Inspector Singh Investigates by Shamini Flint

had adopted the headdress worn around the head, all hair tucked away and invisible, with a full cloak reaching almost to waist level, draping the upper body. Pressure from menfolk, peer pressure, genuine choice – it was difficult to know why so many women had adopted the stricter Islamic code of dress, although the full burqa was still fairly uncommon. Those dressed in the black, shapeless gowns, with black socks, shoes, gloves and an opaque veil, tended to be part of the huge contingent of oil–rich, Arab tourists who came to Malaysia to shop for designer clothes to wear under their black coveralls.
    Chelsea Liew wore a transparent gossamer headscarf lined with beads. Her hair peeped out enticingly. It could hardly have been the intention of the Syariah court, in insisting on a mandatory head covering for women appearing before the court, whether Moslem or not, to enhance the appeal of the wearer. But that was what they had achieved in the case of Chelsea Liew. The difference between observing the letter and the spirit of the law was crystal clear when viewed in the context of Chelsea's headgear.
    Chelsea's relief at her release from prison had immediately turned sour. She had gone home to her children. They had asked her no questions, too thankful to have their mother back to question the manner of her return. It was as if the boys had decided that to know too much would tempt fate –they sealed themselves from the past by remaining ignorant of it. Chelsea knew that at least Marcus, the eldest boy, knew that she was out of jail because their uncle had confessed – it was in all the newspapers. But she acquiesced in his withdrawn silence, thankful for the respite from the immediate past.
    And then she had received an official document from the Syariah court requiring her presence at a custody hearing regarding her children. Apparently, the Islamic Council felt it necessary to seek custody of her children, the offspring of a Moslem man, rather than have them brought up by a non–Moslem mother. It was their view that the children would be better off fostered in a Moslem home and they had applied to the Syariah court that the children be placed with Moslem caregivers.
    Chelsea had frantically consulted her lawyers only to discover that they did not have locus standi, the right to appear, before the Syariah court. Their practice was wholly before the parallel civil jurisdiction that held sway in Malaysia over most matters except that of Moslem family law. Her lawyers could advise but they could not appear. Finally, she had found a Moslem lawyer to represent her and they had arrived for the hearing only to be barred at the door. Her clothing, knee–length skirt and jacket over long–sleeved blouse, was not modest enough for the presiding judge. Her lawyer had hastily arranged a twenty–four–hour adjournment. Chelsea was now dressed in the customary Malay dress, the baju kurung, a shapeless long–sleeved knee–length blouse with a closed neck, a long maxi–skirt and the required scarf.
    In the end, in the manner of all courts, religious or secular, the hearing was postponed. The judge, dressed in long black robes and sporting the fist–length beard believed by some Moslems to be required of their religion, was anxious to usher them all out of his courtroom. The law and his personal sympathies were pulling in opposite directions. He would give everyone a few weeks to mull things over.
    Outside, the rain beat down. The sky was an impenetrable dark grey. Crashes of thunder followed hard on the heels of bolts of lightning that lit up the heavens and caused the air around them to tingle with electricity. The weather required a grander denouement than a postponement of a hearing. This was a storm more appropriate to families pulled asunder by the majesty of the law. At least the rain had thinned the ranks of waiting reporters. A few stood huddled together, under voluminous raincoats, next to the main entrance of the