Pervade and Faint

Chapter 41

The peace in the atmosphere exacerbated when he took a step further. The gun moved with him, creating a viscous air of fear. The repulsive air of fear wafted throughout the room. I couldn't look at him for more than a second. My mind couldn't desist making painful and vulgar images of the terrible things which he had done to Sophia, the way he had touched her with his filthy hands. His filthy and dirty hands had touched Sophia's flawless and clean body. Merely the menacing and repugnant thoughts made me want to get out of my chair and pulverize his each and every single bone. How dare him!

Latif Bagri's bloodshot eyes scanned the whole entire room, scrutinizing at every face. It didn't require a master mind to know what or who he was in pursuit of. He was searching for Sophia. And there was no way he was going to get her. At least not this time, I thought. He lifted his gun in mid air and brandished it, as if he was showing it to everyone. The metal of the gun glistened under the dim light of the dining room. But the shine faded as he held it near his thigh. I looked over at auntie Shama and dad. Everyone went agape. Suddenly, there was another bang. Louder. Closer. Latif Bagri had banged the dining table, distorting the entire setup of the dining table. Half of the food, which took a long time and an arduous effort, fell to the floor and scattered. Auntie Shama let out a painful shriek. The hot curry spilled on her lap. The face of the gun was touching auntie Shama's forehead, barely before her shriek dissolved into the horrific air.
"Where is she?" he demanded in a light voice. It mesmerized me that he was talking in such a small voice. However, his voice wasn't devoid of anger, for his face exposed it.
"I don't know", replied auntie Shama, taking her time. She shut her eyes and gulped, as if she was ready to intake the bullet. He looked at her for a second, and then at uncle Qurashi. With the nozzle of his gun glued to her forehead, he gave her a hard push, throwing her behind. I stood up in the millionth of a second and went to her. To my surprise, he didn't stop me.
Auntie Shama was on the floor, her weight on one side. It broke my heart to see her like that. I held her hand and helped her sit up. There was a fearful look on her face, eyes welling with tears. Her eyes asked me a million questions. And it was my eyes, which also gave answers. Perceptibly, I nodded, trying to inform her that I had Sophia. But I didn't know whether she comprehended or not. Her eyes shifted back to Latif Bagri, whose gun was now fixed at uncle Qurashi's forehead. Better here, I thought.
"It was a deal", said Latif Bagri in a raspy voice.
"I swear I _ "
"BULLSHIT", screamed Latif Bagri, releasing the potential he had stored.
"GIVE ME THE MONEY OR THE GIRL.OR I'LL REGISTER THE GODDAMN CASE AGAIN", he shouted, blowing uncle Qurashi's hair. Uncle Qurashi went speechless. He didn't know how to reply. Dad looked at them both in dismay. Latif Bagri slid the gun in between his belt. He looked at dad for a second, but didn't say a word.
"Twenty four hours", announced Latif Bagri, particularly staring at uncle Qurashi, warning him. After a last glance, Latif Bagri left, leaving a mess behind. A few glasses shattered, making the floor extremely perilous. Sharp fragments of the plates were scattered here and there.

"Where is she?" asked uncle Qurashi, referring to auntie Shama. She was picking up the fragments of the shattered and scattered dishes, carefully. He asked the same question before she could even answer. Auntie Shama lifted her head, an extremely woebegone expression in her face.
"I _ d-don't know", she hesitated, trying her best not to make eye contact with him. The presence of dad and I was playing the role of friction for uncle Qurashi. By the expressions of his face, it wasn't abstruse to tell that he wanted to have a furious talk with the woman.
"Excuse us, please", he announced. Dad stood up and headed towards the door. I watched him leave. As I stood up, I took a glance at auntie Shama, in seek of her resonance. She didn't have anything to say.
"Leave", said uncle Qurashi, not making eye contact with me. Auntie Shama blinked gently and imperceptibly nodded. Understanding the circumstances, I left, and revived dad's footsteps.

The weather outside was still chilly. There was rain, but it's adamantine intensity had enervated. However, there were black clouds embedded in the sky, which was a formal, well known sign of rain, for the thunder had already made its way.
_________

I opened the door to our house and entered. A few lights in the living room were on, which wasn't a usual thing in our house, despite the fact that the house lacked mom. Someone had to be there in order for the lights to be on. It was only a weak curiosity for me. What could possibly be going on after what just happened? I contemplated.
When I went over to close them, I saw dad uncomfortably perched on a sofa.
"Dad?" I asked, a bit surprised to not see him in his room. It's not that he wasn't used to sitting in the living room. But at least not at nighttime.
"Sit", he ordered, gesturing towards and empty seat on the sofa. On his order, I sat down. Dad seemed serene. But that was just an indispensable part of his aptitude.
"What happened to your fist?" he asked, curiously. I completely forgot about my fist, the pain, burn, everything. And now that I thought of it, the pain in it woke up all of a sudden. I didn't know how to answer, so I remained silent, providing him evidence for his investigation, because silence is an answer itself.
"Okay and where do you stay all day? You traveled two hundred and forty one miles in just two days. Not that I care about the mileages, but I'm concerned about you", he said. There was an honesty and affection in his voice, which was hard to ignore. I had to tell him everything, because he needed to know. And I also needed his help.
"Where is she?" he asked. I had heard that question multiple times in the past few minutes, but it was different from dad's mouth. It didn't appear as a demand. He sounded concerned.
"You have her, right?" he asked and looked straight into my eyes. The compelling urge in his eyes was just unavoidable. I had to say something. Looking into his eyes, I nodded.
"Then why didn't you tell me?" he asked, in a genuine sympathetic and parental tone. That tone is often a delusive tone, but due to the fact that it was being emanated from my dad, I believed in it throughout.
"You lied to me", I mumbled. Dad took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to see you like this", he said.
"Then why am I being seen like this to you?" I answered. Digesting my words harshly, dad made a face.
"I'm sorry", he said.
"I'm sorry too", I answered. I shouldn't have raised my voice at him, I repented.
"Now where is she?" he asked.
I took a deep breath, finally contemplating whether I should tell him or not. I had to tell him. That's because I needed his help. And I really trusted him. Along with my breath, I released everything. I told dad about each and every detail, comprehensively. Dad listened intently. It was never a habit of his to interfere, which lubricated my conversation. I didn't have to err or stop a single time. I even told him the reason behind the stench, which permeated in the car. Dad nodded throughout the conversation, comprehending.
_________

After I finished, dad put a hand on my leg.
"How is she now?" he asked.
"Well, I don't know", I answered, desperate to see her. The thunder roared for a while. The flash of lightening was to be vividly seen through the window, which was all foggy, raindrops splattered on it. I wondered whether Sophia would also be afraid of the thunder. It was a cold and lonely night, and it must be hard for Sophia, I thought.
"Well why don't you go and check", he said, slightly lifting his head. My heart leaped at his words. Merely the idea of meeting her provoked a genial response in me.
"I'll come with you", he said, instantly, and stood up. He walked into his room without a further word. Dad seemed serious and concerned. Sitting in the living room, I suddenly thought of mom. It was hard to fathom that we had to live without her. Mom left a loneliness behind, which hurt every time I thought of it. My mind was densely stuck in Sophia, due to which all my attention converged towards her. But whenever I thought of mom, it hurt more than anything. I missed her, her voice, her presence, beautiful smell, everything. I remembered the voice of her bangles when she used to walk. And now, there was no voice of her to be heard. Not the voice of her bangles, her footsteps. Along with herself, everything of hers faded, leaving an everlasting supply of desperateness behind.

Before I could even get up and grab my jacket, dad was already out. He held a stack of money in his hand. I wrinkled an eyebrow as soon as I saw it.
"I'm sorry I can't withdraw any money from the ATM. Just made a withdrawal today", he said and tucked his shirt in his pants. Despite the fact that he had tucked his shirt gingerly, it was still out. He tucked it in again. I remembered watching him do so when I was small, when he used to get ready in the morning. He had always tucked his shirt clumsily. But like grandpa used to say,
"A mature mans clumsiness is even so serious."
When dad was done with his shirt, he looked at me and narrowed his brows.
"Why are you smiling?" he asked and smiled himself, diminishing the dense tension in the air.
Just to be honest, I, myself, didn't even know the reason behind my smile.