Saira Malik
Popping the last bit of Taki in my mouth, I scroll through the emails on my laptop that lay on my thighs when my phone chimed with a new text, sitting beside me on the bed. I picked it up to see it was a text from Hitler.
Be there in 20 minutes.
That was all it said. I huffed, rolling my eyes at his khadoosness before putting the gadget away, I focus back on the list of emails displayed on the screen. My inner self wondering what today will be like. Because yesterday was shit. Purely utterly shit.
Bande ku tour karao bole the. Aur tour matlab kiya? Ek jagah jaate, photos lete, explore karte. Magar Hitler? Naaa. . .
All he did was drive, drive, and drive, telling me this building is this, that building is that. Sab kuch car me baithke. Faida hi nai hua, of taking all the pain and changing clothes for him 3 times. Because we never left the car. It felt like bahar Corona hai and car me andar apan safe hai. Uff Allah!
We've been to Hi-tech city yesterday, I think, 'cause he said it was the main hub of the city. And believe me when I say, I did not enjoy it.
I mean, mai New York se hu. New York, jo in sab ka baap hai. Why would I enjoy a place like Hi-tech?! Arey bhai, kuch heritage wali jagah leke chalo na! Tell me about this city. The actual Hyderabad. Yahan ki specialty, yahan ki history. Buildings to sari dunya me hai, tumhare pass kiya hai?
Hein?
'Ma.' My Bollywood self answered.
My phone pinged again, a new text coming in.
Be there in 10.
Urgh! Sukoon nai hai isku kahi bhi.
I groan, throwing the covers over me. I am so not in a mood to leave bed today. Let's just ask him to postpone the plans for today. Grabbing the phone, I begin typing.
'Aaj nai jainge na, please?'
My thumb hovered above the send icon ready to tap when I paused abruptly.
Wait. . .why am I begging? It's not even worth it! Who knows today he might take me to a mall and say this was the first mall ever that was built in Hyderabad. The odds of such thing happening are not narrow anyway. Keeping that in mind, I restructure the sentence.
'I'm not coming today.' Haan, ye sahi hai. I nod, and hit send.
The next thing I know, my phone begins to ring in my hand. Hitler calling flashes on the screen. Swiping right I answer the call.
"Um. . .Hello?"
"Jaldi neeche aao. Mood kharab mat karo mera. Otherwise kal ke jaisa tour karatu phir se." He hissed.
"Lekin--"
"Lekin wekin kuch nai. Mai aaru ghar, ready raho. Aur suno, comfortable shoes pehno."
"Okay, but listen--"
The line went dead.
I grit my teeth at his antics, clutching the phone in my hand. Why is so. . . Hitler?!
I groan, punching the pillow in front of me a couple of times before dragging my feet towards the washroom helplessly.
Tour azaab bangaya meri jaan pe!
Nonetheless, I was ready and wrapping a nude color hijab around my head. A sigh escaped my lips as I glanced at my outfit of today. Latte high-waisted pants, a white t-shirt tucked away under a knee-length blue floral print chiffon cardigan and comfortable shoes. I still didn't get why he made me change clothes yesterday. I tried not getting my hopes too high this time and send a quick prayer to the skies.
Inshallah, Khadoos Hitler ko isse koi problem nai hona. Ameen.
I say passing my palms over my face. A faint honk resonated, seconds after which mom called and my phone buzzed at the same time.
"Fahad aagaya hunga Saira!" She called from somewhere in the house.
I yelled a 'ji' in reply, declining the call. Grabbing my bag, I head out of the room, bidding farewell to everyone I met on my way to the front door.
"Aaj roke mat aao ander." Commented Emad. I pull a face at him, exiting Muqaam-e-Ibrahim through the large gate.
My eyes instantly found his already looking me up and down while sitting in the drivers seat. My heartbeat picked up speed, but my walk slowed down, as if waiting for him to give a heads up so I know he is okay with my attire. His head bobbed slightly in approval gesturing me to hop in.
I heaved a sigh of relief. Phew!
With a small smile, I get myself seated saying Salam.
"Walaikumsalam." Imran replied in a sing sang voice. "Khairyat?"
"Alhamdulillah. How are you?" I ask him.
"Zabardast."
A short pause of silence followed, as the engine roared to life and the vehicle drove out onto the main road.
"Aaj kahan jaare apan?" I asked.
"Dekho." Hitler said, his dark intimidating eyes moving to look at me from the mirror.
"Kiya?"
"Jahan apan jaare."
"Oh."
Silence. Only the sound of breathing and the honking of cars.
"Itta sannata kyu hai bhai?" Imran chimed in, glancing at both of us. I shrugged in response, while Hitler payed no heed.
"Ye humare gunge log. Uff!" He said dramatically, before turning in his seat to look at me."Baji, koi song suggestion? Bhaiya se pooche toh he'll say Aashiqui ka, 'bas ek sanam chahiyea', isliyea aapse poochru." I jammed my lips together so I don't let the chuckle out.
"Not really. Koi fast beat play kardo."
"Poochna hi bekar hai." He murmured, shaking his head. Few seconds later, music from the song 'Hairat' flowed into the air.
My fingers drummed against the handrest as the beats song escalated. I jumped in my seat when Imran started singing along. More like yelling the lyrics.
"HAIRAT HAI! HAIRAT HAI!
TU HAI TOH HAR EK LAMHA KHOOBSURAT HAI!"
Damn! My ear.
"HAIRAT HAI! HAIRAT HAI!
TU HAI TOH HAR EK LAMHA KHOOBSURAT HAI!"
He went on.
"Khoi khoi khwaab mein
Chupi chupi khwahishein
Naram si ret pe
Geeli geeli---"
"Jande Imran! Saira ke kaan me se khoon nikalna baakhi hai. Don't stress yourself." Hitler said, successfully cutting him off.
Phew!
"Mere jaisi awaaz nai hai teri." I watched as a smirk grew on his face and a scowl on Imrans.
Alright! I'll give him that.
His eyes flashed at me for a brief moment, the glint in them prominent. I looked away, trying not to smile. Weird shyness rushing through me.
We continued on our way to Allah knows where, with the music and Imran's sureeli awaaz that just wouldn't shut up. Even Fahad had given up on him. Minutes later the vehicle came to a halt in the parking lot. The Abdullah brothers exited and began walking, with me following them like a lost puppy.
"Chowmahalla Palace." Hitler announced smiling with pride, once we passed through the large wooden gate.
"Woah!" I managed to utter taking in the place around me. Perfectly manicured lawns running around the large water fountain right at the entrance, and in the center of all four palaces, overlooking a two-story palatial building, a European facade of Corinthian Columns.
"Chow is four, Mahal meaning palace. It is said to have inspired by Shah's Palace located in Tehran." Hitler tells me, as we make our way up the stairs of what seemed like the main palace. "This is Afzal Mahal, first built among all the four."
I bob my head, ambling towards the drawing-room to my left. The luxurious furniture of the Nizams, screaming royalty.
"WOW!" The intricate artwork on the walls and the ceilings, adorned with glass chandeliers of the palace had me in awe. The classic plush-looking couches made me want to jump on them. Golden drapes, along with cream-colored walls complementing the dark wooden doors effortlessly. Even the freaking ceiling fans were themed!
"Aye!" I felt a tug at the strap of my bag. Turning my head, I see Hitler holding it between his fingers. "Not allowed." He gestured to the railing I had crossed subconsciously. "Chalo." He said softly, as I flash him an sheepish grin.
Descending the stairs, we make our way towards the next palace. I was truly surprised to see all the royal attires they had on display. Both of men, women, and children. A series of sherwanis, the traditional men wear, and the sarees for women stood on mannequins on the other side of the glass.
"Ye bhaiya ke shaadi ki sherwani hai dekho." Imran said, pointing to a maroon sherwani.
"Usse achi wo wali hai."
We froze, glancing at each other.
"Dono ki choice abhi se same. Bhai wah!" Imran exclaimed, a full-blown smile on his face. Heat crept up my face, as I looked away from the duo, biting my inner cheek.
"Hayee! Abhi se sharma jare baji." He teased, only adding to my fluster.
"Meri choice dikhatu main tumaku, chal zara uder." Hitler intervened, grabbing him by the shoulders, and dragged him away.
"Meku malum hai choice aapki. Baji ki choice to check karo zara. Bilkul aap pe gai." He burst out laughing.
Hitler pushed him in front, hands on his shoulders with me following their suit. My head hung low.
Stupid, stupid Imran.
"Kiya hua? Why'd you--" I heard him ask just when I bumped into Hitler's back.
"Takragaye nai?" Imran peeked at me, through the wall like insaan between us. The smirk never leaving his face, receiving a glare from me.
"Imran." He warns.
"Acha bhai, nahi karta disturb aap dono ku."
I groan internally. Can someone punch him square in the face?
Next was the Khilwat Mubarak in the northern courtyard, house to the central Darbar Hall where the Takht-e-Nishan was placed. And mahn! The place was no less than the sets of the song Deewani Mastani, from the movie Bajirao Mastani. Except for the overhead balcony, where Priyanka would sit, all was the same. The grand pillars and gorgeous chandeliers lend a splendor. The pure marble floor, vintage chandeliers, and elaborately carved ceilings was a whole vibe.
"Ye hall me saare courts, coronations, and assemblies hote the."
Moving into the area, I could literally imagine myself dancing, circling around the hall with that heavy attire and the music instrument in my hands. Giggling, I brush my thoughts away.
"Kiya imagine karre baji aap?" Imran asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
"Nothing you would want to know." He fake gasped, then yelped in pain when I pinched his forearm.
"Ow! Bhaiya dekhre? Zulum hora aapke bhai pe!"
"Bohot acha kaam karre. Continue karo." Hitler said, shaking his head at his drama king of a brother. I laughed at his try of putting on a betrayed expression.
"Tch, tch. . .Jando Imran. Nai aara rona aapku." I smirk.
"Iska badla zaroor milinga. Huh." He said, spinning on his heel and walked away.
Possibly the highlight for us at Chowmahalla Palace, most certainly for the mister was the Nizam's personal collection at Vintage Cars in the display in the lawns at the back. Including a custom-made Rolls Royce Silver Ghost along with the display of other timeless items like weapons, handwritten Quran, crockery, coins, home decor, in the northern courtyard.
On the north, we had Bara Imam, a long corridor of rooms on the east side and housed the administrative wing of the Nizams. The buildings veranda opening into the courtyard. Opposite to that, a building called the Shishe-Alat or mirror image was used to house the official accompanying the visiting dignitaries.
Walking back into the courtyard I take my shades off wiping the beads of sweat on my nose and take a last look around me. The sound of the water fountain filling my ears. The weather was a little humid today but barable thankfully. Passing me the bottle of water, bisleri, that I was told to stick to. And trust me when I say it tasted disgusting. Fahad pulled out his phone after I mutter a small thank you.
"Lunch karke, Makkah masjid." He said to Imran, who furrowed his brows in confusion.
"Makkah masjid kyu? Asar koi dusri jagah padhlinge na."
"Namaz ke liyea nahi, Junglee billi ke liyea."
"Huh?" Hitler huffed in response, raking his long fingers through his hair.
"Jando. Bus inform karu, ki Makkah masjid jaare apan." Saying that he walked ahead, leaving both of us equally muddled.
"Chaliyea bhabi." I heard Imran say. My head snapped towards him.
"Kiya?"
"Kiya?"
"Kiya bole?"
"Chaliyea bola." He batted his eyelash innocently.
"Chaliyea ke aage. . .?"
"Baaji. Kyu? Aapku bhabi sune aaya?" I narrow my eyes, literally rewinding two seconds of my life. "Imagine karre aap! Mein toh kuch nahi bola, baji ke ilawa." He winked following Hitlers suit leaving me dumbfounded.
Makkah masjid was very far from the palace or maybe it wasn't but I couldn't really make out due to the insane traffic. Thanks to the AC and the songs that sort of kept me from being cranky.
After a pause for lunch at a funki restaurant with the cowboy theme, we were at Makkah masjid made by Sultan Muhammad Quli Qutub Shah, one of the oldest and largest mosque in india.
It was crowded because it was time for Asar, that turned out to be a barrier for us especially with all the people moving around that made the Abdullah brothers into bodyguards. Ek aage aur ek peeche.
Either way, I had fun.
Several nizams of hyderabad have been laid to rest in marble graves in an enclosure of the courtyard of mecca masjid. It is believed that Mohammed Quli Qutub shah had authorised the use of bricks of the construction of the mosque to be prepared from the soil of the holy land of mecca. These bricks were used in the construction of the central arch of the mosque. Hence the name.
The roof of the Mecca Masjid is rested on 15 arches, five on the three sides as the western side has a high wall for Mehrab. The two enormous octagonal columns of Mecca Masjid are carved from a single piece of granite. There are inscriptions of the verses from the Holy Quran on the doors and arches of the Mecca Masjid.
After spending a good hour, we moved out of the mosque along with the crowd onto the street.
"Next destination kaha?" I ask, fanning myself with the edge of my hijab.
"Woh, baadme boltu. Pehle idher aao." Hitler said with a hint of smile playing at his lips. Frowning I pause and look he was heading to a pani puri stall.
"Chalo!" He gestured.
Gulping, I follow his suit standing a feet away.
"Pani puri." Imran says to the dark skinned moustached man, who nodding handing out three styrofoam mini plates.
"Pyaaz?" He asked to which both men extended their plates. He looked at me bouncing his brows, his hand hanging in the air with a fistful of finely chopped onion. I nod my head slowly in confusion, taking it all.
Retreating his arm, I watched him grab a puri from the pile, punch a hole with his thumb while dragging it across the tawa to fill it with chole before his hand disappeared in the earthen pot. The next thing I know, a puri filled with pani lands on my plate. My jaw dropped to the floor when I noticed his hands were bare. No gloves on them.
"Ewwwwww!" Was the first that left my mouth. "His hands are bare!" I exclaimed.
"Toh?" Imran asked.
"Toh?! Uncle saare kaam usse karre, and he doesn't even have gloves on! Pata nahi last haath kab dhoye the! Mein nahi khaa sakti ye!"
"O, madam! Nakhre mat karo." Hitler said.
"Kiya nakhre?! Dekhe toh vomit hori. It's disgusting!"
"Aakhan band karke khao." Hitler said, popping one into his mouth. I gape open mouth at his insensitiveness.
"Baji," Imran called making me turn to look at him. "Listen, aankh band karo and just inhale the smell of raw onion, spicy pani and the masala chole." Huffing, I do as instructed letting the aroma in.
"How is it?"
"Tantalizing." I answer honestly.
"Good. Keep the smell in mind and pop it in your mouth."
"Lekin, what if I get sick? Abhi toh theek hui."
"I have the pill if you want." Called the older Abdullah from behind us making me roll my eyes at his consoling method. Imran is so much better. I mentally praised.
He tilts his head slightly gesturing me to go on. Gulping, I nod glancing at the puri in my plate before taking in a deep breath. Imram held out his own puri clicking it against mine saying cheers.
Raising it to my mouth, I take in the entire thing at once and shut my eyes allowing the flavors to kick in. The puri blasted in my mouth, releasing the flavoured pani and the chole, flooding my mouth.
"Mmm." I moaned, trying to chew the things slowly.
"How hai?" Hitler asked bouncing his brows.
Opening my mouth I try saying 'zabardast' when suddenly I choke on it going in a fit of coughing. The mini plate dropped on the floor as I hunched on my knees. I felt my throat on fire as my eyes began to water.
"Peeth pe maaro yaaro!" Hitler said.
"Main nahi, aap karo."
"Tauba!" He said, and seconds after I felt punches on my back. Actual punches on my fragile back.
Waving my hand in the air, I gesture for him to stop while taking in heaps of air.
"Better?" He asked softly, passing me a bottle of water.
Aapke punches khane ke baad kon better rehsakte? I say mentally.
Hitler ke attitude ke saath, Hulk ki taakhat hai aap mein. Mashallah.
I smile.
~
Pani puri anyone? 😋
Also leave your thoughts in the comments about the chapter.
XOXO
M.