In the Company of Strangers, page 26
Ali gingerly stepped out of the car, careful not to put any sort of pressure on his jacket. It was heavy and warm, and coupled with the thick shawl wrapped across his shoulders, he was drenched in sweat by the time he reached the back entrance. These entrances were hardly ever used by anyone but the staff members. Ali recognised the bored-looking guards from Meera’s home back in Lahore. They welcomed him like an old friend and ushered him inside, not even giving the policemen time to pat him down. ‘You are late as it is,’ one of the senior guards said, pushing him in the direction of the make-up rooms. ‘And you look like shit. Go wash your face, take a shower or whatever, or there will be hell to pay later.’
A policeman stepped forward to stop him, but Meera’s guard waved him away. ‘He’s one of our own. He’s the last person you should be searching. Make yourself useful at the main entrance.’
Ali lifted the flap and entered the tent, blood roaring in his ears, his mind racing back to how he could have done everything differently. Would things have been different if Mona hadn’t come into his life, if he’d never met Gul, if the bomb blast hadn’t taken Hussain’s leg? He walked down the narrow corridor leading toward the backrooms, his feet trudging up sand. For a brief moment, he wondered why the event was being held in such a deserted place before he realised that the whole purpose of it was to provide security and offer guests a chance to view the area they were supposed to be investing in.
No, he would not have done anything differently. His choices had brought Mona into his life. Knowing her, even for such a brief time, was worth a life lived well. He wouldn’t change it for anything. Even if he were to die today, at least he’d die content in the knowledge that he’d found love. For there was no other way he could describe the feeling.
The bomb weighed heavy on him, the weight of the lives he might take much more than the weight of the actual jacket. Was he brave enough to press the button with Mona present? Could he take the life of the person he loved?
The make-up rooms were empty. Even the assistants were absent. How strange, he thought, gazing at the rows of empty chairs with the bulbs dotting the mirrors left lit. There was an eeriness to the place, as if it expected a sinister intent. There was the dulled sound of a massive crowd mingling somewhere beyond, the cacophony of a thousand excited people. A thousand people, Ali thought, suddenly aghast. He sank into one of the make-up chairs. A thousand souls and the click of a single button. And then, the booming voice of Meera suddenly filled the tent. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. The investors are here, the sponsors are here, the glittering Karachi society is here and the models are here. Let the show celebrating the Karachi Marine Housing Scheme begin!’
Thunderous applause filled the tent, but Ali jumped at the sudden tremor in his pocket.
It was the mobile phone.
Forty five minutes left. Get a move on.
He put his face in his hands and wept for the first time that evening.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mona
There was something wrong. She was sweating too much. It wasn’t even hot in the tent with the makeshift air conditioners blasting cold air in her face. Something was wrong with the baby, she was sure of it. Nausea sliced through her, threatening to bring up the food she had nibbled at during dinner. She leaned against a wooden pole supporting the tent and took deep breaths.
‘What is it?’
It was Meera, having arrived from the stage.
Mona turned away from her. ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on the show? I’m fine.’
‘It’s not much of a show,’ Meera said. She ran her hand over Mona’s back in circular motions. The gesture calmed Mona. ‘The models are only here for decoration. I don’t know why Bilal insisted on them. They look like losers standing there, clapping at the images of those disgusting houses on screen. Are you sure you’re all right? You’re sweating.’
Another wave of nausea hit her, and Mona retched, but she only brought up saliva.
‘Oh God, what is wrong with you, Mona? You look like a ghost. You are white as chalk.’
Meera’s eyes were round with concern.
‘I’m fine,’ Mona laughed, but then another spell of retching assailed her. ‘Just some shrimps I ate,’ she lied. ‘Please don’t let Bilal see.’
‘Everyone is busy watching the models and the advertisements.’ She took Mona by the arm. ‘Come with me. I’m taking you somewhere you can rest. And you need to tell me why you’re hiding your pregnancy.’
Mona stared at her friend in horror. ‘How did you know?’
Meera arched an eyebrow. ‘You forget that I’ve seen you pregnant before. That bastard Iftikhar.’
‘Oh Meera, that is ancient history now, and totally irrelevant.’
‘It was relevant enough for you to not speak to me for twenty years.’
‘Please don’t dredge up the past,’ Mona whispered. ‘Not now. And,’ – she squeezed her friend’s hand – ‘yes, it is irrelevant now. It was stupid for me to let that get between us.’
‘Always the late bloomer, Mona,’ Meera laughed. ‘Now, I can’t wait to hear about everything you’ve been up to. You might be able to hide it from the world, but not from me.’ She tapped a finger on her chin. ‘Let me guess. Ali, right?’
‘Oh God. You know everything.’
‘Of course.’ They reached the area leading to the make-up rooms. Meera turned to her before turning the knob. ‘I wasn’t there for you before, Mona, but now, no matter how serious the problem is, you can always count on me.’
Before Mona could reply, Meera turned the doorknob and ushered them inside.
Mona had to blink twice to register what she was looking at. Ali sat on one of the chairs, wrapped in a thick woollen shawl, weeping like no man she had ever seen.
Her nausea evaporated. ‘Ali,’ she breathed.
Beside her, she saw Meera turn toward her. ‘What’s the matter with him?’
But Mona had eyes only for Ali. He looked terrified with his arms wrapped around his knees, his face shiny with tears. ‘Oh Ali, what happened to you?’
In a flash, she was with him, ready to embrace him, feel his heart beating against hers. But he shrank from her touch.
‘Don’t,’ he said, moving away from her.
‘But Ali, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be angry for so long.’ Mona didn’t care if Meera heard. At this moment, all she cared about was taking Ali into her arms. They had been apart for too long. ‘I was acting foolishly, and I’m sorry for that. I promise I will never again do this, but please don’t turn away from me. Not now, Ali, when I have something so life-changing to tell you.’
‘Mona, please don’t touch me.’
‘Why are you being like this? Look at me, I’m here. I’m here for you now.’
‘I’ll give you two some privacy,’ Meera muttered, retreating.
‘I need you to run away from this place as fast as you can, Mona. As fast as you can.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening with you. Are you going to let a small argument come between us?’
Ali let out a groan. ‘You don’t understand. We are not meant to be together. Just go away. Leave. Run.’
‘I’m pregnant,’ Mona declared at the same time as Ali said, ‘I am wearing a bomb.’
They both stared at each other, lost for words.
‘A bomb?’ Mona whispered.
‘Pregnant? With my baby?’ Ali asked her weakly, his face draining of colour. ‘Oh.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ali
He watched her expression change from concern to disbelief. He saw her run an instinctive hand over her belly. She was pregnant. With his child. He could see the truth of it in her eyes, the knowledge of what he had told her fighting over her own news for precedence.
‘Why?’ she said softly, as if it was the most logical question in the world. ‘Why are you wearing a bomb?’
Before he could think of what to say, he told her everything, his tongue working of its own accord. He told her of Mir and Gul, of his unknowing involvement in the plot to kill Elahi, of his deliberate involvement in another plot, and then of his crushing guilt, the never-ending regrets of how he could have avoided it. He told her of his love for her, how he wanted to lay the world at her feet. Finally, he told her of the bomb he was carrying, the impossibility of the situation. And then, he apologised to her. He apologised for everything.
He spoke for more than ten minutes, the words gushing out of his mouth like hot lava, scalding his tongue. All through his monologue, she didn’t utter a single word, her eyes blank, one hand over her belly, the other hanging uselessly at her side.
A tense silence stretched between them after he was finished.
‘Say something,’ Ali whispered. ‘Anything.’
Mona rose from the seat she had taken and walked across the room as if in a trance. ‘Wearing a suicide vest,’ she murmured to herself. ‘A suicide bomber.’ She paused before a mirror, the bulbs bathing her face in a yellow glow. ‘Did you ever love me, Ali?’ she asked, not looking at him.
‘Of course I did, Mona. I still do. With my entire being.’ And he meant it. Seeing her like this made him want to throw his arms around her and never let go, to protect her from everything, and yet, here he had brought the greatest danger imaginable right to her doorstep. ‘But you need to go. Now.’ His voice broke. ‘We need to say goodbye.’
‘Goodbye?’ Her eyes assumed the same blankness again. She rolled a strand of hair over her index finger. ‘But what about the baby? Our baby.’
‘Mona, I – I’m wearing a bomb and there is no way I can defuse it even if I wanted to. This is the end of the line for me, but you still have your whole life ahead of you. Stay alive for me, for our child. Go.’
‘You speak like a martyr, but you’re not one,’ she said. ‘You’re a heartless liar who took the easy way life showed him.’
Ali’s heart squeezed at her words. ‘I did it for you. For us. I wanted us to have money.’
For the first time since entering the tent, a sharpness entered Mona’s voice. ‘Do you think I want money? I’ve been running away from it my entire life, and yet you bring its destructive influence back to my doorstep yet again. If you thought I needed money, then you have never understood me. And here I am, pregnant with your child at the age of forty-two and you tell me you did it all for me. That you expect me to raise a fatherless child. The child of a terrorist.’
‘I’m not a terrorist.’
‘You’re as good as.’ Tears leaked from Mona’s eyes. ‘Oh Ali, why couldn’t you have let life take its own course? Why the greed?’
‘For you. For us,’ he repeated. ‘Go now, Mona and take Meera with you. She doesn’t deserve this death. Nobody does. Take as many as you can.’
‘And leave the rest? Would you really be able to blow up a thousand people?’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I am not going anywhere until you make some decisions. Will you give in to the terrorists or do the right thing and report this?’
In spite of himself, he laughed. ‘There is no reporting this. They can’t defuse this bomb, and nor do I want them to. If a thousand lives is what it takes to save my family, then so be it.’
‘Look at yourself, Ali.’ She crouched before him and grabbed his knees. ‘Your knees are shaking,’ she murmured. ‘You’re terrified. Don’t do this, Ali.’
‘I don’t have a choice,’ he whispered. ‘I wish I did.’
‘There is always a choice.’
Ali let her grasp his hand. It was warm in his cold one. ‘I don’t have a choice. I wished that I’d get a chance to say goodbye to you, and now I have. Go, Mona. You’ve put up with a failure like myself for long enough. It’s time for you to be free.’
But she didn’t move. Instead, she laid her head on his knee. ‘But don’t you see? My freedom was always with you. If you won’t be there, then what’s the use of anything? Our fates are bound together, Ali, whether you like it or not. If you die, then I die. Our baby dies.’
His eyes filled with tears. He brought her hand to his lips. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Please go.’
She looked up at him, her own face tear-stained. ‘Do you?’
Before he could answer, the sound of rustling filled the room, and Bilal rushed in with Meera close behind him. ‘I’m sorry,’ Meera said. ‘I tried but he wouldn’t listen.’
To Ali’s utter surprise, Mona didn’t move. She kept resting her head on his knee, silent, her hand still clasped in his.
‘Well,’ Bilal said, his voice tight as if it was coming from far away. ‘Well well well…’ His face was ashen, but Ali noticed the wounded pride in his eyes, the gathering storm of anger. ‘So, what I suspected is true.’
‘You didn’t suspect anything, Bilal,’ Mona replied, her eyes downcast. ‘To suspect anything, you’d need to have an interest in that person.’
‘She seems to have developed a tongue too.’ He turned to Meera. ‘Congratulations. You’ve turned her into yourself. You must be so proud.’
‘This is not the time to be pointing fingers, Bilal,’ Meera replied. ‘We have an live show running and I cannot have you falling to pieces.’
‘What do you take me for, woman? A blubbering teenage girl? If there’s someone who’s falling to pieces in this room, it’s my dear wife and her lover whom I’d prefer to cut to pieces myself.’ His gaze locked with Ali’s. ‘You bastard.’
‘He has a bomb.’ Mona said.
‘Shut up, Mona. I’m going to deal with you in a moment,’ Bilal shot back before turning to Ali again, but Ali saw that Meera had understood. He saw her clap her hands on her mouth.
‘You filthy bastard,’ Bilal began.
‘He is wearing a suicide vest, Bilal!’ Mona shouted.
A shudder passed through Bilal. ‘What?’ he asked his wife. ‘Who’s wearing a what?’
Ali saw Mona’s eyelashes rise. She must be looking at Bilal. ‘My lover, as you put it, is wearing a suicide vest. And, I’m pregnant.’
Chapter Thirty
Mona
Her secret was out. The secret that she had kept hidden for months, tortured herself over, the one thing she had thought would kill her if it came out, had been revealed to the one person she feared above all else, and she felt nothing. Not an ounce of fear.
She felt liberated.
She saw her husband advance on her, the terror and anger mixed into an unrecognisable expression on his face. ‘What did you just say?’ he sputtered. ‘What did you just say?’
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, rising from her place on Ali’s knee.
‘Oh Mona, not now,’ Meera moaned.
‘With his child,’ Mona continued, reaching down to hold Ali’s hand. Ali stood up too, the shawl wrapped tightly around him. She noticed now how bulky he seemed around the waist. For the first time that evening, she felt pure fear slice through her. Could he really blow himself up? Wouldn’t she do the same for her kids? The thought terrified her.
Bilal had stopped in his tracks. She saw pain take the place of incomprehension. His eyes bulged, his full lips quivering so much that he seemed like he would go into convulsions at any moment. She looked at her husband and the decades played out in front of her eyes. She saw how she had been reduced from a human, a wife to just a decoration in his home. His reaction today had surprised her though; she didn’t think he was capable of feeling like a human. The pain and hurt on his face seemed as if he actually cared for her.
‘Mona,’ he wheezed. ‘Why? And with a terrorist?’
‘He’s not a terrorist,’ she said in a level voice. ‘He might be many things, but he is not a terrorist. I love him. I love him as I’ve never loved anyone in my life, and for him, I will leave you Bilal. I will leave you forever and nothing would give me greater pleasure.’
Bilal lunged for the nearest piece of equipment on the desk and knocked it against the mirror with a roar. ‘You bitch!’
The stream of conversation outside ceased for a few seconds before resuming.
‘I don’t know how you guys can even have this conversation right now. We can discuss this later.’ Meera’s voice was trembling. ‘Right now, we have a bigger problem to deal with. The bomb.’
‘I don’t care about the bomb.’ Bilal’s breathing came in heavy bursts. ‘You can blast me to your heart’s fill, boy.’ He spread out his arms. ‘See if I care.’
‘Don’t be melodramatic, Bilal,’ Mona replied. ‘Ali is not blowing anyone up.’
‘You’re right, Mona, I’m not.’
Mona closed her eyes in relief. ‘Oh thank God.’
She saw Ali grab the nearest table for balance. ‘I wish we could have had a life together. I wish I could have seen the birth of our child. I wish I could have married you, Mona. I wish so many things.’
Mona put her hands on either side of his face. ‘And we can have all that. I promise you, Ali.’
Bilal collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands. He was clawing his hair out. A sliver of pity made its way into her heart for him. True to form, he had smashed things, but surprisingly, he had also acted like a man in pain. From the way his body shuddered, she knew he was crying, and for a moment she let her mind absorb the fact. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him weep. Not in twenty-two years.
‘No we can’t, Mona,’ Ali said, and she knew he had seen her watching Bilal. She could tell from the smile on his lips. ‘You can’t marry a terrorist. And I cannot let you ruin your life. I won’t allow it. So, I’ve made a decision.’
He stepped back from her.
Her hands dropped from his face.
‘You will find happiness again, Mona. I can see it in your eyes. But sadly, I won’t be a part of it.’
