𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖗 𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 [Ongoing]

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴏɴᴇ

Dedicated to Heitcleff (Thank You for this fantastic cover!)❤

New week and here I am with another update. Enjoy!

I worked particularly hard with the descriptions of the Dargah as I have never been to one. So, if you have been to one, and find something wrong let me know!

*★,°*:.☆*.°★* 。

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" I told you to come alone," the woman in a black burqa says, staring straight ahead.

I turn to look at the Peer who's busy chanting in Arabic or Persian, I am not sure, " He wouldn't let me."

"Come to the bathroom after me. Wait sometime before you do so." She says as she now drags her palms from her forehead all the way to the back of her head, closing her eyes in concentration.

I notice through my peripheral vision how she bends down touching her forehead to the floor before she stands up, then moves away from my range of vision. I don't turn to look at her.

I bow down like her touching my forehead to the floor before I stand up, making my way to the Peer, bowing down before him.

He brushes the feathers on my burqa clad head before muttering, " God will show you the way, you only need to follow it."

My eyes lazily scan the insides of the shrine before I make my way to the shadows, lazily going through the carvings on the wall, some hymns in Persian.

There is no artificial source of light in here, the only source of light being the narrow streams of light coming in through the jaalis, some of it absorbed by the red colored threads tied to the jaalis. The pillars are all gilded, a beautiful contrast to the white colour of the walls. My fingers lightly graze the lotus patterned jaali separating the inner sanctum from the wide patio outside. I look outside through the jaalis, scanning the crowd for a certain face. But, he is nowhere to be seen.

My wrist watch shows it's already been ten minutes since Apa went inside. I turn back, bow to the grave of the saint, quickly scan the crowd for a hulking male figure before venturing in the direction Apa had gone.

I ask someone for the way to the ladies bathroom. It's outside the dargah on the western side. i hastily climb down the stairs as I make my way to the harrowing stopover for pilgrims. The pungent smell of ammonia from overuse and the remnants of bleaching powder perhaps from the time it was cleaned hits my olfactory sense as soon as I enter the worn down one storey building.

The bathroom is unexpectedly empty so it's not hard finding a certain burqa clad woman. I find her washing her face in a basin. Now that her veil is pulled up, revealing her face, I find I am still not familiar with the face. For a moment I struggle to identify her, but the sharp look in her eyes is unmistakable. She efficiently uses a handkerchief to wipe away the droplets from her face.