W A R M tears cascaded down her soft cheeks. Her eyes heavy and full of sleep. And yet the dread and feeling of being unsecured in the tiny chamber stopped her from shutting her eyes for even one second.The metal rods that barricaded her inside, away from the world of the innocent, made her cry. All her life she had been taught to never steal. To never lie. And here she was burning the brunt of someone else's mistakes.
Hoor sat in a corner of the cell. The white chipping paint on the walls and the cold floor, a painful reminder that she was not home. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the happiness that was part of her life before Rizwan and his father had entered it. Like a chaos. Taking everything away from her. She laughed at herself for remembering that place. She was no longer welcome there. For ofcourse she had tainted their reputation without any room for repairs. And the new place she lived in belonged to her paralysed husband. A husband she had married out convenience.
Kia mazak bana dia hai meri zindagi ko? Hoor asked her Lord. The One she had believed in for all this time. She could not fathom that she, someone who like to remember Him every day. Did all the obligatory things that the religion asked for and more. Then how could she face so many difficulties in life? Why was He being unfair? Why was He not giving her ease?
The torment she had faced in the past few days became so much for her that she forgot, she was sinning. Nashukri. Something Allah does not like. For if He had thrown her in a situation such as this, He would give her a way out aswell. What was the use of her prayer if she could not even trust Him this much?
Hoor wiped her tears, trying to think about where she had placed those god damn karay. She clearly remembered not bringing any jewellery that Rizwan had given her to her new home. She wanted to close that chapter in the place where it had started itself. She wondered why Rizwan did not just come to Mustafa's place and ask for them. Why did he go the extra mile to involve the police? Was he trying to wreck his friendship for the sake of something that had never even happened? Was all his brotherhood a facade?
As Hoor was deep in thought, she did not notice Mustafa enter the station with Raees wheeling him inside. They walked into the officers chamber, with a lawyer in tow.
"Assalamualikum inspector," Mustafa politely greeted.
There was no point in picking a fight with him, he was just doing his job.
"Wa'salam. Ji main kia madad kar sakta hun Mustafa sahab?" The inspector rubbed his short stubble.
"Mein apni biwi Hoor Mustafa ki bail karwanay aaya hun," Mustafa replied, politely.
"Sahab chori ka ilzaam hai, tou kia aapko lagta hai bail ho sakti hai?" The man inquired.
"Ji. Humein court sai ijazat mill gai hai". He motioned for the lawyer to present with the papers.
The inspector nodded his head. Receiving the money that had been set for the bail, asking one of the female hawaldar to bring Hoor in.
The woman, nodded. Coming to Hoor's cell, she opened the tiny door.
"Chal. Zamanat ho gai hai," she roughly grabbed her arms and led her to the room where Mustafa was.
"Yeh rahi aapki biwi. An yeh mamla aapas mein suljha lena," the inspector closed the case and allowed them to leave.
No sooner had she sat in the seat of the comfortable car that she grabbed Mustafa's arm and began crying hysterically. She was not in her senses. She was emotionally overwhelmed and tired. Mustafa patted her back in a soothing motion. He knew if she was in her senses she would never willingly move so close to her. He knew she needed time to accept him as a spouse. He just hoped it was soon.
They reached their large home at nine in the morning. Hoor, who had spent the night in jail rushed into their bedroom to shower. She grabbed the first outfit that came in her hand and rushed into the spacious bathroom. Meanwhile, Mustafa had the chef prepare her some breakfast. And asked her to bring it to their bedroom.
Hoor had grabbed a white outfit. It had a v-neck with flowers embroidered on it. The sleeves had lace on them as did the trousers. It came with a cream coloured dupatta with white tassels.
She grabbed a pair of beige heels. She was happy when she had found out that Alia had gotten her an entire heels collection. All her life she had obsessed over them, but was unable to afford them. Now she could finally live that dream of hers.
Hoor stepped out to find Mustafa setting the coffee table next to the sofa in their bedroom with breakfast.
"Hoor aajain. Nashta kar lein," he motioned for her to come over.
"Humara dil nahi hai," the thought of eating made her feel sick.
She was still not over the events of yesterday.
"Ab aisa bhi na karein. Aapki tabiat kharab ho gai tou ma humein chodein gi nahi. Isliye aajain, thoda bohat kha lein," seeing him beg her to eat, she had no option but to comply.
She sat down next to him, enjoying the sweet round bread. Mustafa told her that they were pancakes. She felt happy when she saw that he was not making fun of her for eating it with her hands. He was using cutlery and looking regal. She thought she looked like a rouge. But he eased her worries.
"Hoor jo bhi huwa, usko hum rok nahin saktay. Aap mein aur mujh mein faraq hai. Aur yeh baat ignore nahi ki ja sakti. Magar, mein aapki madad karna chahta hun. Mein aapko aapki nazroon mein girnay nahi de sakta. Kia faraq parta hai agar aap haath sai khaati hai? Its okay. Kuch nahi hota. Balkay haath sai khana tou sawab ka kaam hai. Tou phir sharama kyun rahi hai?" As he tried to assure her, she could not help but think, perhaps things would not be too bad after all.
J A M A L H O U S E, ANDROON LHR
●●●●¤¤●●●●
Jahan-ara stepped inside their tiny kitchen after a very long time. Nearly ten years. Ever since Hoor had turned thirteen, she was the one who took care of the food and household. She just had to manage the finances. Now, since she was married, Jahan-ara had to take over the whole household again. She entered and opened their fridge. Taking out the flour to make roti. She would not be wasting anytime in making parathas.
It was a different thing beforehand. Hoor used most of her income from silai to run the kitchen. So they could afford to eat desi ghee daily. As time would go on, they would no doubt get used to the changes and adjust. For now she cussed at herself for getting the girl married so soon. She could have served them for a few years more.
"Ammi aaj parathay kyun nahin banai?" Ali eyed the plain bread with disgust.
"Kyun keh ab yeh ghar eik aadmi chala raha hai. Roz roz ghee hum kha nahi saktay!" She gritted out.
Oh what she would give to have a useful son.
"Han Ali, ab tumhein bhi kaam karna chahiye. Taakey hum tumhari shaadi karwa sakein," Jamal spoke.
His eyes had eye bags under them. It seemed as if he had aged ten years in just one night.
"Mein bhi an retirement lenay laga hun. Aapnay damad keh liye kaam nahi karun ga! Uss nai humari izzat par haath dala hai aur mera zameer mujhe uski ji hazuri karnay nahin de ga!" He said with finality.
Not knowing that what he would do now, but also not ready to accept working for Mustafa once again.
●●●●¤¤●●●●