to prayer. The rain had stopped by then. When Dad left for the mosque, I left the last burning candle behind and went up to the roof. A cool breeze was blowing on the roof, and the sounds of frogs were echoing from far and near.

Dad stood in the courtyard of the mosque and started to call the prayer,” Maham sat as if in a trance, looking at Ishaal as if she were hearing a story from someone else.

“You were standing on your window holding Master Sahib’s lantern. I thought this silly girl has her emergency light too; why hasn’t she turned it on? Then my gaze followed yours. A ray of light appeared as he turned the corner from the factory - it was Morgan.

Water was ankle-deep in the street. In his left hand he held his sandals, and in his right hand, he had the flashlight on. He moved through the water, came below your window, and reached by the steps of the mosque. I thought he would raise his head to look at you.

Morgan proved me wrong. Your lantern was flickering, and you had no idea about it. You were fixated on Morgan. Just as he placed his foot on the first step of the mosque, he slipped. Your lantern, which was flickering in your hands, went out. You clutched the window rod with your trembling left hand. In that moment, you sprang up in despair as if a fish flopping outside of water.

Thank God Morgan avoided falling. He entered the mosque while you stood there, holding the extinguished lantern.

A few moments later, you stepped back. After Morgan, three or four other worshippers entered the mosque. You went back to the window. When it was time for the worshippers to exit, you stepped back again. The extinguished lantern was still in your hand. When Morgan emerged from the mosque, he glanced at you smilingly and bowed his head while walking through the water down the lane until he turned the corner of the factory.

As soon as he turned the corner, you sat on that easy chair next to the window. I was watching you continuously from the roof.” Ishaal pointed again to the easy chair beside the window:

“After sitting in that chair, you realized that the lantern you were holding had indeed gone out. You shook the lantern; it had run out of kerosene. Still, its wick had managed to stay intact.

When I returned to my room, the pile of candles was all in one place. They burned through the night and were buried in the morning in a graveyard of melted wax.

Let me tell you something, Maham Chaudhry! A wife resembles a lantern. When you pour oil of praise in her, she ignites once more. Whereas a beloved is like a candle… that burns away into a pile of wax, melting into its own essence.

You too are burning in your own essence in love for Morgan. I shared this scene from your love story with you… want to know why?” Ishaal held Maham’s hand and looked at her with questioning eyes.

“Why…?” Maham responded as if her voice had emerged from a deep chasm.

“So I could tell you…! What I saw that day was an extent of madness. Maham Chaudhry! If you go looking for someone like Shiman, you would find millions, but to find one like you among millions is a challenge.

You will surely have Shiman’s children after marriage. But you’ll never be able to open a window of love toward him. That is my prediction. Tomorrow is your oil and henna ceremony; I’m thinking of wearing mourning attire instead of a yellow suit. Let there be someone mourning your wedding along with Morgan.” Ishaal released Maham’s hand and left Maham’s room in anger, while she sat there dejectedly, her head bowed.

After a while, she looked at her delicate, fair hands and spoke to herself: “Tomorrow is my oil and henna ceremony.”