آنکھ سے دور نہ ہو دل سے اُتر جائے گا
وقت کا کیا ہے، گزرتا ہے گزر جائے گا
— احمد فراز

٭

Chapter 12 : Mayun aur sharab ke rang

It smelt of marigolds.
It looked like gold.
It felt like the merriest of emotions.
The marigolds, and the roses combined, painted the front yard and foyer. A picture of wholesomeness. A painting of a devout father, sparing not a single crumb to bring together the illustrious wedding. An entire truck filled to the brim with floral decorations arrived at the door and it was just the beginning. It was everything a girl would dream of. She was a princess, in ever right. Even for those standards the preparations were magnificent.

A four pole roof made with a thick chicken wire, covered in a dusting of flowers had been arranged in the centre of the garden. Between the trees of Fir, local rose and jasmine, lavender and orange trees, the pavilion had been set. The curving cobblestone steps, from the front lead straight to it. Thick pastel carpets covered the lush grass. Cushions with hand woven covers, embedded with pieces of glass, thrown to house the entourage of guests that was just beginning to arrive.

Thin white chiffon drapes hung around the sides of the central pavilion. Draped loosely, they cruised the surface of the grass. Dew weighed the fabric south, and the sharp winds heaved north. Just through a sliver of white porcelain clouds, the sun had appeared. Warming up the atmosphere, the outdoor heaters working over time too.

Adjacent to the arrangements for the bride, a long table, one that curved into the side of the haveli, had been set out. Steel warmers set over burners, awaiting the moment food would be served. Thick plates, painted on the sides with a local vegetation's symbol, awaited the future ravenous guests.

Inside too the decor had not been spared. Flickering fairy lights wound around the many staircases, wreaths of white flowers followed in between and went to cover the distance to the bride's bedroom. The exterior and interior both covered in curtains of flowers. Had turned the entire haveli into a perfumed building. Dimmed chandeliers in the corridor of the bride's bedroom, hung just above the round mahogany table. Covered in a bouquet of blood red roses.

Golnar had felt the love of her father the entirety of her life. Yet now more than ever she had been learning of just how much he adored her. Even those that had doubted her father's love for her had been forced to accept the affections.
Not maimed, nor tainted.
Pure — his love for her was not the spending of his amassed fortune, but in the way he had been sidelining his own allergies to fulfil her dream. Despite the heavy pollen in the air, he had resorted to wearing a thick mask and taking anti-allergen pills. Choosing to sleep in the outhouse.

Even now, her fingers, covered in a light maroon shade of henna, ran over the heavy dress as it hung in her dressing room. It's soft orange matched with the shade of fire set alive in the fire place in the living area of her bedroom. Running the back of her index finger to the edges of the dress, she sniffed. Wiping a hot tear that fell through her dulcet eyes. Tucking the strand of auburn hair — re-dyed only last week, blow dried a few moments ago — behind her ear, she felt her heart overflow with love.

Tugging it over her head, the tangerine peshwas fell to the ground. Grazing the skin of her feet lightly. It's deep neckline stopped below her breast bone, curving around the swell of her bosom and fitting softly to the ends of her hip bone. The trousers, of silk, she had worn moments ago. Twirling in front of the mirror, the childlike giddiness flushed through. Turning her cheeks red. It's pallor slipping away as she touched them with her finger. The veil coming over her arms, hiding the bareness of them with the sheer cloth. Somewhat. Obstructing the perfect view of the soft skin.

With a swipe of her gloss, and a smear of blush across her cheeks she walked out of the room. Her feet slipping into the velvet lined khussas. The hand embroidered shoes matched the work on her dress. Just one of the many things her father had spent money on.

"Meri Gol."
[My Gol.]

The wistful voice of her father, his soft lazy steps towards her, shattered the bit of faux confidence she was holding on to. Golnar rested her hands on his bicep, passing — offering him a watery smile as he helped her wear the bronze baali's. Placing a soft kiss on to the side of her head, wrapping her in his gentle embrace as she hugged him tight. His ittar the solace she had sought since the previous evening.

"Mera noor," he continued, kissing her head in gentleness.
[My light.]

Soft sunlight draped in to the bedroom from the open window. Soft air blew in, brushing her bare skin with it's cold. Yet the fire instantly warded off it's affect. In flashing motions and the blink of an eye she found herself seat on to the ottoman. Her father beside her, his fingers wrapped tightly around her palm. The weight of her head rested into his chest. Watching as the light flickered over the gems in her dress, casting shimmery shadows over the ground. Her feet mindlessly toying with the tassels on the handwoven carpet.
A habit.

"Mera dil ke noor, meri jaan ke gharoor, kitni bari ho gayi hai ap."
[The light of my heart, the pride of my life, you have grown so old.]

Arbaz whispered, staring at the mountains in the distance. Only a haze of their figure elicited through the thicket of white clouds. Slipping around the water body that could clearly be viewed from this particular bedroom. Dragging swirls over her bare arms, lost in deep thought. Arbaz's face was covered in shades of gold, and the intensity of his hungry gaze focus on to the sun. Making out the shadowy shape of it. It's complete roundness.

So bright.
So full of light.
So full of valour.

Each of the traits, reminiscent of his daughter.

"Abba ap nai ro saktay," she murmured, wiping the silent tears that fell over his rosy cheeks.
[Father you can not cry.]

"Apnay dil ko dur kartay huway kisay takleef nai hoti?"
[Who does not feel when giving their heart away?]

"Tou na karein, hamesha apnay saath rakhiye. Mein kabhi gila nahi karun gi."
[Then dont do it, keep me with you forever. I wont ever complain.]

Golnar pulled back her eyelids, widening her eyes, slanting the angle of her pupils as she tried to melt his heart. Bribing him with that curious, innocent gaze she had used on him since her childhood.

"Nai Golnar. Ap ko haq hai har khushi ka. Zindagi keh pachis saal ap nai meray saath guzaray hai, ab ap ka apnay humsafar ke saath rehnay ka waqt hai."
[No Golnar. You have the right to every happiness. You have spent twenty-five years of your life with me, now it is time you live with your life partner.]

"Aur-aur agar woh mujhe chor gaye tou?" Golnar enquired.
[And what if he leaves me?]

For you I hope that is never the case.

The innocence of her tone was like a hot iron pelting the flesh of his back. She stared at him, with unrequited faith. Her lips, plump, set in a deep pout. His wife, her mother, had left them when Golnar was ten. Perhaps the wound on his daughter's heart would have been less intense if his wife had passed away. Watching her leave with a man far younger — young enough to pass as their son, had broken not only his heart but Golnar's faith in marriage.

"Tou ap wapis ajaiye ga meri shehzadi. Meray jeetay ji, aur mar janay ke baad bhi, is ghar ke darwazay bas ap ke hi hain. Mein tou bas yahan makeen hun. Asal malkin tou ap hain."
[Then you can come back my princess. In my life, and after I die, the doors of this house are only yours. I am just a tenant. The real owner of everything is you.]

"Makhan lagana koi ap sai seekhay," Golnar giggled.
[People should learn how to butter someone up from you.]

"Gol," he spoke with a seriousness all of a sudden, "kabhi bhi masla ho tou Agha jaan ko keh dena. Aur kabhi kisi ko itna haq nahi dena ke ap ko neecha dikhaye. Ap meri beti hai aur us sai bar kar eik insaan, jis ko izzat daar zindagi guzarnay ka pura haq hai. Aur yeh haq koi bhi — ap ke shohar bhi ap sai nahi cheen saktay."
[Gol if you ever have any trouble let Agha know. And never give anyone any right to degrade you. You are my daughter and more than that a human, who has a right to live a respectful life. And no one — not even your husband can rob you of this right.]

Golnar nodded, her eyes sinking from the evident shyness, staring at the light shade of her henna. It was okay. He didn't love her now, but who was to say he wouldn't love her in a few months.

٭

Darab grunted as his hands slithered around the tan skin, holding the thin waist against the hard mattress. His grip — harsh enough to leave a bruise behind. Stamping his thumbs into the flesh of her stomach, he felt another groan escape his lips. Yet it did not feel like it once had. Not even as his high flooded his veins and he spilt all over her lower abdomen and thighs. Grasping the rough tissue paper from the side table he wiped his dick, tugging his trousers once again, throwing the crisp red notes on to her body. Tipping more generously than before.

"Aiday bad guman nawab saab?" Chenab chuckled, rising on to her elbows as she stared at the huge man.
[So distrustful sir?]

Darab's sharp brow rose a few inches above his left eye. Mocking the slender woman with a snarl like smile, the left corner of his lip, tugged higher and the right set in the usual grim line. He shrugged, disinterested as he gripped the cup of his beer, taking a sip. It's intense flavour burned the back of his throat for a short second, after which the burn soothed into tiny sparks that brought his throat to life.

"Guman kidon si?"
[When was there trust?]

"Si te apni mayun di raat meray naal kyun guzar raye o?"
[If she was then why are you spending the night of your mayun with me?]

Chenab chuckled, taking his come over her finger before sucking. Her sharp cheeks hollowing at the gesture. Though the usual fire that would tighten his stomach was absent.

Just like always. This no longer brought him peace.

"Teri bhool ve. Tu bas eik shay ae, jiday tae menu paisa zaya karna pasand ae."
[You are mistaken. You are just a thing I like to waste my money on.]

"Chalo kisi haal ich te pasand ayi aan."
[At least you like me in some way.]

"Apni izzat kar Chenab. Teri wargi soo lab jaan giya. Rupay da kamal ae."
[Respect yourself Chenab. I can find hundreds like you. Money has the power.]

"Par fir vi tussi Chenab nu labde o."
[Yet you still search for Chenab.]

"Par fir vi meri izzat tun nai banein gi."
[Yet still you are not becoming my respect.]

Chenab chuckled, rising from her bed she brushed her hands over his chest, breathing over his sweat neck as he spoke in a whisper, "naam te daseyo uda."
[Tell me her name.]

"Us pak daman da naa teray ghaleez hontan nu lein da haq nai."
[To take the name of that innocent woman is not a right your soiled lips have.]