Patience is a Virtue.
Sádhu Sheikh of Simulgachi was not long in finding a husband for his
half-sister, Maini Bibi. Before she was fourteen, a young farmer named
Ramzán proposed for her hand, offering a den mohur of Rs. 100. The
den mohur is a device recognised by Mohammadan law for protecting
married women from capricious repudiation. The husband binds himself
to refund a fictitious dowry, generally far above his means, in case
he should divorce his wife for no fault of hers. Ramzán was accepted
by Sádhu, and the marriage was duly celebrated. Maini Bibi was a
handsome girl; but beauty was among the least of her gifts. She
was sweet-tempered, thrifty, and obedient, winning sympathy on all
sides. The one discordant note was struck by Ramzán's mother, Fatima
Bibi by name, who took a violent dislike to the bride and evinced
it by persistently scolding and ill-using her. Ramzán was completely
under his mother's thumb and saw everything with her eyes. His love
for Maini was slowly sapped by her innuendoes, and he treated the
poor girl with something worse than coldness. Maini, however, bore
her hard lot without a murmur, hoping that time and patience would
win back her husband's heart.
On returning one evening from the fields, Ramzán was hailed by his
mother who was evidently in a worse temper than usual.
"Hi! Ramzán," she shrieked, "I am an old woman, and you, doubtless,
find me an incumbrance. Speak out, my son; you have only to say 'go,'
and I will leave this house in half an hour."
"Why, what's the matter, mother?" asked Ramzán with open eyes.
"Matter," she yelled. "Would you believe it, that black-faced daughter
of a pig has actually abused me--me, your old mother!"
"What did she say?" rejoined Ramzán angrily.
"My son," was the answer, "you know how she neglects household duties,
leaving all the hard jobs to me. Well, this afternoon, I ventured
on a word of remonstrance, and she actually abused me." And the
old woman wiped her tears away with a corner of her cotton wrapper,
adding with eyes cast heavenwards, "Merciful Allah, to think that I
should come to this in my old age!"
"But what did she say?" repeated Ramzán wearily.
"She told me to my face that I had forgotten to
put salt into the curry!"
"That's hardly abusive," rejoined Ramzán.
"You think so," shouted Fatima. "Now you're taking sides with her
against your mother, who bore you. You will assuredly suffer in
Jehannam (hell) for such a crime! But I'll have it out with that
she-devil!"
So saying, she dashed from the room to the kitchen, where the
luckless Maini was cowering in anticipation of a coming storm. She
was not deceived. Fatima seized her by the hair and administered a
sound thumping.
Several days passed by, bringing no alleviation to her fate. But
matters came to a crisis on a certain morning, owing to Ramzán's
complaint that his wife had over-salted the curry. On tasting the
food, Fatima burst into violent imprecations and "went for" her
daughter-in-law, who took refuge in the neighbouring brushwood. At
nightfall she crept back to the house and found Ramzán closeted
with his mother. They were talking earnestly, but Maini could not
distinguish the purport of the conversation. It seemed to her that
Fatima's voice was raised in entreaty, and Ramzán was objecting to some
scheme proposed by her. She passed the night sleepless and in tears.
Early next day Ramzán entered her room and said gruffly, "Get up,
collect your chattels, and follow me. I am going to take you back to
Sádhu's." Maini obeyed without a word of remonstrance, and a quarter
of an hour later the ill-assorted pair might have been seen walking
towards Simulgachi.
The rainy season was now in full swing, and their path lay across
a deep nullah (ravine) through which mighty volumes of drainage
water were finding their way to the Ganges. On reaching a bamboo
foot-bridge which spanned it, Ramzán ordered his wife to go first. Ere
she reached the opposite bank, he gave her a violent shove, which
sent her shrieking vainly for help into the swirling torrent below.
Hardly had Ramzán perpetrated this odious deed than he felt he would
give his chances of bihisht (paradise) to recall it. He ran along the
bank shouting frantically, "Maini! Maini!" Alas! her slender body was
carried like a straw by the foaming water towards the Ganges and soon
disappeared in a bend of the nullah. Then her murderer sat down and
gave himself up to despair. But the sun was up; people were stirring in
the fields; and so he slunk homewards. Fatima stood on the threshold
and raised her eyebrows inquiringly; but Ramzán thrust her aside,
muttering, "It is done," and shut himself up in his wife's room. There
everything reminded him of her; the scrupulous neatness of floor
and walls--no cobwebs hanging from the rafters, the kitchen utensils
shining like mirrors. He sat down and burst into a flood of tears.
For several days he did not exchange a word with his accomplice, and
dared not go to market lest his worst fears should be realised. Dread
of personal consequences added new torture to unavailing remorse. Every
moment he expected the red-pagried ministers of justice to appear and
hale him to the scaffold. The position was clearly past bearing. So,
too, thought Fatima, for she waylaid her son one afternoon and said:
"Ramzán, I cannot stand this life any longer; let me go to my brother
Mahmud Sardar, the cooly-catcher".
"Go," he replied sullenly, and the old woman gathered up her
belongings in a bundle and departed, leaving him to face the dark
future alone.
While brooding over his fate, he was startled by the sudden arrival of
Sádhu. "Now I'm in for it," he thought and began to tremble violently
while his features assumed an ashen hue. But Sadhu sat down by his
side and said, "Ramzán, I've come about Maini".
"Then she's drowned!" gasped Ramzán. "By Allah the Highest, I swear
that I did my best to save her."
"Hullo!" rejoined Sádhu with great surprise; "you must have been with
her when she fell into the nullah."
Ramzán bent his head in silence. After a few moments he looked up,
clasped his hands, and said:--
"Tell me the truth, Sádhu, is Maini alive?"
"She is," was the reply. "On Thursday morning she came to our house
dripping wet and quite exhausted, with a story that your mother had
turned her out of doors and that she was on her way to live with
us when, on crossing the Padmajali Nullah, her foot slipped and she
fell into the water. She told us how, after being carried for nearly
a gau-coss (lit. cow league, the distance at which a cow's lowing
can be heard), she was swept by the stream against the overhanging
roots of a pipal tree (ficus religiosa) and managed to clamber up the
bank. But Maini never told us that you were with her. Why, Ramzán,
you're quaking in every limb. I always suspected Maini had concealed
the truth. Swear on the Quran that you did not try to drown her."
Ramzán feebly protested innocence, and the two men sat awhile without
speaking.
At length Sádhu said: "I've come to make you a proposal. Young Esáf,
the son of Ibrahim of our village, has fallen in love with Maini and
wants to marry her. He is willing to pay the den mohur of Rs. 100
which would be due from you in case of repudiation. Now we want you
to divorce her."
Ramzán was overcome by his wife's magnanimity, and the thought of
losing her drove him to distraction. "No!" he shouted, "I won't
divorce her. I'll fetch her back this very day!"
"That's quite out of the question," rejoined Sádhu. "Maini cannot
bear her mother-in-law's cruelty, and I'm sure she'll never consent
to live with you again. Besides, Esáf is a rich man and will make
her happy. She shall marry him."
"I say she shan't," said Ramzán emphatically.
Sádhu got up and moved off, remarking, "Very well, I will go to
the police station at once and charge you with attempting to kill
her! We shall soon worm the truth out of Maini, and get plenty of
eye-witnesses too."
Ramzán was beside himself with terror. He followed Sádhu, clasped
his feet, and groaned, "No, you won't do that! I am ready to divorce
Maini. Let Allah's will be done."
"Ah," replied Sádhu, "so you can listen to reason after all. Come to
our house to-morrow evening; we will have witnesses ready, and Esáf
will be there with the den mohur."
Ramzán had a sleepless night and was too downcast to work on the
morrow. When evening came, he walked wearily to Simulgachi. There was
quite a small crowd in Sádhu's courtyard. On one side sat Maini and
some other women with faces closely covered; Esáf and the witnesses
were on the other. Between them was a mat, on which lay a bag full
of money. Ramzán was received without salutations, and squatted down
by Sádhu's side.
Moslem husbands can get rid of their wives by repeating the word
talaq (surrender) thrice, in the presence of witnesses. Every one
expected him to utter the formula, which would release Maini from his
power. However, he sat silent, with downcast eyes. After a minute
or two, he rose and, looking steadily at Maini, was just about to
speak, when she sprang forward, laid her hand on his arm, and said:
"Surely you are not going to divorce me, your faithful wife, who loves
you dearly and seeks only to make you happy? What have I done to be
treated thus?"
A murmur was heard in the assembly, but Sádhu raised his hand in
token of silence.
"Foolish girl!" he exclaimed, "do you wish to return to a mother-in-law
who hates and persecutes you? Will Ramzán be able to protect you?" Then
lowering his voice, he added, "Is your life safe with those people?"
"Life and death," rejoined Maini, "are in Allah's hands. It is his
will that we should fulfil our destinies, and mine is to cling to
my husband. I would not change him for Hátim Tái (a legendary hero,
very rich and generous) himself!" Then nestling closer to Ramzán, she
pleaded in a voice of music, "Surely you don't want to get rid of me?"
He was quite overcome and burst into tears.
"No," he sobbed, "I will never separate from my treasure. Come back to
me, and you need not fear my mother's tongue. She has left my house
for good, and I swear by Allah, in the presence of all these people,
that she shall not live with us again. You, Maini, shall be sole
mistress of my house."
Maini was overjoyed by this decision. She clapped her hands twice,
and then, picking up the bag of money, said to the crestfallen Esáf,
"Take back your rupees; I am going home with my husband".
So speaking, she took Ramzán's hand and led him out of the house,
while a great silence fell on the crowd, broken at length by many
exclamations and a buzz of loud talk. My readers who know Maini's
sweet nature will not be surprised to learn that her happiness was
thenceforward without a single cloud.
THE END