The Fallen Widow

9. Imperial Garden

Meh'r-Bano settled quickly into her new role at the haveli over the next two weeks. Allowing the children to lead and adapting her learning around them proved to be successful and Kinza began to sit at the table and completing her written work. Harris was a handful during the reading session, he would climb on the windows and look outside seeking freedom. Meh'r-Bano rewarded him with outdoor play in the imperial gardens and settled them into a routine. Meh'r-Bano didn't come across the noble household members. She liaised with the maids, the cleaning staff and Shamim whose primary role was the caretaker of the children. Meh'r-Bano wondered why Malikah didn't spend time with her children, it was strange. Their grandparents rarely saw them. They had little attention from the family. After the initial conversation, the children didn't mention heir father, like they'd been bound. It was strange but Meh'r-Bano wasn't there to ask questions. She enjoyed spending time with them and gathering as much information about the haveli as possible.

It was the afternoon when Meh'r-Bano took the children for their outdoor session. As she entered the pergola shade embarking a journey into the garden finally she had chance to discover the treasure of the imperial garden. The vertical pillars of timber created a tunnel with cross-beams and study open lattice. The timber frame was exquisitely decorated by nature, evergreen potato vines climbing the trellis panels producing a cluster of summer blooms. The trellis panels with beautifully twinning growth of golden orange honeysuckles, created a shaded passageway allowing the cool breeze but offered protection from the harsh glare of the direct sunlight. Bee-friendly blooms of brilliant blue, purple and red passion flowers crafted a spectacular and exotic appearance.

Harris carried his water pistol shooting the climbing evergreen potato vines. Meh'r-Bano sneaked deeper through the meandering stone path punctuated with gravel stones towards the large pond with flowering lily pads and bridge that crossed it so you could look down at the fishes. The cool breeze played with her loose tendrils, brushing her dupatta off her head. She closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet perfume from the rose beds, she could feel the cool shade standing under the apple tree. The garden was a piece of heaven. Clusters of defiant daffodils reared their golden heads amidst golden buttercups and there were smatters of fuchsia along side the scarlet and saffron hued primroses. She kneeled on the stone path and held the beauty petals curling at the edges from the summer heat. She could never tire of their sweet fragrance. Each one delicate than the one she saw before. The petals were a work of art and their hue an elixir for her soul. She could easily lose herself for hours in the gardens. The trickle of the water together with the Kinza's hearty laughter transported her to another world; a world away from Jahanpur. Around the corner, stone steps led to a secret part of the garden luring her away from her duty and the children. There was so much to see, to enjoy and experience, she'd only dipped her toe in the imperial gardens when Harris called out to her.

"Baji! Baji!
Meh'r-Bano rose to her feet and her dupatta trailed behind. She tugged her white dupatta, but it was stuck. She turned and noticed the her dupatta stuck in the rose bed.

"Uff Allah!" She sighed dreading the rip in her dupatta. "How can something beautiful-" She tugged her dupatta and it tore a hole in the thin white fabric.
"Oh no! This was my favourite one!"

After throwing mud at her brother, Kinza ran out of the gardens and into the courtyard. With mud smeared on her white frilly frock, her hands covered in dirt. She ran barefoot onto the polished marble flooring running into Central Sang e Mar Mar haveli. Kinza shot passed her grandmother who lay on the sofa set with Ulfat massaging her left calf.
"Shamim!" Shahgul called out kicking Ulfat off her legs. "Kinza!" She yelled looking at the muddy footprints on the clear white floor.
"What is going on?" Shahgul sat up and arranged her beige shawl over her chest. Ulfat marched out of the room to investigate.
"Kinza!" Shahgul called. "Come here!"
Shahgul was horrified to discover her messy granddaughter. "She looks like a filthy villager. Where is that Shamim? Why isn't she looking after my granddaughter?"
With her head bowed, Shamim scuttled in terrified of meeting Shahgul's furious eyes.
"Where have you gone and died? Look at the state of the girl?"
Kinza bit her lower lip and shrugged her shoulders.
"Why aren't you looking after her?"
"Chourani Sahiba, it's the teachers time. She is teaching the children." Shamim mumbled her head obediently bowed as she stared at her toes.
"Teacher?" Shahgul glared at Ulfat. "Which teacher? Teaching them what? To be filthy like village kids? I will not have my grandchildren in this state." She yelled.
Kinza hid behind Shamim afraid of her grandmother.
"This is a disgrace! What kind of disgraceful teacher is this?"
Shamim utilised the perfect opportunity to create trouble for Meh'r-Bano. Finally, Meh'r-Bano would be chastised and leave the haveli.
"I don't have a say in her teaching. What do I know? She knows everything." Shamim mumbled.
Shahgul sighed in rage. Who was this teacher? Why wasn't she informed?
"Choudhrani Sahiba-" Ulfat cut in. "She is the teacher that Choudhrani Malikah appointed."
"I'll sort her out. Where is she?"
Shahgul marched her way into the courtyard flipping her shawl over her shoulder. She was livid with the idea of employing a teacher for the children. It wasn't necessary. But to appease her daughter, she agreed to her demand for peace. She allowed the appointment of a Chiragpur teacher expecting her to be like the villagers, meek, lowly, rugged an unkept. The Chiragpuris were the lowest of the villagers and hence kept for the quarries. Shahgul was livid she had to tell this lowly girl off for disgracing her granddaughter. When she entered the imperial gardens through the shaded pergola, she heard Harris's laughter before she saw him. The child rarely laughed. Mingled with her grandson's laughter, was a young woman's laughter. Harris called out,
"Baji Bano!"
Shahgul followed his voice.
Her grandson held a blue water pistol and shot at the teacher. Making her way through the stone pathway, she spotted the teacher standing under a row of cherry blossom trees. The wind blew their radiant pink and blue petals like confetti on the pair. He giggled shooting her. She splayed her palms defending her face from the cool, fresh water. Her dupatta scattered like a mere rag on the floor. Her smile wide and beaming, yet she concealed it with her hands in modesty. This young woman wasn't from Chiragpur. Resentment and bitterness balled into the pit of her stomach. The teacher captured her grandson's heart and their play was genuine. Since he arrived to Jahanpur, he hadn't connected with any of the staff the way he did with the teacher; not even his mother. The teacher ran from Harris, but he chased her shooting the back of her cotton pastel pink cotton kameez. Looking at the way the young teacher stole her grandson's heart, a weight dropped on her chest. The teacher held Harris in her arms and spun him around like a propeller. His legs long, the red tassels of her parranda stretching out. They collapsed on the floor in a giddy heap. Why hadn't she noticed her before? Shahgul approached the pair and cleared her mind from the fog forming in her head.
"What's going on here?" She commanded attention with her stern tone.
Harris crawled to his feet and Meh'r-Bano jumped up spreading her dupatta over her head and bowing obediently in front of her. It was the first time she was face to face with Shahgul. She'd seen her from afar many times, but this was special. Her heart pounded from the exertion.
"Why are my grandchildren in a mess?" She glared at Meh'r-Bano.
"What disgrace! They are roaming around like dirty village children! Look at me when I am talking!" She snapped.
Meh'r-Bano lifted her head and brushed her hair aside revealing her wide sea blue-green eyes. In the sun light, her eyes were an intense radiant shade of azure with emerald green. The weight grew heavier on  Shahgul's chest and fog thickened around her. Those eyes. She'd never seen eyes so wide like the colour of the clear sea. This wasn't right.
"What's your name?"
"Ji. Meh'r-Bano." She replied softly.
"Where are you from?"
"Chiragpur."
"Originally."
"Neelam Valley."
Of course. She was an alpine child, living in the mountain.
"What gives you the jurisdiction to teach my grandchildren-"
"Chou-"
"I don't want an answer." Shahgul snapped. "Don't talk back. I don't know or care where you have been taught. Wherever it is, it must be a filthy school. No children act like this. They are taught manners, discipline and corrected. My granddaughter is filthy. Look at my grandson, he is carrying a water gun. Do you know what you are doing?"
"Naani-" Harris began.
"You go inside. Tell Shamim to clean you up and change your clothes. Go!" She pointed. Then she turned to Meh'r-Bano glaring at her from top to bottom at her scatty clothes.
"You won't stay here a day more than what is required. I shall see to that. I agreed to my daughter's stubbornness, but I shall not be tested!" Shahgul glared at Meh'r-Bano who couldn't dare to meet her eyes.
"For now, stay out of my way. Stay out of everyone's way!"
Meh'r-Bano shook her head and scuttled away after Harris. Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. Shahgul sighed in anger. She looked up at the haveli. Now it was time to sort her daughter out.

When  Shahgul entered her daughter's dark and gloomy room, her blood pressure rose. She walked across the room and stripped the curtains apart.
"What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what your children are doing? Open these curtains it feels like a morgue here."
Mailakah turned over on her bed and pulled the covers over her head.
"Look at you, still in your bed. Like you are in mourning."
"I am! Leave me alone!" She groaned.
"Sort yourself out!" She stripped the blanket off her. "You are lucky your father has allowed you back."
Malikah sat up, her eyes weary adjusting to the sudden bright light. She watched her mother tidy her clothes marching across the room. What happened to make her livid?
"I don't want to be back in this jail. I want my freedom. My right. My life in the city. I hate everyone in this place. Do you understand?" She balled her hands into fists.
"You ungrateful girl" Your father has tried his best to tolerate you after the shame you put us through." Shahgul stood beside her bed shaking her head at her.
"What did I do?"
"Don't you ask that question again!" Her mother pointed at her. "You shamed us! You shamed your father. I died the day I heard the news." Shahgul leaned over grabbed her arm.
"Now you listen to me-you will get up. Get dressed and find your children. They will not roam around like orphans. They need their mother."
"They need their father."
Shahgul raised her hand and smacked her daughter hard on her cheek.
"Don't you dare mention that haraami's name again! You hear me." She trembled in rage. Walking away from the heated argument, Shahgul sighed. She looked at her raw red hand in disgust. She despised hitting her daughter, but she feared her husband and what he would do to his daughter. For seven years she'd lost her daughter and cried for her return. Now she was back, but only her empty body. Malikah rubbed her burning cheek. There were no tears left to cry. The pain made her feel alive.
"And who is this teacher? Why have you chosen her?" Shahgul turned and questioned her daughter.  Malikah held her mother's nervous gaze and read her. Her mother eyes dotted around the room. She was almost anxious looking away and then gathered  Malikah's shawl which was scattered on the chair.
"What happened ammi?" Malikah questioned with intrigue. "Why have you turned away?"
Malikah watched her mum fold her shawl almost afraid to meet her eyes. The silence was tense.
"Ammi? You see it don't you? I did as well when I first saw her."
Shahgul's heart pounded with fear. The weight was heavy and now unbearable that her daughter noticed.
"I don't know what you are talking about?" Shahgul denied. "I don't want her here. She cannot look after the children. Get rid of her."
Malikah smiled. She swung her feet off the bed and combed her hair with her fingers tying it in a messy top bun. "Why? What are you afraid of?"
Shahgul held her daughter's eyes almost afraid to admit it. "Don't." She warned her. "You know what your brother is like. I have plans for him and I don't want him to be distracted."
Malikah cackled with laughter. Finally, there was something to get out of bed for. Her body surged with energy at that thought.
"Ammi, what could possibly distract the great Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi? The Heir of Jahanpur?"
The silence mended itself and, in that silence, Shahgul worries amplified. Only recently, Shahgul tidied her son's messy rampant affair in the city and paid off the broken-hearted girl. This was Jahanpur. This was home. You don't mess around on your own patch. He had a reputation that had to be managed with care and diligence.
"I am tolerating this teacher for another few days. Get rid of her." Shahgul demanded.
"No. The children like her."
"She has no place in this haveli. She needs to go."
"Or else?" folded her arms and challenged her mother.
"Don't test my patience."
"You've taken everything off me-everything. I want one thing for my children, and you can't give me that."
"Her? You want her!" Shahgul pointed at the door.
"I want my children to be educated."
"What does she know?" Shahgul threw the shawl on the bed. "She's a Chiragpuri!"
"She's from Neelam. She graduated in English. She's intelligent and wasted in that God-awful village with that backward man."
"Bas!"  Shahgul raised her finger. "Stop this nonsense. Send her away. I don't want here anywhere near the haveli on the inauguration. That's my final word."

 Shahgul marched out of the room, leaving her daughter to reflect on the conversation. Why did her mother's face blanche on the mention of her? There was something unnerving when she mentioned Meh'r-Bano. A look of worry, like she lost control.  Malikah enjoyed seeing that look. A look of fear. A need to investigate and explore it gushed through  Malikah. She recalled their first meeting, when the village girl sat on the floor in her ragged sandals, her baggy clothes, and her long winding parranda. She possessed a sense of mystery in her wide innocent eyes.  Malaikah thought ahead. It was time to learn more about Meh'r-Bano. Only then she would understand why her mother feared her.  Malikah lifted receiver of the intercom and buzzed the kitchen staff.
"Tell Shamim to bring my children to my room with Meh'r-Bano. I want to talk to her."
After two weeks of teaching the children without interference, Malikah was interested in the teacher for all the wrong reasons. It was time to unravel the mystery of Meh'r-Bano and unnerve her mother.