Imperious

Chapter 5

And be moderate in your pace and lower your voice. (Quran 31:18-19).

Deema Begum was stationed on her prayer mat, sitting almost cross-legged whilst she ran her fingers along the glass beads of a green tasbeeh .

Tonight, she was praying solely for the sake of Sadia.

She had named the child when its own grandmother was mourning its birth and she had cared for it in its early days when its mother had not the strength to rise. Much of her own morals were imprinted upon Sadia's character; one of the only two Jatoi children she saw herself in.

On her sore limbs she prayed that the Lord bring her justice if not health. Her experience in the world had taught her that God did not listen to everything, He must be reasoned with. Deema Begum reasoned with Him to the best of her ability. She did not want Sadia to die, but she was aware that due to the severity of her burns, she could die. And if there was anything that concerned her most, then it was Inaya. No child, at such an age, should suffer from the absence of a mother. The results could be dire if the circumstances were not handled appropriately. Deema Begum had seen the consequences.

Her bedroom was simply furnished; she did not like to indulge in the velvets, silks, crystals and glasses that the Jatoi family could afford to decorate their bedrooms with. A simple wall-hanging of Arabic calligraphy decorated the oat coloured paint. A corner shelf of four tiers was sparsely filled with a sets of vases she had made herself. In front of her double bed was a large wooden chest with gold engravings containing most of Deema Begum's favoured possessions. She did not lock it for no one suspicious ever tread in her bedroom and neither was she a suspicious person herself. Deema Begum did not accumulate jewels or clothes either. A simple wedding ring, a pair of gold studs from the Jatoi girls and a gold chain from Sarwat Begum was all she wore on a daily basis. Whatever she had had, she gave off to charity, except those few ornaments her husband had gifted her in the short time she was wed. Six months.

Sarwat Begum did not permit her to give off the family's ancestral jewels.

The door was ajar. Parissa tapped it with her knuckles.

Deema Begum raised her head a fraction, "Come in."

Parissa glided in with her great aunt's tray of medicine. She placed it on the chest before advancing towards the door.

"Stop Pari," she commanded, wrapping her tasbeeh around her hand

Parissa turned around, "I wanted to be right. I wanted to be believed when I said Karam was not good. But not in this way."

Deema Begum unsteadily rose from her prayer mat.

The girls, in their age of immaturity, had warned their father that perhaps Karam was not the right match for Sadia. But Farasat took none of it. In fact, he and Sarwat Begum considered this an act of rebellion which they sought to quell by ensuring Sadia's marriage went through. The girls could not suddenly assume they had the right to intervene in the family's affairs just because they were teenagers.

"You need to be your mother's pillar," said Deema Begum, not wanting to dig out the old skeletons, "This has shaken her severely."

Parissa nodded running her hand along the exterior of the door.

Even if Sadia lived through the burns, her sight would never return and her senses would take time to reawaken. She would be bound to oxygen masks for lengthy periods of time and would have difficulty in breathing independently, as her lungs had been damaged by the incident. Deema Begum had concluded that it was perhaps the worst case she had heard and seen. 'Bride Burning' was a popular phenomenon and every now and then, a case would crop up on the news with various scenarios and reasons. However, something of this nature was unheard of in their family. Unprecedented. Who dare murder a Jatoi?