When Razia burst through the wooden doors panting for breath, fear was etched on her face on every crevice of her worry lines which spread across her forehead. Reaching out for a glass of water, unable speak, Emaan poured the steel cup with ice cool water and her eyes pinned on her face. What happened at the panchayat? What did Razia witness? Afraid to ask her about the decision, Emaan peeled the dry skin off her lower lip whilst Razia took short sharp sips.
"You...you..should....-" Razia gasped unable to string a sentence together. "..should have been ...there."
"Are you okay?" Emaan asked as Razia leaned against the bed.
Once Razia necked down the tall, tumbler of water, Emaan watched her moist lips waiting for her to speak? Would she marry Shah-Nawaz? Or Peer Haider? What did the panchayat decide?
"A pig..an ugly pig.." Razia uttered.
"A what?"
"They voted."
"What was the decision?" Emaan touched her arm.
"It was bleeding."
"Talk sense." Said Emaan. "Take a breather. "
Once she regulated her breathing, Razia took out the mobile.
"Picture." Razia held the small mobile in her hand displaying the blank lock screen.
"I will look at it later."
Razia showed Emaan how to unlock the phone. Emaan slipped the phone under her pillow and returned to Razia. Razia explained the scene with her animated hands, throwing her arms wide in the air the moment announcing Shah-Nawaz's arrival with his nephew.
"They are tall and built like mountains, Choudhrani Sahiba." Razia over exaggerated building the tension. "They were like giants in midst of us little people."
Emaan shook her head. She knew Razia tended to spice up the details.
"What did they vote? Who will I marry?" Emaan shot up to her feet and pressed her lips together moistening her lower lip.
"Thank Allah it's not Peer Saab!" She clapped like a seal.
Emaan's heart fell to her feet.
"They all decided in a landslide vote."
Emaan turned away as Razia's voice faded.
"They are like soldiers, tall and angry. They ride their horses like the wind. It's terrifying." Razia continued.
"It got worse, Choudhrani Saahiba." Razia approached her towards the balcony with a glass of water.
"Much worse, your grandfather was so angry. They bought a pig. A wild black, ugly, pig ravaged by Choudhary Shah-Nawaz's dogs. He gave that to your grandfather as shagun." Razia explained the tradition.
"Allah!" Emaan smacked her forehead.
"It was bleeding everywhere. Your grandfather could have killed him. But they, Choudhary Shah-Nawaz and his strong nephew were laughing."
"And they want me to marry him? That crazy man! Astagfiruallh!" She shook her head in defiance and folded her arms. "I refuse."
"The panchayat have decided. You will marry him."
Razia rushed to the bed to retrieve the mobile phone. "Let me show you a picture."
"No!" Emaan snapped raising her hand "I don't want to see it. Leave me alone for a bit."
Razia read the sullen look on Emaan's face and left her to her thoughts.
It was a struggle for Emaan to concentrate on her prayer that afternoon. Worry amplified when her grandfather thundered into the haveli declaring the swine an act of war. The phone unsettled her. Why did she ask for pictures? Looking at her pillow, she was fearful of her reaction looking at Shah-Nawaz. The man Jahanpur decided to be her husband.
Once she completed her prayer, she nervously edged towards her bed and held the phone. With her headscarf wrapped tight around her head, she took a deep breath and unlocked the phone and clicked on the photos. A distant picture of Shah-Nawaz mounted on his horse filled the screen. His eyes obscured with glasses and turban donning his head. She couldn't make him out. His shoulders broad, donning a black turban with a glimmering jewel. She turned the phone away feeling her cheeks burn red. Her heart throbbed. Once again she flicked the pictures and stopped at one where he stood in the centre of the panchayat, dressed in a white kurtha moulded his body, his chest with a damp path of sweat on his chest. With his glasses removed, she zoomed into his face and bought the phone to her face. At that moment, Razia barged into the room.
"Shall I bring you anything?" Razia interrupted Emaan who hid the phone under her pillow. Razia was surprised to see Emaan hide the phone and turn away like she was hiding a sin.
"No I don't need anything." Emaan turned away from Razia. "Don't you know how to knock?" She snapped at her maid.
Razia crept in with a smirk plastered on her face noticing Emaan's cheeks burning rose pink. She must have liked his pictures, or else she wouldn't hide the phone and walk away in pretence.
"Handsome isn't it he?" Razia giggled.
"Get lost!" Emaan raised her hand and stormed towards the balcony. Her body fervent she couldn't understand her emotions. It was the first time her body betrayed her. Her faith directed her on how to act and feel and she followed the stringent instructions instilled by her elders. What was this pounding of the heart? She pressed her hand on her chest. Was she cheating her faith? It was just a picture. Then why did she feel like she'd committed a sin?
"Oh Allah! Forgive me." She whispered into the soft, summer breeze.
****
Making his way into the Central haveli in long strides, Wajahat Ali skipped two steps and rushed to the first floor to find Shahgul who was in her Zenana; the part of the haveli reserved for women. Ulfat obstructed the doorway to the private lounge with her stocky body.
"What do you want?" Asked Ulfat looking up at the tall man.
"I need to see her. I have important news." He reached out to touch the wooden doors but Ulfat shoved his arm away.
"You know you shouldn't be in the Zenana. She is having her treatments in her private lounge. You know the rules Wajahat."
"I have no time to wait. I need to see her now!" He pounded the door repetitively with his knuckles.
"Choudhrani, I need to speak to you now. Quickly!" His tone urgent.
"Later!" Called Shahgul from inside.
"It can't wait!" He continued to knock the door.
Moments later, the maids were ushered prematurely out of the lounge as Shahgul reluctantly allowed him to enter. With her hands heavy and wet with henna patterns, the maids draped a white chiffon dupatta over her oily tresses. They'd relaxed her with a head massage and treated her air with a concoction of Jasmine, mustard and lavender hair oils. She removed her feet from the rose water filled bowl, cloudy with dash of coconut milk and stood on the foot towel. The maid patted her feet dry and dressed her pink slippers.
"Let him in." She ordered Ulfat who noted the irritation in her tone.
"I'm sorry to barge in, but this is important!" With his eyes pinned to the ground, Wajahat Ali marched into the private lounge when an overwhelming scent of lavender oil assaulted his nostrils. The room was sweetly scented with vanilla rose from incense and coal braziers smoking with tiny slivers of sandalwood. He took a deep breath to calm his senses. Curious to behold Shahgul, Wajahat Ali struggled to lower his gaze.
"Have you lost your mind Wajahat? Why couldn't you wait?" Shahgul detested when her massage treatments were interrupted. There was a time and place for everything, and during her relaxing treatments, nothing mattered.
"Speak!" She demanded.
"Ditta!" He swallowed hard into his dry throat. "He is planning something." Wajahat flickered his eyes resting on Shahgul's mehndi adorned hands. A circle stamped in the centre, her nails and fingertips were smothered in henna. He took a deep breath and turned away.
"What is he planning Wajahat?" Shahgul approached him unaware that her scent was testing him. At five foot ten inches tall, Shahgul was tall for a woman. Forbidden to wear heels next to her husband as she would look taller which perpetuated his insecurities, apart from her son, it was rare that she had to look up to any man.
"Well?" She glared at him, looking up as she reached his shoulders.
When he rested his eyes on Shahgul, he lost his train of thought. Without her gold necklaces, earrings, and make up she looked different. Natural. Her black glossy hair framed her round face and her skin glowed from the oily massage and under the soft lighting. He stared rudely.
"Ditta....". The urgency waned in his tone. "Ditta knows everything. He's found Shah Jahan's family and planning to bring them back." Wajahat reset his trailing mind returning to his initial state of panic. There was something about Shahgul that weakened him.
"So?" She snapped making her way round to face him.
"My son will take the throne of Jahanpur. There are three days till the ceremony. Dilawar won't bring back a city boy who doesn't know anything about the land and the ways of our life. He is no threat to my son!" She inched towards him invading his personal space. Now, he was distracted by her strong floral perfume stifling his breaths. He stepped back to regain his composure.
"Not after today's panchayat, Choudrani Sahiba." Wajahat Ali bowed his head informing Shahgul of the shocking panchayat events leaving Shahgul in doubt. Wajahat was right. Dilawar was planning something.
"Your son rebelled against the panchayat. Choudhary Saab will not be happy. You must speak to Choudhary Shah-Nawaz, tell him to tell him to calm down. We can't risk it, since we come so far. I should have gone with him on the hunt. This wouldn't have happened!" He ran his hands through his short hair.
"Why weren't you?" Unable to use her heavy mehndi patterned hands. She shoved him with her elbow.
"You know very well what happens when he hangs out with that lout Uzayr. He shows off. Where have you been for the past two days?" She scolded the giant man like a child.
Wajahat was forbidden to mention the information he discovered about Meh'r-Bano. Working in the haveli for the noble household, he was careful what he learned and whom he spoke to, even with the elegant Shahgul.
"Anyway-" She mended the silence turning away from Wajahat Ali and making her way deeper into the room. "First, I must speak with Dilawar and find out what he is planning. In the meantime call Shah-Nawaz. Send him to me. He has a lot of explaining to do."
Shahgul made her way to the chaise lounge and sat down. Her dupatta slipped from her head and rested on her shoulders. Whilst she looked at her hands at the moist henna cracked dry, Wajahat Ali stole a brief look at the graceful woman. From the day she arrived at the haveli as Dialwar-Baksh's wife, he shadowed her and protected her as his duty. Soon, he witnessed the abuse Dilwar-Baksh inflicted as she disguised her purple bruised face. Over the years she'd grown wise and learned Dilwar-Baksh's moods with the help of Wajahat. As part of his duty, he would give his life for Shahgul.
"I'll let you know what to do. Stay around don't go wondering off." Her tone deflated. "Uff Shah-Nawaz you silly boy! All my life's work gone to waste." She sighed in worry. "What am I going to do with him?"
Wajahat Ali made his way towards the exit when Shahgul called out to him.
"-and Wajahat?"
He stopped with his back towards her. "Yes?"
"Don't come barging into the Zenana. Have some decorum." She warned gently.
"Apologies, Choudhrani Sahiba." He hung his head and left the room like a tornado. The room was stifling and being in the same room as Shahgul was always difficult.
*****
When Wajahat arrived at the stables, he closed his eyes and tilted his head up at the warm glow of the sun. Images of Shagul's mehndi patterned hands flashed him. He took a deep breath washing his lungs from the forbidden perfume of Shahgul with the pungent and familiar smell of fresh horse manure and hay. Shahgul was a formidable woman, working alongside her was testing his self-restraint. The sound of dogs barking and horses neighing bought him to the present state. A deep hearty laughter emerged from the stables.
The fifteen horse stables were situated in a colossal field where horses were replenished with water, hay and exercised throughout the day with a loyal workforce. Led by his bridle, Sikander galloped with his keeper in circular direction in the paddock which was situated near the stables to exercise the horses. The wind wisped his mane into the air. His muscles rippled from under his freshly groomed pelt and his powerful legs. They propelled him forward and kept him going as he powered over the dirt.
Outside the stables, Shah-Nawaz fed ivory mane bully kutta with raw dear meat he'd hunted this morning. The aggressive bully kutta jumped up on his hind legs grabbing the piece of succulent meat from Shah-Nawaz's left hand as he teased the dog raising his hand. His strong tailed wagged fervently. Uzayr stood to the side chopping the pieces of meat with a razor-sharp meat cleaver. Each thud sliced the thick red raw pieces of meat into half.
Making his way towards the young, impulsive pair he took a deep breath to hold his restraint. It wasn't his place to reprimand Shah-Nawaz however wrong he was.
"Choudhary Saab, I have news for you." Wajahat Ali marched towards Shah-Nawaz his black kurtha flapped in the wind.
"You missed it Wajahat!" Laughed Uzayr waving the bloody meat cleaver in his hand. "My uncle did what no one ever could." Uzayr sung in joy.
Swiftly, Wajahat Ali changed the subject.
"I went to Neelam valley." Declared Wajahat Ali.
This sparked Shah-Nawaz's attention. He ordered the stable worker man to take the dog away who yapped at his heels. Once he washed his hands, Shah-Nawaz approached Wajahat Ali with Uzayr listening in. Wajahat Ali took out photocopies he'd obtained from Meh'r-Bano's former college.
"It took me hours of waiting, greasing palms and asking around. That's why I was away for two whole days."
"Tell me, what did you learn?"
"Meh'r-Bano does not exist in Neelam valley."
"Woah! Woah!" Uzayr clapped his hands with intrigue. "The woman is a dark horse. Why don't we call her Sikander?" He laughed. "We have to sort her out!"
Shah-Nawaz fixed his eyes on Wajahat Ali's stalwart figure. Wajahat Ali showed Shah-Nawaz her documents and her birth certificate.
"Why did she change her name? What does she have to hide?" Shah-Nawaz looked through the paperwork. Wajahat Ali shared everything he discovered from the college peaking Shah-Nawaz's intrest. The two days were productive with mounting information. Shah-Nawaz gleaned a wide smile.
"Well done!" Shah-Nawaz patted his strong arm.
"I knew I could trust you." He took his documents and pocketed them.
"What have you found out about the rally? Was she on the register?"
"No. However, do you remember that old man, who fell at your feet?" Wajahat refreshed his memory. "Well he is from Dera Khan and also not on the register."
"Woah! Woah!" Uzayr built up the tension. He grabbed his meat cleaver and waved it like a sword. "We need to teach these traitors a lesson."
Wajahat was proud of his discoveries. Soon the truth about the fake bomb would be exposed.
"I will pay the old man a visit." Wajahat smirked igniting Uzayr's excitement.
"I'm coming with you. We need to get to the bottom of this!"
The events surrounding Meh'r-Bano were slowly beginning to unravel.
Before he left, Wajahat Ali informed Shah-Nawaz his mother wanted to see him.
"She wants to talk to you about the panchayat."
"Of course she does." Shah-Nawaz said. "She will have lots to say. But today, I will not spoil my mood as you have dug vital information. First, it's time to meet our secretive teacher."
Shah-Nawaz smirked excited with the news.
"It's most likely she has been teaching the children at the quarry." Shah-Nawaz concluded.
Later that afternoon, showered and changed into his oxford blue kurtha with a diagonal opening front fold, Shah-Nawaz flicked the bottom right of his moustache with his left index finger lifting it. He admired his reflection in the mirror and took a deep breath relaxing his chest.
"I am Choudhary Shah-Nawaz Qureshi, King of Jahanpur." He announced with poise.
He repeated the mantra his mother implanted in his mind at the tender age of two. Shahgul stood the one-and-a-half-year-old toddler, dressed in just a disposable nappy in front of the mirror forcing him to repeat the mantra until it was part of his nature. He wasn't like the other boys because he was Shah-Nawaz who would be King of Jahanpur.
"Again! This time louder!" She'd lord over the child. At bedtime, stories about a kingdom, a prince and an angry king were part of a routine. It wasn't a random prince. Shah-Nawaz was the prince riding his wild horse and clasping his iron sword.
Making his way towards Malaikah's haveli, the maids stepped to the side in respect and greeted him with a lowered gaze. He held his hands loosely behind his back with a grey shawl draped across his chest, he took languid steps towards the hall. It was laughter, he heard before he approached the doorway.
There, he saw his final hunt of the day through the shutters. Sat on a small, square, patterned stool, dressed in a ruby red silk Patiala suit with gold colour piping and diamond shaped patterns intricately designed on the kameez, Meh'r-Bano was delicate than the gazelle. With her gold bordered dupatta swathed over her head, the transparent dupatta revealed her long slender neck. Armed with vital information about her past, he bolstered his bow ready to fire his arrow. This time he wasn't going to miss, she had nowhere to run.