The Fallen Widow

4. The Noble Household

The towering dome of the haveli presented itself before Meh'r-Bano approached the haveli. It appeared through cutting the hills. The fresh small of lavender and mustard fields filled her nostrils as the SUV drove over the potholes. Sitting in the large car, holding her shawl fear ran through her. Would she be scolded at the haveli? Shafiq wasn't here to defend her. After a ten minute drive she arrived at the sold gold gates glimmering with a shine. Outside the gates two uniformed guards clasping Kalashnikovs doffed their head at the driver and Wajahat and were allowed entry. Draping her clack chador over her mouth and nose, curiosity got the better of her as she glanced through the black tinted windows. The gates opened to a wide courtyard with a circular fountain in the centre of the courtyard. The majestic round fountain sprinkled water from the basin into the round pool. Small statues of children with their mouths open sprinkled a long line of water into the centre basin. The small statues surrounded the fountain. The marble shimmering fountain was the focal point when she entered the haveli. 

The guard opened the door and ordered for her to step out. Carefully, she stepped out in her half chewed sandals firmly pinning her shawl over her mouth. Cherry blossom trees waved gently like ocean waves to the sound of the cooling wind. Meh'r-Bano felt like she stepped in another world here, a world of opulence side by side with the kaleidoscope colours of nature.
"This way." Wajahat instructed adorning a softer tone as he was in the noble household. Walking two steps behind him, Meh'r-Bano bowed her head fighting the urge to grasp her surroundings and stare rudely at the haveli. Cherry blossom red and pink leaves scattered the Indian Sandstone pathway dancing with the wind like an auspicious welcome dancing in her feet. With her eyes bowed, she looked at the beautiful colourful leaves dancing in her path and scattered under her feet. The ground was clean, washed and not a speck of dirt. The sound of water gushing from sprinklers, workers mingling in the haveli grounds and the gardener singing the saif ul malook whist watering his garden beds.
"Bhaag Baharan the gulzaaran, bin yaara kis kaari, Yaar milan dukh jaan hazara, Shukr kara lakh vaari."
Spring gardens mean nothing in loneliness, once I meet that friend, a thousand worries vanish, and I thank God a thousand times."
She looked back at the old man dressed in a white kurtha and a net skull cap tanned by hours working in the sun. They continued for walk further, deeper into the courtyard walking through the path when Meh'r-Bano learned the haveli covered a large acreage compromising of gardens, trees, servant quarters and finally at the far end was a large sandstone haveli.
"This is Choudharni Malaikhah's small haveli. Only she stays here and her children. You do not have the permission to enter the central haveli. This is where you will be needed." Wajahat informed her with a stern tone. His knuckles red and bloody from Shafiq's blood, she grit her teeth in anger.
Standing outside the towering haveli, Meh'r-Bano tilted her head staring up at the scorching sun. She shielded her eyes from the glaring sun and looked up. The glimmering marble carved arches gave the haveli a sense of opulence and grandeur. If this was small, how massive was the central haveli? Meh'r-Bano stepped inside with her dusty flat half chewed sandals. The white marble tiles glimmered with a polish she could see her ragged reflection and felt embarrassment. Chourani's primary appointed maid approached Meh'r-Bano in the hallway.
"Finally!" Shamim complained with her sassy tone. "You women from Chiragpur, you have so many nakre. Choudrani is angry. She waited two days for you and then she had to send our Wajahat. You better apologise profusely. Why she has asked a nervous, simple Chiragpur woman, I do not know! Now come. Move. Quick!" Shamim was blunt. Her family and her forefathers served the Choudhary generations with loyalty and obedience. It was their honour to serve them and they would give their lives for the Choudhary empire. Anyone who showed impudence was quickly and harshly reprimanded.
The corridor was wide with high ceilings. Large canvas portraits of the Choudhary clan decorated the wall. All men. Adorned in turbans with the red ruby stone in their turbans, a Kalashnikov in their lap and wide moustaches. When she approached the staircase, Meh'r-Bano ran her hand over the length of the mahogany rail. She had never felt wood so glossy and smooth so free from splinters and weather stains. It hardly seemed like wood at all. She peered into the rail and gleamed at her teeth.
"Hurry! Stop dawdling." Shamim scolded.
On the landing, there were many doors, Shamim led her to the centre door and knocked on it. After a linger, Shamim entered and Meh'r-Bano followed looking around gingerly as if too much observation may overwhelm her.
"Choudhrani Saahiba, the woman from Chirapur is finally here." Shamim informed as Meh'r-Bano noted the frustrated 'finally' in her tone.
Inside, she stood in the largest room she had ever seen. It must have run half the length of the corridor letting in the waning sun light that spread across the room like golden brown honey. There across the room, lying back on the velvety black chaise lounge was Malaikah. Her two trusted maids at her feet, rubbing in the salts into her heels to peel off the dry ugly skin. One maid for each foot delivering a relaxing pedicure. Malaikah dressed in the fine silk golden black robe. Every finger adorned a gold ring, with thick heavy gold bracelets and bangles. Her long brown hair spread around her shoulders like curls so glossy and voluminous. She was an angel; true to her name.
With her left hand raised, Malaikah dismissed her servant ladies allowing them to dry her feet with thick Egyptian  towels. Malaikah promoted Meh'r-Bano to sit before her, on the floor near her feet. Shamim stood beside Malaikah waiting for her next instruction. Her hands folded before her and head bowed. Obediently, Meh'r-Bano squatted on the floor, her head hung low and eyes pinned on the black strip of pattern on the marble tile.
 Malaikah scrutinised the village woman. Dressed in a simple white dress, her toe nails darkened with dust and dirt.
"What is your name?"
"Ji, Meh'r-Bano." She mumbled gently.
"I called you yesterday, but you did not come."
Meh'r-Bano felt the harshness in her tone, a form of reproach.
"I'm sorry, Choudhrani Ji." Meh'r-Bano clasped her hands together with her cotton shawl between her palms. She couldn't explain further.
"Did your parents stop you?"
Meh'r-Bano remained silent out of loyalty.
"I asked you a question. Do you not know how to conversate with the noble household?"
"I'm sorry Choudrani ji, my husband stopped me. I apologise."
Malaikah understood her loyalty and now irked.
"When a Choudhary orders a villager, they obey. Choudharys' command overrides a husband, a mothers and father. Do you understand?"
Meh'r-Bano shook her head.
"Look up at me. I'm not smudged into the ground."
Meh'r-Bano felt lowly to look at the stunning woman. With hesitation, she tilted her head up to  Malaikah, her eyes still pinned to the floor. When Malaikah gazed at Meh'r-Bano's  face for the first time, she sat up and swung her feet off the chaise lounge.
"Look at me." She demanded.
At that moment, she was struck by her striking emerald eyes. This young woman wasn't from the village. She wasn't from this district. She was from the mountains. She grew up drinking fresh water from the river which glowed on her fair skin. Those emerald eyes belonged to the children of the Neelam Valley.
"Who is your husband?" Curiosity gripped her. Who was the man who was gifted to receive such a beautiful woman.
"Ji, Mohammed Shafiq. He owns a garage in the bazaar."
"Dalchini? Who fixes our fleet?" She mocked.
When Meh'r-Bano confirmed,  Malaikah titled her head back falling against the cushions with laughter.
"What a waste!"
Meh'r-Bano's cheeks burned red. She was aggressively protective of her husband, and it was attitude like this that made him so insecure and locked her in the barn. Malaikah stood up and encircled the young woman perched on the ground. She flicked her hair aside and slipped off her robe from her shoulder revealing her bare shoulder.
"Tell me, to what level are you educated?"
"Ji, I have a Bachelor's in English."
"Of course you do, you are from Neelam valley." Malaikah was impressed and a little envious. This was what she wanted for her two children, something which was snatched from her.
"I don't need anything in life. I have everything. But my children have missed out on a lot." She paused now gazing into the imperial gardens. There are no schools here, no classes to a standard which I am used to. So, I need someone to teach my children English."
 Malaikah turned around and approached Meh'r-Bano. "Come sit here." She patted the chaise lounge raising the young woman to an acceptable level.
"I'm fine here, Choudhrani ji." She respectfully replied without uttering her name, just her title. 
"No-" She insisted. "Come." She continued to pat.
Nervously, Meh'r-Bano sat beside her looking at her bitten fingernails resting in her lap. Shamim glared with envy.
"You are not a servant here, Meh'r-Bano, nor shall you be treated like one."
Shamim listened with scorn. A woman from Chiragpur given a superior status then them?
"You are educated to a level that not even a Choudhary male has attained." Malaikah paused
"They are bullish. Wrestler. Enjoy dog fighting, buffalo racing and in the depths of the nights lewd Mujra dancers entertain them with their wares." Malaikah sighed longingly. In one sigh, Meh'r-Bano deciphered a sadness.
"That's a man's world. They can do anything, go anywhere, dress however they wish. Yet, we, the women-" Her words trailed off like it was too painful to complete the remaining part of the sentence.
"Anyway-" Malaikah stood to her feet.
"I need you to educate my children. My daughter will be no different to my son. Both will be treated equally."
Meh'r-Bano felt a bitter aftertaste in her request. Here she was, the elite allowing personal lessons for her children, yet the children in the villages were denied any form of education. Her stolen classes were gone in the blink of an eye whenever Azaad rode by. Meh'r-Bano pushed passed the bitterness festering in her to teach the privileged children. One day at a time. She had to exercise patience and weave her trust into the house. Yelling and throwing her arms around proved her as a mad woman.
"My children have no desire to learn, so you must entertain them, play with them when they desire. You must form a routine where you can teach them through your play. You must persevere through their impish behaviour. You will come to my haveli 7am. Wake them up. Wash them. Ready them. Give them breakfast and teach them until seven in the evening. You will work six days a week. Friday will be your day off. You will earn two thousand rupees a week."
"A week?" Meh'r-Bano gasped with disbelief.
Shamim's mouth dropped wide. Not even the superior kitchen maid got that salary in a month. She already hated her.
"Is that too less? Three thousand?"
Meh'r-Bano was speechless.
"Okay, four thousand per month. No arguments. It's not as if you're a professional teacher."
Obediently, Meh'r-Bano shook her head dreaming of how she would spend her salary. For once, she would never tell her husband the truth. He would only take the money from her. She would save it and buy books for the children at the quarry.
"When I saw you at the river, I liked the way you engaged my children. I want you to be like that with them. Playful to make them engage. My son Harris, his full of life, like his uncle. You must work with him to make him learn."
"Ji."
Barging into the room with her anklet jingling with her bangles in synchrony announcing her arrival was Choudhrani Fiza; the first female granddaughter of the Choudhary Dilawar- Baksh Qureshi. Dashing into the room with her long ribboned paranda trailing behind her, dressed in the finest silk violet suit,  Fiza exploded into her aunties room with a fright.
"I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!" She danced under the chandelier holding her dupatta up in the air, singing with delight.
Meh'r-Bano glared in awe. Another beautiful girl. She must have been young, twenty maybe a bit older.
"I'm here, Khala! I'm here!" Fiza announced her arrival.
 Malaikah watched her niece with pleasure. She was the beacon of the haveli and whenever she arrived the ambience of the haveli changed. Laughter, singing, conversation she sparked and quickly took control of the tasks in the haveli. Her grandparents entrusted her with all the duties and she carried out everything with due diligence.
"I'm here!" She fell in her auntie's lap. Malaikah titled her face up looked at her diamond shaped face. She had the beautiful think eyelashes with wide black eyes. A smile that would infect the beholder to smile, but it was infectious personality, buzzing with conversation and jovial.
"Bismillah."Malaikah hugged her pressing her against her chest.
"Now I'm here, I will take care of everything. The food, the drink, the seating, the decorations-" She counted on her fingers buzzing around the room making her auntie dizzy.
"I will take care of everything when my Mamoo  Shah-Nawaz's  grand entrance." Her auntie knew the real reason she was floating with energy. Or the person who imbued energy through her body.
"Acha, you think that will wash with me?"
"Kya?" Fiza tilted her head and pressed her hands on her hips. She pressed her lips together holding back that smile.
"Don't act innocent in front of me. Even the walls in this haveli know of your thudding heartbeat. They've read his name."
Cheeks blushing with rouge, Fiza turned away. It had been almost two years since she saw him, even then it was a bitter sweet meeting. She'd spent her childhood playing in the fields with Choudhrry Uzayr Sultani, making clay pots and swimming in the river. Now. he was twenty five, two years older than her. 
"All this work, these duties are an excuse to meet him once again."
"Nonsense." She sat on the bed and begin to braid her auntie's hair. "I'm here to look after my darling auntie, and for my Mamoo's inauguration."
"Chal you liar." She tapped her on her back. "I'll see about that."
Happiness danced in her blood, she couldn't wait to see Uzayr, the past few days she hadn't slept since her mum told her she was going to her Grandfather's haveli.  Uzayr would be there, he'd take the responsibility on his broad shoulders no doubt and finally she'd get to see him.
"Have you met your Baba? He has been waiting impatiently to meet his favourite granddaughter?" Malaikah saw the glimmer in her eyes.
"He's not here, I'm going to paint the floor with powder paint and decorate it when he returns form the lands."
Just as she entered, Fiza left the room painting smiles on everyone's faces. Shamim looked at her in awe. Fiza Qureshi spread light, laughter and happiness in the haveli with her infectious personality.
 Maliakah gathered her thoughts. Her father was a harsh man, he was stubborn and firm in his way. Malaikah angered her father, he hadn't spoken to her with love since her forced return. Fiza could melt his anger that she couldn't.
"Shall I send her on her way?" Shamim grabbed Malaikah's attention as she looked out into the gardens in deep thought.
"Oh yes." She wiped the tear in her eye.
"Aur ha-" Malaikah stopped Meh'r-Bano before she left. She peered into those wide orbs of emerald green, her striking features with a small pointy nose. She had a beauty spot on the base of her chin, a round ring nose ring clipped around her right nostril, with a long snaking hair towards her navel. The young woman was indeed beautiful.
"I expect to see you here tomorrow." She warned, her tone restored  to her harsh tone after speaking lovingly with her niece.
******
Dashing though the swapping central staircase through the muslin drapes sweeping behind her,  Fiza's long ribboned paranda trailed behind her dressed in the finest Banarasi silk violet suit.  Fiza raced with her silver tray laden with red, yellow and deep blue to paint the floor and welcome her beloved grandad. Choudhrani Fiza held the tray and ran through the courtyard in joy eager to paint the floor. When she turned the corner, she bumped into a strong figure. The tray flicked up in the air, the powdered colours sprinkled like a cloud of rainbow around her. She looked up, her mouth open wide, her face dotted in a kaleidoscope of colours, but there standing before her was the man who she waited for day and night; Choudhary Uzayr Sultani. His white kurtha stained with red and deep blue, he glared at her with streak of anger in his eyes.
"Can't you see?" He looked at his clothes and patted the paint off them.
Behind, his cousins stood with a dead rabbits over their shoulder after an afternoon hunt.
Powdered in cherry red, yellow and blue powered, Fiza froze staring Uzayr in awe. The years tanned his bronze skin. He inherited the strong Choudhary frame, with wide shoulders and a twang of his moustache.  The scar marked through his right eyebrow which bought make a flood of memories. He clicked his fingers in her face bringing her back to the ground.
"Hey! What are you staring at?"
Pressing her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose at him.
"How dare you?" She stepped back ready to slap him. "Don't click your fingers at me."
He looked at his cousins behind him but they walked off ready to skin the rabbit and feed to the dogs.
"Listen, I don't have time. Look what you did to my clothes!"
With her hands pressed on his chest, she pushed him back with force. "And you-? Look what you did to me?"
"Hey!" He held his hands up warning her to stop pushing him, but Fiza continued until he grabbed her hair and yanked her hair back.
"Kamini! What did I tell you?"
"Baba Jaani!" She yelled out holding her hair. "Baba Jaani! Uzayr's grabbed my goothi."
She hadn't changed. There was only one girl who referred to her thick wavy plait as, 'goothi. When they were kids, he'd pull her hair and she'd scream out and call her grandfather.
"Shush!" He pressed his finger to his lips. "Shush! Or else I'll hit you. Like before. " He lifted his hand ready to strike but having no intention. He grabbed her arm twisting it.
"I'm not a kid anymore, Uzayr! I'm a woman." She struggled and twisted her hand.
"Let me go!" She fought him. "I'm telling baba, and he will pull your moustache, that you groom with pride."
"Don't you dare tease my moustache." He released her and moved his face closer to her. "If you try anything, this time."
Fiza began to titter with laughter, she couldn't forget the day when he fell asleep in the fields and she took a scissors to his moustache, but ended up cutting him deeply and scarring his eyebrow. He let her go and she stepped back with laughter. "You still wear the scar." She pointed to his eyebrow.
"Don't come in front of me-" He warned her. "You wind me up with your-." He squiggled at her jubilant nature. He hated it.
"-and you, Choudhary Uzayr Sultani, are my world." She punched his chest and scuttled off with laughter. He watched her dancing her way back inside surprised how much she changed in under two years. From the little annoying girl, in a beautiful young woman who had a style, a smile and still made him mad.