Ajnabi, daikhna ye wohi sheher hai

Jis ki jalti hui dopeher mein sada

Khuwab bunti rahi naujawani meri

Jis kay har morr par raakh kay dher mein

Dafan hoti rahi har kahani meri

(O stranger, look out and tell me, it's the same city

In the scorching noon of which

My youth kept on weaving dreams

Every corner of which, in the heap of ashes

My every tale was buried)

Cities aren't special, the memories associated with them make them so. Memories are powerful figments of a past which can never return. They pull you back so that you can touch some precious moments and reminisce about something that can never be re-lived.

Zaviyar stared at the vast expanse of Islamabad city in front of him. Illuminated, sending out echoes of life. Deceptive. The beauty of this city would always be deceptive. Luring you in, not revealing anything about the gruesome details buried deep inside, those which can malign the face of truth turning it into an innocent lie.

"It's not the same anymore, isn't it?"

Harram's voice brought him back to his surroundings. Shaking his head, he left the railing and sat down beside her. The first hearing of the case was tomorrow morning. Nothing was clear. They had the needed proofs but an important link was still missing and that was not setting well with Zaviyar. He was usually not a desperate man. There were many instances in his life which could prove that. But imprisonment that too inflicted by those meant the world to you, makes some inexplicable changes. He wanted all this to end. This ordeal had taken too long to get over. But every good demands patience and in this case they needed abundance of it.

"Nothing's the same. To think of it, seems like nothing will ever be the same."

Harram craned her neck to his side. He was visibly tensed, an emotion she hadn't seen clouding his face often.

"Everything that it was, looks like a blur at this point. You know like someone just erased everything you had once believed in."

He held onto the arm she had wound around him. The showdown a few days back had helped them abridging the differences between their mindsets. They had accepted that both of them had faced things the other couldn't imagine. But one thing was sure. Suffering. Endless suffering had become their fate. A fate in which both had to make few choices they'd rather not had the circumstances been even tiny bit normal.

"Do you remember what you said to me when I was conflicted to let my father in or not?"

Zaviyar looked at her, who was making soothing circles on his palm.

"Sometimes, letting go and starting over is the best we can do for ourselves. Because the past is so tangled and messed up that solving those puzzles will land you up in a maze."

She was staring up ahead in the vastness of the sky. Her hold on him hadn't loosened. Instead it had started feeling like an anchor he could hold onto forever.

"Stop blaming yourself for the things you had no say in. Even if you don't let it show I can feel that you hold yourself responsible for so much that has gone wrong. This is not going to get you anywhere."

Like always she'd read him.

"I'm trying my best here. When it comes to Yahya Duraid my approach is as it should be. But the torn family behind breaks me bit by bit, Harram. That's my clan no matter what I do."

His feelings were totally justified. He was in a constant battle with his heart and mind. At one side was Major Zaviyar Ali, who wouldn't sacrifice his homeland and the safety of his people. On the other hand was just Zaviyar, the most loved child of his family. His grandparents doted on him, for his aunts he was the only memory of their late brother. He had always gotten love from these people and now he was the reason their family was on the verge of breaking or had already broken.

"They'll understand you and your plight. I can tell. So, don't beat yourself down."

Zaviyar intertwined their fingers. The warmth of such a small gesture was soothing to him.

"Did you call Palwisha Auntie?"

That was another thing which needed to be done but Zaviyar was reluctant. Palwisha could help them in tracing any clues if Sultan Bakht had left those. But the situation with Khadija was stopping Zaviyar. Would Palwisha help the same people who were somewhere responsible for her husband's murder?

"I will. After tomorrow's hearing. I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do though."

"Why?"

"She has a pained past which is linked to us, Harram. Twenty five years in a prison! I don't want to pull her into something which might trigger what she's trying to avoid."

Harram nodded thinking on these lines. The kind face of Palwisha roamed in front of her eyes. The years gone by hadn't done much but the trauma contained within those had affected Palwisha in every sense.

"We should get to bed now. Big day tomorrow."

Zaviyar got up helping her as well. Harram didn't pry his hands away. Sometimes, more than someone's physical presence, their small gestures assure you that they are finally here, back to where they belong. Harram wasn't stopping him from showing these little signs of affection. They were her safe cocoon.

As they entered their room, Harram opened the closet door to take out her night clothes. Zaviyar was keeping his phone and wallet on the side table when his phone rang. Yasir Athar's name was flashing on it. He stopped in his tracks. Your lawyer calling you at this hour when you have the first court proceeding scheduled the next morning, it didn't give any good vibes to Zaviyar. He picked up the phone. Harram was reading his changing expressions with bated breaths. From worry to deep concentration, to mild excitement. Harram didn't know what it was but seemed like things weren't out of their hands. Far from it.

__________

The clutter of important looking advocates, media personnel, flashes of cameras and race to get two cents from every person related, it was a typical court hearing of a high profile case. Zaviyar watched the commotion unfold in front of him and thanked Almighty he hadn't brought Harram with him. She had protested, of course. But he was not taking any chances. When she'd be needed she'd come. Otherwise keeping her away from this circus was his first priority.

Waleed, Yasir and Zaviyar stood away from the prying eyes going through the last minute discussions and details. Khadija was sitting close on a bench with Palwisha. Palwisha's entry this morning was a pleasant surprise. She had come with Aalee and giving Zaviyar best wishes for the battle he was going to fight, told him she was going with them. Zaviyar was not one to stop her so right now all of them were waiting for the hearing to start.

The black vehicle matching his black deeds announced Yahya Duraid's arrival. The man was making his first public appearance after his grandson had gotten back from the dead. His face was giving nothing. Zaviyar knew this body language. Yahya Duraid had come prepared. The smugness of his lawyer was giving out how pleased he was. They had gone inside the courtroom dodging all the questions of the media.

"We should also go, Zaviyar."

Yasir Athar patted Zaviyar's shoulder. Obaid Dastagir muttered good luck to him, giving him a fatherly hug. With steely expressions and determination, they all had gone inside the chambers. The air around was tensed. The game of chess had begun.

____________

Sheher walon ko kuch khabar hi nahi

Kaisa selab aj rah mein hai

Daikhne mein to ek hai darya

Satah par wo nahi jo thaah mein hai

(The people of the city have no clue

What flood is awaiting them today

By the looks it's just a river

But something different stays on the surface,

Something else is in the depth)

"All the evidence has been handed to the court. The respectful judges can see for themselves that each claim made by my client, Major Zaviyar Ali is backed by substantial proof. From the day this mission was handed to him by Colonel Rizwan Bukhari to his escape from the compound in the tribal area."

The file containing all the proof was in the court's custody. Yasir Athar had played his first move very well. He didn't play hide and seek with the court. Zaviyar wasn't yet called to give his statement. Making sure that Yasir was done, the court had given Yahya Duraid's lawyer the nod to start with his arguments.

"That was a very well plotted story I must say. But this is the thing with stories, they are never reality based. My client, Yahya Duraid has tried his best to not take this family matter into the public but seems like there was no other choice. This is a fabricated tale of bravery both Zaviyar Ali and his lawyer are feeding the court with. The truth is, Major Zaviyar is doing all this to get the property out of his grandfather. When emotional tactics didn't work, he came up with this public humiliation of the Duraid Family."

There was stirring in the courtroom but the opposite side remained completely quiet.

"Four months back, Major Zaviyar Ali had come to his grandfather asking for his share in the property. Since Major Zaviyar's line of work is different from his whole family and he has no role in family business, My client was conflicted. He couldn't give Major Zaviyar all his inheritance in the blink of an eye. But Major Zaviyar was adamant. He even threatened my client of dire consequences if he didn't do as Major Zaviyar was saying. A huge property was immediately handed to Major Zaviyar the papers of which are already given to the court. Both Yahya Duraid and Zaviyar Ali's signatures are on it. But this wasn't enough. Major Zaviyar kept on pushing his grandfather for more money and when nothing seemed to work he pulled out the bigger guns. Feigning his own death to make his grandfather feel guilty. In his greed Major Zaviyar didn't even think about his pregnant wife and aging mother. Now after three and a half months, he's back from the dead and demeaning his grandfather's name."

Zaviyar looked sideways hiding his smirk. Good thing he hadn't brought Harram here. The clown of a lawyer must've gotten a face fixed by her.

Chess is only enjoyable when you can predict every move of your opponent. This card being pulled off by Yahya Duraid and his lawyer was exactly what Zaviyar and Yasir had expected.

"Your grandfather has to prove you a liar. He'd try doing this in two ways. Making up a false story of your wrong doings at professional front or proving you are the rotten egg of the family. I'm hoping for them to opt for the latter. If you can deal with the emotional trauma it's going to bring, proving them this way is far easier."

It was Yasir's though and now seeing his grandfather playing the same game, Zaviyar was both relaxed and raging at the same time. All the people who were sitting in support of him were scowling at Yahya Duraid.

"I think It's time I make some clarifications on my dearest friend's part."

Yasir stood up with a file in his hands.

"There are two kind of property papers I'm giving to the court. Few days prior to his death, Zaigham Ali, father of Zaviyar Ali had met his father, Yahya Duraid and asked to be completely out of Duraid industries business. He didn't ask for any share in the property. Just his name to be excluded from the owner's list. These are the papers for the deed which Yahya Duraid had accepted. The signs are also there from both of them."

Khadija sat in her seat satisfied. These papers were the only thing she had found in Zaigham's possession after he had died. Yahya Duraid had cried that day mourning the fact that his son was unhappy with him during his last days. It was the truth. Zaigham had gotten distant to his family. It was only Mrs. Aneesa for whom he was still living at Duraid house. After his death, both Yahya Duraid and Mrs. Aneesa had requested her to stay, to not take Zaviyar away from his kin and to try forgetting and forgiving the past. That Khadija believed her father in law. She put her trust in the good of her heart and stayed. But this Khadija was regretting it now. He had paid a heavy price of trusting the wrong. Not anymore. This file was buried deep inside her closet for years. For some reason she hadn't discarded it. Good thing she didn't. It was helping her son today. Her tiny part in the war they were fighting. She looked up finding the face of her father in law. He wasn't letting on much but the fire in his eyes told her he wasn't happy. What did he think? She'd try saving the family name after what was done to her son and his family?

"So tell me, how can a grandson ask from his grandfather a property he has no part in? The other papers are of the property my dear friend has just mentioned. Yahya Duraid always knew that Major Zaviyar had no interest in his business, still he always encouraged him to take part in it. The property now being claimed as something Zaviyar Ali snatched from his grandfather was given to him as a gift. It has been given to an NGO the record of which I have attached with the papers here. My client didn't even take the gift and here he's being called the one after the whole property. The irony."

Yahya Duraid's lawyer Mehmood Chaudhary shifted in his seat. He had underestimated Yasir Athar's skills so had Yahya Duraid of his grandson's. The hearing was going to cost them. He could tell.

"And to let the court know how accurate the other allegations on my client are, I'll call Safina Bibi forward. The old maid of Duraid House."

The checkmate point of this game of chess wasn't far now. The important move had been made. Yahya Duraid looked visibly nervous now, an emotion not associated with him at all. This was a shocker. Everyone could tell. Safina's familiar face raised above the people sitting around. She had been here this whole time but Yahya couldn't see her. Her presence was that unimportant to him but now his whole life depended on what she was going to tell the court.

"How long have you been working at Duraid House, Safina Bibi?"

"My mother used to work for this family. She did so all her life. I took birth in the servant quarters of the house so you can say I've been here all my life but working I started only after growing up."

The reverence she had for this family was evident from her tone.

"And how's your equation with Zaviyar Ali?"

"He's always treated me kindly. No tantrums. But when he used to live here, he was very particular about his books and papers. Would create a racket if anything went missing."

"You mean he didn't live at Duraid house?"

"No, he shifted to his Pindi residence after getting into the army."

"So, when the news of his death came, where were you Safina?"

Her face paled. She looked around nervously, Her eyes darted towards where Yahya Duraid was sitting.

"I was at Duraid House only. It was a sad day. I couldn't believe my ears you know. But then Dada Sahab gave me the order to clean the basement. I found it odd, seeing the timing but had to oblige. The dead body was to come the next day. I was sent to my quarters quite late that night. Harram Baji had fainted so I was asked to warm the milk for her as she hadn't eaten anything all day. I had just gotten into bed when I heard the commotion outside. The basement is quite close to the servant quarters. I had gone to see what it was about. I saw...I..."

"You saw?"

"Two men were pulling another one into the open door of the basement. I couldn't see clearly but I have spent a whole chunk of my life with this family. I could tell it was...Zaviyar Bhai. I thought my eyes were seeing things. This wasn't possible. But the next day my doubts got cleared. Dada Sahab had asked me to take care of the person inside the basement. And I should shut my mouth no matter what. If I said anything to anyone I could say goodbye to the remaining days of my life. I had to comply, sir. I was scared for my life. The moment I had stepped inside the basement my suspicion got right. It was Zaviyar Bhai only. He was in such a sorry state. Constantly unconscious, He even had cuts and bruises. It was not easy, sir. Seeing the whole family being fed a lie. My heart would cry seeing Harram Baji and Khadija Khala. But my life was at stake. I was helpless."

The whole tale of those days and nights swirled before Zaviyar's eyes. He didn't try to brush it off. Safina's words were echoing in his ears. It was a reminder of what he had gone through and how it had shaped his life. He stared at his grandfather's stand. The agony and dread on his face gave him both the satisfaction and sadness. This journey had brought them to a strange crossroad. All of them. Some of them had chosen the path leading towards truth but destruction while others had walked down towards a labyrinth. Who'd come out as what? Who knew.

_____________

Harram agitately surfed through the channels. At least one of these should tell her what was happening inside the courtroom. The news of the first hearing was everywhere in the morning but no channel knew the progress. Both Waleed and Hamail weren't replying to her texts and calling Zaviyar was out of question. One, he must be the busiest among them all, second, Harram was angry with him. He left her here stating she should rest. Ha! As if that was possible.

"Will you stop this? It has started giving me a headache."

Sohaira pulled the remote out of her hand and glared at the juice Harram was yet to finish. Sohaira was the person who had been assigned the duty of keeping an eye on Harram so that she won't follow them and reach the court.

"Your brother always does this to me!"

"Really?"

Harram huffed. She was aware of every minute detail they had planned. Zaviyar hadn't kept her out of the loop. She even knew about Zaviyar's meeting with Bukhari and what he had hinted at. When Zaviyar said he wasn't repeating the mistakes made earlier, he was right. But his protection towards her hadn't let him take her to the court much to Harram's frustration.

"You need to sit home, Harram. Bhai is just trying to keep you and the baby safe."

"I know."

Harram mumbled caressing her stomach. It wasn't her interest in the legal procedure which was making her angry on the prospect of being left behind. She wanted to be close to Zaviyar during all this. He shouldn't face this alone.

The doorbell drew both Harram and Sohaira's attention. It wasn't possible for them to return this soon. Meeral was at her place and Muskan was with her so who could it be?

"I go and check. Stay put."

Sohaira announced. The security of the house had been increased all thanks to Waleed, so they were sure it wasn't anyone unknown. The guard should've called them had that been the case.

Harram could hear voices from outside. Before she could get up, Tania had entered the room followed by a relaxed Sohaira.

"It's good they left you at home."

Tania commented, hugging Harram as much as her bump could allow. Over the time, Tania had become a good friend and an ally to them. She was always there with her media contacts whenever they needed her. She was the front line spokesperson of the campaign for Zaviyar on her channel and social media.

"So, I've been told."

Harram rolled her eyes. Tania shrugged her shoulders and on finding both Sohaira and Harram's attention, began.

"I've been doing some research. After we found that article in my Baba's office account, I tried looking for more. Whatever he had written about Yahya Duraid. He did cover a lot of stories and mind you, he was not a fan of your grandfather."

She turned to Sohaira who just looked bored. No one was his fan anymore. Not even in the family.

"So, what did you find?"

"Not much but I've noticed something."

She pulled out some printed copies from her folder.

"The pictures my dad had taken during his coverage of political gatherings. Everything looks ordinary but if you see closely, there's a similarity. All the pictures from the 80's and early 90's have Yahya Duraid with a man. They aren't posing like business partners or friends but that guy is almost in every picture one way or the other. Look!"

Harram spread the photos in front of her. At first, it didn't look any different. But by focusing she could see what Tania was getting at. The man was in almost every picture which meant he had attended every gathering Yahya Duraid was a part of. Also, he was always in the same frame as Yahya.

"This can really mean something."

Sohaira muttered. Harram couldn't deny. The detail was not something to brush off. The sharp looks and the smug smile of the man were creeping her out. They needed to know who this one was.

"Did you try to google the pictures?"

"Many times. No record. The guy isn't a public figure I guess."

"Or maybe he doesn't want to come to the public."

Harram's mind was working fast. If Yahya and co could make Moazzam Rasool's article disappear off the internet, what were the chances they couldn't do it with someone's pictures or whole profile? It wasn't likely that even after being part of high class social parties, you'd be anonymous. Something was fishy here.

______________

The court session had ended without much ado after Safina had gone back to her seat. It was expected. The court would need time to evaluate everything that was being presented to them. But for now, everyone could say Zaviyar Ali and his lawyer had the upper hand.

They were leaving the premises. The next moves should be worked on now. Zaviyar asked Hamail to drop Khadija back home. Obaid had already gone with Palwisha and Aalee. Zaviyar had just opned the car door to get inside when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned around.

Everyone who knew about politics in Pakistan had an idea who Rai Wahaj was. Zaviyar hadn't met the guy personally but he wasn't unaware of the rivalry between Yahya Duraid and Rai.

"That was a good start of something the nation will remember for decades."

"I'm not trying to book a chapter in history books. My battle is something else, Rai."

"Pardon me. I was looking at this situation from a politician's point of view. Your grandfather was quite shaken. Something I had never thought I'd see in this lifetime."

Enemy's enemy is your friend. This is the rule in the handbook of politics. Zaviyar knew Rai Wahaj was trying to befriend him.

"The trial isn't over yet. I won't gloat in the first right step mistaking it as victory."

"You are intelligent. I like this about you."

"You also like how I'm standing against my grandfather. Who happens to be your top rival."

Rai Wahaj laughed.

"Intelligent as I said. Your grandfather's agony is really soothing to me. That's why I'm rooting for you. My best wishes."

He saluted Zaviyar who was already looking bored. He'd had his fair share of interactions with politicians to last a lifetime. He turned to leave, not giving a heed to Rai Wahaj.

"By the way, I hope your meeting with Colonel Bukhari went well. The guy should also be out by now. Good lad he is."

It didn't take long for Zaviyar to realize who was behind him getting access to Bukhari's cell. These politicians and their games.

Shaking his head, Zaviyar sat inside his car. Rai Wahaj also walked towards his parking spot followed by his men. Waleed, who was up until now watching the spectacle with interest, snorted.

"These oldies need some hobbies. Where to now?"

Zaviyar shook his head. He pocketed his phone after sending the text to Harram telling her he was going to be late.

"Drive. I'll tell you where to."

___________

The local cemetery was as quiet as it should've been on a June evening. The gliding sun towards the west and the calm before Asar salah were giving this whole atmosphere a melancholy which wasn't hard to describe.

Zaviyar completed his Dua looking at the old worn out grave in front of him. His face moved across and found the aging figure of his grandmother. She was here when he had arrived, something he was expecting already.

"I still miss your father. Everyday of my life."

"I know."

"But I'm not sure if he's happy with me."

"He should be. You did the right thing by turning Safina to us."

Mrs. Aneesa looked at him. It had been so long. She'd always seen her son in him but this time around it felt different. He felt different.

"How's Harram?"

"Fine. Could've been worse though."

He was hinting at her way of dealing with Harram when he was gone. Mrs. Aneesa didn't know if she should apologize or not, She was too ashamed to even try. Zaviyar had so much he could say to her but words eluded him. The days gone had put a huge wedge between him and the people he once thought the world of. Now there was just silence with losing echoes of a past long gone.

____________