PEARLS ARE FOR TEARS.
That morning as I opened the papers, the headlines proclaimed the sad news.
"Young and famous couple heading for Splitville! Divorce imminent."
The Media went to town speculating on the possible causes for the break up - infidelity, feudal mindset,.........cultural incompatibility! A cold dissection of a tragic situation, with not a whiff of sympathy for the two people who were hurting. There were photographs of them in happier times - A young girl with stars in her eyes as she looked up at the man she loved; The man, his hand draped over her shoulder, signaling his need of her!
I felt a catch in my throat. It was my story all over again. Oh that Christmas function of long ago, when I had held Catherine close to my heart, as Nat King Cole crooned his love song in the back ground.
"Can Love be as warm as a ruby?" she repeated.
"Can Love be as pure as a pearl," I continued.
Her eyes sparkled like stars as I slipped a little velvet box into her hand.
"Open it," I said, "It's my Christmas gift to you."
A beautiful pearl drop glistened on its bed of blue velveteen.
"Oh Adi!" she said, "It is exquisite."
"Like you my darling. For me there is no other."
"But pearls are for tears Adi."
"Not this time my love. Pearls are for purity. You will stay that way for me, won't you?"
"Even if I have to wait a lifetime," she promised.
It all began as a mild flirtation. I had fractured my leg in a skiing accident in Switzerland. But I didn't want to be hospitalized in a strange place. London was more like a second home, and if I had to be confined to bed I preferred to be there. These were my last days of freedom. Soon I would have to serve the government in my country. There would be endless protocol and no time for fun. I refused to be incarcerated in a private room. Being in a general ward gave me the company of other patients, and with the doctors and nurses always flitting in and out of the wards, it made life interesting.
Unlike the other doctors and students who stopped by to chat, Catherine ignored me. She worked quietly, intent on whatever she was doing. This was a challenge to my ego.
"If only the girl would look my way, she'd realise that I'm worth a few minutes of her time,"
I thought. "Perhaps I'll have to take the initiative."
"Doctor," I called, "I'd like some medication for my headache."
She was busy writing the history of a new patient.
"I'm not a doctor yet. I'll call somebody," she said.
"Never mind. I just wanted to strike up a conversation. You're always so preoccupied."
"But my boss will be here any minute, and I've got to finish my work on this patient."
"Okay then," I sulked, "I'm bored to death being hamstrung like a leg of mutton. Thought you could cheer me up."
Catherine stifled a giggle. "You great big hoax! You're as comfortable as ever. You've got the whole ward staff swooning over you."
"And you're jealous?"
"Why should I be?" she asked, coloring up a little, "You're a conceited devil."
I gave her my most captivating smile and said, "I certainly am."
And so began an exciting interlude in my life. Catherine was young and innocent. She came from a rural background, with a very traditional family upbringing. In fact, she was the only one among her siblings who had been to University. It created a lot of jealousy and back biting, and made Catherine unhappy. She knew nothing about life outside her own limited sphere.
I told her of my country half way across the world in the Malaysian archipelago; of my Sultan who was allegedly the richest man in the world; of his aspirations for his people, and the friction between the Progressives and the Traditionalists which surfaced from time to time. I don't think she believed me. She thought I was laying it on thick, so that she would expect nothing from this relationship.
My plaster cast was out a few days before Christmas. Soon I would have to fly back home. But Catherine had invited me to the Hospital Christmas party.
"Stay for the party and come as my guest. We may never see each other again."
"Anything to put a smile on your face dear," I said.
She had been under a lot of stress over the last few days. I couldn't tell if it was her anxiety over her final exams, or if it was our impending separation. She was young and vulnerable, and though we had not put a name to it, we meant a lot to each other.
But as I said before, I was taken not by any young female, but by my Government. Ours was a young independent country. We had cast off Colonial shackles, but there was still much to be done to make our presence felt in the comity of nations. We were only a handful of educated men and we all had to put shoulder to the wheel, and propel our country forward into the twenty first century. It was a slow and painful process fraught with mistakes, frustrations and doubts. Commonsense told me that I should stay clear of any romantic entanglement at this juncture.
Yet, Catherine had become very dear to me. I was convinced that I wanted her as my wife.
"I'll come back soon, and take her away," I thought, "But will this tender English rose survive in our tropical marshland? Or will my life become torture watching her droop and die before my eyes?"
Not physically of course. I would withhold nothing from her which money could buy. But emotionally, would I be able to protect her against the rigid traditions of my country?
"Allah help me decide," I prayed several times during the day, "I love her, I want her, but I don't want to bring unhappiness into her life."
At that Christmas dinner and dance, Catherine was the most beautiful girl in the room. She was dressed in a sleek black evening gown with a slit up one side that showed a shapely leg. She had worn the corsage I had sent her on her left shoulder - a lilac orchid with a deep purple center. At her throat was a gold chain with a solitary pearl. Though she smiled at me from time to time, there was sadness mirrored in her eyes.
"Why do you look so sad," I asked, "It's Christmas time and everyone ought to be happy."
"I want to have every single feature of your face etched in my memory," she said, "This is the first real crush I've had, and perhaps it will be the last. I don't think I'll feel this way again."
There was no need for words. As we danced cheek to cheek someone said, "Catherine, don't keep this handsome hunk all to yourself. Give us a chance too."
At midnight I said, "Cathy, I have to leave now. Shall we move?"
The merriment went on, and no one saw us slip out. I took her straight to the hotel.
I knelt beside her and took her hand in mine.
"Cathy, give me a little time to think and work out things. I'm not deserting you I promise. If I loved you less, I would have married you and taken you home with me. But there are many factors to consider before we take the step. I urge you to do the same."
"I haven't thought that far Adi. I'm just happy that we met and shared precious moments together. So you go back and do what you have to, for your country and king, "she said, trying to control the tears that threatened to spill over.
A group of officials awaited me at the airport and escorted me to a waiting Mercedes. I was totally flummoxed by their gushing reception. What was all this fuss about? I had only recovered from a skiing accident and not a fatal injury. I thanked them for the trouble they had taken to receive me, and asked the chauffer to drive me home.
I was the eldest in a family of ten. Except for me and my youngest brother, the others were females. I was twenty seven, and had staved off marriage for so long because I had been out of the country to complete my education in England, with a few years in the United States. I found the women at home were too traditional for my taste. They were monotonously similar to each other in temperament, taste and dress. Besides, I had never come across anyone who caught my fancy.
My father was getting on in years. He had travelled widely, and been exposed to different cultures and people.
"For my eldest son, I want only the best," he often said
From his own experience as a handsome man, my father must have known that I had dated many beautiful women in the West.
"I don't object to Adi bringing home a foreign wife provided she embraces our religion," he said, "No doubt foreign wives bring in complications. But where there is love, nothing is insurmountable."
I was pampered by the ministrations of my mother and sisters. But my thoughts were far away. I felt hollowness inside as though I had lost part of myself. Of course mothers always notice these things.
"What's eating you then? Don't you like to be home anymore?"
Oh Mother! Don't nag. Can't a tired man have some peace in this house? Give me a chance to get over my jet lag."
"You won't have much peace for long, young man. Didn't they bring a brass band to meet you at the airport?"
"What for? For Goodness sake, will someone tell me? Why were all those clowns bowing and scraping before me?"
"Son, you're getting too westernized for your Islamic boots. You've lived abroad for too long. Now it's time to shed all your foreign airs and settle down to being a good citizen."
"Haven't I? I'm doing my best in my job. Now what else do they want?"
My mother smiled. One of my sisters chipped in, "Here's to our new Minister of Education."
I thought she was teasing. I walked out of the room and went upstairs in a huff.
I banged the door and locked it. Flinging off my coat and pant, I stretched across the bed, and let misery take over. I couldn't for the life of me believe that parting would be so painful. More so because we had made no definite commitment to each other. How was it possible for a level headed guy like me to get so emotional? And how could I expect a pretty young thing to wait for me indefinitely? I decided that I would go back as soon as possible.
As Mother predicted, I was not to be left in peace. Visitors began to arrive the very next morning. They were all important men in their traditional tunics and black caps. They had much to discuss and argue over. During my absence there had been a major upheaval in the Ministry of Education. The Minister had suddenly taken ill with a suspected brain tumour. He was flown to the USA for surgery, and would definitely be unable to resume working again. His Deputy was a traditionalist, and the majority in the cabinet, were not in favour of elevating him to the rank of Minister. He was notorious for his narrow views. We had come a long way from our Moro ancestors. The Spanish, the Dutch and the British had left their impress on our nation successively. But after we gained Independence, the country had seen incredible economic and social changes. However, education for all, was meeting with resistance from certain pockets. If we were to realise our dreams we needed a dynamic man at the helm.
The Sultan and his ministers had picked me to be the next Minister of Education.
Without the cooperation of the Deputy, I knew I would meet with many road blocks. The days flew by in meetings, discussions and representations. I felt like a ping pong ball being shuttled across the table. The Traditionalist caucus was active too. They would not give in to us young upstarts with our fancy western ideas. They would strive to preserve their religious tenets faithfully. They would go by the ‘Book' and come what may, educational policies would reflect Islamic values.
Due to the time difference between England and my country, not to speak of our erratic telephone services, I had not been able to speak to Catherine. Either it was too late at night or too early in the morning over there. I could never express myself well in letters. So correspondence was out of question. I didn't even have her photograph.
"When things are more settled in my department, I will go to England and bring her back. Nothing is going to change my mind," I thought.
But it took six months to pacify the Deputy that my appointment was by general consent and with the approval of the Sultan, and that he had no other option but to cooperate. At last I could go off on a fortnight's leave.
I sought my father out when alone in his room.
"Dad, I need your blessings. I'm flying to England for a couple of weeks."
"Not again. You've just been made Minister, and the other guy is waiting for an opportunity to trip you."
"This is more important, Dad. It concerns my future happiness."
"What? Have you got mixed up with an old English gold digger?"
"She's not a gold digger and she's definitely not old. She's a doctor and a beauty at that. I'm bringing her back Dad, and I need all your help with Mama."
"Has she agreed to embrace Islam, my son? And will she be wanting a furlough every year?"
"I don't know, Dad. I never asked."
"But you're certain that she'll come back with you?"
I just nodded.
But by the time I reached there, Catherine had cleared her exams and headed for home.
"But where is home?" I asked.
"Somewhere in Anglia. Ask at the office."
Though the people in the office were an unhelpful lot, I did manage to find her home address and telephone number.
"Catherine doesn't live here anymore," said an unfriendly voice at the other end.
"Could you let me have her new address and telephone number?"
"And who may that be calling?"
"Her friend, Adil Lelah. I must see her urgently."
"You're chasing the wrong Catherine. Our girl doesn't have a friend by that name."
I didn't have much time to go chasing after Catherine to Anglia. Besides, if she had forgotten me and found someone else to love, it would be a great disappointment. Perhaps
I could insert an Ad. in the papers.
"Dr. Catherine Kenyon, please telephone no. 25467. Urgent communication awaits you."
There were half a dozen women who responded, but none of them happened to be my girl.
"I can't really blame her," I thought, "My silence would have convinced her that I didn't care at all."
The ties that bound us were at best tenuous, and distance had done the rest. I flew home the following day. My father guessed that something had gone hopelessly wrong. I was grateful that he didn't pry.
Three years sped by, during which time I buried myself in work. But there were times when I couldn't shut out thoughts of Catherine. That's when I felt a deep ache inside, and an indescribable loneliness. My parents finally convinced me that it was time to settle down. Disinterested in the many proposals they brought, I eventually consented to marry a cousin who was educated in the States, and whom they considered a fair match for me intellectually. Her name was Sharminah and she had none of the shyness or inhibitions of the women in our country. I found her tomboyish. She wore western clothes, drove a sports car, played the guitar, and flaunted tradition as she pleased. Both she and her parents had been reprimanded several times by the Religious Council. I knew that marrying her would be more than a challenge. Her exposure to the Feminist Movement in USA made her an angry young woman. She had evolved her own plans to bring about change for women in our country. She needed to be restrained for her own good, because her brusqueness and impatience would merely make her efforts counterproductive. Diplomacy was certainly not her strong point. Perhaps I could help channel her energies better. Besides, it would be far more exciting to be married to a girl like her rather than any bashful maiden.
I had been working late into the night, pouring over various reports. Every day brought new problems. I longed for an evening of leisure to unwind, to listen to music or watch a movie on TV. But by the time I reached home each night, I was ready to hit the sack. There was really no joy in my life.
My thoughts were interrupted by the tinkling of the telephone. I lifted the receiver absent mindedly.
"Adi, Its Sharminah."
"What? It's 11 p.m. Why aren't you in bed?"
"So the news hasn't reached you as yet?"
"What news? I've been up to my ears in work and I'm still at it."
"Then I'm glad you're going to hear my version first."
I dropped my pen.
"Now what have you been up to? I hope you're not going to be flogged or sent to prison?"
"I walked out of my job, and what's more, I'm getting out of the country for a while."
"Impulsive as always. Where do you think you're going?"
"Back to the States for a while."
"And our wedding?"
"That's exactly what I'm coming to. I can't marry you Adi. It's not as though we are in love with each other. This was only a matter of convenience to get the elders off our back. I'm terribly fond of you. That's all. Now I leave it to you to break the news to the family. But not as yet. Let me get out of the country first."
"Tell me what exactly happened. Don't leave anything out. I want to know the worst."
Sharminah Rehman worked as P.A. to the Medical Director of the largest hospital in the country. It was past closing time and she was ready to lock up for the day. A lady doctor Viviyanthi Abdulla came in.
"Is the Director in?"
"It's well past his working hours. I'll make an appointment for Monday," said Sharminah.
Vivi's pregnant abdomen had begun to show through her loose gown.
"Not again," thought Sharminah.
"I have an application to give him. You see, I'm pregnant again."
"I can see that. Is this your fifth in five years?"
Vivi blushed and continued nervously, "I'd like to make a change from Obstetrics to Casualty. Work there isn't as heavy, and there are many doctors around. It's not like Obstetrics. I'm on duty every third night."
Sharminah was livid. "With stupid women like these who cannot organize their lives, how will our country ever progress?" she thought.
Vivi went on. "There's a new Medical Officer from England working in Casualty. Perhaps we could swap places."
"But she was specifically appointed for Casualty. If I remember well, she had stated in her application that Obstetrics was not an option. She has no experience in that department."
"That's all right. She'll learn. After all she's here for the money. So let her work."
"The Government has spent good money on your education and training. Instead of repaying that trust, you come stealthily creeping in here, asking to be transferred."
"But can't you see I'm pregnant? I can't cope with the little ones at home, hospital work and the pregnancy."
"You should have thought about it before you got pregnant again."
"Sharminah, you mind your tongue."
But Sharminah had her say, calling her a lousy 'baby machine,' who was not only a disgrace to her profession but to her gender. Vivi burst into tears and ran home to her husband who was an important member of the Religious Council.
On Monday morning, the English doctor was summoned to the Director's office and given a fresh letter of appointment, assigning her to the Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology.
"But I've no experience in that line at all. I will not be able to cope," the young woman pleaded.
"You'll learn," the Director said.
"Then I'd like to go back home. Please release me as soon as possible."
"It's not that easy. You are under contract for six months. Besides, you'll have to pay for your ticket home, and I'm sure you have no money."
"I'll cable my parents for the fare. But I'm not staying. You've got to understand - the cultural shock, the loneliness and now this........"
The girl looked devastated.
Sharminah had witnessed the scene.
"It isn't fair," she thought, "But this is a man's world, and these fellows can do anything and get away with it. Everyone is a pawn on their political checker board. The leaders of the brave new Sultanate!"
To the Director she was as blunt as could be.
"You're nothing but a pig of a man, frightened out of your wits by Vivi's husband. If it were in any other country, you would have been sued for breach of contract. It is against my principles to work for a coward."
She banged the door and walked out of the office.
"Well my dear Minister of Education," she said, "See that some justice is done. If this news gets around, no foreign doctor worth her name will come here to do our dirty work. I'm glad the doctor refused to oblige. But they could indefinitely prevent her from leaving, especially if she doesn't have the money to pay for her ticket."
"If I'm to help, and mind you, I'm not promising anything, you'll have to give me some particulars. If I can't do much I could at least buy her ticket back to England."
"The name is Dr. Catherine Kenyon. She was appointed as Medical Officer, Casualty."
I felt my body trembling all over.
"Adi, are you there?"
My tongue had stuck to my palate. I couldn't utter a word.
"Hey Adi, are you listening?"
After what seemed an age I said, "Yes, I'm listening. I was just trying to find my pen. What's the name again?"
"Dr. Catherine Kenyon - English, arrived a fortnight ago. You won't find her in the hospital tomorrow. She is determined not to work in OBG. But she stays in Service Flat no. 9. Do something to reverse the order."
"I'll try. Now you cool off and go to sleep."
I sat there in a state of shock. I couldn't think clearly anymore. Catherine here? Had she come in search of me half way across the world? No, this just couldn't be true.
I had to go and see for myself. I couldn't wait till tomorrow. It was a risky business visiting a single woman at night. I could get into a lot of trouble. But I just couldn't wait.
I thought the door bell would wake up the entire neighborhood. She must have been in a deep sleep. She came to the door rubbing her eyes. Nervously she unlatched the door.
"Adi!"
She didn't really seem that surprised. I was worried that she'd bang the door in my face, so I pushed myself inside. Perhaps the last few of days were just too much for her. I was in time to support her limp body when she blacked out. I carried her to the couch and laid her down. Then I went looking for some water to sprinkle on her face. She slowly came to, and stared blankly at me.
"Catherine have you forgotten me? Why do you look at me as if you've never seen me before?"
"That was in another world. We do not know each other anymore," she said sadly.
"No, you've got me all wrong. I'll explain when you're strong enough to listen. Right now I'm happy just to be by your side. I've never stopped loving you."
"I once believed you, and that was my undoing."
She pushed herself up into a sitting position.
"Who sent you here? How did you find me? What if somebody saw you coming here? Go away Adi. You're a big man now. Don't mess up your life because of me. I'm leaving the country soon, and you'll never see me again."
As if in answer, I pulled her into my arms and held her close. "Don't say anything darling. Trust me because I'll never let you go away again. I've waited too long for you."
"And you really expect me to believe that?"
"Yes I do. I did come back for you, but by then you had disappeared, and even your parents wouldn't tell me where to find you."
"My parents? When did this happen?"
"About six months after we parted. But there's no need to bother about it anymore. I'm curious to know how you came to my country. Were you searching for me?"
"Searching for you? What conceit! Why would I pursue someone who had forgotten me?
I was working at a hospital in Norfolk for three years, and I needed a change. Scanning the ads in the BMJ, I spotted the section marked "Overseas." Why not? I thought, A six month stint overseas would expose me to a different way of life. A season in the sun would be a good thing to revive my spirits. It would also give me time to think about what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life. I never had the faintest idea that this was your country until I saw you on TV. I'd never have come here if I had known."
"It's Destiny," I said, "You can't run away from me no matter how hard you try."
"What a long way from home!" she said sadly, "The land of minarets and golden, mushroom domes is not for me. I knew it within twenty four hours of coming here. I should never have ventured out of England. Strange faces, foreign languages, and now this shoddy treatment!
I've been shifted to a department I'm scared sick of. I haven't been inside a labour room since I graduated. How do they expect me to manage? I'm scared Adi?
But tell me how you found me. I know you're a Minister of something or other. Is this how you run your country? "
"Look darling, I'll sort out your problems, I assure you. Just trust me. I'm going to marry you Catherine. It would have happened three years ago if you hadn't hidden yourself so well. But there's much that needs to be done before that. The first thing I must do is present you to my parents."
"You hardly know me Adi. And what do you think my parents are going to say? They are Quakers - so otherworldly! They'll condemn me to hell immediately."
"The way I was snubbed on the telephone has given me a good idea. But I'm marrying you, not them. I need to be sure that it is really what you want."
"So you're really serious?" she asked, "We've just met after three years."
"We have a lifetime to get to know each other. Just say ‘yes,' Catherine," I begged.
She snuggled close to me and threw her arms around my neck. And for the first time that night, I saw her smile as of old.
Sharminah left within a few days. She was anxious to get away.
"Adi don't forget, 'He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.' I'll be back when I have foolproof plans. I'm getting into Politics, and will work for a ‘Women's Charter,' which spells equality for every single woman in this country. It's only a matter of time. No, my dear Minister, we don't intend staying in the back seat. We're partners in the nation-building venture."
After Sharminah left, all attention was focused on the little English vixen, who had mesmerized the Education Minister, and prevailed upon him to marry her. I received advice and warnings from friends and colleagues.
"Do you know what you're in for? How do you expect this woman to adjust to our life style?"
Even the Sultan heard the news and voiced his doubts.
"Sharminah was a better bet," he said, "At least she was one of us. An English woman will never adjust to our ways. This marriage bodes ill for Adi."
Strangely, it was my parents who accepted the situation with good grace. My father was glad that I had found my first love.
"Allah is great! You are destined for each other."
My mother was happy too.
"Sharminah would have had a very unsettling influence on you. She'd have put your career in jeopardy. Catherine will make you very happy. Of that, I'm sure."
But when Catherine phoned her parents in Norfolk, their reaction was cold.
"You always wanted to be different," said her father, "You didn't want to be a farmer's wife so you became a doctor. You wanted to put distance between you and your siblings, so you took off to some God-forsaken place. And now you want to change your religion to marry a man you hardly know. If that makes you happy....so be it."
Her mother's reaction was more condemning.
"We thought your religious upbringing would influence the decisions you make. Now on an impulse you're converting to a religion you know nothing about, to marry a stranger and live in a distant land. Your father will have to break the unpleasant news to the church members. It will keep their tongues wagging for months. What a disgrace you've brought to all of us!"
Catherine was saddened by their reactions. She was always the odd one out. Instead of being pleased for her, they were already predicting unhappiness. She had truly burnt her bridges behind her.
"I'll make you a good wife," she reassured me several times a day.
A wonderful year of love and laughter followed. Catherine never mentioned her family at all.
"Home is where you are Adi. I'm sure God made us for each other."
Catherine was a good wife and companion. She never complained about my long hours of work. But she was sure that she didn't want to go back to work at the hospital.
"I'm happy to stay home and play housewife. There's much I have to learn, and your mother is a good teacher. We get on well."
Our son Anwar was born a little over a year after our marriage. We were overjoyed. The Lelah heir had arrived, and the grandparents were simply ecstatic. He was a bouncing healthy fellow, but the effort of bringing him into the world proved too arduous for Catherine. It had drained her of her strength both physically and mentally. The doctors warned me that there could be no other pregnancies.
"Its okay with me," I said, "As long as I have Catherine and my son, I consider myself lucky and won't ask for more."
I had loved and married Catherine because she was so different from the local women. She had a carefree spirit and a fine sense of humour. She was intelligent and we could converse freely on most subjects, and amicably differed on many. She was a beacon of hope, that one day the women of my country would be as confident and free as they were in developed countries like hers.
But the transformation in Catherine was gradual. She was changing before my eyes, and I was powerless to halt it. She was emotionally isolating herself from me and from those around her.
"Should she be seeing a counselor or psychiatrist?" I wondered.
But what could I tell him? There was nothing I could pinpoint as abnormal. She was a good wife and an excellent mother. She was eager to please, and attentive to my needs. But that special sparkle had gone out of our marriage. She seemed to be in a perpetual state of preoccupation. I missed the usual banter when I got back from a hard day's work - the sharing of our thoughts and dreams, the little jokes with which we entertained each other!
She had always loved to go out for long drives, exploring the countryside. Now she made excuses of one kind or another, to stay indoors. When I drew her into my arms, she came willingly. But the fizz had gone out of our relationship. It was like making love to a porcelain doll. Had the cultural shock claimed another victim or was she bored with nothing to do?
"Catherine, don't you want to go back to work? The hospital is always in need of lady doctors. It's a shame that you are wasting your time at home. Anwar is well looked after by the maids, and Mother is always there to supervise them," I suggested.
When I got back from work one night, what I saw made my hair stand on end. She was standing in front of the mirror, dressed in the local costume, the baggy baju and kurong. She had covered her head with a scarf, which fell like a nun's hood and concealed her forehead and ears.
"Good heavens! What's got into you?" I yelled, "I don't want you to dress that way. I told you a hundred times over, don't change. I love you as you are."
Tears rushed to her eyes.
"I'm only trying to be a good wife, Adi."
"Well, this is not my idea of a good wife. What I want is a woman of spirit. Not a timid creature shrouded in gaudy silks. I need an intelligent, knowledgeable partner who will keep abreast of current events locally and internationally. Not just someone to warm my bed but to walk alongside me proudly, in every sphere of activity. I don't want a wife who acts negatively and hampers my progress. Catherine, I'm terrified of what's happening to us."
There were more tears, and I cursed myself for handling the situation so indelicately. But when I held her close and assured her of how much she meant to me, she promised to try harder to be what I expected of her.
"Dear God, help me to be patient and never to hurt her," was my daily prayer.
Catherine reluctantly went back to work at the hospital. She attended to her patients mechanically. There was always a far-away look in her eyes. It was as though she was sealed off in a glass capsule to which I had no entry. Colleagues were not often considerate. In a country where women wore their fecundity like a badge of honour, she cringed when people asked her how many children she had. I reassured her as best I could.
"I'm quite satisfied with one son. You are more precious to me than a dozen children."
"Perhaps you should take another wife," she suggested, "You are permitted to have several."
"Shut up Catherine. I'm just sick of your whining. I'm beginning to wonder if you're tired of me. May be you want to quit and run back to Mother. The spell that Adil Lelah cast on you has been broken. Now you see nothing exciting here. You want to go back to where the action is."
I was contrite even before the words were out of my mouth.
"I'm sorry I shouted at you. Darling, I just don't know how to set things right. Don't shut me out of your life. We're partners. Our lives belong to each other."
Sharminah the high priestess of Women's Liberation was back in the country, older, wiser, and determined to turn her vision into reality. She was a woman with a one-track mind bent on liberating her sisters from the claustrophobic compulsions of useless traditionalism. Her dream envisaged better education for all women, monogamy, the right to decide the size of their families, and equal employment opportunities. Her task was formidable. But she had the backing of a powerful feminist organization "AWARE," which was operating in many countries.
"I need the support of like-minded women. They must begin to think differently about themselves. It must filter down to the grass roots. I wonder if I can rely on Catherine for support. She is now very much a citizen of this country."
But Sharminah was in for a shock. She minced no words.
"What's got into you Catherine? You are a real disappointment. You've succumbed to the dictates of the system."
"I'm merely trying to fit in. I don't like to stick out like a sore thumb. If I were to behave as aggressively as you do, it would create unnecessary problems for Adi. It could ruin his career."
"You mean Adi too has changed? And I thought he had so many dreams and ambitions. Have they all vanished then?"
Catherine didn't answer. Sharminah took in her disinterested behaviour, her shoddy grooming. Was this the girl Adi had lost his heart to? Was she cracking up or was she too comfortable to bother? Catherine looked up into her questioning eyes.
"I'm sorry for being such a disappointment. I think I've failed Adi miserably. So many things are crowding my mind, making me aware of my own inadequacy. You should have married him instead of me. Together you would have achieved much for your country."
"I can't stand quitters," Sharminah said irritably, "You'll get no sympathy from me. It's not too late as yet. Just pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get to work. There's much to do."
It was Christmas morning. I breezed into our room after my usual morning walk.
I had planned to spend the entire day with Catherine. Perhaps we could go out for a picnic by ourselves.
"Someone's being lazy this morning," I said, "Time to wake up. It's Christmas."
"How beautiful she still is...," I thought, "Just like a little girl... And we've been married for six years now. Catherine wake up....wake up."
There was no response. Just a smile on her lips. I took her cold clenched fists in my hands.
"Catherine.... Why?... why?"
Through tear-dimmed eyes I prized open her left hand. It contained an empty drug foil which told all. I unclenched her right hand. A beautiful pearl drop glistened in her palm.
"Pearls are for purity," I had once insisted.
"No Adi, pearls are for tears," she had said.
Her pulse was feeble, and she was still breathing. It was a mad rush to get her to hospital. The emergency procedures seem to take so long.
"Allah, save her for me. I'll never neglect her again. I love her so much." I was like one demented.
After what seemed an age, the doctor assured me that she would pull through.
It took her a long time to come back to consciousness.
"My beautiful English rose," I whispered, "We'll go away where we can be alone together."
Sharminah was beside herself. She felt that her pep talk had pushed Catherine over the brink.
When Catherine was fit to travel, we flew to England. She was treated by an eminent psychiatrist, for depression and loss of self esteem. It was brought on by the cumulative effect of various factors, which were gradually exposed during her treatment. The psychiatrist helped her identify each individually, and exorcise her demons, so that they would never bother her again.
But during our counseling sessions, the doctor pointed a finger of accusation at me.
"Me? How could I be responsible for her depression? I was very considerate and patient through all those trying times," I said defensively.
"You rushed her into marriage for which neither of you were prepared. Had you both taken time to consider the road blocks you'd encounter in your life together, and the strategy you would adopt to individually and unitedly surmount these obstacles, you would have been better prepared. Most marriages fail because couples rush into it without adequate preparation. "
"We've had a narrow escape, all because of my haste," I said contritely.
"In a situation like yours, you need regular assessment of your marriage. When there are differences, take constructive action to set right things promptly. I'm not trying to preach to you, if you want to make your marriage last, learn to nourish and cherish it."
I had taken a long leave of absence from work until I was sure that Catherine was well again. I dissuaded her from coming back with me immediately. The doctor suggested that she should take up a job again, and she now works at a Children's Hospital in London.
We've been apart for more than six months now, though we talk to each other every day. She feels she is ready to come back, but Sharminah gave me a better idea.
"Take a transfer to the Embassy in London for a year or two. I'm sure the Sultan will be considerate enough to oblige. You can bring Catherine back when you've put your marriage on firm foundations."
We've been lucky so far, and I know that we'll be stronger from this experience. I hummed to myself at the thought of being reunited with Catherine
"Can love be as warm as a ruby...........Can love be as pure as a pearl!"
Jennifer says:
I found this story very rushed, and that frustrated me because you are working with terrific material. Take a little more time to build up the passion between your characters. Take more time to build up the relationship between Adi and Sharminah. Most of all, take the time to tell us how Catherine turns from a confidant doctor to a frightened stay-at-home mom. You are working with some terrific material: how women see themselves, how they place value on their work, the struggle to decide whether to be at home with their children or at work. Women all over the world struggle with these questions and I was very intrigued by how a western woman would face this kind of culture shock; how her "failure" in this foreign society - not producing enough children, not dressing or acting right - could undermine all of her "western" successes. If you take us on a journey with Catherine as she loses faith in herself step by step, this will be a very powerful story.
Plot - 22
Characters - 20
Mechanics - 20
Enjoyment - 21
TOTAL - 83
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