لمبی جدائی
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Chapter 24 : Tabahi

Clouds wavered in their strength even as the shockingly painful voice of the muezzin sounded through the speakers. His voice from the tallest of marble minarets boomed, swimming into the enigmatic air and warmed the flounder. Sunlight sprinkled in and the rainbow of his sound in particular, crusaded through until it fell on to the largest of homes in upper Naazimgarh. Through the windows, the sound cracked in, underneath the sliver of it's banisters, the cracks allowed the vibrations into the wall. Sensations of it hummed against the floorings and then kissed the skins.

Discarded on the ottoman the shawls — feminine and masculine both, merged into a pool of one. Their deep browns were similar and yet not so much. One of them had a torn into edge and the other had the first letter of the owner's name embroidered into it. The wooden carved legs of the ottoman rested above the hand woven carpet and despite it's initial use age of a foot stool had found itself promoted. Right adjacent to the tall shelf that was lined with tiny trinkets and melted bobs of candle wax, was the worn out rocking chair.

It's side pressed into the side of the wall and it tipped back and forth every now and then as the heavy figure that lay on top stirred. Hands gripping the duvet over his body, crossed at the waist to keep it from slipping. Legs wrapped around the curvature — numbed. As sparse sunlight fell over his noble features and the sound of Adhan made it's way through the sealed windows, Darab's slumber was broken. The intense dream had been seeing of shadows and women — deep opium and then red was broken. His lips and throat dry as he tried to sit up. Underneath the loose grip of his kameez, the muscles of his back screamed in fatigue.

Straightening his legs before himself he stretched his arms overhead. The shirt rose a few inches and the tanned skin of his stomach was exposed to the cool air. The blanket slipping from beneath his fingers to his lap. Straightening it out, he let out a silent groan before standing. Tapping his legs against the floor, Darab winced as pain rose through his tendons and kissed the apex of his thigh. Rubbing the sides of his leg he stumbled towards the coffee table, placing the glass jug against his lips.

"Wudu kar lavo ustaad ji, adhan ho gayi jae." He spoke.
[Miss professor perform your ablution, the call to prayer has been done.]

Darab's loud voice inside the deafeningly silent space was like a thunderous roar. It worked. Pulling Golnar straight out of her sleep as she shifted under the covers. Her auburn tresses spilt around her head, covering the pale pillow cover in their brightness. His eyes raked over the strands and he wondered why her roots were darker and the ends a completely different shade. Scratching his throat he smiled at his bride. Lowering his gaze, as her neckline slipped and the cleavage that seemed inviting to nuzzle his face into, Darab looked away.

To even think of her in a sexual manner seemed wrong. Not when she had yet to clearly forgive him. Not when there was still a sea's length of distance between them.

"Ap nai kar lia?" She murmured sleepily, rubbing her fingers against her lashes as she stifled a yawn.
[Did you do it?]

Rising from the bed she tugged at her shirt's shoulders, blushing as she realised how low the neckline had slipped over night. The shade of bright red that dusted over her cheeks and the side of her neck, it was bright enough to rival the sun's morning light. Strong enough to outshine both the sun and the moon — even with their combined bright auras. Rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, Golnar slipped into the bathroom without even waiting for a legible response from her husband.

Darab chuckled to himself, running a hand through his knotted hair he walked over to the bed's side, rubbing his fingers through the fabric of the sheets and the pillow he gathered the strands of broken hair. Wrapping them around his pinky finger before slipping it into the folds of the white napkin. It had become a habit of his — a devotion that he had started to associate with the angel like woman he had married. Gathering her hair each morning, he slipped it into the Qurban river lest someone with the wrong intentions get their hands on it.

Gripping the pillow into his hand he took a whiff of the soft rose scent that she had smeared on to the pillow by sleeping on it every day. It smelt so much of her that he could almost feel her curves on the callous of his palms. Loosely his finger grazed the organza frill before he straightened out the bedlinen. Folding the duvet into a neat cylinder on the edge of the bed, he waited patiently by the bathroom's door. Rubbing his thumb and index finger together.

As the lock to the bathroom door opened, Darab slipped inside. His bicep grazed Golnar's warm figure and a series of goosebumps laced on to his skin. A series of sparks sprung on to his arm, the ends of his fingers lightened up — reminiscent of the sky on the end of the year. Every shade underneath the banner of a rainbow slid on to his face as he splashed his face with the warm water. Droplets of it ran down his face and moistened his beard. Sliding into his shirt from the buttons left undone. Teasing the newly polished locket — a generosity of his professor. He kissed it with warmth.

It was now more than just his mother's belonging. It had now been smeared by the knowing-ness of his wife. The thoughts of which brought him great joy.

Golnar prayed under the dim lights and her face looked purely full of a light. It elicited around her skin, it's pallor did not seem sickly and instead reminded him of the white sweet smelling jasmines that grew in their garden. He watched — entranced at her slow yet fluid movements. His own were much harsher and sped up, though he tried to pray with his heart. Just like his professor had been teaching him. Yet his mind always wandered off — to her.

Done with his prayer, he raised his hands in slow supplication, struggling find the words that would plead his case before God. Tears of agony burnt his throat as he failed to come up with an ingenious way of voicing out his faults. Though nothing short of hard coughs escaped his lips as he hunched over. Slamming his knuckles softly against his forehead. He laughed at his helplessness.

The first man to struggle to beg for forgiveness.

"Kia ho gaya Darab?" Golnar enquired.
[What happened Darab?]

Resting a hand gently over his shoulder, she slid beside the space between Darab and the cold wall. Pressing her back into it, Golnar ran a hand over his fingers as he looked at her with a thoughtful look.

"Menu samajh nai aundi," he breathed harshly, evaluating his words best to explain what he felt.
[I do not understand.]

"Kia?" She waited for him to elaborate.
[What?]

Darab sighed as she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing out the knots one at a time.

"Kinvay mafi manga khuda tou. Eik gunnah honda te shaid asan honda par jena mein tera dil dukhaya ae na ustaad ji, rab menu kadi vi na maaf kare."
[How do I seek forgiveness from God. If there had only been one sin it would have been easier but the amount of times I've hurt you, God will never forgive me.]

"Ap insan sai nahi khuda sai maafi mang rahay hai. Aur unki tou fitrat hai maaf karna." Golnar chided, speaking the words to him that her father had once spoken to her.
[You are not asking man for forgiveness but God. It is in His being to forgive.]

A solemn smile fell on to his lips as he nodded, pressing his finger to his mouth he softened the blow his teary cough. Squeezing his eyes in a bid to drown out the nightmares of fire and explosion that kept him up at night. Angling his head, eyes filling in with that warm sunlight of the March morning he rubbed the back of his fingers over Golnar's soft cheek. Pressing his lips lightly into her hair. Ignoring the tightening knot inside of his stomach.

"Menu te khuda da matlab vi tu daseya ae." Darab whispered.
[You are the one who taught me the meaning of God.]

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Darab wrapped his hand around the sky blue structure of his smoking pipe. Inhaling the flavoured smoke of the coal he poured out his seething rage and disappointment into the air before him. It disappeared within half a second as the winds blew it away with their might. His hand rested over his hip and the one around the neck of his pipe, held it to his chest at a forty five degree angle as he studied the goats eating the grass in the distance. Darya galloping away and the men working on to the fields as the season to sow Onions began.

Approving the manure he grunted, wrapping his hand around the thick branch of the tree he let his fingers fall loosely, stroking the petals of the Banana tree, watching the green fruit that would not be ready for another few days. He watched in anger — unbridled and untouched — as the men lazed away underneath the sun's warm grip. Against the cool winds it was a welcome contrast, one that was strong enough to work even his heartiest of workers into a man that adored laziness.

Darab barked his orders, his Punjabi flew through the tip of his tongue as he cursed sevens of their generations. Spitting on to the ground before him, he took a chug of his water, a trickle of it sliding down his open mouth as he licked the corner of his dry lips. Observing the frail figure of Majjo, his eyes failing to meet his.

"Tu penchodeya! Tu menu barbad kar deta ae!" He screamed in anger.
[You sister fucker! You have ruined me!]

"O ghal—"
[That was a mis—]

"Bakwas band kar avdi madarchod! Haram khor! Meray baap te tukreyan te tun palaya aen te tu ki kitta? Mera aeda vada nuksan? Aedi himat nai si mafi mang lenda?" He tutted, lowering his tone as the eyes laced with disappointment filled his vision.
[Stop your bullshit you mother fucker! Bastard! You have been raised on the pieces of my father and what did you do? Such a huge loss of mine? You did not have enough courage to seek forgiveness?]

Darab sighed as Majo's frame shook before him. His back hunched over— a sight that pained him a great deal.

All of a sudden, the sounds of Golnar's screams pulled him out of the spell of rage and he turned to the sight.

A thundering explosion.
A crackling fire — and Darab jumped into the thicket of it. Only thinking of saving the woman that had saved him.

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And then all was red.

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