THE MAGIC OF BEING ONE AT LAST

The tedium of waiting is unbearable to most people, especially when they are young. Life is so demanding. There is so little time. And there are so many things to be attended to. They are in the prime of life. And it is a constant rush, to keep pace with others of their age. They appear to be on the go always. But, to a young woman in love, the story is different. The moments of waiting, for the lover boy to arrive, become sweet too. Nigar sat still. The room around her was encased in darkness. It was lit only by the moonlight streaming in from a cloudless sky. She viewed the garden, its manicured green fence and the seascape framed by the open window. It was enchanting, like a picture postcard, at that hour of night.

Parvez should be coming in any minute, she told herself. Soft as the moonlight, two tender hands pulled at hers. Bending low, she lifted the girl with the flowing tresses into her arms. The child cuddled in her lap, happy beyond words. Mother and daughter sat in the full moon. They drank deep of the beauty of nature and its immense, dynamic peace.

"Sleep doesn't come to you tonight?" Nigar's words were husky with emotion.

"Yes, Ammy. I've been waiting for Abbu to come home. What is holding him, Ammy?"

"He phoned from the airport just now. They had some mechanical problem. The take off from Bombay was delayed. But they've arrived safe. He'll be in any moment now."

"He's bringing me the newest toys from there, no? Could he have forgotten? It is so long, almost a month now since he went there."

"Yes, dear, it is a new business he is developing. Financing films is not an easy job. He had to watch every step of his there."

Faster than the moon's rays, her thoughts floated back to her college days. Parvez was handsome like a matinee idol. They were in fact teasing him why he didn't become an actor. But he acted shy and reserved. He had no need to assume the airs other boys were flaunting. Rough and tough, that was what they boasted they were. He should have become a clerk somewhere, they taunted him.

At their head was Junaid who was everybody's hero. Poet, artist, singer, dramatist, everything. Lionized by the entire class, he viewed Parvez as a dullard. Nigar too had caught the infectious craze that swept the college for Junaid. The charisma he generated was unbelievable. He had a special word for her every time. He sent her a sheaf of his poems. They were still with her, secreted in a dark corner of some cupboard. And she had tried hard to forget them and the past.

Life had been such a terrible ordeal in those days.

She was one of four daughters in a family. They lived on the borderline of poverty. Her father was a government official who would not accept bribes. To meet family expenses, he borrowed from his provident fund. No one else would advance him any amount. The deductions on this score cut deep into his income. His take home pay was indeed modest. But the old man fought adversity with courage and faith.

"In our land, people mourn when they beget a daughter. I have four. I'm not unnerved. Our Prophet has said anyone having two daughters would go to heaven if he just brought them up. I have four and I am giving them a college education to top it all. I'm sure Allah is on our side. He will help us out of all problems."

"Abbu has still not come, Ammy!" The child's eyelids were heavy with sleep. And she slid down her lap.

"Go and lie down in your bed, darling. I'll wake you when he comes in." The child shuffled away sleepily.

Yes, Junaid was indeed irresistible. The sheer force of his ideas and his personality left no one in peace. He shared his dreams with her and convinced her that one day he would be a real film maker and she would share the honors with him. He would make her a reigning star, if she chose. Or, a co-producer!

She was not sure if the emotion that swayed her was love. But it blinded her in some strange way. She began to fall back in her studies. Parvez was the only one to caution her. And he did it often enough to annoy her. She had no ear for him. She remembered clearly how he waited patiently in the Library for her. That was the only place where he could speak to her. Those were, to him, precious moments as she was not with Junaid or tailed by his coterie.

But Parvez’s words sounded so dull and insipid to her. He pleaded with her constantly not to forget her aging father. The old man had lavished his all on her education. His life hung on a bare thread of hope that she would graduate and find a decent job. Her father was positive she would score a top rank in the competitive examination for IAS, and the door to glory would open before her and the family. As an officer in the government she would command immense respect and a high salary, besides within months all their debts would be cleared. And her younger sisters would be able to gain admission to exclusive colleges. Only those with influence or unlimited wealth could join them then.

As a District Officer's sisters, they would have a walk over and be doctors and engineers in no time. Nigar wanted no part of this perspective planning. She was so enamored of the artistic future Junaid flaunted before all his pals. He organized a drama troupe to travel round the country and bring about a cultural renaissance. He was undeterred by financial constraints or the lack of public enthusiasm for his schemes. He offered her the leading role in all his theatre presentations. She acted opposite him in local presentations and won the public heart.

Even in these, Parvez stuck to her like a devoted, self appointed guardian angel. He would be there at all the rehearsals, patiently and stoically taking in all the jeers and jibes Junaid and his 'jockeys' threw at him. He would wait in the aisles, even far into the night, as she took time to remove her makeup and he would take her home on his motor cycle. This did not, however, earn him her gratitude. She had no thought for anyone except Junaid. But she could not proceed beyond this. At her father's resolute opposition, at Parvez's  prodding, she dashed her hopes of joining the team as a permanent artist. When they flew to Bombay, Delhi, and even far off Kuala Lumpur, Penang and Singapore for theatre performances, she was not in the troupe.

In a way, it proved a blessing. Junaid's love remained as ethereal as the dreams he wove. He certainly needed her, as a star, a disciple, a worshipper even. But as partner in life? No, he had not given thought to the subject at all.

"It is beyond the purview of my ideology." That was his flourish at the airport as he took leave of her, "It is incompatible with my revolutionary thinking. Marriage is indeed a matter of convenience. We can decide upon it at a later date. You ask me how much later! Well, I really don't know. The first phase of my program-revolution in the arts-has only just begun. Only after its success, and of other phases to follow in its wake, can I sit back and think over the problem!"

Art, intellect, freedom, revolution, grandeur, charisma-these were his obsession. He felt no compulsion to look down his ivory tower. The chauffeur would have met Parvez by now, she told herself. The drive from the airport took an hour by day. But in the night, they could drive faster. She rose, switched on the lights and called the security guard on the intercom. He was awake. She woke up the maid to warm up the dishes she had prepared for Parvez. She went down to the porch to greet her husband on arrival.

Her eyes lingered lovingly over the Japanese rock garden she had designed and Parvez got built for her. The pool below had brave little lotuses shimmering in the moonlight. Behind them the roses of different sizes and colors, procured from different centers, were waltzing to the cool night breeze.

She remembered every plant and the resort city they had brought it from. They were mementos of their honeymoon and successive vacations in Kodaikanal, Ooty, Bangalore and Kashmir. Parvez had spent months improving and beautifying the garden to perfection, giving shape to her dreams. She could not make out how he managed to squeeze so many projects into his daily schedule. A degree in business management, he had added new lines, car and computer franchises, equipment leasing, fund management et al. And now, film finance!

He had inherited the family's ancestral business in carpets and precious rugs. With this, with all this on his mind, she had just to name anything and he would bring it to her, as though on a silver platter. So adoring and self effacing was her own Parvez!

To think now of those days: how nearly she had courted disaster! The rebel poet with his high thinking and unthinking mode of life could have made a mess of her life too. To be pinned down by the limits imposed by law on artistic expression. His zeal for a break with the past got him a vociferous following everywhere. Also in the bargain came the hostile attention of the powers and the law. Destiny had given her a big hand. Junaid felt he was too big an idealist and reformer. He was pronounced guilty of defamation and jailed as he could not pay the fines imposed. His troupe disbanded. Back then, her father had his first heart attack and he could not get extension of service and had to retire. With the job gone, he would be on pension, drawing less than half of the salary he had been used to.

Parvez was not so rich in those days. Yet he came to their aid and put him in hospital. He also gave her a job in a girls' college. He was among the businessmen supporting the institution with their donations. The pay was good and in time she could forget Junaid and cast off the spell he had cast on her. It was only then that her eyes opened to Parvez and his gracious charm. He seemed to be with her and her sisters and the family all the time. He visited her dad several times daily in the hospital. He had the instinct to know and bring them whatever they were in need of.

The truth was that his devotion, more than anything else, saved her father's life at that critical period. Few sons would have attended on their fathers with such love as Parvez, a total stranger, had done.

By his love for her and with his innate humanity and helpfulness towards her dear ones, he had become one with the family. So it was: when the time came for a final choice, she had absolutely no second thought. There was some urgency too.

Parvez was the up and coming businessman in town. Export opportunities were opening up in Madras. Parvez was among the first. Most others of his age shrunk back from the risks and the hard work without which none could succeed in business. Maybe they just did not have it in them to brave the odds and overcome unfair competition. Young and educated entrepreneurs to line up for contracts, there was little doubt that the richest families in town were vying with each other, or so the marriage brokers said, to get him.

But Parvez paid no heed to any of them. He sent his representative to meet her father. As his own father was no more, the customary approach had to be made by elders from the bridegroom's family.

With baskets of sweets, flowers and fruit, they came in to seek her hand in marriage to Parvez. Her father came into her room as she sat with her younger sisters and an elderly aunt. He asked her opinion on the proposed alliance.

The memories raced through her mind of the countless occasions when she had then confronted with crises in her college and in her life. Parvez had come in at the right moment and helped her out of them. What does a woman look for in her man, she asked herself. Was it love, devotion and strength of character? Parvez exemplified these in his very being. Junaid and his charisma, his fiery evocation of revolutionary art and his heroic airs paled into nothing in the warm aura of trust and dependability that Parvez's very presence exuded for her.

The outer gate opened and the next moment the car was in the portico. She ran to it and opened the door. Parvez jumped out and grabbed her hand and made a rush for the door.

He told the driver and the housemaid to bring in the luggage and presents he had brought and keep them safe in the hall. The young couple went straight to the spacious bedroom upstairs. They just ignored the servants' meaningful stare. Safe in the cool and comfort of the suite, they could be one after the month long separation, the first after their wedding.

All the pain of loneliness, the yearning for support and solace felt in the unendurable four weeks past, were now drowned in moments of fervor, ferocity and fulfillment. The magic of being one at last that lifts people to empyrean heights!

“How was Bombay?" she enquired of him, in their first breath of respite.

"Just great. Beautiful. I'm getting along famously. Those guys there, as everywhere, may be geniuses all right, but they need me and my money. They had the grace to admit it. My word prevails."

There was a gleam in her eye. Evidence, he told himself, of yet another of his triumphs. He said, in passing, "Goodness, I met Junaid there!"

"Junaid!", Nigar had the fight of her life, holding in check the storm of emotions the name aroused in her. "Of all the people! What is he up to there?" 

“A human tornado he was in College, but when I saw him in Bombay I found him a picture of dejection beneath his bold front. In tatters really, almost on the verge of a breakdown."

"The same old head-in-the-clouds. Still talking high and mighty. But he is not the type which braves and absorbs a thousand storms, a woman's heart has the expanse, she told herself to meet shocks and remain unruffled.”

Would her husband have heard the gasp she could not hold back? Like the wide ocean burden to bear, of all humanity!

"Films had been his passion and he had to drift into that world somehow. Someone sometime had given him a break and then left him in the lurch.”

He was to be a song writer, a lyricist. They had recorded three songs with great fanfare and publicity. Then the film itself was abandoned. The eerie hope of success, built around those three songs, kept him alive. He was haunting one studio after another.

"I met him by sheer chance and recognized him. I didn't have the heart to ignore him. After all we had been just one great group some time. I helped him for your sake. Gave him a regular job. If he is as good at his art as he claims to be, he can yet strike gold. You are happy I did something for him, aren't you, darling?"

Words would not come to her. It was a fleeting moment and would pass, as they all do. The pain, the challenge she had lived through and there was no going back. Tears were rising to her eyes. She had to hide them from him. She looked away. The open window had a welcome view.

There was the breeze teasing and flirting with the flowers in her garden. And beyond them the sea, calm on the surface and the throb of a myriad convulsions within. The clouds cradled the setting moon. Beyond them stretched the vast open space. Was it just vacant or was it filled -- with unwritten chronicles of innumerable lives, the years past...

The next moment, when she met his steady gaze, he found no change in her. Serene as ever, she pointed to the adjoining room. He knew their little angel was sleeping in it.

"Shall I wake up Jabeen, dear? I had promised her she could meet you as soon as you were in."