The Lost Pearl (2012) (22 page)

“I thought I would tell you when you grew older, but when you did, I thought it might disturb the normalcy you had found in your new life and your new family. Plus the only positive thing I had given Ammi was the promise I made and honored, and I did not wish to lose that.”

“Did you think I didn’t know how Papa died? When I was eight, a bunch of kids at school were talking about it. I beat them up then, not believing it, but then when I heard the same story from other people a year later, I realized it was true. I wasn’t sure that you knew, that’s why I didn’t dare ask you. I just buried myself in my books, so I could push everything else away. Many years later, I looked it up on the internet.”

Suddenly I realized that both of us had been alone in our suffering. I said, “I am sad that you did not grow up without pain, as I had hoped. I wish you would have told me that you
knew. I wish I had said something. I had started to think of myself as an outsider. You had another, better sister; I felt that Sara had replaced me.”

“Come on, Apa, what are you saying? There can never be a replacement of you. Sara is my younger sister, and I love her to death. I tease her and I take care of her. But you are my big sister and you are the
only
big sister. I was very young when Papa died, but I remember how you took care of me then. Even Ammi could not give me the comfort your words gave me. If I ever have a problem, you are the one I go to for advice; you are my confidante. That’s why I feel let down that you did not tell me such a big thing. But I am so very proud of you for what you have done. You have brought justice in a country where the very term ‘justice’ is a word of mockery now.”

My mother gave me a hug that was both warm and all-embracing. It was the hug I had craved when my father had died. “You are so brave,” she said. “You got that from your father. I was never brave. I was always weak—a conformer. That was the only reason I married so soon after your father’s death.”

From the corner of my eye I could see her eyes fill up with tears and her lashes flicker with remembrance of days past. “One thing I didn’t tell you then was that your grandfather had known he was dying. His cardiologist had told him that his heart was functioning poorly and that he did not have much time. I didn’t want to tell you because you had already faced so many shocks. But I was really scared; I had just lost my husband and knew I would soon lose my father. He was worried for me and made me promise him that I would marry so he could be assured that someone would take care of me, you, and Sahir after his demise. I agreed at the time, but I have regretted that decision, not because your stepfather is not a nice man, but because it took you away from me. I am a wife, but before that I was—and am and should have been—a mother. I have never been able to forgive myself for that. I should have asked you, and if you were not
ready, I should have let it go, even if that meant never having a second chance. And there can never, ever be a replacement of you. You are my special daughter. You are the one who carried all the burden of tragedy on your shoulders and took care of everything all by yourself.”

“But I should have listened to Papa’s last words,” I said. “I should have kept that pearl of wisdom in a shell and treasured it, rather than letting it fall into a river of tears. I shouldn’t have hidden the truth. So much sorrow has come from that.”

“Don’t look back, dear. Look ahead. If it weren’t for you, an innocent man would have spent his entire life in prison. He would have died there, Sana. And now he may live another fifty years; who knows?”

“But his son will never forgive me, Ammi. His father suffered such humiliation. He was separated from his family and had his freedom taken away. Do you know his vision is poor because he has not looked into the distance for years and his eyes cannot focus on objects that are far? Many of the years he was incarcerated he was in chains, so it’s hard for him to walk. Once a fellow prisoner beat him up so badly that his tooth broke. He didn’t have anyone visit him in prison, because many of his friends and relatives believed he might be guilty, so they cut off all ties with him. His only visitor was Ahmer, who was at the other end of the world and could not visit him more than once a year. There have been countless changes in the universe around him, but he is frozen in time and space. I can never give him back all the time he has lost. His son will never forgive me.”

All the tears I had held back started pouring like a waterfall, soaking my hands. These were tears of loss. I had spent half my life grieving for my father and would probably spend the other half grieving for the love I had lost. What a glorious, happily married life I could have had. Soon the memories of the wonderful times we had spent together—the path we had walked, the conversations we had shared, the life we
had dreamed of—would all start to blur, like a picture gradually going out of focus. But I would not be able to preserve those precious moments or relive those timeless memories in my mind as I had archived and unapologetically cherished the memories of my father. I would have to let them die or be buried in a part of my mind where even I myself could never retrieve them. What I had thought to be imprints on stone, were in actuality footprints on sand, waiting to be washed gently away. I would marry Zain and try my best to be a devoted wife and caring mother. I would never see Ahmer again and would let his memory leave me like the fading fragrance of a dying flower. I thought of how I had cried in that scene of
Devdas
where the girl was in love with Devdas but was tying the matrimonial knot with another man. The scene of her saying good-bye to him played before me like a vivid flashback. I did not know how I would go through with it. But I had gone through with a lot of things, had I not?

“He will never forgive me,” I repeated, grabbing hold of a tissue.

My mother put her arm around me. “He has already forgiven you, Sana.”

I looked up, surprised. “You know Ahmer?” I asked, bewildered.

“He was here this morning with his father and asked for your hand in marriage. He is a wonderful boy. In my heart I said yes, but I told him I would need to ask you first. I know it’s complicated having our families unite in this way after all that has passed between us. But as long as both of you can get past it, we all want to make it happen. Ahmer’s father is a generous soul, and I did not see anger in his eyes or hear resentment in his voice. After all that you have both gone through, you deserve nothing but sheer happiness.”

I could not believe that this was truly happening. Ahmer and I had not spoken since I had turned down his marriage proposal. The last time I had seen him was when I had blatantly said good-bye when he had been taking me to meet his father. I had gone back a second and then a third time to visit his father so I could explain everything. I told him about the reason for my abrupt departure and my role in ruining his life. I cried inconsolably, but he reassured me, and I saw tears of happiness fill his eyes. He wore an expression not of hatred but of gratitude. He did not see me as an end to his past life, but rather a beginning to a new one. I was his ray of hope, his light at the end of this very long, dark tunnel. I was his usher to the new, changing outside world. I was the sunshine that would light up a lifetime of darkness. I was the bridge that would reunite him with his son. He was a generous man, giving me credit for his freedom rather than blame for his confinement. He saw me as his key out
of prison, not as the handcuffs that had locked him away. What a big heart he had to be able to overlook every minute of every day that he had spent unfairly in a cell smaller than a washroom, where he had inhaled toxic fumes and washed his face with muddy waters, had felt the sting of injustice and the stab of humiliation, and had lost in seconds the respect it had taken him decades to earn.

“I had always been an optimist, even after what happened to me, but over the last few years, I had really started losing hope of ever being a free man, walking to my son with my head held high,” he had said. “Now I will be able to do it.”

“I should have come earlier. Sorry is such a small word for the amount of pain I have inflicted on you and your family. I cannot adequately convey what I feel.”

“Don’t be sorry, Sana. You have saved me. I will not die here. I will not die a death of dishonor. I may have years ahead of me, and once you have spent time in this place, every single day becomes so much more valuable. I have so much to do. I had promised myself and God that if I ever got out of here, I would get involved in something meaningful, such as prison reform. There is so much to do. There are so many breaths of fresh air to take and so many good days ahead of me. I am so proud of my son for choosing you to spend the rest of his life with. Now I want to come home not only to my son but also to my daughter.”

Even after his father’s words of salvation, Ahmer continued to be angry with me, and I could not blame him. Following his father’s release, he had tried to contact me again, but I did not answer. I was not sure if he wished to talk to me to unleash his anger or simply to remind me of all the ways in which I had destroyed his life.

I was dumbfounded that he had come to my home with a marriage proposal. I still did not think I deserved his affection but I agreed to meet him. When we sat down to talk, he said, “I was angry with you, Sana, but not because I blamed you for anything.
My falling in love with you was a strange coincidence, but that’s what eventually led to my father’s freedom. Something I had prayed for day after day and night after night I got because of you. Over the years, my quest for freeing my father had become full of setbacks and dashed hopes. Many times it seemed like a fruitless endeavor. I just wanted to give it everything I had in me and fight the case myself, but that seemed full of difficulties. The red tape, the lack of good documentation, the corrupt police system: these were all things I was only beginning to understand. A master’s degree in international law from Stanford cannot stand up against all the problems within our judicial system.

“I was angry because you left without saying a word. For me, there is nothing that can come between us—ever. If you build a bridge, I will burn it. If you make an iceberg, I will melt it. When you left, it seemed as though you had left for good. I didn’t think you’d ever return to hear my side of the story. I had always known that my dad was innocent, and I knew I would be able to convince you of that, if only you would have given me the chance. After all I had convinced you of so many other things in the past, helping you see the other side. I couldn’t believe you were ready to throw it all away, all that we had.”

“I am sorry, Ahmer. I was so overwhelmed, I didn’t know what to say or do. I just had to get away. When I discovered the truth, the tables turned, and I was simply too ashamed to face you. I needed to sort everything out before I could look into your eyes again.”

He paused for a few seconds before saying, “So are you ready to look into my eyes every day of your life?”

I met his gaze and saw a sparkle in his eyes; this time, he knew what my answer was going to be. “Yes, Ahmer. I want to spend my life with you. It is because of you that I have love and peace and honor in my life. I knew you were the one when I first met you. I was sure the day you gave me your umbrella that, I could face all the storms in my life if you were by my side. You
are a giving, kind soul. You inspire me to write. You make me want to be a better person. You make me want to live.”

“Do you really think I would have given you up to Zain?”

“No. I was thinking of saying yes to him just as a punishment for myself. I wanted to force myself to forget you.”

“And would you have been able to?”

“No.”

“That would have been unfair to everybody, would it not? And I have higher expectations from you, Sana. You wouldn’t do something that reckless. And if you tried, I would fight for you till I won. You know how persistent I can be. I am not Devdas, you know.”

“I want you to have something,” I said, bringing him my father’s silver watch, which my uncle had given back to me. It was accompanied with a card that read,

“I pray that the times will be kind to us.”

Shortly after, we were married. It was a simple, elegant wedding, just as both of us had envisioned, with a nontraditionally brief guest list. I did not want to be one of those people who spent all the time preparing for the wedding rather than preparing for the marriage. I do not know whether I looked beautiful, but I do know that I felt beautiful inside.

Ammi put her arms around Phuppo and said to her, “I was torn to pieces when she left me. I was angry with you for years because you supported her. But now I know that what began as a rebellious moment, resulted in a beautiful daughter for all of us. I am indebted to you for raising her so well. I couldn’t have done a better job.”

Not a moment passed that I did not think of my father. I pictured how he might have looked, his hair a full salt and pepper, some early wrinkles setting in at the edges of his smile. I wondered if he would have liked Ahmer and thought about how much he would have missed me after I left his nest. When I thought of him now, I thought about his love and his wisdom,
which I hoped he had passed down to me and which one day I would, God willing, pass down to my children. I could love him without hating someone else. I could cherish his memories without being angry and bitter. I could now look at his life and what it had given me rather than dwelling on the single moment of his painful death and what it had taken away.