| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| The Ballroom |

Jaddon da tu takkeya ay, hoya burra haal ve

Dil mera chaunda hun, ravvan tere naal ve

Dil nu ae dil diyan lagiyaan ne maareya

Sanu chann mahiya teri thagiyaan ne maareya

Sanu chann mahiya teri thagiyaan ne maareya...

Meerab sat huddled on the intimate balcony attached to her room. She'd had this corner specially built as a little haven for herself; the lush green plants dotting every wall and corner, the cosy egg chair and warm-hued fairy lights had always cheered her up. Lost in thought, her fingers worked on tearing the pieces of roti in the plate in front of her. It was a nervous habit; tearing roti up into little pieces and mixing it with whatever saalan she was eating, making a mush of sorts. It looked weird, but it was Meerab's ultimate comfort food and frankly speaking, comfort was the need of the hour.

They'd returned from Hyderabad a while ago. A lull had fallen over everyone; Baba had retreated into his study saying he was tired, and though she knew Mama was eventually going to come and talk to her, she'd been given some alone time for now. Things would have turned out much differently had Murtasim not intervened, but parents of a married daughter could only do so much when their daughter's husband deemed it a personal matter, not be questioned by anyone again. Of course if said husband was Murtasim Khan, lengthy explanations weren't required; he had simply said they had been together, and that had been that. Who was going to question what a husband and wife did together?

However, the announcement now weighed heavily on Meerab's conscious. He had protected her, but she was now hiding behind a lie. And equally important, she was hiding behind a man. And Meerab didn't like it. Husband or not, misleading everyone further and hiding behind Murtasim's authority would negate the goal she had been trying to achieve; to be able to retain her identity and control her own life. It would also worsen her guilt, hurt her parents further, and though she wished she didn't care, it would also ruin her reputation in Maa Begum's eyes.

The truth always had to be the better option right? Even if the immediate consequences seemed scary, it was surely better than the long-term repercussions of a lie. Especially not when the lie was bound to hurt your loved ones someday.

Putting a forkful of the yummy goodness in her mouth, Meerab chewed softly, her mind made up. She would tell Mama and Baba the truth about her training in Doha. And Maa Begum too.It was amazing how just the intention of doing the right thing could ease your worry; the knots twisting in her tummy all but vanished leaving behind just one feeling-confusion.

If Meerab were to count the number of times she'd seen her husband in the last two years, she'd use two hands and still have a few fingers left. And yet almost every meeting or interaction had resulted in a momento for keeps; hampers of clothes, shoes and churiyaan delivered on every chand-raat for Eid, a rose-gold tennis bracelet for achieving the highest position one year at university, and the most recent, a pair of stunning emerald tear-drop earrings for her last birthday. Interestingly enough, gifts had also started arriving randomly by post; a gorgeous silk Hermès scarf from Milan, an original oil painting of the Prague skyline, a custom-made perfume from Paris, which weirdly enough, smelt like strawberries. What had started off as a surprise had now become a guilty pleasure for Meerab; there was something so exciting about receiving bespoke, exotic gifts from all over the world, and Meerab had secretly started waiting for one to arrive every few weeks. Not that she was ever seen using them; they were all neatly stacked in a box labelled 'Murtasim' at the back of her walk-in closet. Out of sight, out of mind.