A Court's Maim

آزاد |Free

Chapter 26.

"Is shehr-e-arzoo sai bahir nikal chalo,
Ab dil ki ronaqain bhi koi dam hai doston." The words of Ahmad Faraz slipped through his tongue with ease.
[Let's get out of this city of desires
Now the joys of the heart are somewhat dimmed to.]

Doomed in the dim arms of the shadows, that were like the stretches of a blanket thinner than the torn one offered to him in generosity. Wrapped amongst the furs of a furious light, it's angered bulb hissing every now and then. Forcing — challenging him to stare at it in the eye. To stare at the coiled filament that would at any moment melt into a puddle and break into smithereens of glass. Sated with the armed water offered to him, in a punctured glass. His body had never known of such riches. The metal against his palms that burned from the wounds was like a touch of heaven. A merriment.

"There's so much I must say, but such little time." He repeated the words he had whispered to Barekhna the previous evening.

Tracing his finger along the rim, dented into sides until it made an oblong shape, biting into the side of his mouth, he drank what little remained. A parched droplet traced the length of his neck. Melting over his heartbeat. The rest — a quarter of his palm's, softened his vocal chords that ached. Throbbed from days of neglect. Tired he stared out through the barred gates, sliding his underneath the risen bars. Feeling the air of freedom tease his bruised knuckles. For too long his tears had dried up and the ache behind his sockets had decided to not still. Leaving him heaving — perspiring in the winds of the unforgivable.

"Aaj jaane ki zid na karo—" he cackled.
[Do not be stubborn about leaving today.]

It was a voice of a man tired and broken from the days tests. The long weeks behind the coarse walls — sheltered from it's broken cobblestones. It was not the the voice of a man who wore the still soiled finery. Of not the man who had never been through a pain so arduous. It cracked at the very ends like the gentlest of his hopes. They murmured above his brow, and as his own coarse voice escaped the broken barrier of his lips he wheezed. Winced at the sudden change. So not him — so defeated.

"Ali-yaar," he hummed between his teeth, "Aliyaar."

Tilting his head towards the singular window that had offered him help — had been his only connection to skies outside and the joys beyond. Wincing through the steps he took, he wrapped his arms around the bars of the window. Resting his head over the cold cemented walls, the chipping rubbing against his wide forehead — sure to leave behind a mark. Aliyaar scratched his beard, now overgrown until it formed patchy grounds. Licking his lips, his face filled with soot and tears ; mixed with finery and opulence, he stared. The gentle eyes made of the finest of deep earthy rubies were empty. Unfeeling to the harshness of time. To the vastness of what his future meant.

Aliyaar had found home in the crooked edges of his prison cell. No expectations held him back, nothing tied him to the grand empire of his father, nor to the spectacular name of his wife. His breath condensed before him, forming swirls like a mist ; a ghost taking form before him. Cracking a smile to the still alive night, the birds yet to fly in from the gardens nearby. An ache, delirious as it was, passed through his muscles, unilateral lines formed in gentle spaces beside his cheek bones. Lone. He was completely alone in the solitude of his thoughts and the dreaded winter chill.

You are only afraid until you haven't gone through it — the truth. The words of his mother made sense. Aliyaar grinned with pride, his eyes a twinkling reflection of the skies before him. Look mama, he thought, happiness bubbling in the centre of his chest, you were right. I've survived the winter on my own. A gurgle spilt through his lips in a wave of involuntary movement. Wrapping his palms around the bars, tighter, feeling the agony in between the broken veins of his skin, Aliyaar sighed. Relief ; a broken sense ran up his calves and spread through his back. The wet clothing sat heavy against his bones, and words kissed the panes of the building opposite to him.