آؤ تم بھی آج سُن لو
٭

Chapter 29 : Sachai

Gasps from the mouths of the guests were all the reason for the guards to stand alerted. A few spoons fell on to the luxe carpet and a glass broke on to the floor. It's caricature like a soft backbone, crushed against the floor despite the comfort of the carpet — it broke. Much like the illusion that was cast over head, the deep starry skies outside breaking through with the visionary white of the cheesy moon that hung low towards the wide window. The glass left open to allow the gentle winds in through and lower the simpering temperature of the room, naturally.

The filament bulbs in the fixtures above the dining table flickered in response to the sudden intensity of the dinning room. Soft breaths turned into harsh coughs as the words from the hostess were far too careless. Spoken in the midst of an entourage of folks that had for far too long blamed her father, to hear the words, in the absence of him, was shocking. Colours flew through the room and the wooden trims on the walls that rose a few feet high, a deeper shade of it lining the ends horizontally above which hand painted portraits of the late Naazim's hung.

Through the winds the soft perfume of jasmines rushed in and played with the grains of food. Dusting a few out of the trenches with the harshness of the air. Naazimgarh's notorious April zephyrs had been traded for a ferocious balmy spring evening. Pollen in it's gold dusting covered the table tops and a few landed across the herringbone patterned plates. A bowl full of kheer, lined with a glossy silver paper, was carried in just that second and the foil that covered it flew into the air. Landing at the feet of the sole son-in-law.

"Kia matlab hai is baat ka? Darab tum apni biwi ko aisay ghatiya ilzam laganay do gae?" Amina spoke, her reverie breaking at the whispers of her own blood.
[What does this mean? Darab will you let your wife smear us with such malicious statements?]

Sipping on the lemon water Agha ji had procured for her, Golnar pressed her back into the feather lined chair, tapping a finger on the arm rest. Her gaze despite the pain that swam within her heart, she moved her gaze between the red cheeks of her mother — embarrassed or blushing she felt too tired to find out — and the gaze of her mother's husband that flickered between the ceiling and flooring. Finding either of the two far more suitable than the show put on.

Under the table Darab pressed the back of his hand into her lap, closing his fingers only as she slid her soft palm into his. The two simultaneously squeezing each other's hand. With an icy sheen inside his eyes he shook his head in front of his mother, licking the corner of his mouth as he chose to believe his wife — who had asked him for a chance. He had only relented. He would continue to do so. Lest it allow him to repent for the sins he had committed.

"Mein jhutay ilzam nahi lagati aunty."
[I do not blame people falsely.]

"Acha? Tou phir kia maqsad hai?" Feroze stepped in, staring at her bosom with an unwarranted arrogance.
[Really? Then what are your intentions?]

"Adi ankha sanbhal ke." Darab warned.
[Control your eyes.]

"Tum chup raho ran mureed khain ke." Armina spoke, turning her face towards the woman that had irked her since the day she had been born, "ye ilzam nahi saboot ki duniya hai bibi."
[You stay quiet you cuckold.]
[This is not a world of blames it is a world of proofs woman.]

Rubbing the back of her hands with the ends of her crescent shaped nails, painted a black to match with the temperature of her dress, she cleared her throat. Standing, she slipped her hand from Darab's grip and moved towards the door where her father's loyal servant awaited. Their hands exchanging the items wordlessly, eyes delivering the messages they were supposed to.

Pivoting, Golnar stepped back into the now almost haunted dinning room. Despite the amount of lighting, the faces of almost everyone related to her husband had turned a pasty grey. Even her own mother's eyes seemed to have been fixated on the spot she once sat on. Clearing her throat, she took soft steps towards the unoccupied end of the table. Clearing her throat, she plucked the envelope that her fingers had a loose hold on. Tearing the seal that had been added to ensure their security.

Playing with the ends of the paper, her fingers tightened around the yellowed pages. That had perhaps once been starchy, but now rested against her warm fingers almost limp. Her eyes hovered over the swirling ink across the paper, the ends burnt as if someone had years ago tried to burn the proof. Yet it had somehow remained untouched.

"Ye khat. Ap nai likha tha, Faakhta Hakim ko qatal karwanay ke liye." She spoke, pointedly.
[This letter. You wrote this, to have Faakhta Hakim murdered.]

Inside the air something shifted. The winds that howled took the sound of a painful scream. Reminiscent of the screams of a woman that had been unheard for years. The lights flickered as dark, grey clouds lined the window with their intensity and rumbled deeply. Like an old man's shockingly loud laughter. It turned the torrents of air on each other and lightning brushed the tops of the bright green trees. Like the blades of a God from the tales of local folk tale, the illuminated grey — a sheen of silver spread across the deep inky sky. Casting shadows over the faces of the occupants.

The room much like the rest of the village turned a choppy temperature and the ice nipped at their exposed skins. Turning the warm soft flesh, a deep red and pink, blood rushing to the extremities to keep them warm as their hearts worked over time. The air weighed down against their flesh, as truth turned it heavy. Against one another. The food long since forgotten sat on the serving trays — turning cold as the conversation amongst the former and current ladies of the home continued.

Wordlessly.

"Ap sai bardasht nahi huwa tha keh ap kay shohar ki dusri biwi keh ghar aulaad ap sai pehlay huwi. Aur jab ap ki khud ki beti huwi tou ap nai Faakhta ko qatal karva dia. Magar jab zehar sahi kaam nahi kia, ap nai bilkul usi tarah khait mein bomb lagvaye jaisay Sain ko marvanay keh liye ab lagvaye thay. Magar apni ana mein ap khuda ki pakar bhul gayi thi."
[You could not stand the fact that your husband's second wife had a child before you did. Then when you had a daughter you decided to have Faakhta murdered. Yet when the poison did not work you have bombs hidden in fhe field, much like how you did it for Sir. However in your arrogance you forgot God's justice.]

With a cough, Armina banged her palm on to the wooden table, "kia saboot hai? Khat tou koi bhi likh de!"
[What proof do you have? Anyone can write a letter!]

"Yeh khat ap keh kamray mein chupay sandooq sai mila hai jisay aap nai apni almari ki zameen mein dafan kar rakha tha. Seedha rasta nikalta hai wahan sai us kamray mein jisko ap nai taala lagwaya tha. Iskay saray qanooni test ho chukay hai. Aur wou shakhs jis sai ap nai Darab par jadu kara rakha tha woh is waqt thanay ki salakhon ke pechay hai!" Golnar hummed, answering each question with assured delight.
[These letters were found from the trunks inside your bedroom that you had buried in the floor of your closet. There is a direct way to that place from the room you had locked up. All legal tests have been performed. The man you had cast a spell on Darab has been arrested and is currently behind bars.]

"K-kia keh rahi ho? Api aisa nahi kar sakti!" Amina, her mother, unfortunately, came to the defense of her sister.
[W-what are you saying? Sister can not do this!]

"But she has!" Golnar raged, "she has! Just like she made you divorce abba jaan and marry her daughter's future husband. It baffles me that I'm related to the worst women of Naazimgarh. You can not hide from the law. The police is already here!"

Darab's eyes watered with unshed rage. His fingers that held a butter knife in a tight grip turned pale from the force that they used, the ends of it's rivets digging into his flesh. Though the snubbed curve of the metal kept it from completely slicing through his skin. Pulled open wide, his eyes danced between his step mother and the woman that had birthed his wife. Though to his ears the last of his wife's speech had been nothing but gibberish, he could understand that much that it was to do with those two.

Staring on to the floor he closed his eyes as he remembered the amount of conversations he had had with that ghost. Imaging it to be his mother who kept him comfort. To keep him from completely loosing himself into the fast paced fire of life. A tear, though unnoticed, wormed it's way down his face as the police arrested his remaining family. Turning his back to their cries and pleas, his ears tuned out the apologies of the guests. Only keeping his eyes focused on the tree in the distance. It's branches holding their own even as the rain — thunderous as it was broke down on to it's bark.

"Darab."

Sniffling he pressed his hands on to the window sill, pressing his face into the curve of his bicep as he felt Golnar's figure hold his hand. He choked on his spit, crying for hus childhood that he had been robbed off, far too soon. A dagger sliced into his heart and tore the flesh of his heart, cutting through the thick arteries, he gripped the sill in a bid to ground himself.

"Golnar meri maa—o khush ta ae?" He whimpered, staring at her from behind the comfort of his hand.
[Golnar my mother— is she happy?]

"Jab ap khush hon gae tou woh khush ho jain gi." Golnar whispered, lacking words to explain to him.
[When you will be happy she will become happy as well.]

"Mein teray piyo nu dushman samjea jidon gunnah gaar kar vich si," he chuckled at his stupidity, falling on to his knees, taking for granted the weakened strength of his back as he raised his hands before himself, "maaf kar deyo ustaad ji, mein tuada gunnahy gaar aan."
[I kept thinking your father was the enemy when the actual culprit was inside my home, forgive me professor, I have wronged you.]

"Mein nai usi din maaf kar diya tha jis din bina kuch janay ap nai mera saath denay ki hami bhari thi." Golnar sunk to his eye level, holding his hand inside of hers.
[I forgave you the day when you without asking any questions chose to help me.]

"Ustaad ji," he whispered, sliding his hand around her cheek, "menu eik mouqa davo."
[Miss professor, give me another chance.]

Nodding, Golnad kissed the inside of his palm. Hugging him as the two shed their warm tears against their skin.

One last time.
One last night.

٭

Crooked crescent's with full moon's clouding the centre of her delicate soft palms, rose in the direction of the window. The pallor of the moonlight covered the fingers, dipped in the deep maroon shade of henna, the ends lined with a thick black pen that highlighted the unbroken edges of love. The henna's shade was deep blood red that matched the inkling of maroon inside the centre of the sun, basking in it's glorious glow. Casting a long shadow over her palms and the back of her hands. The patterns crooked.

Four leaved clovers, that had started of as a fancy pattern, the round tikka that covered the centre of her palms was not in the neat shape it had been once, when she had married the first time. This time around the maroon matched the depth of her kalidar, the velvet bottle green lace embroidered with gold threads in curving patterns slid around her fragile figure as she traced her fingers down the soft flesh of her hands. Lowering her glance she smiled — a ghost of a flowering smile as she observed the figure of her husband blow soft verses over her head. His lips pressing into her warm skin as she continued to murmur her own prayers.

Golnar closed her eyes as the white light slipped on to her skin, unbroken, undamaged. The length of her bony fingers mapped out the pleats of the dress, feeling the curls between the gaps of her fingers. Tucking her feet beneath her legs she rested her head on his chest. Un receding warmth from his body warmed her, the air conditioner purring on a low hum as he brushed his fingers over her arm. Sequins embroidered on to the sleeves that fit, sliding down until they wrapped around her wrist.

Darab had in a bid to woo her, had held a short reception. Hosted a wedding for her. The gold and white fairy lights had strewn down the trees and covered the abyss of their backyard. Even the news of his step mother and her step father's death had not dimmed the importance of the day inside their hearts. Though they had mourned in silence — a short moment for the people they had adored the entirety of their life — their minds had been quick to recover as their trusted men and family walked around them in joy.

The crooked patterns on her finger from the henna were an artistic maestro of her husband itself. He had, gently applied it with his index fingers all around her palms and feet despite the silent protests she had lodged against his chest. He had only smiled, crookedly. Continuing his soft stretches against her limbs. Covering them in the coolness of it. In the morning, the both of them had rejoiced on the deep colour — a far cry from the pale absence of her henna just around five months ago.

"Kuj vekhna chain gi?" Darab whispered against her hair.
[Would you like to see something?]

Humming Golnar raised her face to stare at his. His onyx eyes, marred with the muddy spurs of soil, lined his reserved eyes. The scruff of his beard had been oiled and waxed, it landed against her palm a bit softer as she stroked his chin in appreciation. Kissing the underside of his mouth, her lips pressed into his apple's bob, relishing the feel of his fingers massage the raw tenderness of her skin beneath the fitted dress that dug into her flesh. Procuring from his pockets a piece of paper he kept it on to one of her open palms. Waiting with wide eyes — hoping she would appreciate the gift he had spent time on.

Humming in merry delight she opened the folds of the paper. Her eyes dissolved on sugary humour, tracing out the jagged black ink of the pen. The crooked heart with the initials of their name — muttered along with a whisper of a child's handwriting. A tear of appreciation, of adoration slipped from her eyes down the swell of her cheeks. Sliding inside of her mouth the saltiness burnt her tongue as she watched him write her name on to her skin with the tip of his index finger. Golnar — it was crooked as he brushed his finger over her arm. His bright eyes waited for her to appreciate him and her heart burst with joy, holding her hostage as she watched his lips mumble words against her hands.

"Jera sakoon menu aurat-zat te meri mazi de sajday-an nai nai dita, o menu teri mohabbat tou mileya ae. O sara sakoon eis ehsaas de sakoon tun kam ae." Darab spoke with reverted faith.
[The peace that womanhood and the prostrations of my past haven't gifted me, I received that from the love I have for you. All of that peace is smaller than the peace I get from this feeling.]

"Itni mohabbat kartay hain?" Golnar whispered, her eyes flickering between his gaze and his lips.
[You love me that much?]

"Mohabbat tou ziada teri izzat karda aan."
[More than love I respect you.]

Shifting on her knees she turned to face his chest, pressing her head into the crooning hold of his embrace, feeling the warmth of his palms around her waist as he tugged her into his hold. Her body seated on top of his legs as he brushed his hand through her loose hair. Darab's index finger ran down her neck before it slid to the skin beneath the curve of her breast. The other tugged beneath her knees. Lifting her to his chest, he pressed a short kiss into her forehead.

Taking short steps towards her bed he kept his eyes focused on her soft figure. The sharpness of her jaw matched the slenderness of her neck that then bloomed into the span of her soft shoulders covered in the width of her attire's fabric. The thick gold rustic Indian style choker on her neck dangled into the neckline of her dress, and his hands felt full of agony at the need to touch her warmth without any destruction. His thumbs pressed into the dip of her hip, setting her on to the mattress Darab pressed a whisper of a kiss into her head. Ignoring the revolts of his blood, turning his back. Marching with an ache towards his trusty chair.

"Aj bhi mein akeli saun gi?" Golnar called to him.
[Will I sleep alone tonight as well?]

He pivoted on his heels, staring at her with his mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. Seated on the bed that had once been his, with the dress spread around her and the ends of her curled her tangled in the most sensual of mess's, his heart skipped a beat. Dry as the Sahara, his throat lapped in search of water and throbbed like the veins inside of his body — screaming at him in a bid to revolt. Each pore of his body bled in the need of ravaging joy, his steps towards her short and still full of disbelief. Coiling his hands beside himself. His bones cracked at the pressure he added on, his fingers pressing into the wells of his palm before he sat on the bed. Still not believing his luck.

The tip of his thumb rested against her bottom lip. With the deftness of a master seducer he pulled it from beneath her teeth, rubbing it softly against the skin covered in a deep shade of red. His hand spread around her jaw. Cuffing the ends of it into her hand, threading her fingers through the strands of her hair, he rubbed it gently beneath her full lip. Tracing the small dusting of moles, he watched her with his eyes hooded with tension and sensuality. Wrapping a hand over her neck he pressed his head to her forehead. Whispering with his warm minty breath brushing the tops of her brows.

"Aj, kal te fanaa hon de baad vi Golnar mein bas teri hi khwahish karan ga. Sirf teri khwahishan puriyan karan ga."
[Today, tomorrow and after I die Golnar I will always wish for you. I will only fulfil your wishes.]

His lips, shaking, pressed against her warm ones. Golnar's fingers wrapped around his neck and ran down the soft lustrous strands of his hair, her front pressed against his as she struggled to breath with the force of his affection.

"Agar aaj ap sai ap ka wajood mangun to dein ge?" Golnar spoke with fervour, whispering the deepest of her desires against his lips, blushing as her words entered the cold air.
[If I ask you for yourself today will you give it to me?]

"Aj chad, jadon vi mangein gi na, ustaad ji, mein te mera sang e khisht da dil tuada kadman vich hazir howay ga."
[Forget today, whenever you ask for it, miss professor, me and my heart of clay stone will be spread before your feet.]

"Mujhe ap, aur ap ka yeh pathar dil," she hummed, "apnay barabar chahiye, kadmon mein nahi."
[I want you, and your stone heart next to me, not in my feet.]

"Jo hukum sarkar."
[Your wish is my command master.]

The end.
اختتام۔