Amal Unbound(42)

I added an extra cup of water to the percolator and glanced out the window. Other servants were standing outside. I imagined their discussions were the same as the ones in this kitchen. The conversations had run in a loop since that day: Would they really convict him? And what did this mean for us?

I thought Jawad Sahib’s arrest would be good for everyone, but it turned out change, no matter how good and necessary, came with a price.

Nabila and Bilal weren’t anywhere to be seen. The three of us hadn’t talked about what happened since the arrest, afraid to say a word in case someone overheard us, but I walked into the servants’ quarters. The tinny sound of the television news echoed in the hallway. Bilal’s door was open wide, but Nabila’s was closed.

I tapped on it before opening it. Both of them were inside. Bilal stood against the back wall, his arms crossed. Nabila was on her bed, staring at yesterday’s discarded newspaper. Grim-faced black-and-white photos of Khan Sahib and Jawad Sahib’s faces were front and center.

“I’d ask you to read it to me, but I think I know what it says,” she said without looking up.

“It’s more of the same,” I agreed. “They found the body. Right where he said it was.”

“So many reporters outside,” Bilal said. “There are even more today than yesterday. They’d climb in through one of the windows here if we didn’t have the guards and the brick walls around this place . . .”

Nabila looked up at Bilal and then at me. “Do you think he’s gone for good?”

“I hope so,” I said.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” Nabila shook her head. “I still feel like I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out it was all a dream.”

Nabila was right. It did feel surreal. But I glanced at the newspaper in her lap. The black-and-white photos looking back at me were proof it wasn’t a dream. After all the people he had hurt, after the generations this family had haunted, we helped bring Jawad Sahib and his father to justice.

I smiled.

No one here except the three of us would ever know it was a group of servants who brought this family down.

No one would ever know it was a girl who helped save our villages.

But I knew.





Chapter 46





Amal, I need to talk to you,” Nasreen Baji said to me the next week. She patted the space on her bed, motioning for me to join her.

“I’m going to Islamabad for a little while,” she said when I sat down. “My eldest is coming to get me tomorrow morning. It’s too hard to be here right now. This house is too big for me.”

My heart sank. Islamabad was hours from here. As her maidservant, I would be expected to go with her. Even farther from my family and all I knew.

“That’s good,” I managed to say. “It’s important to be with your loved ones, especially right now.”

“I’m off to see my sister in a little bit—before I go.” She smiled at me. It was the first smile since Jawad Sahib had left.

“She will be happy to see you,” I told her.

“I hope so,” she said, twisting the edge of her scarf. “It’s been a long time.”

“It’s never too late to see your family.”

“You’re right. And you should be with your family, too.”

I looked at her with a start.

“You may as well hear it from me first. There’s no use in keeping everyone on while we wait to see what happens. I’m closing up the house. Mumtaz will come with me to Islamabad, of course, and a few people, like the gardener, will stay on here to take care of the estate. But most everyone else will be let go.”

“You’re . . . you’re going to let me go?”

“I thought about keeping you.” She smiled at me sadly. “I’ve enjoyed your company and have grown fond of you. I see in you so much the girl I was. But you belong with your family. Your debt is forgiven.”

I wanted to hug Nasreen Baji, but I had never embraced her before. Whatever spell she was under, whatever sacred moment this was, I didn’t want to risk breaking it.

“Thank you,” I whispered.



* * *



? ? ?

    Later that afternoon, I sat with the others as Nasreen Baji shared what was to come.

Bilal’s face broke open with disbelief and then widened into a smile. Hamid hugged Fatima. But Ghulam was somber. And when I looked at Mumtaz, she was crying.

“But you’re going to stay on.” I walked over and clasped her hands. “You’re going to her home in Islamabad.”

“But this was my home.” She looked up at me. “Take care of yourself and check in on an old lady now and then, if you can?” she said through her tears.

“I will.” I hugged her. I felt surprised by the sadness overtaking me. I had waited so long for this day, and I was glad to leave, but I would miss Mumtaz and the other servants.

Fatima approached me a little while after. She held Hamid’s hand. “We’re leaving. My parents don’t want me. Baba said I can go home with him.”

“Where are you going?” I asked Hamid.

“Back home,” he said. “Imrawala. Wife and children are waiting. Have been for too long. Have a couple of grandkids Fatima’s age.” He looked down at Fatima and smiled. “It will be nice for you to have some children to play with.”