Meerasim : Dastaan - E - Ishq

Jaane Jigar Jaaneman

Murtasim felt as if the world was closing in on him. Suddenly, nothing mattered. While the world would continue at it's own pace, unbothered, time would stay still for him in that one awful memory forever. 

From the day that he had gotten married to Meerab Waqas Ahmed, he had been holding on to a hope. He clung to it even in the worst of times, even when the possibility of her never loving him back seemed too real because that hope was all he had. A hope that one day she would love him back with all her heart and he would get through the defenses she had built. 

It did not matter that a piece of paper kept them physically distanced for even though he had harbored fantasies around his wife, he would always respect her choice. What mattered was that no matter what he did, he felt like it would never be enough. He would never be enough for the woman he had fallen for head over heels. 

She had settled into a cozy corner of his heart, always impacting everything he did. The voice in his mind was no longer his, it was his Meerab's, guiding him and at times, even tantalizing him. 

He knew that her gaze would linger on him more when he wore black and blue, so for a week, he had worn black and blue thrice and even Maa Begum had taunted him asking if he lacked other clothes in his wardrobe. Maryam, quite possibly privy to his romantic turmoil had questioned him as she and the couple sat outside in the lawn for pakode and chai. She asked him why he was wearing black and blue so often, if he liked the colors so much. He had just glared at her as a faint blush threatened to creep up on his cheeks. He knew that Meerab loved teekhe paani waale golgappe and had made it a point of taking her out once every fortnight to have them. As much as he hated it, he would have one golgappa from her hand without any objection. He knew the perfume she wore, the delicious scent of rose drove him wild with desire. He knew that she loved Pinterest and would spend hours scrolling, saving everything ranging from dessert recipes to room décor.

All this had gotten him nowhere or so he felt. The stress of work had gotten to him, Haya's constant presence like a bloody mosquito going Dard - e - Disco in your ear when you were trying to sleep at night was irking him. And to top it all off, he had mistakenly, as her phone buzzed seen that she had gotten a text from Rohail saying I miss you.  

He had been in a bad mood all week since he saw the text. He also knew what had followed the last time he had confronted Meerab about Rohail. Looking back on the memory, it was not a proud moment for him. He knew that he should have been a little more rational about it but when it came to Meerab, it felt like the gap between them would never be bridged and thus he grew reckless and threw caution to the wind. 

He died a little everyday as the realization dawned on him till he was numb. Numb to everything around him. Meerab was his only in name, she would give herself to him fully and they would either live out this loveless marriage or maybe it would end in a painful divorce. The dilemma of choosing between these two equally cruel options was what had been occupying his mind like a maddening haze of worry. 

What hurt him was that Meerab wouldn't take any step towards cementing their bond. She had countless opportunities to do so but somehow every time things they tried to come closer, a disaster would then prevail.  

Knowing that he would probably take the wrong step and say or do something hurtful, he had started isolating himself from Meerab. He would be up before she woke up and came late in the night, having ensured that his wife would be asleep by that time. Even in her sleep, she taunted him. The tendrils framing her face called out to him, begging to be moved. The gentle heaving of her body wrapped in the kurta she wore to sleep made her look like an apsara. Sometimes, a traitor button of her kurti would come undone and he would get a glimpse of her delicious collarbones. 

The moonlight through the window only accentuated her beauty and he would be left awestruck. 

He had been rigidly sticking to this schedule for one week when he found Meerab sitting up on the seventh day as he returned home. Having grown quite accustomed to coming home to a quiet room where he could stare at her like a tadpa aashiq, he was taken aback at the sight of her awake. 

"Why have you been avoiding me Murtasim?"

"I'm sick of missing you when you are right here Meerab."

Hellu cuties, I know I said I was done with this book but inspiration struck and I was tempted to write this chapter. It's Murtasim's POV of his pining and longing for Meerab catalyzed by the text of annoying pest, Rohail Hadi.  

Please leave your honest opinions about it!?

Also, comment and vote if you would like a part II.