Read Online The Convert: A Tale of Exile and Extremism by Deborah Baker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Baker
Ads: Link
such unceasing torment. Of my many correspondents, however, there was one man I trusted implicitly. He was a journalist in Karachi named Shaheer Niazi. He alone had expressed a frank skepticism as to the saintliness of Mawlana Mawdudi.
I wrote to him of my deepest fears concerning Mawdudi’s intentions. As it seemed impossible for me to stay on in Pattoki under Mawdudi’s guardianship, I needed his advice. Could he come to Pattoki? I needed help figuring out what I had to do to extract myself from Mawdudi’s control. I would require new lodgings. I wanted nothing more than to remain in Pakistan and live simply and independently. He wrote back immediately. He would come as soon as he could get away.
But before Shaheer Niazi had time to arrange his journey, Mian Tufail Muhammad, the secretary general of Jamaat-e-Islami Party, arrived in his sparkling white shalwar kameez. He was accompanied by a pretty young Peace Corps volunteer named Janet Hanneman and a nondescript man from the U.S. consulate. Hanging back was yet another man, handsome and heavy-set, whom Mian Tufail Muhammad introduced mysteriously as Dr. Rashid, a personal friend.
After an awkward round of tea, I was told to pack and get ready to go. Filled with foreboding, I nonetheless acquiesced. I was entirely at their mercy. Of course, the entire village turned out to get a glimpse of the uncovered, slim, and attractive “Memsahib” Janet and that only added to the spectacle. After an hour or so, the car stopped. Even before I looked out the window, I had somehow known where I was being taken. I turned to Janet.
It’s the mental hospital, isn’t it? She nodded sadly.
We thought it was the best place, she said.
Once I had been admitted, I snuck a look at my case file. There I discovered a copy of the Mawlana’s March 12 letter to me and all my suspicions were confirmed. Dr. Rashid turned out to be the hospital director and answerable to the Jamaat-e-Islami.
I wondered if Shaheer Niazi would ever find me.
----
According to Margaret, the crisis had been set in motion when she received a letter from Mawlana Mawdudi. Dated March 12, 1963, nearly eight months after she had left his home, his letter was quite different from earlier ones, she told her parents, so distinct as to make her think Mawdudi had not written it. She studied it with a wary eye, each time testing it for a false note. Leaving aside an account of its content, she was suddenly struck by its tone. Mawdudi had never addressed her with such detachment before! He did not mince words, Peggy reported; it was a cold and ruthless letter. She couldn’t help but conclude that it was not addressed to her, but written so that the Mawlana might justify his subsequent actions to himself. The thought terrified her. After this preamble, Peggy then provided a bare summary of the letter’s contents.
Mawdudi began by saying that it had always been his intention to find her a suitable young man to marry. He had first thought her misbehavior was due to the frustration of her unmarried state. Given the most recent report from Pattoki, he now felt he didn’t want to risk the ruin of a good man’s life. The Mawlana then proceeded not only to outline her transgressions in Pattoki but to list those she had committed in Lahore as well.
Earlier, Peggy had assured her parents that it had been entirely her own decision to leave Mawdudi’s home. She now admitted this wasn’t the case. The Mawlana had sent her to Pattoki to be “rehabilitated,” and on the evidence of Baijan’s testimony he had evidently determined that her rehabilitation had failed.
If Herbert and Myra expected to learn the substance of the Mawlana’s complaints from their daughter, they would have been disappointed. Whatever Margaret stood accused of doing, her crimes appeared to be either so inconsequential or so damning that she couldn’t bear to repeat them when she came to account for how she happened to be writing from an insane
I wrote to him of my deepest fears concerning Mawdudi’s intentions. As it seemed impossible for me to stay on in Pattoki under Mawdudi’s guardianship, I needed his advice. Could he come to Pattoki? I needed help figuring out what I had to do to extract myself from Mawdudi’s control. I would require new lodgings. I wanted nothing more than to remain in Pakistan and live simply and independently. He wrote back immediately. He would come as soon as he could get away.
But before Shaheer Niazi had time to arrange his journey, Mian Tufail Muhammad, the secretary general of Jamaat-e-Islami Party, arrived in his sparkling white shalwar kameez. He was accompanied by a pretty young Peace Corps volunteer named Janet Hanneman and a nondescript man from the U.S. consulate. Hanging back was yet another man, handsome and heavy-set, whom Mian Tufail Muhammad introduced mysteriously as Dr. Rashid, a personal friend.
After an awkward round of tea, I was told to pack and get ready to go. Filled with foreboding, I nonetheless acquiesced. I was entirely at their mercy. Of course, the entire village turned out to get a glimpse of the uncovered, slim, and attractive “Memsahib” Janet and that only added to the spectacle. After an hour or so, the car stopped. Even before I looked out the window, I had somehow known where I was being taken. I turned to Janet.
It’s the mental hospital, isn’t it? She nodded sadly.
We thought it was the best place, she said.
Once I had been admitted, I snuck a look at my case file. There I discovered a copy of the Mawlana’s March 12 letter to me and all my suspicions were confirmed. Dr. Rashid turned out to be the hospital director and answerable to the Jamaat-e-Islami.
I wondered if Shaheer Niazi would ever find me.
----
According to Margaret, the crisis had been set in motion when she received a letter from Mawlana Mawdudi. Dated March 12, 1963, nearly eight months after she had left his home, his letter was quite different from earlier ones, she told her parents, so distinct as to make her think Mawdudi had not written it. She studied it with a wary eye, each time testing it for a false note. Leaving aside an account of its content, she was suddenly struck by its tone. Mawdudi had never addressed her with such detachment before! He did not mince words, Peggy reported; it was a cold and ruthless letter. She couldn’t help but conclude that it was not addressed to her, but written so that the Mawlana might justify his subsequent actions to himself. The thought terrified her. After this preamble, Peggy then provided a bare summary of the letter’s contents.
Mawdudi began by saying that it had always been his intention to find her a suitable young man to marry. He had first thought her misbehavior was due to the frustration of her unmarried state. Given the most recent report from Pattoki, he now felt he didn’t want to risk the ruin of a good man’s life. The Mawlana then proceeded not only to outline her transgressions in Pattoki but to list those she had committed in Lahore as well.
Earlier, Peggy had assured her parents that it had been entirely her own decision to leave Mawdudi’s home. She now admitted this wasn’t the case. The Mawlana had sent her to Pattoki to be “rehabilitated,” and on the evidence of Baijan’s testimony he had evidently determined that her rehabilitation had failed.
If Herbert and Myra expected to learn the substance of the Mawlana’s complaints from their daughter, they would have been disappointed. Whatever Margaret stood accused of doing, her crimes appeared to be either so inconsequential or so damning that she couldn’t bear to repeat them when she came to account for how she happened to be writing from an insane
Similar Books
