The couple who vowed to take on tradition
At first glance they are an unremarkable pair of middle-class newlyweds. She has jet-black bobbed hair, pale skin and dreamy eyes; he is well-groomed, with glasses and a moustache. So how come their arrival at a hotel somewhere in Pakistan (the exact location must not be revealed) engenders the sort of anxiety and secrecy that usually accompanies heads of state or film stars? My companion - the bridegroom's brother - has been fiddling nervously with a glass of water for the past half-hour, his eyes darting to the doorway every few minutes. When the couple enter the lobby, he leaps to his feet and instantly ushers us all into a secluded corner. The curious glances of passers-by clearly disturb them. It is nothing to do with post-nuptial coyness; it is fear.
Saima Waheed and Ashad Ahmed have become the most controversial couple in Pakistan. They live in hiding and, for days, our meeting had seemed impossible. Ashad's lawyer in Lahore had not known where they were, Saima's lawyer had no wish to know. It was safer for everyone.
The Ahmed family's shop in Lahore is temporarily closed - for fear of reprisals from Saima's family - and there was no sign of them elsewhere in the city. Then, one evening a shy, skinny, anxious young man arrived at my hotel and, after demanding to see my press credentials, told me in broken English that he was Ashad's brother, Arshad.
He had a number, he told me, where he could contact the couple for me. Eventually, Ashad came on the line. He spoke graciously, regretting that he and Saima were not in Lahore, and thus could not show me around. But they would meet me, he said, in another city, as long as I did not reveal where it was. I was to bring Arshad. As our plane took off from Lahore, Arshad whispered: 'If anyone asks you who you are going to see, remember, say nothing.' 'Of course not,' I assured him. 'But, after everything that's happened, are they happy, your brother and his wife?' Arshad smiled for the first time since I had met him. 'Happy? Ashad and Saima? I have never seen such happiness.' Ashad and Saima married for love. By doing so, they defied tradition, infuriated conservative opinion and delighted progressives. Because it was not an arranged marriage, their union has deepened the divisions of a country torn between its religious ideals and its secular aspirations. Their romance has been scrutinised in the courts and in the media, provoking passionate opinions.
A year since they exchanged vows, the furore shows no signs of abating. The couple have been forced to live in hiding and, for most of the time since they married, apart. Since March this year, when an historic high court decision vindicated their marriage, they have been reunited - but they have not been left in peace; if anything, harassment has intensified.
Later this year, the Supreme Court in Islamabad, the highest court in the land, will hear an appeal from Abdul Waheed Ropari - Saima's wealthy and influential father - against the high court decision. If he wins, and the marriage is declared invalid after all, Saima and Ashad could each face up to 25 years in prison: her for zina (illicit relations, including sex, before marriage), him for rape and abduction.