Of Smokeless Fire by A.A. Jafri (i wanna iguana read aloud TXT) 📕

the window. She brought in a pedestal fan and turned it on, full speed, to force the smell out. Now she needed to cleanse her body because she had touched that uriniferous drink. In the bathroom in the zenana, Farhat took a long shower, performing her ablutions seven times, until her sins-by-association were wholly washed away. She put on a fresh pair of shalwar-kameez, offered the prayer of thanksgiving and asked for God’s forgiveness.

That night, she slept restlessly. The house was cleansed of the ‘bottles of wickedness’, but her heart was filled with fear chewing her entrails. With Noor in Iowa, however, she had the luxury of time before his wrath descended on her head.

The next day, she went to Zakir’s house early and confided in him about what she had done and about her fear of her husband.

‘Bhabi, I know Noor. I know you are scared of his temper, but if you fill your heart with only one fear, the fear of God, believe me, you will liberate yourself of all other fears. You can withstand any scolding, you can buck any rebuke, any berating,’ he said.

But Farhat remained apprehensive and her heart continued to pound nervously.

That day Zakir spoke about scepticism and faith in his sermon. Doubt should never reside in a faithful’s heart. Belief requires certainty. Anyone doubting or rejecting the basic tenets of the faith, through words, deeds or thoughts, was an apostate. ‘And that, my brothers and sisters, is no laughing matter because apostasy means death. An apostate must die and burn in the eternal fire of dozakh,’ the preacher thundered.

By the time Farhat returned home, she was shivering, as if suffering from the contagion of impiety. She had never directly asked about her husband’s beliefs and he had never clarified anything. However much he ridiculed the mullahs, he never blasphemed against religion, at least not in front of her. She had often heard him say that of all the human frailties that existed, convictions without evidence were the most perverse. Should she confront him or just leave it at that? Should she reason with him? She must seek help from her new sage.

So, the following day, she went to Zakir’s house again, early enough to have a confidential audience with him. As she sat in the women’s quarter, she asked Begum Hassan if she could talk privately with her husband. Farhat’s discussions were becoming more like confessionals behind the curtain. Mrs Hassan willingly obliged her and went to get her husband. She knew Noor well; she knew about his habits and his beliefs. Not too long ago, her husband had also been a part of this ugly landscape, and so sympathy for Farhat came naturally to her. Zakir came as soon as he heard about Farhat waiting for him and announced himself from the other side of the curtain that divided the zenana.

‘Bhabi, I have known Noor since our student days. I do not know what is in his heart now, but I know that not too long ago, his heart was filled with doubt and disbelief. But maybe he has changed. Ask him directly about all the elements of faith. Because, let me tell you candidly, if he does not believe in any of these, then he is an apostate. And then your nikah with him is null and void. As a matter of fact, if he openly disavows his faith, then your marriage is automatically annulled. You will be guilty of zina, and so will he.’

When Farhat heard the Urdu word for fornication, she clamped her hands over her ears and shook her head vigorously. Not long ago, Zakir would have concurred with Noor that this was the most minimalist definition of fornication. But not now. Now it was simply a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense explanation. The irritating sore that had festered for so long was now becoming a full-blown malady of the heart. In Zakir’s freshly minted unencumbered mind, Noor epitomized all that was evil in the country. His other former friends, like Haider, were all lapsed Muslims who occasionally went off on a drinking spree, but not Noor. For quite some time now, Noor had become persona non grata in Zakir’s books. How Zakir came to develop such a militant view of his ex-friend was something that even Haider could not fathom. The man who had cried uncontrollably at Sadiq’s murder now believed that it ‘could be a justifiable homicide’. When Haider heard this austere verdict, he too began shunning him like Noor.

That day, throughout the sermon, the word ‘zina’ kept reverberating in Farhat’s ears. She did not know what to do or how to confront Noor. A sinister fear lurked in her heart: what if he actually did not believe in any of these things? What would she do? How would she live? When she began hyperventilating, Zakir’s wife called Athanni and told him to immediately take her home. At home, Farhat spread the prayer rug in the zenana and earnestly begged God to show her husband the correct path. All night she prayed, and the next day she fasted. When she finally fell asleep the following night, she dreamt of her wedding day.

Noor had looked handsome in his white sherwani, and at the time of the nikah, when the maulvi had asked him if he was a Muslim, he had answered: ‘Alhamdolillah, praise be to Allah.’ She woke up from her brief slumber, content and happy, for the dream was a clear sign from God that her husband had seen the enlightened path. She knew that her prayers had been answered, and why not? After all, the house was free of alcohol.

*

On the day of her husband’s arrival from America, Farhat felt better, confident that he had changed. The message in her dream could not have been any clearer. She sent Sikander to pick him up from the airport. But when Noor arrived home, her hopes shattered to pieces. He was drunk again. She threw a fit so intense that