New week new update. To everyone reading this, Happy Durga Puja! 

I wish earnestly to Ma Durga that Kolkata and entire India be never this sad during Durga Puja or Navaratri. Next year will be better, Ma will come in a Corona free world and bring us happiness.

Subho Bijaya!! 

Asche Bochor Abr Hobe!🌸

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"We are going to take a car?" I ask, somewhat surprised that he brought a car.

"Do you think we will walk until there?" He scoffs.

"No. . . I don't know." It feels a bit weird. The change is drastic, from a prisoner to his lover. It's a long journey. All the time I have been here, I have been only to the hospital and the Dargah. Every time we walked up there. There were barely any vehicles on the streets except for a bicycle or a scooter or two. At times I felt I had actually time travelled to some ancient century where people would walk long distances to reach their destination. Only thing that kept me from believing that I had indeed time travelled was the superb electronics in Basheer's house.

"Here get in." He says opening the door for me.

I get in, plonking down on the seat, before shifting to make space for Basheer. It's a black maruti. Given my rather lack of knowledge in four wheelers, I can only say that the seats are comfortable, plush. The car engine hums to life as soon as we get in, swaying across the narrow alleyways. The car soon drives onto a wider pitched road.

I stare out of the window, basking in the serenity of the night. I close my eyes momentarily letting the breeze gently flow on my face. For a moment I was taken back to that day in the bus when I came to that camp. My heart grows heavy as Ithink how everything went downhill since that day.

The light touch of Basheer's hand on mine brings me out of my thoughts.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, taking my hand in his and uses his thumb to draw soothing circles.

"Nothing." I whisper, turning to look at him, "The day I came to the camp."

"What are you thinking?" He asks.

"I saw my bus driver that day, just before fainting. I think he was behind the blast and the kidnapping."

He glances towards the driver once before whispering close to my ears, "Do you remember how he looked?" His hold on my hand becomes tighter, painful even.

"N-no. I was sitting at the back. His face is faint in my memory. But I can identify him." I chew on my lips, knowing that it's all useless. Unless he's right in front of me.

"Ohh." He says leaning back on the plush seat and turns to look out the window.

"Do you know why I was kidnapped? If others were also kidnapped?"

Turning back to me, "You were the only one to be kidnapped, no one else crossed the borders. But, I don't know why they chose you." He whispers out the words repeatedly glancing at the driver through the rearview mirror.

Is he suspicious of the driver?

Who's car is it anyway? I wonder. But my thoughts are all put to a halt as we come to rest beside a huge Banyan tree, adorned with fairy lights.

A board ahead reads, 'Aqiqah of Shadab' in pink bold letters.

"Remember not to speak unless spoken to." He whispers in my ears before ushering me out of the car.

"Let's go." He says taking my hands in his, pulling me inside.

The rapid thrum in my heart this time isn't from our proximity but from a feeling that tells me, something will go wrong today.

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The insides of the Khan household is adorned with violet and white lilies. The fairy lights are strung along the walls, adding to the luminosity of the household.

"Welcome Basheer Janab. I didn't expect you would come here." An old lady in a light pink salwar suit greets, ushering us inside. "Who is this beautiful lady?" She asks, taking hold of my hands in a warm gesture.

"I'm Ne—"

But before I can answer, Basheer answers for me, "Neda, she is Neda."

I stop myself before I can question him, biting my lips to stop myself from voicing out my curiosity. He must have a reason, I should trust him.

I should trust him.

"What a beautiful name. Who's your Appa?" She asks. My father?

"He died while she was a kid. She is a far away cousin of mine." He answers for me again. Why is he lying? I notice his hold on my hand is still constant and he keeps squeezing my hand as if to reassure me.

"Oh, anyway, nice to meet you Neda. What a beautiful lady you are. You certainly suit my Basheer." She says, patting Basheer's cheek in affection. I wonder who she is, and why did he lie to her about my identity. Basheer certainly isn't related to her, but she gives me the grandmother vibe. I feel as if I'm meeting his grandmother.

When we are out of earshot, I voice out my curiosity, "Who was she and why did you lie to her? Everyone knows who I am."

"She is Shadab's grandmother. Nehali she doesn't know who you are. Not everyone in Pakistan knows who you are. Your real name, could have created questions that would be difficult to answer."

" Why not tell her that I was kidnapped?"

"She is from Punjab, the part that lies in India. She believes all is well between the two nations and I believe she is too old for me to break her bubble."

"Was she kidnapped too?"

"What's with these questions? Anyway, she was married here. Not everyone is kidnapped.And that makes me wonder why were you, only you kidnapped."

I have wondered about that too. Why would they kidnap me just to be someone's slave?

"Basheer Mia, why are you standing here. And who is this lovely lady?" A voice interrupts us. Turning to the intruder, I find a man in a navy blue kurta-pajama and a glass of whisky in his hand. His hair is rather scanty, missing at the edges.

"Neda." Basheer replies again.

"Assalaikumsalam, Neda. I hope you can speak for yourself?"

"Mulaikumsalam," I reply with a polite smile.

He looks at Basheer curiously and I immediately realise my mistake. 

"She came from India." He replies and the conversation is over. He knows who I am and doesn't seem the least bit fazed that my name is changed.

"Where is Shadaab?" Basheer asks.

"She's with her mother. They are just over there." He says pointing to the crowd accumulated on the other side.

We cover the distance walking up to the mother and the toddler. While Basheer hands over a packet to the mother, and kisses the toddler on her shaved head, I stand there awkwardly wondering what to do. More so, I am confused as to what's my identity here. Am I Basheer's other half or am I a war prisoner here, brought for show by Basheer.

"Let's go." Basheer says, guiding me out of the crowd. I glance at the toddler once more, my instincts screaming to hold the baby once but I glance away following him.

"Why am I here?" I ask.

"You were kidnapped and I bought you from them. I own you, and I need to show that."

"Basheer. . ." I flinch at his words.

"Nehali, come on. It's for show. You know I have to act like the bad guy here. I can't be your boyfriend here, but rather your master who owns you. You are my mistress here and we need to show them this. And if anyone asks your name say its Neda. And if anyone asks for a surname reply that, it's the only name given by me."

"Okay." I reply gulping. The entire play doesn't sit well with me, but I know it's necessary. So I decide to go on with it.

He directs me to the food corner, "Have your fill here, but avoid meat dishes here. All right? I will just come." He nods at me once, before leaving me by the food corner. I take a look at the dishes, it is all onions and garlic, nothing I can have except the sweets and the ice cream. Obviously he forgot about my Monday.

"Bhaiya, give me a cup of butterscotch, please." I say to the waiter, who hands me one. As I am about to take a bite, a child collides with me causing the ice cream to splash on my dark green churidar.

I look up to find the child gone. Discarding the cup, I use some tissue paper to wipe away the ice cream but to no avail.

"Where is the washroom here?" I ask. The previous guy directs me the way to the washroom.

I look around for basheer but find him nowhere. I trudge through the crowd finally reaching the bathroom.

As I am about to shut the door behind me, someone barges in trapping us both inside.

"Trying to escape us Nehali?" It is the familiar pair of cunning eyes, I can't miss amidst a crowd.

"N-no, why would I?" I almost stutter. What does she want from me? I can't say the truth about Basheer, now can I?

"Where did you go that day?" She asks.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you in love? Why would you try and save him? Him who killed your father?" She questions.

"H-he," the truth is at the tip of my tongue but somehow I refrain from saying that aloud. How could she say that easily when he was the one who tried conveying the message? Useless maggots!

"I hate him. I do." I correct my answer, forming it in the way she wants. I can't let her question our relationship, although she isn't the enemy but I am not sure if I can trust her after the way she treated me last day. But I wonder if my expression gives me away. She's manipulative to an extent.

"Why aren't you wearing your watch? And do you have any info?" She asks cornering me. She looks dangerous here, lacking the little bit of warmth I felt from her before.

"The watch didn't look good with this and I guess, nothing can really happen in an Aqiqah. Can you excuse me, I need to get the stain off." I reply brushing past her to the tap, and holding the tissue under the running stream of water.

Thankfully, with a few swipes, the stain is gone. But the area is wet. I use the dry towel on the hanger to dab on it.

"Looks like you are really in love." She says. Although I was busy getting the stain off, I could feel her burning gaze on me. And now with my actions, I have only made her suspicious.

"I am," I reply, setting the towel aside, " In his dreams. He killed my father, I will avenge my father, And that is why I need to get this stain off, or he won't like it. Remember, be close to him and get him to trust you? I am doing that exactly."

"Good. So do you have any info with your acting?"

"I have." I decide to give her a piece of it. After all we are behind the same man, she might come to help.

"Basheer will supposedly meet Gaffar."

"Where?"

"I don't know." I reply. She'll have to find that herself.

"Are you going with him?"

"I don't know. He doesn't actually ask me. Now excuse me, he must be looking for me." I say dashing past her outside the bathroom. I hope she doesn't follow me now or if Basheer sees her following me I would no longer be able to keep her anonymous.

The kid from before, comes to me again. Seeing a frown marring my face, he stops a few feet away before making his way to me in small steady steps. Is he coming here to apologize. Oh he needn't, after all he's a kid. His nervous demeanor makes me smile, but a frown takes over when I hear his words.

"That uncle called you to that room." He says pointing at a closed door at the end of the hallway.

Author's Note: 

I really wanna do double updates given its festive season, but the lack of inspiration is eating me literally. I don't want the story to go on without a proper plot but also don't want to stop it. I love you readers and for you I won't stop you. HBut do forgive me for the late uploads. I will upload more as soon as I can.

Translations:

Appa- father

Bhaiya- Brother

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