Chương 2: 2.He named her
Zahran hesitated for a moment as he saw her. She was without a scarf. Zahran lowered his gaze and turned, his back now towards her. He loudly called bibi.
Bibi emerged from the kitchen. "Yes, baba, what's the matter?"
"Take the madam to the room."
Bibi guided her to the room. Zahran took a deep breath and headed towards the room.
The girl observed everyone and everything with puzzled eyes.
"Where am I?" she asked again in English.
In Bangladesh, Sylhet is also referred to as Mini London because a majority of Sylhet's residents live in the UK. Zahran's parents were also from Sylhet, and after settling in the UK, he was born there. That's why ,no one was surprised to hear the girl speak English. From her haircut and British accent, Zahran guessed that she might also be from the UK.
"Miss, you had an accident, and we found you on a riverbank," Zahran replied in English. He wasn't looking at the girl; his religious beliefs didn't permit him to gaze at non-mahram females. He had recently become more serious about his religion.
"Accident?"
"Miss, if you kindly tell me your name or your family address, then maybe we can help you."
"My name?" The girl paused, trying to remember, but she couldn't recall a single word. "What's my name?" she asked.
This time Zahran looked at the girl. She seemed clearly confused and scared. "I don't remember my name. Who am I?"
"Ah..." She held her head, appearing on the verge of a headache.
"Bibi, take care of her. I'll call the doctor," Zahran said, dialing the doctor's number.
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The doctor arrived and examined the girl. She was unconscious. He had already given her some medicines, and for this reason, she was now sleeping peacefully.
"Due to her head injury, it's quite possible that she has lost all her memories."
"What?" Zahran was shocked. He had hoped that once she recovered, finding her name or her family's whereabouts would be easy. However, it seemed like it was going to be extremely difficult.
"She's lucky that she survived and can walk and talk. Otherwise, people with such injuries are either paralyzed or comatose," the doctor said. He started packing his bags and continued, "She needs to rest and be monitored. We'll need to do some more tests to see how severe her amnesia is."
Zahran nodded, worried about the girl. He didn't know what would happen to her if she didn't remember her name or her family.
Zahran came outside with the doctor.
"You should not pressure her to recall her past. It can damage her health further."
"Doctor, when will her memories be back?"
"We can't say. It can come in one day, one week, one month, one year, or it can never come," the doctor replied. Zahran paid his fees, and when Bibi came outside, he said, "Once she wakes up, make sure you feed her dinner."
He was about to leave when he stopped and paused, "Make sure that she doesn't come in front of the male servants. Also, don't allow any male servants to go near her. Not even Raihan," Zahran ordered, and Bibi nodded.
"Always accompany her. Never leave her. Your only responsibility is to look after that girl," he added and left his villa.
—--------
"So, how long do you plan on staying here?" Raihan asked, sipping his tea. His eyes were fixed on the tv screen.
Zahran, seated across from Raihan, set down his cup and replied, "Until we figure out her name and home address, and she safely returns home."
"Why is that?" Raihan leaned back, he shifted his gaze at Zahran, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table.
Zahran sighed, his gaze momentarily fixed on the swirling steam rising from the tea. "Well, buddy, staying with her under the same roof doesn't seem quite right to me."
Raihan arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Are you afraid? Worried you might be captivated by her beauty? Afraid you'll lose control?"
Zahran rolled his eyes, a grin breaking through his stern expression. "Oh, come on, Raihan. You know me better than that. It's not about losing control; it just doesn't sit well with me."
Raihan chuckled, giving Zahran a friendly pat on the back. "Alright, alright. We'll unravel this mystery together. Now, tell me, what's bothering you?"
Zahran's shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair. "It's not just about her memory. I feel responsible for her safety, her future. What if she's in some kind of danger?"
Raihan nodded understandingly. "We'll take it step by step, my friend. For now, she's here, and we'll do our best to help her."
As they turned their attention back to the match on TV, Raihan decided to lighten the mood. "By the way, Rebeca and our little troublemaker are off to a relative's wedding. I'll join them on Friday since I couldn't get any leave. Until then, you're welcome to stay here with me. Plenty of room for you."
Zahran smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Raihan. Your place is like a second home."
And with that, the tension eased, transforming their conversation back into the easy banter of two friends enjoying a match and the camaraderie that came with it.
—--------
Zahran entered his villa, greeted by Bibi's warm salaam and he reciprocated her greeting. He needed to get some essential documents from his villa.
He handed her shopping bags filled with clothes and necessary items for the girl, his brow furrowed with concern. "How is she? Any improvement in her memory?"
She replied, "You did well by buying clothes for her. She's been wearing the same two outfits since she arrived. Physically, she's better, but there's still no improvement in her memory. Putting too much pressure on her makes her eyes turn red as if her head will split from pain."
"Tell her not to stress too much," he suggested, his tone softening. "Where is she now?"
"On the terrace," Bibi replied.
"Okay, Bibi, I'm going away for two or three days. If there's any trouble, inform Raihan. He'll handle everything," Zahran said before heading towards his study. His fingers traced over the spines of the books as he gathered his necessary documents. He picked a paper and his brow arched. He carefully put it inside on his coat.
He was about to leave when his attention was drawn to the Quran on his table. He had been studying an English translation of the Quran since he hadn't yet learned Arabic. However, his focus shifted when he noticed a bookmark in the Quran, marking Surah Al-Ma'idah. He remembered he was reading Surah Ibrahim.
"Bibi," he called, "does anyone enter my study?"
Bibi stammered, "Only the madam, baba. She reads since she has nothing to do. Should I stop her?"
"No," Zahran said, a slow smile creeping across his face. "If she wants to read, let her. Just ensure she doesn't touch anything else."
"Okay, baba, I'll let her know."
Zahran left with his documents, and near his car, he glanced back towards the terrace. A feeling of being watched lingered, yet no one was there. A sense of warmth settled inside him as he drove away, and as he left, she came forward and watched him leaving.
She stood on the terrace, her hands clutching the railing for support. It had been so many days since he visited the house, yet he left without meeting her. A mix of curiosity, sadness, and longing clouded her eyes. She couldn't remember her name, her past, or her relationship with him. Yet, she felt an inexplicable connection, a yearning to know him better.
"Baba," she murmured, the word tasting unfamiliar on her tongue. "Zahran Saheb," she tried again, testing the sound of his name. It still sounded weird.
"Zahran." a smile appeared on her lips.
However, when she pondered his actions, it disappeared as soon as it appeared. Does he not care for me? Her heart ached at the possibility.
—--------
She lived a nameless existence. Knowing her name seemed a luxury, not a necessity. Bibi, always addressed her as "Madam." Apart from Bibi, the world was a vast unknown. She hesitated to step outside her room, fearing the unfamiliar eyes that might scrutinize her. Her days were spent in quiet solitude and Bibi's gentle voice filling the silence.
While staying with Bibi, she had picked up a smattering of Bengali. Initially, communication had been a struggle, a dance of broken English and hesitant gestures by Bibi. But as she began to weave together simple sentences in Bangla, a smile bloomed on Bibi's face and she sighed in relief.
But the one she truly waited for, the one who haunted her thoughts and dreams, never appeared. His absence felt like a physical ache in her heart. She yearned to see his face, to hear his voice, to understand the magic he seemed to hold over her. Zahran, with his stern demeanor and eyes that held secrets, had become a mystery she desperately wanted to solve. He was the only man she had seen, and her heart, with a naivete she couldn't explain, had surrendered to him at first sight. Learning his name, his identity, his likings and disliking had become more pressing than remembering her own.
One day, as she stood gazing out the window, a familiar car horn shattered the silence. Her heart leaped into her throat. Could it be him? Without a second thought, she rushed towards the main hall, her steps driven by an unknown urge. She heard his voice before she saw him, the cadence of his words sending shivers down her spine.
Zahran raised his head, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment before dropping downcast. A wave of disappointment washed over her. Was she not worthy of his gaze?
"Have you learned anything about me?" she finally asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What is my name? Where am I from? My family?"
"Unfortunately, nothing yet," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Oh!!!"
They conversed in English.
"Please don't worry. As soon as Raihan finds out something, we will inform you." His voice softened." By the way, is there anything you need?" Zahran inquired, causing her heart to miss a beat.
"No. Everything is here," she replied.
"Have you chosen a name for yourself? I mean, until we discover your actual name, shall we address you with one?" Zahran's gaze didn't once lift toward her.
"No, you can decide." She looked at him with hope. Zahran had not glanced at her even once.
"Then let's name you Tahira. It means 'pure,'" Zahran suggested.
"If you like it, then I have no objection."
"Alright, from today, you are Tahira."
He resumed talking to Bibi, and she understood that her presence here was inconsequential. Disheartened, she retreated to the study. Was she not attractive enough to be acknowledged in this manner?
A tear escaped her eye.
As she entered the study, she picked up the Quran's translation, seeking solace in its verses.
She opened the Quran and began reading from a random place. The very first verse that resonated within her being was,
"˹O Prophet! ˺ Tell the believing men to lower their gaze and guard their chastity. That is purer for them. Surely Allah is All-Aware of what they do."
This was the 30th verse of Surah An-Nur. She continued reading.
"And tell the believing women to lower their gaze and guard their chastity, and not to reveal their adornments1 except what normally appears.2 Let them draw their veils over their chests, and not reveal their ˹hidden˺ adornments3 except to their husbands, their fathers, their fathers-in-law, their sons, their stepsons, their brothers, their brothers' sons or sisters' sons, their fellow women, those ˹bondwomen˺ in their possession, male attendants with no desire, or children who are still unaware of women's nakedness. Let them not stomp their feet, drawing attention to their hidden adornments. Turn to Allah in repentance all together, O believers, so that you may be successful.
"Is this why he doesn't look at me?" she couldn't help but think.
Her profound interest in the Quran grew.
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