A Court's Maim

علی یار | Aliyaar

Chapter 5.

The Governor of Punjab knew how to host a diplomatic dinner, without any murders being involved. He was smart, and that was why he had been handed over such a large province at his tender age. He had the wits, and the words to prove it. It came as no surprise then, when he sent out tiny square cards — inviting everyone he knew to a dinner in the honor of diplomatic relations between Pakistan and one of it's longest allies. What had been the shock though, for the upper society of Lahore as well as the media all across, was the invitation extended to Haider Ilyas's family. The blow was huge, and the conversations whispered across the tables were larger.

Amongst the whispers a new tale was spinning itself. On top of the bobble crocheted table cloths that the women, dressed in gauze and Chantilly lace kept for an attachment to their roots and mother's that had suffered at the arms of pagan father's covered in pearls, another story was being weaved. Parting their hairs with the talon like nails, pushing the botox lined lips into a thin line to show distaste — the elite of Lahore were speaking. They were searching. They were desiring first hand information and the 'diplomatic' dinner was just the perfect outlet. Though their husbands had enough to bribe out information, the charm in having seen and then spilling it was in a league of it's own.

Inside a large mansion in the central part of Lahore, where houses, aged far more than the nation itself, another story had taken over. Gossip began in the centre of heaven before it reached the ears of the incorrigible. Lips of even the dead whisper tales when it's something as hot as a woman's dignity. A fan favorite. A disgusting reality. Trampling over what was an over the top sign of affections, one sided though — the aunts and cousins found a glorious point. To push and force a narrative that would favor only them. Dressed in a riverine of reds and jewels, hairs in fancy updo's, their lips and gravely voice spewed utmost venom.

"She's got the man wrapped around her fingers. Like a dog he runs at her first command!" The eldest of the daughter-in-law's spoke.

To whom? No one could pinpoint. With eyes in the direction of her husband but the tone taunting her mother-in-law, it was a valid question that pricked the only sister-in-law.

"Of course a daughter is a reflection of her mother," the sister-in-law grimaced, still mourning her innocent brother who was trapped. "These women know it better how to trap men."

"Rahima! Hareem! Yeh kis tarah baat kar rahi hain ap dono? Aur hai kahan woh jin ki wajah sai humari izzat ka janazah jald hi niklay ga?" Sameen Khawar spoke pointedly to her daughter and daughter-in-law.
[In what kind of a way are the two of you talking? And where is she, the one because of whom we will soon hold the funeral of our respect?]

The elderly woman looked comical. Dressed in a maroon saree, lips painted crimson and eyes lined heavily with kohl. She resembled a starving woman who would do anything for attention. Text book image of wanting to hold on ; to something that never belonged.

"Sophia went to check up on her. We're getting late as is." Naeem replied.

"Where is your father? Your son?" Sameen narrowed her eyes.

"They've left already. We were making them late. You know abba wanted to talk to Governor Chohan about Ghafoor." He said.

"Good. Find him a bride also, it's high time he find someone respectable."

Slanted ceiling lights inside the foyer toyed with the decorations and cast shadows, of all sizes and shades around the room. The tall window next to the door had been covered by gold curtains, falling in waves against the white walls. Airy as it was, the sight of the gifts on the round cherrywood table pricked at each of their eyes. Saliha twisted her fingers into her long peshwas. She wondered how it must be — to be a woman like Barekhna. To have men fall on your feet, left right and centre. Yet to still not care, and win them over with her indifference. Pressure inside the air increased as individually they continued to mourn and slander.