کھڑکی کہ باہر بس ایک ہی مزار
میرے خوابوں کا
جن کہ ٹُکڑے ہیں اب ہزار

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Chapter 5 : Gol, nur aur kuch maum

Tears lashed at the edge of her eyes, clouding her lashes in their weight. At the expense of her joy, her lips quivering. Gently tucking her teeth between them, the rosy shade turned darker. Her fingers running laterally over the beads. Glancing at the white sheets over her bed, and the slumped figure of her father, she felt another ache. Shuddering through the encapsulated heart. Her ribcage shaking in pain. A gasp of breath, bursting through the front of her teeth.

Once more her fingers ran through his thick hair, her knees resting over the feather mattress, it's delicateness digging in beneath her. Running a tongue over her cracked lips, she pecked the corner of his left eye, wiping the tear that had fallen once more. His face already lacking the usual tenaciousness, turning pale. The scent of his cologne mixed in with the clean aroma of lemon, burning under the dim sunlight. Making her eyes sink in the weight of deplorable responsibilities.

"Aba jaan kia hal bana lia hai ap nai." She sniffled, her finger brushing the coil of hair away from her nose. "Ap itnay kamzor nahi hain."
[What have you made of yourself father.]
[You are not this weak.]

"Gol meri ma mera sab kuch thi—" he whispered, his eyes still closed.
[Gol my mother was my everything.]

"Da-do ap ko aisay dekh kar takleef mein hon gi, unhi ki khatir apna khayal rakh lein." She replied.
[Dado will be in pain seeing you like this, at-least for her sake look after yourself.]

Golnar tried to hold in the simpering whimpers, ones that threatened to wrack out of her body. Bubbling above her tongue like a burning fire. Rubbing her palm over her face, she nuzzled her face into the crook his neck. His hands reaching out to rub her back — the defined strength of his touch long lost.

As her eyes closed, the depth of the dark took over, filling in a space between her sight and her eyes. Hunched in the position of a baby, wrapped in a thick shawl that smelt of rain and soil, her own strengths seemed to dissolve. Much like pulled sugar and water — washing away into nothingness.

It had hit them hard, the death of her joyous grandmother. The woman had loved her before the incident that tore them all into pieces. Her more than most. Yet, Golnar could not remember the woman in nothing but words of gold. Her eyes — the signature deep hazel, almost touching a green, Golnar felt haunted her. The cry that had escaped her lips when their landline in Islamabad had rung, to the soft hiccups that were all that left her as the body was lifted. It all turned into a large blur. In which remained her father — stuck in a vortex as he lost his only parent.

Slipping in from the slivers of gaps between the window and it's sills, a chilly zephyr blew in. Moving through the distance between the curtains — teasing the ravenous fire inside the fireplace. The bedroom — painted a shade of jewel blue, was washed into a shade of murky brown with the shadows and orange casts of the fire. Luggages, thrown around in a haphazard manner over the hand knit carpets. Shawls and shoes lay discarded next to the giant wooden closet. Above the mantle, a portrait of Golnar and her parents hung, beneath it, her trophies rested. Catching dust.

Despite their pre-planned arrival, the death of the matriarch had pushed back their arrival. Leaving the servants with no time to dust the trinkets within the vast bedroom. It had been like a walk in freezer the day of their arrival, only the the fire that had burnt for the next two days had managed to warm up the bones of the place.

"Aba jaan ap ko uthna ho ga, Golmina baji kay susral-walay arahay hai sham ko." She whispered, hearing his breath soften.
[Father you will have to wake up, Golmina's in-laws are coming in the evening.]

Golmina Hakim — the daughter of her deceased aunt, was her sister. A faux one. A distant relative despite the fact that they shared the same blood. Any moment Golnar's eyes looked into Golmina's brown ones she would find hatred more than familiarity. Her voice that threw taunts over her, was her biggest torment.

"Usko bataya hai?" He choked out.
[Did you tell her?]

"Ji."
[Yes.]

Rubbing his stubble, her fingers relished the feel of their prickle. Her eyes cast down in shyness and shame — missing the presence of the only matriarch in her life. In a week her father had been pushed to take the role of the patriarch, and she as his only heir had big shoes to fill. The beginning of which meant wearing a smile on her face even as the thought of guests gifted her a headache.

Tucking him into the duvet, slipping off of the wooden bed, she slid her feet into the tan khusas. Running a hand through her hair, she tied them into a bun, straightening her appearance as she slipped out of the bedroom. Unnoticed.

The large corridor, with it's wide windows that opened into the courtyard of the home, was covered in a shade of grey. Usually lit up, especially as the dreary, grey winters took over, the place looked lifeless. A thick chill twirled into the space, a maroon carpet thrown in the place did little to fill up the void left behind by the former owner. Outside, a drizzle of rain had begun. Some hail escaping in between. Crashing over the sharp grass, and the worn-out cobblestone pathways.

Running her finger over the railing, taking a step at a time. Each movement felt heavy. The curving stairs, that coiled into the left side of the haveli, led straight to the kitchen and servant's quarters. Throwing a look to the balcony at the west corner, she reminisced the moments that had been spent there. Vine climbing it, over the roof, she could remember with great vividness a time when it had just started. When she would sneak lumps of sugar to her grandmother, before it tore everything.

Selfishness seemed to win always.

Her mother, her aunt and now her grandmother — all of them had left her for their own selfish purpose. And Golnar strengthened her resolve to never be like them. Ever.

Another tomb had been added into the graveyard of her heart. Space running out faster than she could breathe.

"Tanzil, Agha jaan."

Golnar called out to their servants that followed them from Islamabad to Naazimgarh. Lower Naazimgarh.

The duo, seated on the bottom of the staircase that lead to their quarters, turned to her.

"Bavarchi khanay mein aiye, sham ke khanay ki tiyaari karni hai."
[Come to the kitchen, have to prep for dinner this evening.]

Golnar's voice had turned scratchy as a result of the harsh crying she had done over the past few days. It was no longer like the jumpy bubbles she was used to, instead, something that made herself seem like a foreign entity. Swallowing the knot of tears inside her throat, she rubbed her palm over her nose. Two weeks were not enough to get over her grandmother's loss.

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"Bibi mehman agaye hai, sahab ap ki bula rahay hai." A knock, followed by the voice of a handmaiden broke Golnar's reverie.
[Miss the guests are here, sir is calling you.]

"Mein arahi hun." She replied mindlessly.
[I'm coming.]

Rimmed red eyes, lips painted a shade of light pink. Cheeks the color of a sunset's first stroke of peach. Golnar tipped her head back, ensuring that the pins that had been secured. The front strands of her hair pulled away from her face. The heart shape on full display. Her chicken kari anarkali brushed the ends of her shoes, the fitted trouser hidden from sight. It's pastel peach matched the mood of the evening. Somber. Her bronze earrings, a reminder of her grandmother, kissed the skin of her warm neck with each movement. The thick veil coming to rest over one of her shoulders, and then the next.

Until modernity met modesty.

Rushing through the corridors, and taking the stairs that curved into the east of the house, Golnar marched towards the diwan-khana. The vast room was used for family only, and still, a thick curtain hung between. Separating the women's side from the mens.

Taking deep breaths, stilling the beats of her heart, she stepped over the threshold. Gulping the fresh air that blew in from the south windows — the chill a respite from the warmth of luxury.

"As salam alikum." Golnar greeted in a squeak.
[Peace be on you.]

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and a fire started on the skin of her earlobes as all eyes turned to meet her. Warm greetings were murmured, before the conversation resumed once more. Her ears catching on the mentions of something about a designer and the delivery date of her dress. Rubbing the skin beneath her collarbone, the quivering beats of her heart matched the shakiness of her legs as she sat down on the sofa nearest to the doors. Ready to make her escape the moment she could.

"Golnar kaisi tiyari hai ap ki?" Her cousin's aunt-in-law enquired, eyeing her petite figure as she spoke.
[Golnar how is your preparation?]

"Khala achi hai."
[Aunt it's good.]

"Do din phir 'Mina humari ho jaye gi." The woman spoke in delirious joy.
[Two days and then Mina will be ours.]

Her head shook in agreement as she sipped on the juice from her crystal glass. Watching the joy drip from her cousin's eyes as a date was put on to her wedding at last. Golnar was happy for her cousin despite finding it far too early, their part of the village had still not recovered from the loss. Her father had countered, this was exactly why they needed some celebration. To bring back some joy.

Taking in the lights and the ideas she sat in silence, vanishing almost into the background. Her feet toying with the ends of the carpet, Golnar hid her face behind the glass, fingering fabrics every now and then as the women put on display Golmina's dowry.

"Aur yeh kon hai?" A third voice, a man's voice, sounded.
[And who is this?]

"Maum!" Golnar jumped from her place.

Walking over to the tall man, she forwarded her hands, placing a kiss on top of the kitten's head.

"This is maum. Mera bengali billa." She explained, puckering her lips as the cat rubbed her paws over her face.
[My Bengali cat.]

"Husayn." Golmina beamed.

Golnar hummed in realisation, so this was her cousin's fiancée.

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I understand this chapter isn't much but all are stepping stones before we make it to the bigger things. Until we meet in 2 weeks.