عورت بھی کب تک ظلم برداشت کرے؟
Until when must a woman put up with injustice?
٭

Chapter 16 : Pehla din aur shaid akhri

Just like yesterday, Golnar found herself seated on the dining table, like a prisoner awaiting her sentence. The scrutinising gazes sized her, and the plain outfit she wore. Only the heavily embellished veil reminder of the fact that she was a new bride. Three days and her henna had already began to die against her skin. Leaving behind only tiny scars and stubs of the dots. His name, burned out of her hands at the expense of the many soaps she had been using to get it out.

Last night had been a repeat of the night before. He had wordlessly slipped into his place and she to hers. She was nothing to him, but to her, he was a relationship solely hers. Though her heart was bruised time and again at the way he coldly rejected her, Golnar wanted to make him hers. No matter what had been the reason behind their nuptial. Yet — for now and maybe forever — it would be a one sided struggle.

Her untapped chain of thoughts broke as her mother-in-law, bari bibi, cleared her throat. The tone of her heavy voice drawling into the arctic air of the dinning room.

"Bahu nashta ho jaye tou kamray mein ajaye ga. Kuch kaam hai aap sai."
[Daughter-in-law after you're done with breakfast come to my room. I have something I need to talk to you about.]

After the ordeal had slipped in between the conversation of the rest of the people in attendance, her mother-in-law whispered to her. Pinching her elbow for attention before offering her a wide smile. Narrowing the hawk like gaze towards the heavy spread of breakfast. Tearing into another piece of warm bread as she kept her eyes on Golnar.

"Ji bari bibi."
[Okay elder madam.]

Swallowing her pride — it's size that of a humming bird's — Golnar nodded. Blinking her eyes softly in her direction, peeking from behind her kohl lined eyes. The tears that gathered in the crook of her ducts, burned her nostrils with the strength of a fire that could burn all the ice inside the world. Then as if the embarrassment sunk into her, she flew her gaze on to her fingers. Dipping the cold piece of bread into the curry. Despite the flavour, it felt nothing short of a splinter struck into the side of her throat.

Taking a sip of the water, swallowing the tiny morsel slower than ever, the discomfort sunk on to her shoulders. It battled with the agonising anxiety she had fought with for years on end, reminding her of something. A feeling she had been used to for weeks, and years at no end. It had been the darkest moment of her life and what should have been the most blissful of them, pushed her into the crux of the fire again. Baking her once more. It's rising embers that perfumed the air with a charring glance, threw her into a vortex. Pulling her under water.

Biting into a peppercorn, it's bitter flavour filled her mouth in an instant. Like the poison that was just about reeking itself into her mostly peaceful life, it burnt that side of her tongue. Tearing a piece of her oil sodden bread, she placed into her mouth. Chewing, hiding the frown that just about kissed her nose. Squeezing her lips she bit the inside of her cheek, sinking her molars into the flesh until the pain of her soul paled in comparison.

"Darab tu aj manshi saab nu mil ain." Bari bibi cleared her throat, narrowing her eyes at him.
[Darab you go and meet the accountant today.]

He nodded — having no trouble at her ordering tone. Even as it sounded like a ridicule more than an advice. Golnar peaked at him from the corner of her eyes, his face kissed by the deft sunlight was as usual marked by the frowns over his forehead. The skin their rumpling into highs and lows, his lips even as they chewed, remained downturned. As if displeased at the buttered paratha he swallowed. His eyes focused on the sight of his siblings.

Despite having been part of the estate, formally, for only a day, Golnar had already noticed a few key things. He was not as doted on as his younger siblings were, in fact, there was a thin layer of ice that separated them from each other. That Darab kept to himself — barely ever entering the common shared spaces for more than a few minutes before he would whizz out of the back door. Hours on end. Staying away until the sun sunk too low. The way he performed these tasks, she knew without a single doubt that Darab practiced this routine like religion.

It was to him just as mechanical as his prayer was.

Excusing herself from the dining table, with her hand around her plates and glass, Golnar followed behind the shadows from the tall lamps towards the kitchen. It's walls of sandstone and brick were exposed — not a stroke of paint had kissed them and it added to the rustic atmosphere. Polished copper pots and pans were on display in glass cabinets, with the counters covered in fruits and vegetables of all kinds. The fire on the stove still rumbling in a low whisper as the chef began to prep for the early lunch her mother-in-law had planned with her friends.

Amongst the upper echelons of upper Naazimgarh, were just a handful of families. So it was not out of the ordinary for the women to run a tight ship. To stick together and watch out for one another. It was also — in the gossip stricken society she was born in to — not uncommon to host such lunches to have everyone eye the newest family member like they were eye candy.

Though before Golnar could dwell on such thoughts, she placed her dishes on the sink and stepped out of the place. The smell of saffron followed behind, having lapped on to her dress. Even as she washed her hands in the half bathroom, and the headed into her bedroom to rub her favourite ittar on to the skin behind her ear. It's scent followed. Like a ghost. An apparition that was yet to claim any physical shape.

The neat pleats of her draped shawl had loosened as she ambled down the stair case. One such edge, that had slipped the bunch from her fingers, grazed the floor as she stepped towards the living quarters of bari bibi. Patting her cheeks that were like the pale first snow of the winter, sliding a loose tendril behind her ear, her bangles grazing the pashmina fabric as she did so.
Golnar breathed in. Heavy. Patting her cheeks in reassurance, she took shorter steps in a bid to elongate the distance between herself and the bedroom.

At the end of the lonesome corridor was a large window. One that had been left open — and a chilly drawl rushed into the space. It curved and oozed through every creak and crevice, humbly strumming the wooden edges of the door. It's deep woody shade was like the gentlest of mocha's and streaks of caramel ran around in lattices. Copper motifs stuck to it, and the thin hand curved to the left. Though not at all inviting.

Cold to the touch, Golnar pinched her lip between her teeth before knocking on the door using her other hand. The wrap of her shawl loosening slightly and the chilly zephyr blew in to rumble her spirit instantly. Stuttering, she gripped the wrap around herself tighter, pulling the bedroom door open slowly. Hearing as it creaked on the hinges before she stepped inside.

Grand.
Opulent.
Magnificent.

It was large and each inch of the off white space was covered in luxury. It looked like it belonged to a wealthy aristocrat, with it's feathery trims and the gauze curtains wrapped around the iron bedposts of the princess canopy bed. Furs of all kinds covered the bedroom floor until was a distasteful clutter. The mess deplorable as she stepped on to the head of a white tiger. Gulping — Golnar stepped around it, walking towards the stout woman whose back faced her. Only the tightly tied greying hair filled her vision. And the sordidly unappealing saree.

An erratic heart beat.
An enigmatic fear.
An explicit hiccup — spilled through her lips as she held her spirit in place far too long. Instantly she covered her mouth, apologising softly to the woman who glared at her with hatred enough to fuel an entire generation. The eyes that she had hoped would be full of an adoration, had instead housed nothing but animosity.

"Betho." She gave a pointed look towards the ground before her.
[Sit.]

Swallowing her tears — an action she had become well versed with in the past twenty four hours, Golnar stepped before her. The image of her father's disappointed face swam before her as defiance rose it's head inside of her. Bending one knee before the other, pressing the front of her calves into the frozen ground. Her ache hid behind her face as the chill traveled up her spine, and she flattened her palms into her legs. Keeping her gaze lowered, eye to eye with the shoes of her mother-in-law.

"Meri pasand ki bahu tou tum ho nai jo izzat afzai karun," she cleared her throat, placing her fingers around Golnar's chin. "Magar phir bhi keh deti hun, ab iss ghar ki izzat ho. Agar apni maa ki tarah iss izzat ko neelam karna hai tou pehlay hi bata do. Darab abhi isi waqt talaq de kar farigh kare tumhe."
[You are not the daughter-in-law of my preference so I won't be giving you any respect.]
[But still I'll say this, you are now the respect of this home. If you want to make a show of this respect like your mom let me know right now. Darab will divorce you, and free you right now.]

"Meri itni tazleel tou na karein," Golnar hiccuped.
[Do not disrespect me so much.]

"Yeh masomiyat achi gharany ki larkiyun par achi lagti hai. Eik randi maa ki aulaad par nai!" Amina snarled.
[This innocence looks good on girls from respectable households. Not from a whore's daughter!]

"Meray abba—"
[My father—]

"Baap? Ran mureed kahi ka. Biwi bhaag gayi, beti bhi na janay Islamabad mein kaha kaha mun kalay kar ke aai hai jo uss nai apnay hi dushman sai biyah di!"
[Father? A cuckold. Wife ran away, and daughter God knows with whom did she have affairs with in Islamabad that he married her off to his own enemy!]

"Ap ko mujh par ya meri maa par jo ilzam lagana hai lagain. Magar khuda ka wasta," Golnar rose her hands in apology before her head, shame melting her into a puddle, "meray abba ko kuch mat kahiye."
[You can say whatever you want to about my mother and I. But for God's sake, do not say anything about my father.]

"Amma ji," Dania who had till now been a silent spectator, smirked before lowering her feet, grazing Golnar's face as she did so, "leave her be. She's going to cry all day. Just let her know her duties and then we need to get dressed. And you Golnar — stay locked up in your bedroom, my husband is returning today. I want you to stay away from him."

The accusations not hidden with the look inside Dania's eyes, Golnar nodded. Squeezing herself smaller, hoping, desperately praying that she would disappear from sight.

٭

"How could you have made that decision all by yourself?"

Dressed in a maroon sweatsuit and her hair dyed a platinum blonde she looked comical. At least the backdrop of the inherently traditional attires the rest of his female staff wore. With sunglasses perched on top of her crooked nose bridge, and a rock the size of his rose-quartz seated on her left ring finger. His former wife did little to throb his heart. Arbaz had to almost wonder what it was he had seen in her all those years ago.

Maybe love was as blinding as all else claimed it to be.

"What do you mean? And why have you returned after all those years? Now that all doors have been closed on you!" Arbaz spoke.

His usual calm that was for his daughter only had slipped from sight soon after he had parted from her. The porcelain tea cup inside his hand shook from his untampered with power, the rosary around his right wrist all that forbade him from lashing out in a raging fit of madness.

Coughing he pulled his shawl around his frame tighter, the child of ten standing beside her bore a stark resemblance to a man he knew.
All too well. Bony facial features, deep set eyes that were a shade of green, craving answers. Even as she sat and toyed with the ear of her stuffed toy, Arbaz could notice the similarities. The child was doted on. The mother seemed to care at last, and the thought tore through the valves of his heart.

What did his Golnar do to not deserve this?

"You decided to hand our daughter over to that illiterate son of a whore's daughter! Of course I'd come!"

"You didn't care when you left that ten year old. You didn't care when she was having a high fever or got her first period," Arbaz swallowed, his young daughter had been through too much. "Now you're back to stake claims when she's of age to receive her inheritance. Clearly your husband still doesn't have it in him to introduce you to his family."

"Arbaz you may have raised her but you treated her poorly when marry—"

"No Armina no. Threats of being murdered and the cancer have plagued me. Darab has the resources to keep her safe, and I have enough proof to hold over his head to ensure her safety." Standing with his feet placed firmly on to the ground he spoke again, his eyes hazy with a distant look, "she'll make place for herself. Golnar hai hi aisi. Sab ka dil jeet leti hai. Ap yahan sai chali jaiye, ab uski zindagi mein aur koi masla na khara nahi tou is baar—"
[Golnar is like that. She wins everyone's hearts. You should leave, do not make any more problems in her life or else this time—]

"Is baar kia?"
[This time what?]

"Is baar shaid ap ko zinda na jaane dun." Arbaz spoke, stepping through the heavy doors, nodding his head in the direction of his trusted guards.
[This time I might not let you go alive.]

٭

"Darab ap ka khana laga dun?"
[Darab should I serve you dinner?]

Raising her head, the silver moonlight shone above her head. Casting a shadow on to the floor as she stepped into the curve of the staircase. Wiping the soot off of her face discreetly. One of her hands was tight around the corner of her shawl and the other tugged the loose strands of her hair into place. The ends of her nose were smeared with the soot too — her fingers throbbed after a day of chopping vegetables. Ones that were not even meant to be cooked the same day. Even the muscles of her neck had begun to cramp.

Fatigued even more as she stared up at him. Only a tiny oil lamp on the table beside the stair, burned. Casting a deep shadow on to the back of it, smoke and it's deep mustard oil scent stayed thick between them. Fogging their senses as they found each other surrounded by their presence.

Golnar took a step back. Then two more as he moved closer towards her. His fingers rolled up the sleeves that had been unbuttoned. A scar had burnt itself into his skin, gathering her attention. Knocking the wind out of her windpipe as he stepped into her personal space. Gulping, her fingers ran between the space that was left between their chests. Placing her hand on to his firm pectoral, her cheeks caught flame. The scent of alcohol — though not extremely pungent was still there. Burning her nostrils.

"Husayn naal kha kar ayan." Darab replied.
[I ate with Husayn.]

Golnar nodded tearing her hand off of his body. Pulling it behind herself, a tear of fatigue escaped her gaze. The tiredness of the previous day had caught up to her. They had been working her like a mare, until her heart burned and her lungs stopped working properly. Until she could smell nothing but spices and the fragrant oils to prepare a feast lavish enough for her in laws. Yet, the one man she had slaved away for truly, had just kissed her with a soft rejection.

"Golnar," Darav clicked his fingers before her.

Perhaps it was his drunken stupor or maybe his heart was melting towards her. Yet he offered her a smile. A small one. Nevertheless, it was there. She beamed in his direction. Inside her heart, fire roared and electricity whizzed down her spine as he held up the edge of her shawl that was kissing the ground. Resting it over her shoulder, his fingers lightly pinching her cheeks.

Whistling he leaned into her, whispering, "paak aurtan da daman zameen nu nai lagna chaiye da."
[Pious women's veil's shouldn't touch the ground.]

He pulled away, marching up the staircase, leaving her star struck.

📸✨📸
Caught you ladies in 4K. Anyways here's a funny meme I made.