The Amateur

The room was dark, the heavy curtains pulled across the windows. The smell of the sandalwood 'lobaan' (incense) emanating from the dispenser tucked discreetly into the corner of the room  lay heavy. On the ornate table in the middle  of the room was an ouja board. Sitting around it were four ladies. Clad in black burkhas, they would've been almost invisible, except that the light kept in their midst illuminated their faces, casting an almost eerie glow within the room.

As was their wont, they started the seance with a chant, holding hands and ululating melodiously. When the leader looked up, their was pin drop silence. Lifting her head up, her voice rising to a crescendo, she invoked the spirits, pleading with them to reveal themselves. Their fingers poised on the board, they waited. Suddenly the leaders' finger moved, as the coin below it moved. In a hushed voice she whispered, "Ask my friend, for the spirits hear you." Her voice trembling, as did her fingers, the one sitting to her left, spoke softly, " Will i give birth to this child i carry in my womb, or will it to die after its birth as its  brothers and sisters before it ?" The leader twitched violently, as if the spirit had entered her body. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse, like a man's, " It will live. You will call her 'Khadijah' for she was the first among women, the prophet's wife. Now release me for my world calls.."  Their voices raised in joy, the women started ululating again. The leader sweating profusely, opened her eyes, and looked upon the women, the one weeping copiously, fell at her feet and cried, "Fatema ! My husband shall reward you richly for this, for my home has stayed barren even though i have conceived seven times." Kissing her hands, she arose and took off the heavy emerald ring that she wore, dropping it into her lap, before she swept out of the room. As the women dispersed, a small voice asked, "Mama, can i come in ?" A small bright eyed child of ten entered the room. "Oh no!" Rukaiya ! You have been listening in an the seance again. One of these days a spirit will enter your soul, and i shall have to take you to the hakim. Do you know how he will exorcise it from your body ? He will whip you until you cry for mercy and faint." "Oh mama, you are so clever, even the spirits love you." she cried, as holding out her arms she kissed her mama and ran from the room.

The intense afternoon heat, had given way to a cool breeze that heralded the sunset. Fatema, exhausted with her efforts, lay fast asleep on her cot. The muezzins' call from the masjid across the road, jolted her awake. Gathering her robes around her, she rose to her feet to prepare for the namaaz. Suddenly,she stopped. Blinking her eyes, rubbing them to make sure she was awake, she listened intently. Yes ! Voices were coming from within the prayer room, where she held her seances. Going towards it, she quietly stood outside listening. Eyes widening in horror, she heard Rukaiya's voice. "Father, she was saying, tell me will Zainabbi carry her child." A voice, much like that of her dead husband, resonated around the room. "Yes, the voice said, the boy should be named Hamza. Release me, now child, for i have to go." Rukaiya's voice replied, "Khudahafiz, Abbu." As if from a distance came the answer, "Khudahafiz, my child."( May Allah be with you)

Stunned, rooted to the spot she stood, not knowing whether to chastise the child, or to believe in her, she listened to a chastened Rukaiya trying to explain hurriedly that this was the first time she had tried to conduct a seance, that she would never do it again. Going down on her knees, the mother pulled the child to her, and eyes boring into hers said "Rukaiya! Listen well!  I will forgive you, but you are not to mention this to anyone. Ever. Do you hear me. Or else they will take you away from me."

The next day Fatema called Zainab to her house. Telling her that she had a dream in which Allah had decided to bestow upon her a son, whose name should be Hamza. The elated Zainab left, promising her many riches if indeed, what she said was true.

Fatema waited anxiously, her prayer beads turning relentlessly in her hands. From within the room came the screams as Zainab went into labour. "Allah o Akber !" ( God is great) As the cry came, she hurried in. Exhausted, but smiling, Zainab declared, "It's a boy! Fatema ! Just as you said it would be."Added her husband, "He shall be named Hamza, just as it was predicted"

The tribe gave her a very fond send off. Of course, they had tried to convince her to stay, plying her with riches to convince her, but she was adamant. Holding Rukaiya protectively in front of her, seated on the camel, gifted to her by a grateful Zainab, she left. They would be anonymous far away across the desert,  safe from the greed of men, where her mothers' tribe lived.