Princess Sultana's Circle by Jean Sasson Page A

sense.”
    “ Sara, nothing has turned
out as I planned! None of my three children are dependent on me any
longer…Kareem is away more than he is home...and there are
countless abused women in the world like Munira crying out for
help, and there’s nothing that I can do to help them!” I began to
sob hysterically. “And now, I’m afraid I’m becoming an
alcoholic.”
    Facing the emptiness and
humiliation of my life for the first time, I cried out, “My life is
a failure!”
    Sara’s arms wrapped around
me in a warm embrace. “Darling, you are the bravest person I’ve
ever known. Shhh, little sister, now hush…”
    Suddenly, Mother’s image
came to me. I wanted to be a child again, to be in those childhood
places, to forget all of the adult disappointments in between. I
wanted to go back in time. I shouted as loud as I could, “I want
Mother!”
    “ Shhh, Sultana. Please stop
crying. Don’t you know that Mother is around us, even
now?”
    My sobs began to soften as
I looked around the room. I was longing to see Mother once again,
even if her countenance only came to me in the form of an
apparition, as before in my dreams. But I could see nothing, and
said, “Mother’s not here.” After my sobs subsided, I described my
dream to Sara. For me, the pain of our mother’s death would never
heal.
    “ You see,” Sara remarked,
“your dream proves my words to be true. Mother’s spirit is always
with us. Sultana, I, too, often sense Mother’s presence. She comes
to me at the oddest moments. Only yesterday, when I was looking in
a mirror, I clearly saw Mother appear behind me. I only caught a
glimpse of her, but it was enough to let me know that the day will
come when we will all be together once again.”
    I felt a sense of peace
wash over me. If Sara had also seen Mother, then I knew that Mother
still existed. My sister’s integrity is never questioned by anyone
who knows her.
    Sara and I sat quietly,
both of us remembering the days when we were innocent children, and
Mother’s unending reservoir of wisdom, understanding and love
sheltered us from most of life’s dangers.
    When I fidgeted under the
bedcovers, the two empty whiskey bottles dropped from the bed to
the floor. Sara’s haunted eyes looked toward the bottles, and then
at me. Recalling the reason for the alarm that had brought Sara to
my side, a black depression once again settled over me.
    “ You are on a dangerous
path, Sultana,” Sara whispered.
    I sat and twirled my hair
around my finger. After a time I burst out, “I hate my life of
idleness!”
    “ Sultana, you can do more
with your life. You must take responsibility for your own
happiness. A hobby or occupation that consumed your attention would
be good for you.”
    “ How can I? The veil
interferes with everything I do!” I grumbled, “I can’t believe that
we were unlucky enough to be born in a country that forces its
women to wear shrouds of black!”
    “ I thought it was
loneliness that was driving you to drink,” Sara dryly noted. With
eyes half-closed in weariness, she said, “Sultana, I do believe
that you would argue with Allah, Himself!”
    Filled with unruly
emotions, unsure of the exact cause of my current turmoil, I looked
at Sara and shrugged, “Amani is right, you know. I have been cursed
by the Prophet. And he must have cursed me on many occasions. Why
else would everything bitter in my life come together at
once?”
    “ You are being foolish,
Sultana! I do not believe that our Holy Prophet would curse a
troubled woman,” she said. “Is it a life without problems that you
are seeking?”
    “ Inshallah!” (God
willing!)
    “ You want a life that does
not exist, Little Sister. Everyone who lives has problems. She
paused, then said, “Even Kings suffer problems that cannot be
resolved.”
    I knew that she was
referring to the failing health of our Uncle Fahd, the man who was
the King of Saudi Arabia. As the years passed, he had become
increasingly frail. He was