The Holy Woman Read Online Free PDF

Laikum-Salam
,’ Siraj Din returned the greeting before walking ahead into the drawing room, asking carelessly over his shoulder, ‘Is Habib at home?’
    Shahzada hovered two steps behind her father-in-law as he entered their large drawing room. Fatima had already scurried ahead into the room to set in place the
takkia
, the thick bolster, on the sofa. Siraj Din flashed a smile of appreciation at Fatima as he stretched his tall, wiry frame on the creamy brocade upholstery. Thoroughly disliking modern sofas, his heart still hankered after the
palangs
, the traditional luxury bedsthat graced living rooms in days gone by. The
palangs
, however, didn’t go well with the rest of the modern drawing-room furnishings. They were being relegated to rooms labelled ostentatiously as ‘ bedrooms ’.
    His eyes moved over the tall lamp in the corner, the long drapes with their matching brocade swags and tails drawn across the wall-to-wall patio window. They then rested on the three heavy marble tables placed between the two large luxurious sofa suites. There were enough seats around the room to cater for up to twenty-five people, Siraj Din counted at the back of his mind. Knowing his father’s particular preference, Habib had especially purchased an elegant chaise longue from a quality department store in Karachi, which also matched beautifully with the rest of the plush furnishings , including the silk carpet completely covering the marble floor.
    Shahzada left her father-in-law alone for a few moments while she went into the kitchen to inform her second cook to prepare a special meal for Siraj Din Sahib, and to use fewer red chillies in the curry dishes. Fatima was also in the kitchen preparing a hookah for Siraj Din, with freshly ground tobacco neatly placed amongst small pieces of coal in the
topee
. When Shahzada returned, Habib was with his father discussing business negotiations to do with their land. Siraj Din was asking his son whether it was worthwhile selling some land in his home village, Chiragpur, to another landlord, Master Khawar.
    ‘It is hard for me to manage at this time in my life,’ the old man told him, ‘and you and Jafar have enough to do already with the land around here. Yes, I think that I’ll let young Khawar buy those acres. He is aclever chap and will look after the land well. I wouldn’t want to sell them to anyone else.’
    ‘I agree with you, Father. Zarri Bano is thinking of opening a publishing company in Karachi, with Jafar’s help. Therefore, with my son involved in that business, I don’t think I’ll have time to oversee both the land here in Tanda Adam and in Chiragpur.’
    ‘Where is Zarri Bano?’ Siraj Din asked of his daughter-in-law as she sat beside her husband. He had already greeted Jafar and his youngest granddaughter Ruby.
    Habib cast a hostile glare at his wife. Siraj Din merely fixed his green eyes, so similar to his son’s, on his daughter-in-law’s face. Shahzada’s gaze faltered before them both. Fidgeting with the crocheted lace edge of the
chador
, she waited nervously for Habib to explain.
    Seconds passed. Habib didn’t explain.
    His thick triangular-shaped brown eyebrows raised over his aquiline nose, Siraj Din was now intrigued by the pair’s silence.
    Having by now realised that Habib’s silence was deliberate, Shahzada was miserably compelled to explain. She understood: this was Habib’s revenge for her action in letting Zarri Bano go to Karachi to Sikander’s home.
    ‘She is in Karachi,’ Shahzada stated with quiet dignity.
    ‘What is she doing there?’ Siraj Din asked sharply, suddenly realising that as the rest of the family was at home, his eldest granddaughter must have gone there alone.
    An awkward silence ensued. Siraj Din’s speculative glance moved from his son to his daughter-in-law. The undercurrents of tension in the room spelt to him thatsomething was definitely wrong. The pair sitting in front of him were apparently bent on playing games