"In_The_Name_Of_Love"

Amidst the dry cherry orchards, Ameena stood waiting, with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. Her eyes were the windows of the hidden secrets; there was a longing, a desperation, sparks of unrequited love. With a pale off-white shawl draped over her shoulders, her golden, henna-dyed locks falling loose on her back, she was the color of jaundice, the color of autumn. Ameena, the daughter of Mir Yasin, the tribal chief, was standing in desperation in these abandoned orchards, looking like an autumn goddess, the goddess of misery.

She was standing on the threshold of the two worlds, the gray zone where she belonged to neither. A new world of the lands of her dreams was waiting at her doorstep, yet she was hesitant to welcome her much awaited guest. It was Jamal’s proposal that had caused ripples to form in her, otherwise, stagnant life. She had always waited for it, a chance that would allow her to escape this iron-gated, white-walled mansion that caged within itself many a longings, thousands of dreams, and. And. That demon of a memory, the regret of missing a last good bye, a last embrace.

It was believed that Yasin’s daughter was devil-ridden, captured by some ominous evil beings that hover over her, making her pay the price of a crime that was not hers. Ameena too had succumbed to this belief, and now they were a part of her, the demons that she befriended to create an impenetrable bubble around herself, a safe sanctuary, her happy place.

“Throw this bewitched thing out Yasin!”

It was Bakhtawar Bibi, Ameena’s paternal grandmother, the leading lady of the Mir Mansion.

“Oh My Lord! Why did you spare me to see this day! That evil Naseema has already brought our family enough shame. There’s no need to keep her forsaken daughter in this house.”

Ah Naseema! Was there a youth prettier than her! But she had brought it upon herself by eloping with another man. All what she left behind was the five-year old Ameena. A part of her never grew up again, still left standing by the doorstep, awaiting her mother, hoping for her return every evening with the call of Maghrib. Naseema, however, was never to return. And Ameena continued to live her life in the Mir Mansion as a perpetual remembrance of what her mother had done, carrying the weight of her sins on her fragile shoulders.

“In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful”

Ameena didn’t know Quran, but this was the first thing Master Yaqoob had taught her; ‘Anything you write is to be written in the name of Allah.’

“Amma,

Not a single day passes without your remembrance, your memories. Hope you miss me much more than I do. It’s only the mid of November, but the valley is already freezing up. They say winters would be harsher this year. Every year it seems like winters will last for an eternity, but then, with the first spell of the monsoon, spring arrives. You know what’s the best part about spring? It’s the soft fragrance of the Jhumka Bail that covers the Mir Mansion like a canopy. I don’t know why but it always reminds me of you, of the warmth of your embrace. This is the only feeling that makes winters endurable, that makes these white walls endurable. But everything thing is different this year. My entire world has been turned upside down. Baba Sahib says he will wed me off as soon as spring arrives. He will send me away to distant lands with a complete stranger. This very thought of leaving this place where your memories reside makes me sick. How can I leave these mountains where I have shouted your name multiple times, and heard it echoing back to me? If I abandon this place, I’ll be abandoning my hope of meeting you someday. I need you Amma, please come back to me.

Yours and only yours,

Ameena”

Master Yaqoob was Ameena’s only confidante, her secret friend. Ameena, unlike the other girls in the Mir Mansion, did not receive any formal education because she could never understand what was being taught. When the other girls were busy reading aloud their lessons for the day, she would be lost in some other trance. Many a times she would not even respond to her name being called. Eventually Mir Sahib had to make her quit going to the only Madarsa in the town. That was when the blind, old Master Yaqoob came into Ameena’s life as a divine help. He was a learned scholar of his times, but now the circumstances had pushed him to be a vegetable-vendor. He was the one who taught the poor Ameena how to read and write. This apparently harmless, poor Ameena, had in herself hidden sparks of fierceness and rebellion. After all she was Naseema’s daughter. Having secretly sneaked out of the iron gates, Ameena would spend the major part of her day in Master Yaqoob’s company. He was her greatest source of knowing about her mother. He would sometimes narrate her the tales of Naseema’s beauty, and the miserable life that she was made to live at the Mir Mansion. He would make her write letters to her mother so that she could lay down the burdens of her heart.

“My daughter, write it in His name. He is the greatest Reconciler, the Omnipotent, the Omniscient. He is the Knower of the hidden secrets of hearts.”

For Master Yaqoob, this exercise of writing letters was only an attempt to provide relief to Ameena’s ailing heart. Little did he know that the girl who had never studied Quran was a believer in his Allah, the One who will bring her mother back to her and free her from the cruelties of the inhabitants of the Mir Mansion. Her belief, however, was soon to be shaken.

“Nothing is more powerful than Love”

It was Jamal’s request to have a meeting with Ameena, to take her approval for the marriage. His strange request was alien for the tribal Mirs who strongly held on to their traditional values. Yet, it was understandable. Jamal was not like any ordinary man of their tribe. He was an educated man with refined manners, much like some prince from the dream worlds.

“Your beauty has enchanted me. You are mesmerizingly attractive. My beloved, you are a sahira, a witch, who has cast a spell on me with your beauty. Don’t deprive me of your company.”

His words were warm; they had the power to melt away the heavy blankets of snow from the surrounding mountains, and make it all a gushing stream.

“I am filled to brim with your love. My love for you will fill up the voids of your heart. Don’t tire yourself with endless thoughts. Just belief in the power of love and surrender to its might.”

At this very moment, something was revealed to her, something which was unknown previously.

“I am in love with someone else.” It was not a confession, but a realization.

“In the name of Love”

After all, Jamal had made her believe in the power of love.

“Amma,

Who knows this would be the last letter I am writing to you. I beg you, in the name of Love, to meet me once before I leave this place forever. My mind is a wind storm of thoughts, every thought blurred in the dense winter fog. Meet me once so that I don’t have to live with this regret of missing your last embrace. Embrace me up into the warmth of your arms for one last time, so that I can be ready to submit and surrender to Jamal’s powerful love. I will wait for you at the cherry orchards tomorrow evening.

Awaiting you,

Ameena”

Ameena had waited much longer than she should have. Her eyes had welled up with tears, blurring her vision. Her belief was wavering. The tighter she held to the belief, the loser her grip became. Just when it was about to slip away from her, she saw a familiar figure in the distance, somebody that she could recognize even with her closed eyes.

“Amma…” She shouted at the loudest of her voice; the only reply was the deafening silence.

“My Amma, my beloved Amma…” She tried again, moving a bit closer. There was a reply this time.

She was answered with a stranger’s glance, Naseema did not recognize her, or chose not to recognize her. Then, the figure blurred with the tears, moved away with another figure, her hand in his hand.

The goddess fell down to the ground. She was crying. She was begging.

“In the name of Love…”

She was yelling, her cries were those of a helpless, desperate, fallen goddess. She looked up to the sky, crying.

“Oh God of Love, Oh the most Powerful”

She had become disappointed in Jamal’s god. Or was he…?

There he was, up in the sky, seated on the throne of the god of love, laughing hysterically at her helplessness. She was being mocked by the god of love