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Chapter 13: Bharday Jholy
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Aahil looked up, his eyes tracing the
face of the woman sitting down in front of him.
"What happened to your face?"
Badi Ammi asked softly, her hand coming out to gently touch the bruises on his
cheek. She flinched along with him, her hand moving over to cup his uninjured cheek
instead.
"It's juvenile hall, Badi
Ammi," he answered gruffly. "Stuff happens." He didn't want to
tell her about the first night's initiation where a group of boys had cornered
him and then attacked. By the time the guards had come to break it up, he'd
been on the floor, bleeding. He didn't want to tell her that he had to defend
himself on a daily basis. Getting beaten . . . was nothing new. This time he was fighting back.
"Don't worry, Aahil," Badi
Ammi said softly. Her hand gripped his. "I'm going to fight for you."
"Badi Ammi," he said softly.
"What is it?"
"There are no windows here,"
he said raggedly, clutching at her hand.
She paused for a moment, an expression
of confusion flitting across her face. "I'll get you out of here, Aahil,"
she said, patting his hand. "I promise."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Aahil adjusted his collar, trying
to blink the sleep from his eyes. Last night's nightmares hadn't helped, and
his head was killing him now. The early morning sun peeked in through the
windows, shining into his eyes and making his head hurt even more. A light
breeze caused the curtains to flutter, allowing fresh air to come into the
room. He inhaled deeply, hoping the air would help.
"Aahil baba, here are the
newspapers," Lateef sang out, placing a big stack of papers on the table.
Putting down the tray of food she was holding in her other hand, she quickly
set the omelet, fruit and juice on the table before scurrying out of the dining
room.
Aahil raised his eyebrows at the size
of the stack, calling out to Lateef's retreating back. "Since when did you
start buying all of the newspapers in Bhopal?"
"Oh, there was some very
important news in there," Lateef said with a laugh, turning back to look
at Aahil. She twirled her braid absentmindedly as she continued, "Especially
after your announcement last night. I thought you'd want to keep these papers
as a reminder of the beautiful night you revealed your love for that mohtarma in front of the entire world!"
Lateef said, clasping her hands together under her chin. She sighed deeply.
"I can't wait to plan the wedding!"
"Lateef!" Aahil growled
at her, sending the servant scurrying from the room with a squeal of fright. Aahil
brusquely opened a newspaper, his eyes narrowing at the headlines that blared
the news of the engagement. The articles were filled with gossip of the night
before, touting eyewitness testimony of the "lovely" and "heart pounding"
moment. Throwing the paper aside with angry disgust, he reached for the next.
"The Nawab and the new Nawab Begum of Bhopal."
There was a picture of him and
Sanam. It was a picture of the brief seconds he had held her in his arms when
he'd bumped into her last night. When the hell had someone even had the chance
to take that picture? Were there people holding onto their cameras, hoping to
catch something like this? He snorted quietly, throwing down the paper and
reaching for the next one.
"Bhopal's Royal Nawab Meets his Match."
Another picture of them standing at
the top of the steps in front of the swimming pool. His arm was around her
waist, and she was gazing up at him balefully.
No one knew that he had had to force her to stay there as he made the
idiotic announcement. What the hell had he been thinking? Sending that
offensive paper to the floor, he grabbed the next one. This time a growl escaped
his lips as his eyes read the words on the page.
"Bhopal's Innocent Beauty and the Beastly Nawab."
"How clever," he
muttered. This time they'd captured the perfect moment. Sanam was staring up at
him right after he had made the announcement. He was smirking, so proud of
himself after saying the words. Although, for the life of him, he hadn't
noticed any cameras last night. And Sanam . . . he looked closely at her face .
. . she seemed to be smiling. He tilted his head to the side, wondering. Why
was she smiling?
"Aahil baba, there's a phone call for you," Lateef sang out, bringing
over Aahil's cell phone from where it had been charging in his room.
"Can't you see I'm busy?"
Aahil muttered, still staring down at that smile, his brow wrinkled.
"But Aahil baba," Lateef protested, "This
is important. It's your fiance," she said, carefully emphasizing the word
in a loud whisper.
Exhaling loudly, Aahil grabbed the
cell. "What?" he growled.
"Great. I'm glad you picked
up. I've been calling and calling. What do you want?" Sanam asked over the
phone. "Red roses or white orchids?"
"What?" he asked after a
pause. His heart had begun to pound at the sound of her voice, but her words
brought him back to reality. "Want for what?"
"For the wedding!" Sanam
said in a put upon tone. "What kind of flowers should we have for decoration?
We should get married at my home, but I still want flowers, and mehndi and all of the ceremonies that
come with getting married."
"Unbelievable," he
muttered angrily. "We are not getting married!" He hung up the phone,
and then turned the power off. Shaking his head at the now silent appliance, he
wondered what had gotten into Sanam. When had she become so irrational? She
clearly knew that last night's announcement had been a ploy to protect her
reputation, but she wasn't backing off.
Turning back to the food in front
of him, he began to eat. He didn't want to eat, but he knew he had to for his
health. Not eating would only lead to weakness. A weak body could lead to a
stupid mind that made mistakes. Some would argue that he had already made one
of those mistakes last night.
He heard a phone ringing in the
distance. Hunching his shoulders, he focused on the food. He became so
engrossed in eating, that he barely acknowledged Rehan's greeting when the
other man came into the room and sat down across from him.
"I don't know what you were
thinking last night, Aahil bhai,"
Rehan said, taking a sip of his coffee, "But at least your actions have
saved Sanam's reputation. She's suddenly the darling of Bhopal's society, and
they find it fascinating that Beauty has tamed the Beast." His eyes
flickered down to the papers on the floor.
"Even if the beast is a convicted
killer?" Aahil asked bitterly. "I don't get people. Yesterday they were
vilifying her. But suddenly, now that she's engaged, everything is okay? Does
that even make sense? How is being engaged to me a good thing?!"
"Aahil bhai," Rehan said admonishingly. "It's not for us to ask why. Just
be happy it actually worked. I was able to contact some of your distant
relatives. They agreed to tell anyone that came calling that you had spent the
night with them, introducing the new Nawab Begum-to-be to the family."
Aahil merely grunted in reply.
"Aahil baba, there's a phone call for you," Lateef sang out, running
over with the landline. "It's very important." Handing the phone
over, she ran back into the kitchen as if escaping.
"What happened to your cell?" Sanam asked from the other end.
"What? Why are you calling
now?" Aahil asked her in exasperation, his hand clenching around the
receiver.
"I was thinking about the food
we should have for the wedding," Sanam explained, ignoring the harshness
of his tone. "We're going to have high class folks, so maybe western
cuisine. But I like Indian dishes the best. Should we mix it up? What do you
think?"
"You know what, Sanam?"
Aahil said, after catching his breath. "I think you've lost your mind."
"Not really," Sanam
responded.
"Why can't you understand?"
Aahil growled into the phone. "What do I have to do for you to understand
that we're not getting married?"
"I'm never going to understand
that," Sanam responded softly.
He exhaled roughly, holding onto
his tongue. He turned off the phone angrily, pulling out the battery to ensure
that it would no longer ring.
Rrriiinnnggg.
He froze.
Rrriiinnnggg.
Clenching his hands into fists, he
slowly raised his eyes to glare at the offending appliance. Sanam Ahmed Khan
was driving him crazy! He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the
strands to distract him from the ringing phone.
Rrriiinnnggg.
"Hello," a deep male
voice said, interrupting his increasingly melodramatic monologue.
Aahil relaxed. It was Rehan's phone!
"I was waiting for your
call," Rehan murmured into the receiver. He silently mouthed "Seher"
to Aahil before turning back to the conversation. "Oh, okay. Hmm. Um hm. Oh!
What are you . . . right. You want to talk to him? Here you go." He held
the phone out to Aahil. "She wants to talk to you, Aahil bhai," Rehan murmured reluctantly.
"Hello," Aahil murmured.
"What do you want, Seher?"
"It's me!"
Aahil closed his eyes at the chirpy
voice on the other end. "Sanam," Aahil groaned with an almost
fatalistic sense of defeat. "Would you please stop?!"
"But how can I stop
calling?" Sanam asked in a sensible tone, unruffled by his mood. "We
have so much to discuss. What will be our wedding theme? Who do you want to
invite? Will this be a big shindig or small and intimate? When will be getting
married?"
"Are you kidding me?"
Aahil yelped at the barrage of questions. "Ridiculous. Do whatever you
want, Sanam!" he shot at her. "You're the bride! I'm just the da*ned groom."
"At least you admitted
it," Sanam said quietly after a moment of silence.
"What?" Aahil yelped in
frustration. "That you're being ridiculous?"
"That I'm the bride," she
said calmly. "That you're the groom. That I am planning this wedding, come
hell or high water." She paused, exhaling loudly. "That we're getting married."
"We'll see," he responded
weakly, surprised by her response. He took a deep breath, and then quickly shut
off the phone. He cursed himself for his cowardly action, but he really had no
way to fight her words, her determination.
"Aahil baba!" Lateef called out. "There's something I wanted
to," she began, her hand holding onto a cell phone.
Letting out a frustrated yell,
Aahil sprung up and grabbed the phone and violently threw it across the room.
"I swear, Lateef. The next time you bring me a phone, I'm going to cut all
the lines in this house! There will never be another ringing phone! Then how
will you gossip with your friends?"
Lateef stalked over to the corner
of the room to pick up the pieces. "That was my cell phone, Aahil baba.
My call. I just wanted to tell you I
would be in my room for the next couple of hours doing some very important
things. Hmph." Making an angry face at Aahil, she turned and stalked off.
"Aahil bhai, relax! No one can make you get married if you don't want
to," Rehan said with emphasis. "No one can make you do
anything." Getting up, he placed a comforting hand on Aahil's shoulder. "Now,
since it is Sunday, and I have a day off, I'm going to spend some time with my family,"
he said. Shaking his head in wonder at the thought of actually having a family
to visit on his day off, he walked off.
Muttering to himself about how
crazy that crazy woman was making him, Aahil got up and moved towards his home
office. It was the weekend, but there were things to do and no time for rest. The
doorbell rang minutes . . . hours later, pulling him from his work. Cursing
softly, he turned his attention back to the papers laid out in front of him.
The bell rang again, distracting him once more.
He stared at the clock; it was 2
PM. He had been working for hours without interruption. The sun had traveled across
the sky in the interim and was peeking in from the windows on the other side of
the house now. His concentration broken, he sat back in the chair, stretching
his body to loosen the kinks in his back.
The bell rang again. Once again there
were no feet scurrying to answer the summons.
"Lateef!" he called out
angrily, but there was no answer. "Lateef!" Nothing. "Kahan mar gaye sab ke sab?" he
muttered angrily. Getting up, he left his bedroom, moving down the hallway to
cut across the living room. He finally reached the front door and opened it, grouchily
yelling, "What?!" His eyes widened at seeing who was standing on the
other side of that door.
"Aahil beta," Zoya murmured, moving forward, giving him no choice but
to move back and let her into his home.
"Uh," he began
uncertainly.
Zoya strode into the hallway and
looked around. Moving through the archway, she entered the living room.
"Why are all the lights out?" she demanded, going to the side of the
room and flicking on the lights. Turning, she smiled at him. "Now, that's
better." She walked over to the sofa and sat down.
"What can I do for you?" he
asked at last, when the silence grew between them. Seeing that smile on her
face, he wondered why she wasn't angry at him. And it took mere seconds for the
thoughts to be expressed with words. "Why aren't you angry?"
Zoya smiled at him, silently patting
the seat next to her. She watched as he warily came and sat down beside her,
his movements awkward and uncertain. This wasn't the Aahil Raza Ibrahim she had
come to know. He wasn't the suave, confident man that had reminded her of her
own Asad Ahmed Khan. For now, he was just a scared, uncertain boy.
The two silently stared at each
other, until Aahil looked away, unable to stand the understanding he saw in her
eyes. It made something ache inside of
him, and he wasn't sure of how to deal with that. He hadn't had a mother in the
longest time, and to see this woman here . . . this mother . . . looking at him
with that warmth . . . it made him hurt. He breathed deeply, that breath almost
sounding like a sob.
"Why would I be angry with you?"
she asked, tapping the back of his hand as it lay on the sofa between them.
"What have you done?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"I hid the truth from all of you,"
he responded, pulling his hand away and moving away from her. "I dared to fall in
love with your daughter when my life was such a mess. My mere presence in her
life has caused her to lose her job. Rumors about us caused her to lose her
reputation. And my announcement last night . . . seems to be causing Sanam to
lose her mind," he finished wryly.
Zoya laughed softly, her eyes
twinkling. "Aahil," she said, placing her hand over his, "Since when
is it a sin to fall in love?"
Aahil got up, pacing back and forth
in his agitation. He needed to put some distance between them, so that he wouldn't
be beguiled by another Ahmed Khan woman. "Why are you acting like this?"
He stopped and glared at her balefully.
She smiled at that expression. It
made him look just like a little boy.
"Why are you here?" Aahil
burst out. "Am I crazy or are you really pushing me towards her when you
should be telling her to run far, far away from me?"
"I have a theory," she
said quietly, her hands folded together in her lap, her eyes on her hands now. The
smile had been wiped away. "I haven't talked to Sanam or really anyone
about this. Sanam trusts you, so there's no room for questions there, but I've
thought about it. I had to," she explained apologetically, seeing his face
blanch, "She's my daughter." She took a deep breath and then forced
herself to say the words. "You were beaten as a child." She stopped
when she saw him flinch, flinching in sympathy with him. "I regret every
da*n day that we didn't get there in time to save you and your sisters,"
she blurted out, sidetracked for a moment.
"You." He stopped and
cleared his throat. "You were talking about your theory," he prompted
brusquely.
"Right. The theory," Zoya
said, continuing. "You were beaten. And one day you fought back." She
struggled with her words, hoping that she had found the right ones. "The death
was accidental. You paid your debt to society, and you got out. You made something
of yourself, and now you're back here saving a large part of this city. They
don't see it, but I do. If you hadn't come back, it would have affected the
Ibrahim holdings, which would have affected this city. Your company . . .your
wealth . . . supports a large part of Bhopal's population."
He turned away, his eyes staring
unseeing at the wall. A muscle twitched in his jaw, as he struggled with the
emotions that were surging inside of him. Her words and her understanding were
strange in a world where no one had chosen to be on his side for the longest
time. It shook him. In fact, too much was leaving him shaken these days. He
took a deep breath, tamping down on the uncertainty that was growing inside of
him.
"It was not your fault," Zoya
murmured, coming up behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, seeking to
give him comfort.
"You think that I'm a
murderer, and it's okay with you?" he asked incredulously. "What is
wrong with you? You're incredibly like your daughter, aren't you?"
"My daughter is exactly like
me," Zoya quipped. "I live in the real world. I lost my mother as a
child. Lost my father, after I had finally found him to a murderess. The same
one who made my life hell for years before she was caught. I saw the man I
loved lose his father and his sister, a woman who was also my best friend. I've
seen evil and I've seen evil maliciously end human life. You're not evil. And
any life you took wasn't because of malice. I have never allowed my past to
pull me down. I have never allowed the darkness to engulf me," she said
softly. "I need you to do the same. For yourself and for Sanam. I need you
to remember that what's happening today, and what happened last night, that's
not your fault, either."
"Your husband doesn't think
that," Aahil told her, moving away from her touch. "Last night, he
almost attacked me when I made the announcement. You and Dilshad Bi had to
remove him from the room before he ruined everything."
"He's a father," Zoya
explained, waving her hands in the air. "Asad has seen Sanam's passion to
help translate into an unconcern for her own safety. But I was the one who held
her in my arms when she was sobbing her little heart out after meeting you. I
saw the nights she stayed up and studied. I saw the smile on her face when she
won her first case." She looked around the room, her eyes falling on
the pictures on the far wall. She took
special note of Aahil's picture as a little boy. "I see the strength in
her when her father only sees her fragility. She has worked hard to become the
person she is today. She knows what she wants. I am not going to take her right
to choose away from her."
His jaw clenched once more, but he only
stared at her mutely.
"You doubt me," she
noted, tilting her head. "I can see a hint of cynicism. You're probably
thinking she was so young, so how the hell would she have remembered? Sanam has
always been this way. She feels too deeply. She cares too much. And from the moment
she met you, you changed her worldview. Suddenly, she was realizing that there
was evil in the world. And instead of forgetting it, forgetting you, she held
on to both so strongly. It irritated her father. He wanted her to stop and
think before jumping in. But I, I've always been afraid that in her pursuit to protect
others, she'd forget about herself." She took a deep breath.
"And didn't she do that?"
he asked in a hoarse voice, finally expressing the reason for the turmoil
inside of him to another person. "In order to protect that poor, pathetic
little boy, she sacrificed her career. Her reputation is lost. She's a murder
convict's fiance. She wants to marry me. She won't back off." His voice
shook slightly at the words. His hands moved roughly through his hair once
more, making it stand on end.
She shook her head at him. "You
don't understand, Aahil. She's being selfish for the first time." She
gripped Aahil's shoulders, wanting him to understand. "She chose you. She
left behind that job with minimal regrets. She's ignoring what her father is
asking of her. She doesn't care about our family's reputation. And believe me,
she's been getting some flak from her aunts and uncles, asking whether she's
thought things through. She doesn't care. She wants you. She only wants you."
When he remained silent, she shook her head at him, and then turned and walked
to the archway.
"And that's enough for
you?" he called out to her.
Zoya turned around and smiled at
him. "I'm happy if she's happy. I'm happy that she's finally going after
what she wants." Saying those words, leaving him winded, she walked
through the archway and out the doors.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hours after leaving Aahil, Zoya sat in her own living room with Dilshad
Bi. The two had been talking since she'd returned from the Ibrahim mansion.
Zoya had hid nothing of her plans, and she had made the other woman privy to them
before heading to the boys' home. After talking about how the meeting had gone,
Zoya had now embarked on her favorite hobby. And she soon had the older woman laughing
and moaning at the shayeri her
daughter-in-law was reciting.
"Zoya, please," Dilshad murmured. "Stop.
You're killing me." She laughed once more, seeing the joy on Zoya's face.
The two had spent the past couple of hours just letting loose, hoping to forget
the complications that had entered their family's lives.
They jumped in surprise, pulled from their fun, when they
heard the door slam shut. They watched Asad Ahmed Kahn stride into the living
room and throw his briefcase down before slumping onto the couch across from
them. He angrily tugged at his tie, pulling it loose and jerking it off before
sending it the way of the briefcase. The anger was strong in his face and in his
every movement.
"I have spent the entire day being congratulated for
my daughter's engagement," Asad said cuttingly, his eyes glittering, his
facial muscles rigid under the late afternoon light. "How dare they think
that I am happy about my daughter's engagement to a convicted felon?" He
spat the words out, his fingers clenching into fists.
"Let me get you some water," Zoya began,
getting up and nodding meaningfully to Dilshad Bi before leaving the room.
"How did he have the
nerve to make such a declaration?" Asad shouted, getting up
suddenly and beginning to pace back and forth. "How dare he make our
Sanam's life hell and then say they're engaged?!" he muttered, stopping
abruptly when Zoya came to stand in front of him. "What?"
"Have some water, Mr. Khan," Zoya said pertly,
handing him the glass. "You need to calm down."
"You know her, Ms. Farooqui!" Asad said grimly,
clasping his wife's shoulders and gently shaking her. "You know how our
daughter runs into danger. You know she'll move forward despite the risk that
she's taking. It's up to us to protect her when she won't protect herself. Why
aren't the both of you," he asked, pulling away from her and moving back
to stare at his wife and mother, "backing me on this?"
"I went to see Aahil today," Zoya admitted,
sharing a glance with Dilshad Bi. "I told him that if he could make her
happy, then I would happily let them marry. He tried to remind me that his
announcement last night was just a ploy to protect her reputation, but Sanam is
serious. And I'm fine with that."
"Zoya!" Asad uttered angrily. "No. You
can't be okay with this! What is wrong with you?"
"This isn't about what I want," Zoya responded
calmly. "And it shouldn't be about what you want. Your daughter trusts
this man. She wants to save this man." She raised a hand to silence Asad
when he opened his mouth to speak. "She wants this man. And, for the first
time ever, she's going after what she wants to do, not what she feels she needs
to do. Don't you think it means something that when your daughter was in need,
he stepped up and did something? His first and last thought was to save her. So
yeah, I am okay with it," Zoya said, going back to sit down next to her
mother-in-law.
"Ammi?" Asad asked, turning to glance
beseechingly at his mother.
"Asad beta,
I know that you care. That all of this anger is coming from a place of love.
You must think we're crazy when we say this. You don't want Sanam to marry a
convicted felon. You don't want Seher to
marry the son of a psychotic murderer. You don't want that notoriety for
either of your daughters, nor the pain it will bring," Dilshad murmured
understandingly.
The memory of her conversation with Rehan came to mind.
That boy, even when he had been a boy, had first thought of others before
himself. She had met him before, when he had come to see the Ahmed Khans after
discovering the truth. He had helped her, when there had been no obligation.
"I will support my daughter and granddaughters. Zoya
thinks that we need to let Sanam do this. I think she's right. And not just
Sanam. I think that Seher has met the perfect mate in Rehan. When I spoke with
him, I saw a down to the soul purity that I have only seen in my own daughter. And
I can't forget one important truth, Asad," she murmured.
"What's that?" he asked in a strangled tone.
"He is my granddaughter's brother. He is the man that
our Seher has fallen in love with. How can I begrudge him the love that he has
never had a chance to experience? You forget one thing. He was also his
mother's own victim." Her voice was soothing, but her decision unmovable. "As
Aahil was his father's victim. You need to deal with your emotions. I have
dealt with mine." There was finality in her tone now, leaving no room for
any argument.
"Ammi," Asad began, wanting to protest.
"There is nothing you can do, Asad," Dilshad
responded. "My granddaughters have chosen. They are not doing anything
illegal. They are not going anything unethical. They are not doing anything
that goes against our Khuda. They
have that right. There is nothing you can do to take that right away."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Your best bet would be to plead
guilty. The District Attorney is willing to deal," the man said, his face
expressionless despite the impact he knew his words were having on him.
"But I didn't do it!" Aahil
protested, griping the edge of the table with desperate fingers. "Doesn't
it matter that I didn't do anything? Why should I plead guilty?"
"Kid, you were heard having an
argument with your father the night before he died. You were heard threatening
him. Your fingerprints were found on the bottle of pills that were forced down
his throat. There were bruises around his throat. Around his hand."
"I didn't do anything. That man
beat up on me for years! And you're telling me that I have to pay for his
death?" Aahil blurted out.
"And the fact that you were
abused is a mitigating factor," the attorney stated. "You're a minor.
That's another thing to consider. We're going to push you being tried as a
minor. You'll be out when you turn 19."
"But I didn't do anything."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Aahil beta," a female voice
murmured.
"Badi Ammi?" Aahil said, jumping
up. The chains caused him to fall back into the chair.
"I'm sorry, beta," Badi Ammi
murmured.
"I can't stay here for five years,"
Aahil said, tears trickling down his face despite how much he wanted to hide
them. "I can't be in here. I can't . . . they don't let us out at night."
"We tried our best. I promise
you," she said, patting his hand. "I'll take care of the girls. I have
to take them back to India. We can't stay here. You're going to be transferred
to a different juvenile hall. Just behave," she urged tearfully. "Do
your time and come out."
He'd watched his Badi
Ammi walk away, standing so still in that dark and cold room. His body had
trembled with the need to call out, his throat aching to wail for her to come
back. But all eyes had been on him. Any weakness on his part at that point would
have lead to a world of pain later. And so, he had just stood there, watching
her become smaller and smaller in his field of vision. And that's why he knew
that she hadn't looked back once.
Aahil looked down at his hands, as he sat on the prayer
mat. Would he raise his hands in dua
today? It was dusk, time for prayer.
Zoya Auntie had left hours ago, and he had sat on the
couch until the call to prayer had roused him. For the first time, in weeks, he
had felt the urge to pray once more. He'd felt confused, her words echoing in
his head repeatedly.
"I
bow my head in supplication to You, Allah miyah. I have heard that making dua .
. . asking from You . . . is an important part of performing prayers. So I ask
you today . . . for the woman who has entered my life. Please give her to me.
Allow me to cherish her for the rest of my days."
His mind flashed to the dua in that dark room.
So many weeks ago, when hope had been at its peak. He had been so brave,
so ready to take on the world, but now he was afraid. He was a coward because he
knew he had no right to grab for what he wanted so badly. Especially when the
mere association of their two names had impacted her life so greatly.
There was a knock at the door,
interrupting his morose reverie. Getting up, he folded the prayer mat and put
it away. Looked like today was not the day for dua. He'd only found in himself the fortitude to pray. Opening the
door, he saw a smiling Rehan standing on the other side. Raising a silent
eyebrow, he waited for the other man to speak.
"I was speaking to Haya,"
Rehan said. "She says that in this time of turmoil, we should go to a
place that she knows of. Maybe it will give you peace of mind."
"What are you talking about, Rehan?" Aahil said irritably, beginning
to turn away.
"Bhai," Rehan protested, reaching out a hand to stay his
retreat. "You need this. We need this. Let's go." He pulled him out
of the room and out the door, ignoring Aahil's protests.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
[YOUTUBE]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YjyQGwKbpE&feature=youtu.be[/YOUTUBE]
Aahil sat in quiet contemplation,
his eyes gazing downward. He was at a dargah, a place that Haya and her family would
come to quite often. She had urged Rehan to come here to pray to Allah miyah for his own peace of his
mind. And Rehan's first thought had been to bring Aahil bhai here, so that he could find some peace in feeling His
presence.
Bathed in the nurturing light shining in the dargah, sitting next to others, his head
bowed in supplication, he felt the pressure until he could do nothing else but let
loose the desire that had been burning inside of his heart. He allowed his lips
to speak the words that needed to be spoken. He knew that if he didn't share
his desires with someone, they would eat him alive.
"All my life I have longed to
be loved and taken care of by someone. I have looked for someone to protect me
from fear, to protect me from suffering, to protect me from being lost, to
protect me from being alone and helpless. I am no longer that weak child that
needed so desperately, but my heart still yearns for that love. Is she your
answer. Is it her? Give me some sign so I know that I should move forward. If
she is the answer, help me to be free of the past, let me find peace in my
present, and let me find happiness in the future. Just give me a sign, Allah miyah."
His eyes were closed, and he sat in
the near darkness. The world disappeared, and he was alone. His silent words
were stark . . . desperate . . . shaky. They echoed inside his skull, until
they beat against his brain, reverberating in his soul . . . making his body
tremble in need. His hands clenched, and tears fought to get free. He was
tired. So tired of fighting the world . . . his past . . . himself. And he
wanted to just give in.
The sound of a child crying broke
the near silence of the room. It was enough to bring him out of his trance.
Fighting the spell that had fallen over him, ruthlessly tamping down his
emotions, he got up.
Feeling hands come up around his
arm, he sharply turned and stared as Rehan wrapped black threads around his
arm. "What are you?" he began.
"A taveez, bhai," Rehan
said with a smile. "I got it for your protection."
Aahil stared as Rehan carefully
tied the thread around his arm, his heart clenching at how much this man, who
used to be a stranger, cared so much for him. He was a brother of his heart. He
was his family now. Nodding his head in thanks, he made to step away.
"Bhai," Rehan said, "There is a wall here." He pulled
his brother to a candlelit corner of the dargah.
As they stood there, Rehan pointed to people tying threads.
"You tie your knot
there," Rehan murmured, "And who knows when a tied thread may unite
with some other tied thread, and those two destinies may end up melding. I want
you to do that. Leave your decision up to God."
Aahil shook his head at him, amazed
by the innocent faith that Rehan was exhibiting. Even now.
"Do it,
bhai," Rehan urged.
"For me, if nothing else."
Nodding reluctantly, he went to the
latticed wall and began to tie a bright red thread that Rehan had given to him
for just that purpose. As he tied the thread, intent on his task, he felt
fingers brush his, interrupting his focus. He looked up, his eyes snared by
those of another.
He saw beautiful eyes. He saw a dupatta covering the hair, leaving her face
visible. It was Sanam Ahmed Khan. He saw those eyes smiling at him. And in that
moment, his prayers . . . the desperate cries of his soul . . . came back to
him.
So
I ask you today . . . for the woman who has entered my life. Please give her to
me. Allow me to cherish her for the rest of my days."
His heart clenched, as she touched
the knot that he had tied.
"You tied the knot so tightly,"
she whispered to him. "This thread right here," she murmured, touching
the darker thread underneath his, "It's mine. And your thread is wrapped so
carefully around it. Almost protectively," she finished.
"Is
she your answer. Is it her? Give me some sign so I know that I should move
forward. If she is the answer, help me to be free of the past and let me find
peace in my present. Let me find happiness in the future. Just give me a
sign."
His fingers reached out, his
fingers following through on an impulse to pull that thread free. To keep their
destinies separate.
But she was in the way. Her fingers
reached up and grabbed him, freezing him with one touch. Her eyes gazed into
his, looking deep into his soul. He wondered silently if she knew how rapidly
his heart was beating. Could she see how much he didn't want to . . .
"Now that these threads have
been tied," she said softly, "Then don't separate them. I mean . . .
if you try to untie them now, they'll break. They say that if that happens,
it's a bad omen. Bad luck. Don't you have enough bad luck in your life?"
He pulled his fingers away, not
saying a word.
Looking at him silently, waiting a moment to ensure that
he wouldn't untie those threads, she nodded at him and turned away.
He watched her walk away. He watched her leave, standing
so still. His body trembled with the need to call out, to beg for her to come
back. But even in this spiritual place, he could feel the eyes of others on
him. The world . . . his world would notice the slightest tremble, and they would
not be merciful. So, he just stood there, watching her leave. And she didn't .
. .
Sanam turned and looked at him. Her eyes meeting his
across the distance, making him feel once more that she could read his soul and
all of his hidden desires. Her eyes brightened, a smile growing across those
lips. It was as if she'd heard his silent cries, and knew how much he needed
her to look back, to return.
Returning, she stood on the other side of that latticed
wall, her hand coming up to rest against the threads. And she waited.
He looked skyward, and then back down to meet her hopeful
eyes. His fingers lifted slowly, as if his hand was not under his control, and rested
against those threads. Those intertwined threads. Allah miyah had given him his answer, and he was ready to accept.
Reaching through the holes in the wall, he grasped her
fingers, accepting their melded destiny.
||
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Chapter 14: Stay
A/N: Here is the next chapter for your reading pleasure. I apologize for the long wait. Thank you all for the comments! 🤗 They were a huge motivator. Hope you like this chapter, as well. And don't forget to leave comments! 😆
Edited by darkice7_12 - 7 years ago
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