پیار ایسا جو کرتا ہے

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Chapter 27 : Tasavur

Pale effervescent of the sunlight against the mellow shade of the duvet brought from home to cover the hospital bed, created a far new colour. A new shade of white was formed, painted a mute peach and the gloss from the light of the sun clouded the soft linen cloth. Filled in with the feathery insert, tied to the ends using thick strings, it covered her nimble frame. Hiding beneath the un orderly mess of the duvet, she sunk softly into the mattress. It curved with her spine, hoisting her back up from the upper half, her neck pressed into the soft pillows.

As the sun set on the horizon and her skin turned a deep shade of rust, she twirled her hand into the light. Watching as the thin bracelet on her hand caught it and spread it across the floor. A decadent rainbow spreading across the wall opposite to hers. Long shadows on the other side, her hand holding on to the glass as her husband held it against her lips. Calculating the length of her gulp she pushed her mouth away. Her fingers gently pressing over his tan palm.

Golnar's eyes traced softly his every move. The shawl that he had wore all through last night had been soiled by the morning. Tears of her pain, as the painkillers effect wore off, and the slobber of her spit had fallen on to it as the soup spilled out of her mouth. It's intense black pepper becoming too much for her to swallow. Offering him a short smile she pulled her hand to herself and traced out the feel of his flesh against her hand. By memory.

The width of his back covered the bright light from falling directly inside her eyes. He towered over her being, and his unruly beard nuzzled deep into the collar of his kameez, the starched ends of it grazed his ear lobes and she watched with wonder as his thick gold earring matched the ring on his finger. His hands were calloused and the knuckles were a shade of fiery red. Parting her lips, her breath softly whizzing before her upper lip, she wondered how those had come around.

"Ap meray shohar hai?" Golnar enquired.
[You are my husband?]

From the night before, Golnar had been surrounded by an entourage of servants and doctors. Her father had kept his watchful eyes over her, giving her little to no time to talk to her husband. Her new husband — a relationship that she had been according to everyone else been tied to for a few months, and now, she remembered nothing. Not even an ounce of all that had occurred in her life.

His head turned towards her, staring into the deep pools of her eye as he took seat on the edge of her bed. His hands tucked the duvet into the ends of the mattress and straightened out the sheets, grunting in reply. Despite the slip of her neckline over her shoulders and the softness of her round flesh appearing to sight, he ignored it all. Keeping his eyes over the soft features of her face. Reaching out her hand, he tucked a strand behind her ear, tipping the baalis she had insisted on wearing once she had woken up.

"Bad-qismati sai." He chortled.
[Unfortunately.]

"Bad-qismati?" She whispered, tasting the word on to her tongue as she held his hand in hers. Repeating the words he spoke, "ap ki ya meri?"
[Bad luck? Yours or mine?]

"Apki."
[Yours.]

Sinking his finger underneath the spotted collar of the linen hospital gown, he pushed it over her arm. Straightening it out, he offered her a smile — hoping it gave her some comfort. The setting sun's light angled itself on to her soft auburn hair and intensified the shade of red that was cool against the blue undertones of her skin. Slipping his hand back into his deep pocket, he moved around the small worn out phone between his fingers and felt around the wedding ring that he had carried with himself for weeks.

"Par kyun?" She spoke.
[But why?]

Beneath them leagues of silence swam like an ocean of disappointments and illustrious sadness. Like the waves of a tsunami, they rose over their heads, burying them underneath the oxygen less waters. It's iciness breathed out the air from their lungs and knocked them out with it's intensity. Sharks of their own imagination attacked their thoughts and worries, biting, tearing and ravaging their flesh with the canines. Until it was a mess of maroon. The clear blue waters painted with clots and flesh of their hearts that had been painted with worry. Ice that surrounded them melting — yet not fast enough to pull them out of the vortex.

Darab opened his lips, before closing them softly as he failed to find the words that could answer her questions. A part of him wished to openly lie — hoisting up the words that were like spun sugar waiting to dissolve on to his tongue without any fear and respite, to her ears. To paint himself the image of a porcelain angel — an image he would not even be worthy of kissing from a different continent. Tightening his knuckles around his sides, he pressed his fingers beneath the flesh of his upper thigh and pinched them from the underneath.

He knew, she did not deserve to be lied to. When she would hear about her mother's betrayal, it would be a pain that would kill her. Suffocate her soul like it had done so for years — and yet God had shaken her out of that trauma. The thoughts of a lie that would make their married life better, sounded like a vindictive gold box. Studded with glass and perfumed with the softest of roses. It would allow her home inside of her heart, but when the truth, and he knew one day it would, came out. The house of lies would collapse.

A fear that was killing him.
The thought of which was far worse than facing her hate, now.

"Tu aheo jaya shohar paan di haq dar san jera teray vastay chand taaray tor liyave. Na ke tera dil tore. O aadmi jera teray naal viyah teri dil di khoobsurti di wajah tou karay na ke o insaan jera teray baap di jaidad chanda ae." He offered her a reply, hiding still the events of that night.
[You deserved a husband that would have brought you the moon and stars. Not one that breaks your heart. A man that married you for the beauty of your heart, not someone that married you for your father's property.]

Inhaling a sharp breath, Golnar nodded her head at his words. Pain sprung up inside her chest and knocked at her soft heart. The visions that her mind had made up — of romance and something greater than life itself had been plucked from her palms. Far too soon. The story of their love, a tale to hear and adore, had been an illusion her mind had made for itself to dull out the pain. Yet it made sense too. His stoicalness, his cold eyes and the touch that though familiar, placed itself against her skin far too awkwardly.

"Shukriya." Golnar responded with a whisper, resting a hand over his as he looked at her with questions, "ap chahte tou jhoot bhi keh saktay thay. Magar ap nai nahi kaha, uskay liye shukriya."
[Thank you. You could have lied if you wanted to. But you did not lie, for that thank you.]

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The wheels of the car stopped and the flurry of dry soil that had been raised around the height of the car settled finally. It's large wheels came to a halt in front of the dingy cottage, the engine deep beneath the hood, still purring with a voracious life. It's tyres crunched the loose gravel and the sharp cuts of it's broad front chipped into the sides of the foliage. Hiding it from the sight of any passerby that strayed from the pain highway in Naazimgarh.

The cottage held a broken door and windows that were soiled. Stains of rain and dirt had clogged up the iron bars. A handful of ravens sat on top of it's chimney's, only fluttering around as the sounds of the ferocious engine pulled them out of their haphazard slumber. Ajar — through the tiny gaps anyone that walke close enough could find the occupants moving around the lounge in haphazard motions. In this part of the village, silence from the abandoned edges was more than enough to make the musical crackling of burning wood be the loudest. Much like a helicopter's wings during a flight over the federal city.

Wrapped in the yards of white pashmina with a green and red embroidered lattice a few inches off of the hemline, beneath which he wore a deep black wash and wear shalwaar kameez, Darab resembled the threats he spoke off. His beard brushed and oiled. Trimmed on the edges much like his hair, which at last, had been brushed through and tied into a messy braid at the hands of his wife. A craft he was surprised she could perform with one hand fractured. Then holding out a white rubber band she had looked the epitome of innocence that Darab had had no option but to arrive to the meeting with his men. His hair done like a young girls.

From the light, cool breeze of the April breeze, the warm interiors of the cottage seemed like a contrast. One that he did not in particular enjoy, dropping his shawl into the arms of a manservant who stood next to the door. His head bowed in appreciation. Darab marched into the lounge, each of his steps the epitome of rage that rose inside of his chest. Threatening to cover the entirety of Naazimgarh in it's burning magma. Clenching his wrists, followed by his jaw, he ticked it into place. Licking his teeth with his tongue before dropping all of his weight on to the dingy sofa.

Majjo stood before him with two men beside him. To his right, a thin man with a brown beard and streaked hair stood and to his left, a stout man with whiskers that ran down the side of his face. Jugnu and Majnu — the two brothers were notorious opium addicts in their village and avoided for the most part.

Watching the familiar men he turned to Majjo — his loyal confidant who had informed him about a ground breaking discovery. Something that would alter the perception he held of things, for years to come.

"Mein teray to saboot mangaya si, tu meray samnay nashiae kaharay kar detay nai!" Darab chuckled, snapping his hand on top of his thigh.
[I asked you to find proof, you have brought two drug addicts before me!]

"Sain mera yakeen karo, ae jo dasan ge, sach ae." Majjo fought, pointing to the manilla envelope before him.
[Sir believe me, whatever they tell you, is true.]

With a grunt he lifted the paper before his face, it's colour a light white and the red logo printed on it was familiar. It belonged to the only one proper hotel within Naazimgarh's district. The name's printed on top and the thin sheet of paper that he pulled out from the folder were nothing short of gibberish to him. With a palm pressed on top of the piece of paper and the other, holding a glass of water that he swirled around with carelessness, he waited for one of them to speak up. To connect the dots of the mystery for him.

"Sain ae reportan nai."
[Sir these are reports.]

"Keri shae di?" Darab spoke, amused at Majjo's stubbornness.
[Of what?]

"Dhamka hoya si na, udha paas hi eik aur labaya si par o shaid chalaya nai. Udhay test huway san — unglian de nishan waste." Majjo swallowed, crossing his hands as he spoke his next words, "Fe-Feroze saab de haath naal mil gaye ne."
[Where the blast happened, near it we found one more that perhaps did not explode. It was tested — for the fingerprints.]
[Fe-Feroze sir's fingers match it.]

"Ki baki ja reya aen Majjo! O saday kar da damad ae!" Darab roared, huffing at his servant's careless audacity to question the sole son-in-law.
[What bullshit are you uttering Majjo! He is the son-in-law of our house!]

"Sain," this time, Jugnu spoke in his high pitched voice, "sach ae. Maa kasam. Us din sati saveray o ae san apnay khaas mulazim naal."
[Sir, it is true. I swear on my mother. That day early morning he came with his trusted servant.]

"Sain mein vi uthay ae saan. Unhan na tuano qatal karna si pr fir Golnar bibi te hamla ho gaya." Majnu explained further, gripping the skin of his throat before he continued, "saday sar dhar tou panvay alag kar dena je jhut huvay. Par asi kadi vi jhut nai bolday."
[Sir I was there too. They made a plan to kill you but then miss Golnar was attacked. You may have us beheaded if it turns out to be a lie. But just know that we never lie.]

"Te fir theek ae. Aglay haftay — mahinay di akhri tareekh te dawat hovay gi. Tamasha lagay ga Feroze da. Sach sab de saamne aaway ga. Majjo tun tiyaari kar, bathera luka chupi da khel ho gaya."
[Then it's final. Next week — on the last day of the month there will be a feast. A show will be put on of Feroze. The truth will come before everyone. Majjo make preparations, enough hide n seek has been played.]

"Jo hukum sain." Majjo responded.
[Yes sir.]

٭

"Golnar you're free to come home with me." Arbaz spoke.

The doctors had been assured by her hasty recovery that they had allowed her to be discharged from the hospital. Dressed in a light cotton two piece that had nothing but a light sprinkle of sequins along the border and sleeves, with a chiffon veil spread across her chest, she sat on the hospital bed. The loose sleeves had given her easy access and the sling had been tied back on with the help of the nurse assigned to her. She looked back and forth, between her husband and father. Both of who had convincing enough points.

The frail face of her father, his posture weak as he leaned into his chair.
The fragmented face of her husband, his posture wonky as he pressed into the sofa.

Golnar took a deep breath before she shook her head, resting a hand against the crown of it as a spell of dizziness took over her, "thank you abba jaan, but I would much prefer to go back home and know my husband."

"Ki ke rai ae sasur ji?" Darab immediately questioned, staring between the father and daughter duo with unmatched curious.
[What is she saying father-in-law?]

"Gol tumharay saath jaye gi." Arbaz spoke.
[Gol will go with you.]

Golnar turned her head, tipping her head softly, until she could catch his full body inside of her eyes. From the hair that he still had in the braid she had done, to the kameez that stretched across his torso. Clinging to the flesh of his built bicep and the pockets lined up with the sides of his upper ribs and abs. Not even a single lint ball remained on his kameez and the wrinkle free shalwar rose slightly as he stood up, revealing his toned calves and tanned skin for a moment. She observed as he offered her a hand, the gold necklace that hung from his neck. Striking her as an object far too familiar.

Walking down the hallways with her weight pressed into his body, she took small steps. His own forced to line up with hers though he spoke not a single word of complaint. Instead, he held her by the waist, an arm going around it from the back whilst the other held her shaky palm in his. Golnar limped and his built figure followed. His breath was harsher than hers, and even though he tried to soften it, he could not. It reminded Golnar of a bear and she bit into her tongue to keep a laugh from escaping her parted lips. Lest she embarrass the man.

Pressing a kiss to her head, Arbaz whispered prayers over her as he helped her into the back seat of Darab's car. He kissed the back of her hand, reminding her gently that the doors of his home were always open to her. And her husband — he grunted with displeasure at the end. Golnar watched from behind the tinted windows as the two men greeted each other a bit too stiffly.

The car smelt of Darab's perfume. Like an undetected spice and a slight bit of alcohol. Tipping her head against the cool window, she wrapped her fingers around the arm rest over the door.

As the car moved, so did the sights. From the hospital they moved through a crowded throng of people and the village's centre. In all four directions, in a circular array, shops and stalls of sizes had been set up to serve the locals. It was not as crowded as Golnar remembered from her childhood, yet then again, that had been during vacations and plenty of tourists enjoyed visiting Naazimgarh for it's scenic views and untouched atmosphere. Through a whizz of greens and greys, they entered a residential area. The homes made with far more finery than those that they had crossed.

As the car slowed before a mansion that towered over the horizon, Golnar felt a throb deep inside her veins. Her blood as if coursed deep within her skin, trying to rise to the top to revolt. Ignoring the itch she had to follow her muscles by memory, she held on to Darab's hands as he led her in through the foyer. The staircase and the lights were familiar atleast. Golnar could already feel a surprisingly deep connection to the building. Running her gaze to the left, the door sealed shut, she swallowed the questions that rose to the top of her throat.

"A gayi randi maa ki aulaad?" An elderly woman screamed.
[So you have finally arrived the daughter of a whore?]

Golnar stared at her face, confused. A young woman — a few years older tha herself sat on the spotted sofa, sobbing with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Kha gayi ye maa beti humari khushi ko Darab!" The woman turned to her husband.
[The mother and daughter have robbed us of our happiness Darab!]

Frowning she too turned to face him.

"Ki aakh raye o maa ji?" He sounded just as confused.
[What are you saying mother?]

Maa ji — mother, Golnar realised. It dawned on to her that the hatred that rose like the waves of an ocean from the woman's face, was acceptable. She was after all the wife of her father's self-proclaimed enemy.

"Is larki ki maa nai apnay shohar sai talaq le kar Feroze sai biyah kar lia! Wo-woh unki beti hai j-jo choti si bachi us din woh apnay saath lai thi!" His sister screamed.
[This girl's mother got divorced from her husband and married Feroze! Tha-that little girl that came with her that day is their daughter!]

"Meri maa tou meray baap ki biwi hai!"
[My mother is my husband's wife!]

"O bibi. Bhul gayi ho tou yaad karo, kaye saal pehlay apnay aashiq ke liye woh tum logon ko chor gayi thi!"
[Oh ma'am. Perhaps you have forgotten so remember, a handful of years ago for her lover she left you guys!]

That made sense — and realisation dawned on to Golnar's shoulders. Like iced water it splashed down her back — her feet frozen to the ground. She would have collapsed had it not been for the hands of her husband wrapped around her in a tight grip. Tears thrived in her eyes and fell down the swell of her cheek as she felt herself stripped of the faux sense of security, hoping that the ground would open and swallow her whole. The cries of her sister-in-law, unheard, nothing but the screams of her own mind remained.

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Janaab e aala bas chand hi chapters. (2 only)