End of a dream

Tell her I’m coming, ’I answered, before hurriedly reaching out for my veil and walking out of the room. ‘Assalamu alaikum’ I said to Maryam, while taking the passenger seat next to her. ‘Wa alaikumussalam wa rahmatullah’, she answered looking my way very briefly before she started the car again. Her brief glance was still […]

Tell her I’m coming, ’I answered, before hurriedly reaching out for my veil and walking out of the room.

‘Assalamu alaikum’ I said to Maryam, while taking the passenger seat next to her.

‘Wa alaikumussalam wa rahmatullah’, she answered looking my way very briefly before she started the car again. Her brief glance was still enough to give me a glimpse of her bloodshot eyes. I’m sure mine don’t look any better.

‘Have you spoken to her?’ I asked, referring to our mutual close friend Asabe.

‘Yes, I told her we were on our way.’ Maryam replied, and from then on drove in silence.

We met Asabe in the sitting room but she quickly guided us to her room and explained ‘The children could walk in any time, I don’t want them listening in on us.’ The moment we sat on her bed, we lifted our eyes up to greet but burst out crying instead. All three of us huddled together on that bed and cried our hearts out.  We cried like we never did in all the years we have known each other as friends. I finally found my voice and asked. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Yesterday morning.’ Asabe replied in a voice equally hoarse from all that sobbing.

‘Just like that?’ Maryam finally chipped in.

 ‘Well almost just like that, because I had no inkling anything was wrong. Mansur had been acting worried, even distant, talking less, not joining us for meals and so on for the last three weeks. I asked him whether something was wrong when the moods first started. But he told me nothing was wrong but that he had a lot on his mind. I advised him to take things easy with this politics that he’s into, jokingly adding that no one ever said, on his death bed, that I was the best politician ever created.  But the moods continued and I kept my peace, keeping to myself unless he made it obvious he needed my company. Then yesterday morning he appeared at my doorstep as soon as we finished subhi prayer. He said he wanted to see me in his room. By the time I reached his room, his things were all packed as if he was travelling somewhere. I looked around the room and then back at him.’ Are you travelling?’ I asked. ‘No’ he answered and asked me to sit down. I sat on a chair in the room, suddenly nervous, while he sat on the edge of his bed. He looked up at me and said, ‘I have given a lot of thought to our marriage, and I don’t think there is any way out of our problems except for us to end it.’ Asabe’s voice broke and the tears continued to flow uncontrollably down her cheeks.‘  Too shocked to do anything else, I asked him what problems he was talking about, that I didn’t know we had any problems. But he answered that I  should please stop pretending, that it was obvious to all who could see that a lot was wrong with our marriage. Any way he has now decided to move out. There is still two years of rent yet to expire and I should relax and take care of the children before it is time to move out. With that he handed me the divorce letter and simply walked out, pulling behind his luggage. For a while I just stood there too immobilised to move or speak. When I finally moved, it was to walk back to my room, close the door and fall on my bed crying. Luckily for me, my two young children had fallen asleep in their room while watching cartoon with Nanny, the night before and I didn’t move them back to mine. Of course, the four older ones are all in boarding school.  I freely let my tears flow and never even thought of telling anyone till hours later, when I called my mum and sisters.’ She paused, wiping the tears from her face.

‘Well, he can’t get away with that, he has to forget whatever madness came over him and come back to you.  Does he think he can easily walk out on almost 20 years of family life because he suffers some moods or problems?’ Maryam  asked, rhetorically.

‘Of course he can’t,  Tahir told me this morning, that they have plans to meet  him later today.  He and the others are to tell him that he has to reconsider this decision and return to his family. Whatever his problems, they will have to be sorted out within the four walls of this house.’ I added.

‘I wish it was that easy’, Asabe said, carefully opening her hand bag to pick out a piece of paper. ‘The contents of this letter say I have been pronounced divorced three times. It is thrice, irrevocable.’  She said with emphasis.

‘Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un ‘ were the only words Maryam and I could utter before we took the letter from her, and with fresh tears dripping from our eyes began to read its contents.

To be continued.