Lamhaat - SidNaaz

Prologue.

Moments in time felt like a hoax. Nothing would ever last for a moment. Especially not pain. Especially not loss. Especially not the plight of life ending before it even began. Nothing would be merciful enough to last for just a moment. That was how it was in life. The pricking of the soul, the brokenness of the heart, the burning agony of the spirit, nothing. Absolutely nothing lasted for just a moment. Instead, they became constants in life. They became a companion that was more like a demon than a mate. Just how was one supposed to get over those moments that lasted a lifetime.

Shehnaaz wondered, just how long this pain would last. She sat on a stool outside their bunglow. She could hear the wailing, the painful thuds of women beating their chests, various hands on her body, touching her, consoling her, cleaning her. Cleaning her of what? The marital status that she carried. She was waiting for this to finish so that she could run away from there.

"Putthar..." An old woman wailed, her eyes beaded up to look at her. She was beating her chest. It was almost as if she felt more pain than Shehnaaz herself. Her open palm laid on her hairline, and it swept up harshly as she smudged the vermillion in her hair.

"Amma!" She called out to her mother. She quickly walked up to her. Her eyes were red from crying, she had a certain look of guilt and remorse in her eyes.

"Mera putthu!" She sobbed.

"Yeh kitna dher chalega? Mujha ek call attend karni hain." She said. Her voice was so monotonous, it didn't hold an ounce of pain or emotion.

"Sana! Yeh tu kya bol rahi hain?" She seethed, looking around.

"Mujhe ek call attend karni hain." She seethed back.

"Tera khasam pada hua hain waha!" Her mother growled, just as another woman came forward and fisted her mangalsutra in her hands. She tugged it apart, hard enough for it to split and the beads scattered all over the slabbed ground. She felt the shambles of her heart scatter with each bead that was fallen on the ground.

"Kaunsa khasam?" She raised a brow, watching them roll away from her. A few beads, just a few of them, they rolled up till they touched the wooden logs that her dead husband laid on. Her eyes pricked, they hurt from trying to stop the tears from flowing. She pushed the women away from herself, tugged the dupatta closer around her and got up. The men stared at her as she walked up to her husband's body. She kneeled down right beside her, feeling her heart in her throat throb so heart that it was rendering her lifeless.

"Gurmeet..." She whispered, cupping his face in both of her hands.

"Yeh tumhare liye nahi, tum jaante ho na?" She said softly, trying to keep the last few moments with him solemn.

"You were more a friend to me than a husband. Doh hi toh mahine hue the, Gummu. I'm not upset with you. Jo bhi mere mann mein hain, woh tumhare taraf nahi hain Gummu. Tum jaante ho na? We were supposed to get to know each other. I was ready for our life together, to begin. Lekin khatam hogaya. Tum theek se jao, Gummu. Tumhare khilaaf kuch nahi hain. Iss waqt aur iss duniya ke khilaaf hain." She said, finally shedding the tears that she had held onto since the moment she had gotten that phone call. She bent over, resting her head on his lifeless chest. There was no sound, no thudding of his heart.

Because he was death. Her husband of two months, he was no more. She wanted to desperately tell him that the bitterness in her heart, the agony she felt, it wasn't because of him. His soul needed to rest on peace. But the pain and distress, it was there. He was still her husband. It was towards her parents. And those people. It was towards all those people who had made a mockery out of what should have been a mourning. It was towards those people who ended her life before it even began. She kissed his forehead, letting her tears touch his face. This was it. The end of her life, it was going away along with him. Her life, it had ended. Even before it completely began, it ended.