The Fallen Widow

34. Retribution

It was later that afternoon, the sky promised a warning by a display of silver hues like molten silver, swirling in steady circles of deep grey and soft white. The sombre, electric atmosphere hung in the air warning the inhabitants of Jahanpur. Since Dilawar-Baksh smacked Surraya, aftershocks rippled through the haveli silencing the mouthy maids with fear. Soon, something worse was about to happen which would shift the power in the haveli. 

It began with Wajahat Ali, following Meh'r-Bano's footsteps. Eager. Impatient. He had to remove her like Shah Nawaz instructed him. To make her disappear without word or knowledge. He hovered around the servants quarter. There she was grinding pomegranate seeds in a granite mortar preparing Shahgul's body scrub. Wajahat Ali knew Shahgul would be in the zenana having her body massage and woman stuff. He visibly shook his head trying to get the image of Shahgul out of his head. It was a mortal sin. He looked around. Meh'r-Bano was alone. This was the only moment he could snatch her. He would call her and tell her husband was waiting for her and lure her out of the haveli into his car. He stepped towards her and pursed his lips ready to call her when a maid called out to him.
"What?!" He yelled red faced that Meh'r-bano turned to him in fear.
Geena bowed her head obediently.
"Choudhrani Shahgul needs you."
His face burned red hot. Did Shahgul read his mind? His heart pounded. Why would she call him whilst she was in the zennna? He was curious.
"Later."
"She is upset about something." Geena reported how Shahgul threw her glass across the wall in anger over Kharagpur.
"It would be best – you can calm her down."
Wajahat Ali looked at Meh'r-Bano's petite shoulders as she grinded the seeds blood red into the mortar. He wouldn't be long. He dashed off, hurried on his feet to meet Shahgul. Meh'r-Bano could wait.

Only Meh'r-Bano wouldn't wait. A set of angry eyes, flared nostrils, stocky body charged with vengeance appeared over the horizon on his motorbike speeding towards the haveli. Allah Ditta learned of Meh'r-Bano's pitiable punishment and rage coursed through his body. He speeded round the dusty and narrow road. He could still hear his son's screams as he whipped his son's bare back with his leather belt until it was red raw. How could Nadeem lie to the haveli? Why didn't he confess he gave the shoes to Meh'r-Bano? He'd betrayed the haveli and years of the loyalty was down the sewer. His son shamed him, and he was disgraced and thrown out of the haveli. Nadeem was punished. Shah Jahan's widow was brutally punished. So why was Meh'r-Bano promoted to a maid? How did she get away with it?

Allah Ditta brakes screeched outside the haveli and he switched off the engine. He swung his leg off the motorbike, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His wife Ulfat's voice echoing in his mind.
'Our son has been punished. Where is her punishment?'
"I'll show her!" He said.

Allah Ditta shook his head. Surely Dilawar-Baksh punished the girl appropriately? He pushed through the guards making his way inside the courtyard. His raw red hands curled into fists. He looked around for Meh'r-Bano but couldn't find her. He walked to the far end of the courtyard towards the servant quarters and into the kitchen. There she was in the kitchen. Stood in the corner in her violet salwar kameez. Dupatta draped over her head. She chopped okra into a large basket. A cold draught from the door made her turn her head, she peered over her shoulder. The middle aged, large man wore an angry frown. His cheeks reddened with anger. Meh'r-Bano returned to her task in hand thinking nothing more. Most servants despised her and she was accustomed to the ugly looks. But there was something sinister about the haveli today. She shuddered.

Rage swept through him as he marched towards central haveli. Not a single mark on her body. How was this fair? He stormed into Dilawar-Baksh's private room where he played chess and back gammon. There on the wall, framed like an ornament was the long strong, leather whip like a snake. They used in the fields on wild bulls. He took the chair and pushed it against the wall. He jumped up and peeled the leather whip off the wall. Today, Allah Ditta would take the law of Jahanpur into his own hands.