36. War || جنگ
Allah ne insan ke haath mein sirf koshish di hai, kamyabi woh deta hai.
اللہ نے انسان کے ہاتھ میں صرف کوشش دی ہے،
کامیابی وہ دیتا ہے-
We are trapped in the amber of the moment. Time is an illusion, a facade. Once you lose hold of it, it slips from your hand like the fine grains of sand, never to be caught again. With each passing second the past increases and the future recedes. This week passed in a blur. But tomorrow was the day. The day that would decide the future of our family. The day that would decide the future of our country.
All week Aliyaar was busy preparing for the big day. Despite our limited interactions during the week, I was able to learn a great deal about him. He was a man of discipline and courage. He did have an insatiable hunger for power, but with that he also had great resilience and a burning passion to shoulder responsibility and bring a change in the system. Like me, my father too had seen his unmissable spark and had decided to endorse him, silently mobilising politicians, resources and party workers around him.
This week saw the formation of a close knit team. A team of able, loyal and experienced men, who would rally around Aliyaar when the time to assume political power would arrive. The group was small, consisting only of six men, with my father at the helm. I recognised three of the men. They were close friends of my father and loyal supporters of our party. They had all held high posts and had the experience to direct and execute policy at the highest level of the government. Another man was the ex-Governor of Punjab, Ahmed uncle's best friend, Aliyaar's mentor and my Dada Jaan's arch rival. Aliyaar's cousin, a bureaucrat and a foreign policy expert, was the last member of this team but possibly Aliyaar's closest aide.
Every day, these men would meet at our house to discuss matters of public policy, industries, foreign policy, economic governance and administrative issues. Every evening, they were joined by other well known politicians, notable industrialists and businessmen, foreign dignitaries, bureaucrats and sometimes even religious leaders to discuss matters of states and policies. Shehryar, Zayan and Ahmed Uncle would frequent the meetings, but were never regular fixtures.
The meetings would start promptly at 6:00 in the evening and would continue late till late in the night. Every night the kitchen staff would churn up a feast and the talks would continue over dinner as well.
For the first time in my life, I had the chance to observe this world so closely. Growing up in Laal Mahal, the women of the house were never allowed to involve themselves in matters of business, politics or the party. But unlike my family, Aliyaar never stopped me. While I never engaged myself in the discussions, I would silently lurk around in the shadows of the room trying to overhear the conversations. I thought Aliyaar hadn't noticed, but yesterday when he caught me in the library, holding an upside down book as I tried to catch onto the conversation in the adjacent room, his face lit up with amusement.
"Why don't you join us?"
"What would I possibly do there?" I asked, a little surprised at his offer.
"What you're doing here. Listen." He smiled at me knowingly. "Perhaps, if you want, you can take part as well."
I took his hand into mine and shook my head, "That's a generous offer, but I don't think you need me there. I was just— curious."
"I always need you, meri Jaan." A smile curled on the edges of his lips and he leaned down to kiss the crown of my head. "You can come if you want. I know curiosity has been getting the better of you this whole week."
My mouth fell open in astonishment. "You knew!" I gasped in surprise. He gave me a knowing smile and caressed my cheeks with his knuckles, before he turned around and left. And like every other night this week, I didn't see him again until late in the night when he'd crawl into bed and snaked his arm around my sleeping form.
A strange unease settled in my stomach at the thought of tomorrow's rally. The air of the country buzzed with excitement and anticipation. The public's response to tomorrow's rally would decide the fate of both Aliyaar and my family. The recent years had been difficult for our party, with dwindling public support, mounting criminal cases, growing civil unrest and a strengthening opposition. Disgruntled party members had revolted and betrayed us, distancing themselves as times got turbulent.
Tomorrow's address would set the tone for the future. It would set the trajectory for the upcoming elections! It was imperative the party put forward a new voice. A strong decisive voice.
But with every passing day, the political atmosphere seemed to be shifting against us. The public sentiments were high. With Ibrahim Taya's new corruption cases coming to light, the people were seething with anger, harbouring great resentment and frustration against our family. While Dada Jaan had decided Ibrahim Taya would not be contesting the election, it was a decision that was yet to be conveyed to the public. I had overheard Dad and Aliyaar's conversation as they talked about Ibrahim Taya's refusal to give up the seat, far less agree to resign from his post as party President.
After the hustle bustle of the last week, tonight had been particularly quiet. Only the six close members had met together to discuss the final details for tomorrow's rally, before they decided to call it a day before dinner. I gave a bored glance at the television screen. Kamran Ali, a popular journalist and late night show host was going on about the cases against my family. A few guests on the show sat debating tomorrow's rally, some voicing their concern and some extending their support. I switched the television off, the weariness and anxiety of the day finally catching up with me.
When I opened the door of my room, I was surprised to see Aliyaar sitting on the bed, his legs were stretched out and his eyes were focussed upon the book in his hand. He seemed relaxed, not an ounce of worry on his brow. I looked at him in surprise, all day I had been a tangled ball of nerves, while here he was cool as a cucumber.
"Are you not worried for tomorrow?" I asked as I closed the door behind me. "I haven't been able to stop thinking. I just pray everything goes well tomorrow." I walked up to the bed and sat besides him.
He looked up and shrugged. "We will be fine." He threw a glance at the clock and then said, "You should change and go to sleep. Tomorrow is a long day."
I pursed my lips, unconvinced. But nodded and headed to my room for a change of clothes. I was too frazzled to wear anything remotely sultry tonight, so I decided upon changing into a pink and grey cotton sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of shorts that ended right above my knees. I rolled my hair into a bun atop my head and turned to look at myself in the mirror.
When I walked back into the room, Aliyaar looked up and smiled, "That looks cute on you." He said, his eyes roaming over me.
"The last thing I wish to hear from my husband is that 'I'm cute'." I feigned a scowl on my face and plopped up besides him, pulling the duvet over my legs.
With barely concealed amusement, Aliyaar reached out and adjusted the pillow behind me, as I prepared to go to sleep. I laid back while he hovered besides, "What would you rather hear, Shany-jaan?" He whispered, his lips twitching.
I stuck my tongue out at him and then turned to the other side. I curled into a ball, pressing my hand underneath my forehead. "You know what I want to hear." I mumbled before closing my eyes. "Good night, Aliyaar."
I heard him break into a laugh, before he leaned in and kissed the top of my head, "Good night, meri Jaan. Sleep well."
But sleep was the last thing on my mind. Despite trying to sleep off my stupor, I twisted on the bed. The constant thoughts, anxiety and anticipation of tomorrow ensured the impossibility of sleep. I kept my eyes shut, praying to God to ease the restlessness plaguing my heart.
"Come here, baby."
My eyes slivered open in surprise and I craned my neck towards him. I opened my mouth, when he beat me to it. "You're not a good actor." He said and then closed his book, keeping it on the bedside table.
I sighed at the thought. Perhaps I really wasn't a good actor.
I sat up, pulling the blanket to my neck. He was still sitting against the bed rest, waiting for me to nestle besides him, in his arms. But I was too tired to sit, so I scampered over to him and placed my head in his lap. When I looked up towards him, he was watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. "You always surprise me." He said, threading his fingers through my hair and untangling the bun. My hair fell open, sprawling over his legs.
I smiled at his remark, before taking his hand into mine and playing with it. "Don't you think it's romantic? Lying in your partner's lap while they play with your hair?" He was leisurely stroking my hair, but stopped upon hearing my words and chuckled.
"You're cute." He said, before ploughing his fingers through my hair again. I frowned but remained silent. After a while, I turned around and buried my face into his torso, wrapping both my arms around his waist. His fingers tangled through my hair. I could hear his faint heartbeat, the only measure of time that mattered. I exhaled, only to breathe his scent in. The scent of love and comfort. "What have you been so worried about?" His fingers moved across my skin, making mindless patterns and memories.
"I'm scared for tomorrow." I raised my chin to look at him. "For you. For my family." He remained silent. His eyes merely constricted around the edges. "There has been a lot of resentment amongst the masses and in the past week it seems like the media has been giving wind to such sentiments." Even in the weak light from the lamp, I did not miss the shift in his mood.
I felt him stiffen underneath me, but then he cleared his throat and began carefully, "I haven't been totally honest with you." He dipped his head and looked towards me. "I paid the media for the negative press."
Shocked at his confession, I leveled a withering glance in his direction. But he didn't hide, he met me— stare for stare, glare for glare.
"You were running the smear campaign against my family?" I asked cuttingly. Disappointment raced through my veins. "Why would you do that?"
"I won't hurt your family Shanzae." He held my gaze. "But if I want this rally to turn in our favour, I had to do it."
I shook my head, pushing myself off his lap. "After everything my family and father did for you, this is what you do." Cold betrayal settled in the pit of my stomach. "You know how dangerous you've made the situation. There are equal chances of the crowds throwing flowers at you all, as there are of them throwing rocks. The only problem is you can never be too sure."
"It was a carefully contained campaign. We were closely monitoring the situation."
I scoffed at him. "And what would you do if the situation got out of hand tomorrow in the jalsa grounds?" My voice shook with horror at the possibility. "Why did you do this? I have to tell Dad." I turned towards my phone, when Aliyaar's hand caught mine, pulling me back into the bed.
"He knows."
I gulped, speechless at the revelation. For a few moments I had no words. Something flared within me as his words settled in. "Shanzae you have to trust me. I don't want to keep things from you. But we hope the rising sentiments against him would pressurise your uncle to withdraw from the elections."
Despite his honest admission, his justifications did nothing to quell the frowning suspicions within me. "What are you planning to do tomorrow?" My gaze flickered at him with doubts. "Does my father know."
His eyes met mine for a striking second before he shook his head. "Not entirely. But he has an idea. You have to trust me and your father." His large hand took hold of mine and he pulled me to him. "Sleep now."
Deciding it was futile to argue with him any further, I nodded and lay down besides him. His arm wrapped around my shoulder as I snuggled into his chest. His hand clasped onto mine and I felt him place a kiss on top of my forehead. The soft beating of his heart lulled the doubts brewing within me and I sighed into his warmth. Despite the flare of worry blooming in my chest. I banished it with a breath. He wanted my trust and he'd get my trust.
I slept, a dreamless and contented sleep.
➰➰➰
I stirred awake just as Dawn was cresting along the horizon. As the sun rose, threads of gold began to weave against the darkened canvas of the night. The moon and stars were beginning to bid away for their nightly rest. It was still night, but the darkness had begun to shake away. A few birds chirped gaily announcing the beginning of a new day.
I looked up and saw Aliyaar sleeping soundly. His arms were still wrapped around me as he held me to him. I could hear the faint sounds of the morning prayers float through the silence of the dawn. With great care, I untangled myself from his embrace and crawled out of bed. He stirred at the loss, before falling back in the abyss of profound sleep. I smiled down at his sleeping form, before heading to the changing room.
I knelt on the prayer mat for a very long time, my hands were held up and my head was bowed down in prayer.
I prayed for him. I prayed for his success.
When I finally finished praying, the sun had seared through the morning's mist and flung a sheer golden veil of light over the world. I rose from the prayer rug and then went outside to the balcony looking at the sky blossom into the day.
The duppatta had loosened, but still hung over my head. I rested my elbows against the marble railing and put my head in my hands. After a while, I plucked the newly bloomed rose and turned, looking at Aliyaar.
He was still asleep when I walked back inside and sat besides him. A breeze swept through the room and I raised my head and lifted my arms so it could raffle the sleeves of my loose tunic. With a gentle finger, I placed the flower on his pillow, and leaned into him. His scent filled my nostrils. I traced a finger over his brows and then trailed it down the side of his face, coming to rest on his lips. Then I put the finger of my mouth, tasting his skin, as my lips moved through the murmur of prayer. I upended my palms and blew the air upon him. He stirred.
"What are you doing so early?"
"I was praying for you. Allah se apki hifazat aur kamyabi ki dua mang rahi thi."
[I was praying for your safety and success.]
His voice was still heavy, groggy with sleep, but he gave me a lazy smile before his eyes fell shut again. I shook my head and then attempted to move away, when his hand wrapped around my wrist. "Lie down with me. Let me hold you." When I turned to look at him, his eyes were still closed and his face was calm, as if still asleep.
I smiled at him. "You should get up. It's almost 7:00." I leaned down on his chest and traced my fingers on his forehead, pushing the unruly strands of hair off his face.
"Just five minutes." His voice was slumberous, laden with sleep. "Please." He demanded like a child. My smile widened at his antics, and I slipped underneath the covers besides him. I had barely settled in when he rolled on top of me. His arms banded around my waist and his head lay on my chest, as he snuggled into me like a baby canoodling his favourite stuff toy.
"Aliyaar." I gasped, surprised at the feel of his weight pressed upon me. My body froze underneath him.
He chuckled in response as he adjusted himself before he fell back asleep. When I realized he had no intention of leaving me, I began to relax, enjoying the feel of his hair tickling my skin.
In this moment of perfect silence, I realised just how much he meant to me.
Sometimes I wished I could steal him and hide him from the world. To keep him all for myself. He was mine and I wanted every bit of him. My fingers laced through his hair, my heart burning with a wild possessiveness. But today, I had to share him with the world. Today I had to be a part of his world.
➰➰➰
The evening sun touched the Minar-e-Pakistan with a liquid fire lending the city of Lahore a new wardrobe of colours. I turned to look outside the window of my car at the crowds assembling in the distant, framed against the red dusty sky. Normally, the green park surrounding the minaret would just be filled by a few families and couples enjoying the evening at this time of the day, but today the ground was crammed with a slowly moving thong of humanity. The crowds deftly maneuvered through the safety barriers towards the stage.
Men, women, children. Young and old, all began assembling in the grounds. In one corner of the stage, musicians and DJs played the anthems and National songs of Pakistan, while in the other young enthusiastic party workers danced to the tunes of the local dholwalas playing their dholaks and bajas. People chatted happily, chanting slogans for the party and the well being of the party leaders. Vendors hawked snacks and refreshments to the hungry crowds. A separate stage had been set up for the media, who stood at a distance with their cameras and mics to cover the event. In the far distance, was also present, a disgruntled crowd of opposition workers carefully kept at bay by the police force and security staff.
"What a show they've put up." Layla said in a bored tone as our car approached the backstage, where most of the party leadership had assembled to await Dada Jaan's arrival. "If it's any consolation, Dada Jaan and Ibrahim Taya might feel a sense of false comfort that they still have supporters."
"Layla!" My mom and I chided simultaneously.
Layla let out a disgruntled sigh and rolled her eyes, "It's true. Forget the general public, now even party members have started demanding a resignation from Ibrahim Taya. But, why would he when Aliyaar Bhai is willingly bailing them out and buying them votes."
Mother wore an intense look of concern on her face as she eyed an irritated Layla before she looked at me with a half smile. "Your dress looks good Layla." I said trying to divert the topic.
"Yes, it does." Her mood shifted and her fingers skimmed over the delicate embroidery of the fabric. "I wore it in hopes that I might be able to climb up on the stage. So I had to make sure I looked my best, lest the camera turned to me."
"My baby loves attention." My mother smiled, but her eyes were saddened at the impossibility of Layla's words. This was the third time in our entire life that we had been allowed at a party jalsa, albeit our access was limited to the backstage. Our car rolled onto the dusty ground and stopped just besides the containers and tents which had turned into temporary control centres for the organisers and party leaders.
I adjusted the white lace duppatta over my head before stepping outside the car. The senior party members had already started gathering on top of the stage and only a few people remained behind. A member of the organising team came running to us and began guiding us towards our seats, when we bumped into Ahmed Uncle and Shehryar.
Uncle patted my head to bless me, when Yaar turned to me and said, "Thank god you're here. Bhai is going crazy waiting for you." My brows puckered together in confusion. Why was he waiting for me? "We're going on the stage, your grandfather arrives in 5 minutes, Bhai and the rest of your family would come up in 10 minutes."
When I walked inside the camp, Aliyaar was surrounded by a few men, one of them I recognised as his cousin, and they were discussing the last minute details of his speech. Relief washed over his tense features when his eyes met my nervous ones. I tightened the duppatta over my head when the men turned towards me, but slowly they began to walk past and left the camp. Aliyaar still stood there clad in a simple shalwar kameez and a red scarf over his shoulder, very symbolic of the colours of the flags of both parties.
"Where were you?" He asked impatiently.
"You look good." I smiled as I walked towards him.
"This is not the time to flirt, Jaan." The corners of his lips quivered with a smile, but the rest of his face remained serious. "We go up in about 10 minutes."
I nodded and placed my hands on his chest. "You'd do great. I believe in you." Confident and determined eyes glittered back at me. Suddenly my eyes shone with mischief and I leaned in and whispered, "You got this, my jiggly honey cakes cuddle bear!" I reached up and pinched his cheeks in an attempt to lighten the tension cutting the air.
He attempted a disgusted frown, before a smile broke on his face and he shook his head at me. "Not sure how I feel about being called a cake and a bear. But okay." He grinned at me.
Just then commotion started to sound from outside and frenzied noises started getting louder. I turned towards the entrance as music blasted through the air. "Dada Jaan must have arrived." Aliyaar whispered behind me. I whipped around to him, my eyes bright with excitement.
"You can do this!" I perched up on my heels and kissed away the worry lines on his face. He relaxed visibly at the action, but his arms held onto my waist as he pulled himself slightly away from me.
"We can do this." He said curtly. This wasn't the first time he had said this to me, but the expression on his face told me he meant something else. Despite the confusion rising on my face, I nodded with a half smile.
"I should leave. It's almost time for you to go out."
Aliyaar hesitated, his mind searching for words. My brows shriveled together in suspicion as I carefully observed the changing expression on his face. And then he let out a deep breath and said, "I want you besides me. Up on the stage."
He saw the shock register on my face as his words settled in and shook me to my core. The muscle in my body froze as confusion clogged every cell of my brain. Blood drained from my veins and I looked at him with startled eyes, my heart thumping against my ribs.
"I—" My tongue faltered. Then I took a deep breath to steady myself and carefully chose my words. "I'm always besides you. And I always will be. But what you ask of me is impossible. I cannot go up there."
He watched me with unblinking golden eyes, his expression stoic. "I need you." His voice was brittle, each word enunciated carefully. His eyes locked with mine in a beseeching stare. "You connect me with this family. The world needs to see this connection."
I shook my head and walked away from him. "Don't be silly, Aliyaar. The world knows. They don't have to see me."
"Oh but they do. Your presence changes everything. You are the daughter of this family. You are their blood. And the world has to see this." He stepped in front of me, stopping me from leaving the tent. "I know you don't want—"
"It's not about what I want!" I almost screamed at him. My frustration was reaching dangerous levels. "Dada Jaan would never allow this. And I cannot let you destroy the only chance you have for getting that seat."
"Is this about you or your family?" His eyes narrowed with defiance. When I did not answer, he clasped my shoulder, trying to read the turmoils raging on my face. "Would you have stood besides me, had your grandfather allowed it?"
"If that meant you'd win the elections, of course I would have." I cried out at his persistence. "But that isn't the case now. I won't let you destroy your chances for such lunacy."
His shoulders squared and his eyes shone with steely determination. "You will go up with me." He said in a rich, imperious voice.
I shook my head, tearing myself away from his hold. "I am always besides you, but I cannot go up. You have to understand my position. If not you, then my father would have to face the wrath for my action." My face begged him to give in.
"I will face—"
"No. Aliyaar. No. Don't do this." I looked at him imploringly. A dull ache spread through my veins. For once, someone wasn't clipping my wings yet my feet were so heavy I couldn't fly.
"Shanzae." He walked towards me.
Just then my father entered, his eyes sensing the tension slicing through the air. Aliyaar straightened and moved away from me, annoyance reading heavy on his face. My father's eyes darted between the two of us, carefully accessing the situation, before he stepped inside, his arms folded behind him.
Dad looked at me and I walked up to him in an attempt to convince Aliyaar. "He can't take me up there with him." I said as after I explained the whole situation to him.
Dad pursed his lips in thought and nodded in agreement. "He can't."
I sighed at his support. "I'm trying to make him understand that Dada Jaan would never allow it."
"He won't.."
My head bowed and I said in a low voice, "You have to stop Aliyaar. He isn't listening to me."
Dad looked towards Aliyaar, before turning back to me with a solemn face. "I can stop my daughter from going up, but I cannot stop my son in law from taking his wife up there."
He gave a calculative smile to Aliyaar, before announcing it was time to go out. And with that he turned around and left.
Once again I was left speechless.
"Will you come now?" Aliyaar's soft voice kissed me and I turned around to see him watching me with a half smile.
"I'm scared, Aliyaar." I whispered.
With the noise of the drums, the chanting of a maddening crowd and the blaring voice of the MC announcing the start of the jalsa, echoing behind us, Aliyaar stepped forward and reached behind my head. He raised the end of the duppatta and bought it over my head. And then he held his hand out for me, "Do you trust me?"
"With my life." I replied, slipping my hand into his.
➰➰➰
As we stepped outside, under the blazing lights and flashing cameras, Aliyaar's grip tightened around my hand and he pulled me with him. With every step we took, I felt a surge of dreaded excitement rise in my blood, each step steeling my spine with determination
Layla and Mom were the first ones to see us. Mother's face froze in surprise, almost shocked, but Layla beamed, her face tinged with excitement. She blinked her eyes in silent approval and then murmured something in mother's ear. Mother nodded her head and then smiled at me encouragingly.
Our party anthem blared through the air, as family members began ascending up the stairs to the overcrowded stage. I held onto his hand tightly. Despite the unsaid, it was clear Aliyaar was granting me a right no one in our family had, and despite my nervousness I acknowledged it silently.
When we reached the top of the stage, I looked down at the expanse of the wild cheering crowds and the sky festooned with colourful flags. The camera shifted and our faces lit up on the massive screens besides the stage. The crowd cheered our arrival, but Dada Jaan and my family's faces twisted with anger at my presence. The surprise an unwelcome shock. A deadly shiver coursed down my spine at the lethal daggers being thrown towards us. Only Yaar smiled at me, almost like he anticipated my presence.
Aliyaar looked at my grandfather, before turning to me, "Smile. You have no one to fear." And then looked towards the sea of humans and waved. A wild applause reverberated through the air and a smile automatically curled on my lips at the warm welcome. Aliyaar's name echoed through the city. I faced the crowd and raised my hand to wave, an inconsequential action I knew had the men behind me drawing in breaths of astonishment. My heart was full, as Aliyaar stood besides me like a pillar of strength, forsaking rules and damning consequences. Despite the chaos we had ensued, we remained calm and enjoyed the crowds chanting our names.
For once in my life, I understood how it felt to be high on the haze of power.
From the twitch of his moustache, it was obvious Dada Jaan wasn't pleased, but was doing a good job of veiling his emotions as we maneuvered through the stage towards our seats.
Shortly afterwards, the notes of the National Anthem played behind us. It was followed by a few short speeches from important party leaders, before the host announced that it was time for Dada Jaan to take over the podium. With shaky steps, Dada Jaan walked up to the mic. Zaroon Bhai and Aliyaar stood besides him. Deeply angry with Dada Jaan's decision to prevent him from addressing the crowds, Ibrahim Taya sat in the background with a sullen face and a bandaged arm. Once Aliyaar left, Shehryar shifted to sit besides me.
"Bhai will go after Dada Jaan." He whispered in my ear. "He wants you to stand besides him when he speaks."
I pursed my lips uncomfortably, "Aliyaar is pushing his luck, Yaar. It would be so awkward for me to walk up to him. Dada Jaan would throw a fit after the jalsa."
"I will be besides you." Yaar gave me a reassuring smile. "And trust me, Dada Jaan would have bigger things to worry about after Bhai's address."
"What is he going to do?" I gasped in horror. But Yaar shrugged his shoulders, "I've no idea," he replied. "But I know he'd do something."
And then the air around us turned electric as Dada Jaan's thunderous voice cracked through the air. Despite his age, his voice was loud, laced with authority and charm. Like always his words spun a magical web over the masses, who cheered and danced to his promises. Each sentence would be met with deafening claps and roaring approval. He ended his note with the promise of a new beginning, hinting at Zaroon Bhai's impending formal introduction to the world.
"It's time." Shehryar announced.
Slowly we made our way towards the podium. Each step a labour of excitement and dread. My hands felt cold and despite the shiver raking my body, I threw a mutinous look at Zaroon Bhai who was watching me with a cold look on his face, my presence not pleasing him in the slightest. My dad watched the scene unfold from behind us, his eyes brimming with pride.
Aliyaar reached out and clasped my hand as soon as we reached the podium. A boisterous uproar emerged from within the crowd and people began dancing to the beat of the music to welcome us. I had known Aliyaar was well loved by the youth, but the real extent of it I only realised tonight. For as far as the eye could reach, people of all age and size swayed merrily when Aliyaar raised our hands and waved at the crowds. A trace of a smile graced Aliyaar's lips and his eyes dazzled seeing the tsunami of people gathered.
While I shivered nervously, it seemed like he was soaring high. This was his world. This is where he belonged. This is where he felt alive.
Eventually the music in the background died and anxious silence fell upon the grounds. Aliyaar adjusted the mic and squeezed my hand, indicating the start of his speech. My heart began to thump wildly in my chest and the blood in my veins coursed with adrenaline.
"Jalaluddin Malik ke chahne walo, Pakistan United Party aur Pakistan Democratic Movement ke mohtarm quaideen aur jiyalon ko Asalam o Alikum."
[To the lovers of Jalaluddin Malik and the leaders and workers of Pakistan United party and Pakistan Democratic Movement, I hereby present my greeting.]
A loud Salam echoed back at us and I along with the crowd looked at him in awe. He stood there tall, his stance and face steeled with power. The blinding lights kissed his face and his glittering eyes captivated the heart of every person in the audience. Much like Dada Jaan, he had the charm and charisma to effortlessly hold the crowd's attention.
"Pakistan—" he cried out and the crowds finished for him, "Zindabad."
Even before he had started his speech, he had very shrewdly established himself as Dada Jaan's supporter and family. My silent presence besides him, was not not only symbolic of his connection with the family, it was also a power move to tell Dada Jaan that he wasn't scared to challenge him. Yet, with the very first words, by taking Dada Jaan's name, he established to the world that he had no intention of usurping Dada Jaan's place in the hearts of the people.
I hesitated a glance at my father, who was standing besides us, carefully watching the shift of power. He looked at me and then Aliyaar, and a small satisfied smile tugged upon his lips at the sly humour painted on Aliyaar's skin.
Aliyaar continued to speak, talking about the campaign, the opposition and the party alliance. Applause and shouts of approval rose from within the crowds. I smiled, feeling relieved as Aliyaar closed the paper in front of him, indicating the end of his speech. Thankfully, this had passed without any drama.
"We are here because of the people and we are here for the people of Pakistan." He continued, his voice fierce and cutting. "And the people here on this stage are committed to giving the people what they want. Even if it is our lives they ask for." A mixed reaction rose from amidst the crowd. Some cheered while others held their breaths in anticipation. A murmur of commotion started behind us on the stage and I realised, this part of the address wasn't planned or approved. My chest tightened with fear.
Aliyaar turned around and the camera suddenly shifted towards Ibrahim Taya. His eyes widened in apparent shock at the sudden scrutiny, before he quickly smiled to hide his emotions. Zaroon Bhai and Dada Jaan watched with bated breaths, unsure and suspicious of what was about to unfold.
"This man has served the nation for decades. He has struggled besides his father night and day, morning and evening. He was embroiled in false cases, dragged into court and showered with bullets." Ibrahim Taya smiled uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing with fear as Aliyaar continued on. "But he remained silent and endured it all with a smile on his face."
A meditative silence prevailed over the astounded crowds. Everyone stood stunned in anticipation.
"But as Jalaluddin Malik always says, there is no court higher than the court of the people. Aur Ajj hum apki adalat mein khare hain." He lowered the mic and stared at the crowd, his eyes accessing the reaction. And then his voice rang out, commanding and sharp. "Magar hum iss mushkil waqt mein apne hosle kaam nahi hone deinge, Kyunke hume yakeen hai humari awam insaf karegi." The air trembled beneath the weight of his words and a loud applause rose from the crowd.
"And it is with a very heavy heart that I say this, In the past few days the integrity of this man who sacrificed his life to serve the people of Pakistan has been questioned mercilessly. They think they can drag him, but they forget he stands tall like the mountains." He paused and then turned towards the people. "The people of Pakistan have asked him to withdraw his name from the upcoming elections until he is able to prove his innocence. And if this is what the people of Pakistan desire, this is what the people of Pakistan will get." There was silence before a mad uproar erupted from the crowd. People cheered and clapped at the announcement while the party leaders stood stunned. "Ibrahim Malik told me today that the wishes of the Pakistani people are the most important to him. And so on the wishes of the people, he has decided to withdraw his name from the upcoming elections and until the cases against him are absolved, which they soon would be, he hereby announces his temporary leave from his party position following immediate effect."
I felt blood drain from my body and my heart stopped momentarily as Aliyaar's words shook me and the whole party to the core. In one masterstroke, he had retired Ibrahim Taya, all the while making it look like Ibrahim Taya retired himself. With his carefully chosen words, he repainted Ibrahim Taya's image from a corrupt politician to a wronged man whose ultimate desire was to serve the people of his country. Despite the public sympathies shifting in the favour of my family, Aliyaar had slyly removed Ibrahim Taya from his way and secured his position in the upcoming election. Interestingly he took no responsibility for his words, rather saluted this to the will and desire of the people.
He won the war without even lifting a sword.
"This is the new beginning. A new era. We are the servants of the people. And we are here to serve. Pakistan Zindabad."
And with this he concluded the rally to the loud jeering chants of an overjoyed crowd and the shocked faces of my family members.
Aur ek baar phir yeh sabit hogaya siasat mein kuch bhi itefaq nahi hota. Yeh lafzon ka khel hai. Jisne Sahi waqt par jhoot ko sach aur sach ko jhoot bana diya, wohi is khel ka sikandar hai.
And I— oops.
An image of Aliyaar leaving the stage after sabotaging the whole rally.
I hope you all had a blessed Ramadan. To all those celebrating an early Eid Mubarak.
Let me know your thoughts on today's chapters. And don't forget to vote.
Until next time, keep me in your prayers! Love always.
Follow me on Instagram and Twitter: sssaltynothings
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro