DIRTY POLITICS

Chapter 10

        Taking the pot off of the stove Bushra bibi turned off the heat when saqib entered the kitchen.

Bushra bibi sarakar apni biwi ko lae hn hme jldi h hm sarkar k sth press conference krny ja re hn aap unhe sarkar k kmre me le jae r unka ko  rakhiyega jb tk sarkar ni aty.
(Bushra sir has brought his wife. I am in a hurry i have to attend a press conference with sir. Take her to sirs room and keep her entertained till his return)

Saying this he went out of the room in a hurry leaving a startled bushra bibi behind. As far as bushra bibi knew her master was unmarried. So where did this wife come from.

In a rush, Saqib abruptly exited the room, leaving behind a surprised Bushra Bibi. As far as Bushra Bibi knew, her master was unmarried, which left her bewildered. Where on earth did this unexpected wife come from?

Lost in her thoughts, Bushra Bibi ventured out of the kitchen and into the hall, only to be confronted by the sight of a petite little girl perched on the sofa, her gaze filled with confusion. Is this the mysterious wife her master had mentioned? Bushra Bibi pondered. Although the girl possessed an undeniable charm, akin to that of a delicate doll, she appeared significantly younger, almost like a child. It was striking to see such a contrast between the young, small girl and her tall, muscular master.

Coming out of her reverie she moved towards the girl.

'Salam begum sarkar. Mera naam bushra hai. Aein me apko apka kmra dikha du'
(Hello mistress. My name is bushra. Come let me show you your room)

Maryam was lost in her thoughts when she heard a voice say. She looked up to see an old strict woman looking at her.

'Walaikum asalam. Mera naam maryam hai'

Confusion and bewilderment etched across her face as she meekly followed the older woman up the stairs. Each step she took brought her closer to an extravagant room, shrouded in an unsettling aura that sent chills down her spine.

Once inside, she settled herself upon the bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing upon her. The room, adorned with ornate furniture and shadowy corners, seemed to echo with a sense of foreboding. As the maid bid her farewell and left the room, the young girl found herself engulfed in a heavy silence.

Lying down amidst the opulence, she felt the weariness seep into her bones. Her mind, clouded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions, struggled to make sense of it all. Staring blankly at the ceiling above, her tear-streaked face became a canvas for her inner turmoil. Each droplet soaked into her hair, a silent testament to her overwhelming despair.

In that moment, an indescribable numbness settled within her, enveloping her senses. It was as if the weight of her experiences had rendered her unable to react, leaving her detached from her own emotions. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, but behind her vacant stare, a storm raged within.

The feeling of surprise washed over her as she registered the fact that she didn't experience any shock or disbelief when her father disowned her. Perhaps, deep down, she had sensed that such an eventuality was a possibility. It was as if a part of her had subconsciously prepared for the abandonment.

In an unexpected twist, she found herself not feeling betrayed by her parents. It wasn't because she didn't value the significance of their role in her life, but rather because she had grown weary of the toxic environment long ago. She had been patiently awaiting the completion of her degree, viewing it as a stepping stone to her future aspirations of securing foreign scholarships.

The immense dreams and aspirations she had diligently worked towards now seemed to teeter on the edge of dissolution. The realization hit her hard, threatening to dismantle the foundation she had built through her relentless efforts. The fear of everything she had fought for going down the drain loomed heavily over her.