After convincing the girl in burka (I still couldn't ask her name) to accept our help in the burial process of her father, we (me, Aman and Vikrant) arranged everything.
It was afternoon when we got finished with the burial. It was a bit difficult for us to organize it being a non-Muslim, but everyone was very helpful.
Surprisingly, my friends did not fire their questions at me in the meantime.
After completing the process, I asked them to leave and meet me in the evening. I then returned to my car where she was waiting.
She had removed her naqaab and was washing her face with water.
I got stuck where I was.
It might not be the most favorable time to even think of it but in front of me was one of the most beautiful faces on earth. Her eyes were blood red, because of crying, mostly swollen. Her cheeks were red too. Droplets of water were dripping from her lips. She was not wearing much jewelry but few of her wet hairs that covered her face were no less than jewels. Her posture reminded me of a poetry I wrote some time back. By the way, I forgot to tell you that I love to write poems whenever I get time. I know it doesn't go hand in hand with my profession, but it is the case.
"ऐ काश ये वक़्त और होता तो बता पाते तुम्हे"
"की उम्र तो कम सी हो चुकी है इस दीदार के लिए"
"मेरी हसरत सी बन गयी हो तुम नज़र भर में ही"
"मेरी हर एक दुआ हो चुकी तुम्हारे प्यार के लिए"
"I wish the time was different; I could have told you"
"that I feel, my life is short to see you enough"
"you have become my need in only one look"
"every prayer of mine is already for your love"
"Vivan," I murmured to myself.
"Are you kidding me? Her father is dead, she is crying, and she is of a different religion. What the hell do you think you are thinking?" one side of my mind shouted.
"No, but look at her. Have you ever seen something so gorgeous? Don't you feel that she is the one?"
"Stop fucking with my mind. I don't even know her properly. I have so much more to do in life than to waste it on her."
She gave me a surprised look, and her hands suddenly rolled over to find the loose ends of the naqaab to cover her face.
The voices in my head stopped.
I didn't speak. I just opened the driving seat door and got inside.
"Thank you very much for your help, and to your friends also," she said, her voice low.
"That's absolutely all right. So where do you want me to drop you?" I asked.
"You can stop at any nearby bus stop and I will take the bus."
"It is alright. I can drop you at your house," I insisted.
"No, it's OK. I have already bothered you enough. Please drop me at the nearby bus stop," she insisted too.
"Alright." I didn't push much.
After a few minutes I saw a bus stop and stopped the car.
I opened my door but she stopped me.
"No, please you don't have to wait for bus. I am OK. I can do it. You can go," she requested.
"Ok, but take my card in case you need anything. Please don't feel awkward. You can call me," I said while passing my card to her. She took it quietly and inserted it in her purse.
I started the car but my eyes were still on the girl in a burka. She was standing, waiting for the bus, but I was not sure where her life would go from there.
I drove off.
ESTÁ A LER
Vivan Love Story
Romance"Love is not something which one can possess. It can only be felt by giving and not expecting anything" was the way Vivan felt when he saw Sayra. But there were three problems 1] he fell in for her was the day her father died 2] there was something...
