The Recompense

Ten years ago, when Samina had come to Shakeel’s house in her bridal finery, she dreamt of a happy family life amid a brood of children. She loved kids, their innocent playfulness, and found the idea of becoming a mother so exciting that it made her cheeks ruddy. But fate had decided otherwise. Motherhood eluded Samina, the pain of being childless overpowered all her senses, leading her to count herself among the destitute and the unfortunate of the society.

Like every other Indian woman, Samina was anxious to become a mother and earn respect in her milieu. As expectations of those around her transformed into frustrations, motherhood continued to play truant. Though everybody, including her husband, Shakeel, charged her of being barren, the worst stigma that could smear a woman’s forehead, she did not believe in it. Somewhere, in her heart and her womb, she could feel the murmur and the throbbing of life. The sweet sensation tickled her enough to make her break into a chortle. Each of her relatives, especially her family, attributed her giggles to a hysterical streak, which they secretly thought was the result of her barrenness.

Samina’s body seemed to waltz with her psyche in the mad dance of expectations. Each month as the date for her menses neared, Samina would experience all the symptoms of approaching motherhood -- a feeling of heaviness, bouts of nausea, backaches, a craving for unripe mangoes and pickles. She would be full of hope that this time she would not bleed. But with the blood and the mucus, her hopes would also flow out. Month after month, year after year. Ten years had thus passed by, and Samina still clung to the hope of becoming a mother.

It was not just childlessness; there was another worry that plagued Samina. What if, like others, Shakeel too went in for a second marriage, just to beget a child? She knew that had it not been for her beauty, he would have got himself another wife long ago. But how long could decaying beauty hold a man from marrying another woman? This fear weighed heavily on her; leading her to employ every possible trick a woman could summon to her rescue. To absorb her husband’s seed, she had done everything in her knowledge. She had gone to every hospital and clinic in town. Doctors and their prescriptions gave her nothing more than hope. But hope itself was not enough. Samina then turned to God. She fasted for days. She beseeched mercy from Allah in her daily prayers. She folded her hands before maulvis to blow their sacred prayers on her. She drank the leftovers of pirs and faqirs. She wore amulets of holy Quran on her arms and like a necklace around her neck. She visited the shrines of many celebrated holy men and promised them in her heart to offer chadar on their graves if she became pregnant.

But nothing could extricate the barrenness from her body. She did not become pregnant. She was still burning under this curse like a leafless tree in the hot sun. She could see no respite.

Though Shakeel made love to Samina once or twice a week, he had lost his intensity. With time, it was reduced to more of a ritual than an emotionally charged encounter. And with prosperity in his business, Shakeel’s indifference towards Samina increased. One day he even hinted at his remarriage after the coming Eid. That day, Samina lost all her hopes. Tears of hopelessness vanquished the walls of her endurance. For a full night, she lay on the prayer mat. Crying, she raised her hands in supplication and asked Allah to make her a mother, even if she had to eat shit for this!

That month, to Samina’s delightful surprise, she did not bleed. Allah had answered her years of prayers and persistence. She was pregnant. She cried with happiness and thanked Allah for His mercy. When she passed the news to her husband, he too was overcome with joy. Her in-laws once again heaped her with attention. They cared for her as if she were a child. Shakeel brought her gifts of jewellery and saris. He talked to her with a sweetness that reminded her of the early days of their marriage. He touched her body with a tenderness whose feel she had forgotten. The prospect of having the child freed her from the fear of losing her husband. With one turn of fate, she seemed to have reclaimed her lost ground. Samina never had it so good. She became the matter of gossip in the entire mohalla. Now people did not cast disrespectful glances at her. All held her in reverence.

When Samina delivered a beautiful boy, every one who came to see the child said that he had inherited his mother’s long eyelashes and his father’s aquiline nose. Samina’s life was full of happiness. When she proudly looked at her child, her heart ached with joy and tears of happiness filled her eyes. Her wish had been fulfilled.

Amid all this happiness and joy, Samina had forgotten the promise she had made to Allah. She started dreaming strange dreams. Every night she dreaded going to bed and encountering the nightmares. However, a common thread ran through all her dreams. She was eating all kinds of human and animal excreta in every dream. Soon she realized that Allah was reminding her of the promise. For once, she feared for the life of her child. She had to respect her promise. Samina cringed with repugnance at the thought of having to eat shit. She once even tried to eat her own shit, but before she could consume it, she vomited. When, with much shame and guilt, she informed Shakeel of her Godly promise, he was puzzled. For many days, he lay silent, thinking of a solution. Finally, one day he hit upon an idea. He told her not to worry any more and promised her that he would find a solution.

Soon Shakeel contacted the most famous maulvi in town. He told him the whole story of Samina and her promise to Allah. The maulvi heard him out patiently with a grave countenance. He then asked him to return the next morning for a solution to the problem.

As scheduled, Shakeel met the maulvi the next morning. He gave him a unique solution.

"At the fall of the night," the maulvi delared stroking his flowing hennaed beard, "you along with your wife have to stand by the wall of the Shia mosque."

"There," he added, "in my presence, your wife will have to eat a full sun-dried unleavened bread."

Shakeel, being a Sunni, was stunned. Though the idea of eating dried bread was not that bad, eating it by the Shia mosque was full of danger. If they were spotted and recognized by the Shias, they might be hurt. In that little town, the Shias were the sworn enemies of Sunnis. Right from his childhood, he had seen several conflicts between the two communities. The distrust between the two communities ran so deep that they seldom talked to each other. They had no social intercourse between them. They did not eat in each other’s houses. The Sunnis believed that the Shias mixed the water of their dead bodies in the food they served to Sunnis. On every Muharram, the town would be wrapped in the mist of fear since the festival presented many alibis to provoke a riot.

"Is there no other solution, Maulvi Saheb?" asked Shakeel, his voice a little shaky with fear.

"No. Not at all. That is the only way your wife can recompense for her promise," thundered the old maulvi. He had a determined look on his pockmarked face. "And we must do it tonight only as it is a night without the moon," he said.

Shakeel threw a long glance at the maulvi’s face, and slightly nodding his head, turned back.

The next morning, newspapers reported the outbreak of Shia-Sunni riots in the town, which had claimed the lives of several people.