Half Widow

Can there be any better teacher in life than experience? From the same experience, dreams and expectations in exploited places like Kashmir have always been certified illusions. Kashmir, so-called Paradise on Earth, has always been a mystery to the exotic eyes for they often fail to see the tyranny pressed on her inhabitants: Her snow-covered mountains are nothing but the veils to her destruction, the waters of Jhelum flow in hues of vermilion and her meadows are decorative coverings over the unmarked graves underneath . Her beauty is bloodstained, houses debilitated and hearts the abodes of shattered longings. Walk carefully for the air is peppered, water reddened and who knows the next bullet may hit your head! The lips always murmur the funeral prayers and the hearts always sigh to have peace or, all at once, to die.

She closes her diary as cab stops. Taking the window seat, she rests her head on the window pane while drawing her cloak closer. No sooner the driver hails for passengers than the cab gets crowded. Meanwhile she takes her phone and types “Going home'” and then turns her head towards the window again. Though her phone starts ringing in no time, she bags it while keeping it switched-off.

“They can stop me no more, Faiz. No, they can’t” she whispers underneath her breath

.

The school children are walking back to home as she nears the place thereby giving a helpless glance at the school.

“Ammi and Abu, the teacher says, you both have to come on our annual day this Saturday. Won't you come?”

Ahmed's eyes were bright and gleaming with nods of his parents. “Oh Faiz!” she mutters again. The cab stops and she alights while taking the daily route: the red tinted tiles been walked upon by her for years now as a bride surrounded by all and welcomed with the melodies; as a wife beside Faiz; as a mother-to-be, as a mother to Ahmed, as a wailing helpless women taken away from the rumbling house and today once again!

Unlocking the gate, she slips into the house with broken window panes, crushed pots and trampled flowers all around. A gush of memories runs through her veins while tears trickle down her cheeks as if every flashback shatters her armour to pieces. Her heart crushes under insurmountable pain. “Faizzz..fa..”, she collapses to floor crying and remains so for long before she musters up strength to move and open the door: though essences fill her one again, hollowness follows all along. She touches every object, runs from one to another as if she will never see them again; everything they brought together lies shattered on the floor reflecting her inner emotional status, crushed and fragmented.

The vast sky domed over her ruin dusk-coloured as she sits against her bed. “Bhabhi!”, she raises her on seeing Zainab standing there while latter with a very tensed look breathes heavily while carrying Zoya's cloak and bag in her hands. Dropping everything, she rushes to Zoya embracing her into arms. Both cry and console each other amid heart-aching sighs. Pain may have been less for Zainab had she not shared with Faiz the same womb. Zoya and Zainab had been friends since childhood and their bond had strengthened more after Zoya's marriage to Faiz.

“They have turned it to ashes!”, Zainab cries “You have not recovered, why did you come as such? I saw the gate open and rushed in. Bhabhi let’s go, We shouldn't be here!”

Lost in her thoughts, while laying her bandaged head against bed, Zoya replies, “Just like his separation has turned me ash...Zaina... Zainab...Where Should I go when he has promised us a home here. My heart finds peace nowhere else..”

*****

“Faiz will you be home early? My vibes aren't good about the day.”

“Zoii, it's an important day at the office, I have to be. But I promise I'll be back,” Faiz starts his way towards the door, “and yes don't open the gates for anyone.” She nodes unawares for she knows that the world beyond the gates, with barricades and uniforms, keeps its mouth always open just to devour them . The crackdowns had been very frequent, men were beaten callously and women ill treated and raped even in their own houses. Life had been terrified to its brim

Ahmed all excited for his annual day, tomorrow, practises with himself. Zoya is all restless for the day. Finally, the bell rings and Zoya runs towards the gate. No sooner she touches the lock than she withdraws her hand, asking in a feeble tone,

“Who is it?”

“Assalamualaikum, Baji. I am your neighbour.”

Hearing this she opens the gate partially with her cloak over her face.

“Is Faiz Bhai at home?”

“No”, she murmurs as her eyes catches the sight of an army man; petrified she closes the gate even before he could say anything else. Faiz has been late even than usual and it makes her more restless. As the bell rings once again, she runs madly towards it but suddenly stops,

“Who is there?”

“It’s me Zoii”, Faiz replies in a soft tone.

She opens the gate saying, “Assalamu Alaikum.” Her every ounce of anger vaporizes on seeing him smiling.

“Walaikumus Salam. Sorry... the traffic jam thing again.”

In the meantime, Ahmed comes running and embraces him, “ Abbu! I have been waiting for you to show you my practice.” Just as Faiz closes the door the bell rings .

“Oh! It must be the neighbourly boy who came to see you earlier”, whispers Zoya.

While handing his bag to Zoya, Faiz replies,” I’ll see to it.”

Zoya, while waiting for Faiz at the door, asks Ahmed to keep the bag in the kitchen. Hearing some roaring voices, Zoya runs towards the gate petrified. The neighbourly boy had been accompanied by some 6-7 army men, one of them questioning Faiz while holding him by his collar.

“Faiz.. leave him...for pity's sake....he has done nothing”, She bursts into tears while folding her hands towards the army men. Another army men, hearing this, shouts at her,

“Hey! Shut up. We know our job.”

The other interrupts, “We have to take him for investigation.”

The words sent chills down her spine for she was aware that most of the people who had been taken for investigation had never returned; besides stories of the tortures by the army were in themselves spine chilling for often the people, on whom these tortures were applied, succumbed. Faiz was standing there helpless, helpless before her sight while she strains ever nerve to get him freed, begging before the army,

“No.. no.. please he is innocent please leave him...I beg you, sir... please he has done nothing.”

Feeling utterly helpless, she turns to neighbourly boy seeing him the only hope,

“You called me Baji(sister)...please stop them... you know my Faiz...He is innocent.”

The best thing in someone's misery, they say, is consolation, that is what the neighbourly boy did, “He will be returned by tomorrow morning... don't worry.” But who would believe it to be white after one's own eye saw it black. Thus Zoya knew that his words were all lies and that Faiz would, perhaps, never be returned. She eventually tries to free him by pushing the army man away.

On seeing this, one of them moves forward, gets hold of her cloak and pulls it which makes her to make a shrill cry which would have softened even the hardest hearts. But when eyes are blind, hearts seldom soften. Faiz gets infuriated, “You ruthless...I say leave her.” The man does leave her but not before striking her head with his gun's handle and dragging Faiz into the four-wheeled dark dungeon. While she lies on the floor bleeding and unconscious, tears stream from his eyes incessantly.” Taken was he, perhaps for eternity, before Ahmed’s cries could wake her,

“Ammi”

*****

“Ammi”, cries Ahmed, standing in front of her while Zainab holds his hand, “Bhabhi, let's go home.”

Zoya looks at them, “This is my home!” She adds underneath her breath, “ O Zainab, they said he would be returned by morning.”

"And it's been weeks now...they lie! Yes, they lied!”, Zainab looks around recoiling the days she had spent with Faiz when he would climb trees to fetch peaches and apricots for her and would help her to learn cycling. After the father's death, Faiz had supported the family and was now longing to see her sister married. “My sister will be married to the best man so that she wouldn't come home daily and take the TV remote”, he would often tease her; Zainab would tease back, “Why do you stay at home on Sunday? You just irritate me?”

“Bhaijaan, come back! I won't irritate you ever!” She whispers. Ahmed clenches his fist, ‘’Will Abbu come?” Zainab takes him into her arms, “Yes, my dear, very soon,” while she signs to Zoya to come along “He'll come in a while.” Their old house was beside the new one and they shifted back after the latter's devastation. Life had brought up some unimaginable phases now. Whenever Zoya would go to outdoors with Ahmed, especially to market , people of their community would stare at her and it was enough to tell her that they disregarded it. Even she could hear some say, “Her husband is missing and she is shopping... she has started to come out more often ever since her husband is gone.”.

Tongue has no bones but it can be more hurtful than the most injurious bony substance. It was only her own self that only knew the responsibilities which Faiz had left; his every job was her duty now and his every dream her aim. Perhaps this knowledge reduced the hurtful effects of the boneless substance to some extent, if not fully. As she had already lost her heart and soul, she would often think “What am I living for?” But then Ahmed would stand before her and she would realize “Oh! I have to live for my child”. Still the idea of her husband's return would cramp her chest, “Will he return?” Though she was regularly visited by her parents and brother, she still wanted to live in the old ruins, the only abode of her husband's memories. Their little girl who had always been afraid of even the trifles was now stronger, surviving against her odds.

Tahir, her brother had reached the house by now. He found her in the bedroom, as usual, amid the ruins. “You shouldn't have come here,” he said pausing “I called you back but you switched off the phone!” He comes near and sits by her side, “Zoya, please come home.” She refuses, “This is my home. I can't stay there longer and Ahmed is here too.” He sighs, “But your injury... And Ahmed came here yesterday only !” She stared at him with all her helplessness

“Bhaijaan, it felt like decades and I was restless...I could feel Faiz was calling me. This place is ours and here lies my peace. I don't want any more treatments because I can't stay away from this place. They need me and I have to find Faiz.” Tahir shakes to the core: his little girl who would cry in fear of winds was now dwelling in storms, how changed was she now and how changed was her life. He pulls her up while she stands looking at the silhouettes, like each one belongs to Faiz. Tahir slowly carries her up to the gate. Zainab hails them from the door with Ahmed in her arms, “I was waiting for you! Ahmed was panicked so I brought him away” Zoya kisses Ahmed on forehead, “It’s good!” Feeling their bond, Tahir hands her Zainab, I’ll come tomorrow... We'll again search everywhere for your satisfaction. Me and Abu have already been though!”

The processes started again to visit every police station, every camp, every prison with photographs of Faiz. A series was always followed: questioning by the men in uniform of their reason to come, declining them the permissions to visit and then begging before their black hearts to let them inside who like sadists would enjoy the scenes. She was taken by Tahir to every possible place. She knocked every door and walked every street yet her heart and soul, Faiz, was nowhere to be found. Destiny had only one answer to all her searches “Faiz isn't here.” Then where was he? Perhaps only some supernatural force would answer!

Once while returning home after much fatigue she catches sight of the neighbourly boy. She rushes to him and holds him by his arms, “ Where is my Faiz? You said he'll come in the morning... Tell me where is he?” She starts to beat him madly and he pushes her away to escape the scene. She once again collapses down crying “Faiz....”

Zoya was soon taken to the Association of Disappeared Cases by Tahir. She was now amid such countless families who had been waiting for their sons, husbands, brothers and fathers. They stayed for hours in protests not caring about the harsh sun and the weather.

The next day there were calls from mortgage room and this happened for more than a week and walking to that place was hardest of all but none of those blood-soaked faces was that of Faiz. Men were so ruthlessly beaten that their appearances were hardly recognizable. The happenings in torture rooms now openly exposed. With such horrible scenes her heart was sick. “How many of us are lying here unnamed.” She thought to herself. The police stations, army camps, prisons were piled up with records of people who in the name of investigation were never seen!

How many like me were the mothers who had been waiting for their sons with the dinners that were never served , how many like me were sisters who had been longing for the sibling rivalries but never saw their faces and how many like me were the brides whose henna hadn't faded before they were entitled half-widows. Half widows, in fact, constitute a great part of our community. The women who live in dilemmas and fading hopes, who survive only to fulfil promises and duties, who with every knock at the door run madly towards it to check if they have returned?. How many? Yes, how many?

She was deep in thoughts when she caught sight of her photograph with Faiz taken immediately after their union. How beautiful was she! Draped in the blossoming pink with her deep eyes, constituted of layers and layers without a core! Her smooth hair flicks and lips as that of petals and Faiz with his oceanic eyes and eternal smile. Nothing was same both were withered and faded in longing. She took her pen again,

“Faiz,

I am done fighting. It's been months and there is not a single door left untouched and street untrodden. The memories we share come like those eternal drapes that grab and crush me. You always used to say, Zoii be strong though I never felt the need to be when you were there. But see I am strong faced for all yet the same at my heart. These months are like spans of decades crawling and you are nowhere in the abode we have created. Zainab is about to be a bride but I see how your void breaks her might and so does mine. Ahmed longs for you to come and so do I. Where are you? Does that heart still beat? Will you return or will I live as your Half Widow till I find peace in the umbrage of death.”