"Kisi ke itne paas ho
Ke saab se duur hogaye"
~ Ajeeb Daastaan Hai Yeh (Lata Mangeshkar)
𝄗𝄗𝄗𝄗♞𝄗𝄗𝄗𝄗
It was around midday when Afra had her hands on the file. Bakht had sent it to the office, directly as instructed. With more binders packed in her bag and arms, she headed towards Haveli where Rabail planned to have her office for the day.
Stepping out of the car, the warm sun caused sweat to form on her fair forehead. Some stands from her high ponytail stuck. Her light chestnut hair glazed teasing the sun. She paced with her hands filled with documents, papers, invites, and whatnot. Feeling her arms going numb with the pressure of the files, she sighed sensing the hustle and bustle of Khanum's life. Even being her Personal Secretary was taxing for poor Afra, imagine being Rabail herself. She would be damned if she didn't go bonkers.
There were tough days, worse days, taxing days; nevertheless, both loved their jobs. Rabail served the people while Afra assisted her. The sisterly bond was not confined within the four walls of the Haveli only.
Picking up her pace, she strolled through the familiar interiors. Nodding her heads to the greetings of helpers, smiling at a few. Her mind was listing down the order of the things to be reported as she entered the private wings. The Haveli had two wings- the private one for the family members and the central wing which basically housed balls, parties, public parlors for welcoming the guests.
"Salam, Chote Sahib" she heard as she walked past the attached balcony. Cocking her head, her mind mulled 'Ifran?'
Changing her course, she entered the balcony through the opened brass patio doors. A golden-mirror tray with a pair of cups and saucer was placed on the tea-table. The helper was attentively filling a cup with tea for his Huzuur. Ifran placed himself on a chair adjacent to the table.
His smouldered honey-chocolate eyes were covered with shades, hair was tousled as if the strands were repeatedly being run through by his rough hands. His light tanned skin kissed the inviting rays as he leaned his head back and allowed the long toned legs to stretch to its full extent. His inky beard glimmered and covered his sharp jawline. The top few buttons of his shirt were open, giving off a nonchalant look to the man while rolled up sleeves of his baby blue shirt gave a full display of his angular forearms and pounding veins.
"Salam, Choti Begum Sahiba" hearing the helper, Ifran tilted his head towards the door. Seeing Afra, he passed her a smile which she returned.
"Hey Afra." he motioned her to come and take a seat on the abandoned chair across him. The helper, without a sound, excused himself, with a bowed head. Shaking her head in negative, she replied "Can't, Ifran. Duty calls." Motioning to her occupied arms, she passed him an apologetic smile.
"You need to wait up a bit actually. Rabe has gone off to the orphanage a few minutes back." Ifran informed her.
"Saab khairiyat?" (Everything alright?)Her mind went searching for any possible appointment or event regarding the orphanage. None could be found and she would hardly miss anything regarding Rabail's schedule. Moreover, if it was about the orphanage she would definitely not miss a word of it, for that place was from where her Abbu had picked her from after the Khans took over the authority.
Yes, Afra Maham Khan was not blood-related to any of the Khans. Yet, their bond was one shared with love and soul. The amount of fondness shown on her never allowed her to think of herself as someone just brought to this Haveli as a frail three-year-old child who could count the number of meals she had with her tiny fingers.
You are a Khan, always was and always will be.
They repeatedly said it to her and she was proud of the fact that they were the ones whom she could call her own. She had no recollection or idea of her blood relations, neither did she ever think of them. Her family were the Khans, the Haveli and Aadhilabad. One would say she lost her existence by being an orphan, however, she gained a much valuable actuality where the relationships formed by heart were much, much thicker than those forgotten kindred.
Sensing her tensed posture, Ifran waved his hands in the air "Koi masla nahi hai, Afra. Baas kuch paper-works mein Rabe ke signs jaroori the to start the renovations"
(Nothing to worry about, Afra. There were some minute paper works which Rabe had to sign immediately to start the renovations.)
Nodding her head as she took in the answer, Afra stood still in her earlier place as she let her mind slow down from previous overdrive. Chuckling to himself, he poured another cup and called out to the human statue to take a seat.
Scoffing off as she saw his teasing smile, Afra took a seat. The light scent of chamomile eased her stormy mind and anatomy. Looking around the vast outstretched pond decorated with hints of waterlilies, put up a smile on her face. Taking a sip, she thought 'Now this is life'.
Both of them were silent, eyes stilled on the calm water body, ears perked up to hear the buzzing grasshoppers, hands wrapped on their cups and harmony on their faces. They took in whatever little time they had to bask in this beauty of nature; for all they knew works and duties kept knocking on their doors.
"You are still at home?" Afra broke the silence first.
"Have a flight in three hours. Heading off to London for the upcoming venture."
"How's work?"
Passing a tired smile to her, "Same old."
"Too tough for Mr. I-won-the best-businessman-of-the-year-award?" She passed a smirk to the man.
An unrestrained throaty laugh escaped through his soft pink lips, "You know that's a mouthful of a nickname" Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to sip on her tea. They did not call each other by nicknames, strangely. They called each other by their first names and that was it.
Everyone in the household had an epithet, courtesy of Rabail, of course. Ifran being called Iffy, Afra as Maham; then Dadi Jaan sometimes teased as Malika-e-Jaan since the infamous tale reached the diligent ears of the mischievous teenage Rabail. Her inflexible Dada Jaan climbed over her Bahar-e-Husn Dadi Jaan's balcony, on a Chaand Raat with a Ghazal book in his hand. 'Ishq par zor nahin!' (Love knows no compulsions!) She used to cry out loud, along her partner, with a hand placed where her heart was, eyes throwing out cupid bows, lips embracing unrestrained glee, causing her Dadi Jaan to turn all shades of red. Ismail Chacha for now had a stationary nickname after his retirement. General Sahib. And there were two others, no longer mentioned, yet never forgotten.
"So how is it at your end?" This time he threw the question.
"Same old." They both quietly took their last sips of the tea. The ambience was relaxing. The warm sun, light breeze, a beautiful scene and a partner for a chat.
"You know if things get hard, you can come to rant." Eyeing the clear sky through his shade he offered Afra. "You don't have to beat yourself; even I hope Rabe stops pushing herself to the edges as well. At times it's too damn frustrating to see her so caught up with things, forgetting to take a step back and breathe."
"I feel you. I also hope Aapi doesn't burn out herself. Her responsibilities and work are taxing as it is, and then it almost feels as if she is being excessively-" she paused to rake her mind for a right word. Her fingers were tapping on the table, in a rhythm. A habit whenever her mind was fixated about something.
" Ruthless towards herself" Completing her sentence as he spoke in a gravelly calm voice.
Letting the words sink deep into the depths of cerebrum, both continued to watch the chalky lilies floating on the aqua-green water.
"First thing before coming to rant is to be truthful about your rants. Spill what the heck pops up in your head." Tilting his head, he eyed the woman. He knew he spoke out of the blue by stating a so-called rule but he knew her. She would even hold herself while ranting. God so frustratingly saint-y she was!
"You know I have no reason to lie to you." she passed a coy smile like a child caught before stealing some 'cavity-causing' candy from the top shelf jar by her 'not-a-doctor' mom.
"Lie." he wiper-yelled towards her as his bushy brows crinkled together and his eyes sent out daggers to the laughing mess of a woman. Clearing his throat, his voice turned serious as he continued,
"We all have fears, Afra. We hide them. Yet, at times, we confuse that with courage."
"So you hid something as well?" she spinned the bottle to him.
"Don't we all?" Neither a concrete answer or question to the other. What he said was true. They hid things deep inside them in a chest. Why? Because we are too ashamed to admit it out loud. Too terrified to see what would unfold. Too selfless for our own good.
"Did things clear out with Bakht?" Treading lightly, he inquired about the looming situation.
"Not yet. Aapi is currently looking into it. She wants to be completely reassured of what is going on."
Nodding, he answered, "Completely understandable after all."
They never brotched about that. They simply spoke whenever one was comfortable with it. Everyone was affected, some steeled themselves, while others crumbled. Even so, together they passed through the dark times.
"You know Aapi leans on you a lot."
Letting out that beaming tug of lips, "You too. She trusts you too."
Checking the time on his watch, he prepared himself to leave. Standing up to his full length, he glanced over Afra. She tilted her head to see the man. He casted an intimidating look for the onlookers, yet the masked smile gave out a little warmth to Afra.
"Tum thodi der thehar jaein. Aapi ati hongi." (You could wait for a while. Aapi would be here in a few minutes.) She offered. If Rabail knew he felt without a goodbye, she would keep mumbling, till the world ended, 'Uska toh kaam Rabe ko bye bolne se zyada zaroori hai.' (His work is much more important than saying a simple good-bye to Rabe.)
"Thehar jaate lekhin Sameer ko bhi office se pick up karna parega. Otherwise he will throw a tantrum of being abandoned like a puppy." (Would have surely but need to pick up Sameer from the office as well.) Rolling his eyes at the antics of his dramatic best-friend and Director of his company.
Mere life mein itne dramebaaz log kaha se a taapke, Allah miah! (From where did my life get crowded with this many Drama-queens, Allah Miah!)
Holding back a snicker at the sight of the frowning man, Afra wished him a safe journey and a smile. He smiled back and bid her farewell.
Turning to his heels, he went out of the balcony. The heels of his leather created a rhythm on the marbles. His head buzzed with a voice, soft and alluring that ruffled his feathers, in a good way. Her clear laughter like the jingling pazeb hugging her elegant and circular ankles, twinkling orbs that put asteroids to shame, curls bouncing as she moved, blinding smiles metaphoring the peeking sun after an eclipse.
There were a thousand oceans in between them, and if given a chance he would cross them. In a heartbeat.
With the tazveer of his beqadar, a song hummed within the fibres of his body.
'Yeh Roshni Ke Saath Kyoon
Dhuaan Utha Chiraag Se
Yeh Khwab Dekhti Hoon Main
Ke Jag Padi Hoon Khwab Se'
(The flame that burns ever so bright
Spreads more smoke than delight
In the gloom my eyes thinly sing
Psalms of awakening)
𝄗𝄗𝄗𝄗♞𝄗𝄗𝄗𝄗
Assamualaikum readers!
I just thought it was high time to have the other leads introduced as well.
So did you like them?!!!
Oh and do give a listen to the song mentioned in the starting! I could have never found a song so depicting to the characters. I always have a thing for the elapsing periods of 1920s to 1990s. They got the most soulful songs and story-lines.
Do love, read, vote and comment!
Stay tuned & stay safe!