The busy roads soon turned into fields, and then onto a town roads when they pulling in through a gate, unlocking a large, twinkling house. Meerab peaked through the parked area to find in the internal courtyard, a pool and a U- shaped building looking in on it, it was his home.
Meerab gulped as a wash of apprehension tugged at her, realising that a ploy had earned her sympathy from Murtasim, and bribery worked for Noori, but she wasen't sure what would ease the bond between the other family memeber.
Thankfully, his mother and sister were inside for the prepararions of the dawwat, and this gave a brief moment between exiting the vehicle and making their way inside, when he commanded, 'Sirf mei bolounga. Tumhara baba kay barey kuch nahi kehna.' His Noori was clamered back onto him now. (Only I will talk. Dont mention anything about your father.)
Meerab nodded, assuming her position as his accomplice as they strolled in, careful to being her shopper bag with valueables, the rest to be taken care of by his driver and she asked, 'Tumharay jhoot, mere jhoot say zyada achay hai?,' in a lilt of a tease, trying to camouflage her racing heart. They were immediatley greated by the waft of cooking food, toasty spices and the confort of fresly flame grilled roti's. (Are you lies better than mine?)
'Obviously,' he mumbled with a smirk, having successfully unravelled all of hers with ease.
Meerab prayed that her tummy didnt grumble too loud, trying to stay prim as a means to gain their approval, weasel her way into their home. She glanced inward to a pristine home, polished, every surface sparkling in contrast to them two. Just as she lifted her gaze from the expanse of the endless marble hallway, she found a woman approaching with raised eyebrows at the guest- his Maa Saab, her loose periwinkle shalwar kameez swaying at everystep.
'As salaamu alaykum bete,' she ushed him inside, his head bowing so that she could kiss him a welcome and Noori ran off indoors. Promptly her attention refocused to the girl, examining her bare face, once pretty dress that had dulled and thin shopper bag under her arm, bulging and overflowing. (Welcome son.)
'Wa alaykum as salaam.' Murtasim guestured towards her, 'yeh Meerab hai, Maa Saab.' His voice slightly uneven, trying to configure a suitable introduction. (Maa Saab, this is Meerab.)
'Salaamu alakyum,' Meerab chimed in curtley, a shy smile graced her face. (Hi.)
'Wa alaykum as salaam. Phone waali Meerab?' Maa Saab questioned herself before coming to embrace the unkown the girl, nestling herself over Meerab's shoudler, and her hands snaking around in a warm embrance. Suspicions of her beauty confirmed, as Maa Begum found her carrying the aura of the full radiant moon and deep doe eyes, glinting woefully. (The Meerab on the phone?)
'Jee Maa Saab. Mainay bulaya hai, yahan rahey ge,' Murtasim explained, and Maa Saab tried to keep a neutral face, but a streak of being perplxed peaked through at the discovery of their new resident. (Yes. I invited her, she will stay here.)
But Murtasim didn't back down, making room for her stay. 'Feena,' calling for a memeber of their house help. 'Meerab madam ko kamra dikhau,' he ordered in an assertive tone. (Feena, show Meerab madam to her toom.)
Swiftly, Maa Saab went along too, her hands coming to Meerab's mid back to guide her inwards. 'Safr say thakee hou gey?' She asked, trying to make light conversation. (You must be tired from your travels?)
'Jee,' she replied meekly, flustered at her own intrusion, and the distance with Murtasim increase with each stride, feeling as though the word was enlarging. (Yes.)
'Tum fresh ho jau,' she advised, showing her into the guest room, already done up in fresh creams with accents of gold and fresh line-dried bedding. 'Kuch chahiye hou, tou bata dena. Hum sab neechay houngey,' she instructed, outlining the way back down in their maze of a mansion. (You freshen up. If you need anything else, then let us know. We'll just be down stairs.)
The first thing Meerab did with click the door shut, locking her into seclusion, and a long exhale left her as she flung herself on the bed. Face down, nuzzling into the cluffy comforter in a star formation. As she let go of herself, sinking, her muscles to unwiund and the sleepiness oozed off her, seeping into the bed as a slumber over took her and no doubt, anyone listening in from the corridor would hear long, deep snores rattling from her throat.
The daawat continued without her presence, and the entire night night proceeded whilst she remained safe and sound. Murtasim ordered for no one to disturb her, only that a trolley should be left outside her room, with a jug of water and a glass.
But Meerab was in a different realm, her mind steadied in illusions of bliss, soothed and calmed from the worries of the day. Only disturbed when her eyes snapped open at the first indication of dawn, a switch flickering in the mind that forced her to replay the preceding events like a film on rewind. Perhaps if she only shut the curtain before diving in, she may have been able to relish the first night in his home, for longer.
Whilst showering, all that she could imagine was at the lies he had woven in-front of him family amidst the daawat, fathoming how she would play along if she didn't know the tale at hand. Piecing together the fragments, imagining that they would think of her as a leech, overly clingy, or a fibber. Possibility even uncover the truth - a run away bride. She gulped, pushing the hair out of the stream water on her face, washing the doubt away.
After she dressed, she double tied her bag and stashed it the bathroom's cabinet- where no one would look. Peaking out into the corridor- she found it be be still, as though the world continued to sleep and a whisper from the frightened corner of her mind told her to run, escape their soon-to-be investigating eyes and flee, but reality dawned that they seemed hospitable, free of danger and bountiful. With Murtasim as her host, perhaps even pleasant.
As she she tred out, she was greeting by the trolley, and she gulped the water down, refreshing her mind and providing clarity. Turns out that the Khan household were early risers, and she heard the chatter from the top of the stairs- indistinguishable mumbling.
Then waitied a second, evening her breathing and formulating an introducrion for herself. Whilst in this though, she heard the patter of footsteps behind her, and she jumped, startled, twisting to see Murtasim.
'Aisay billi kay tarah kya jaank rahee hou?' He teased, a jolly smile pulled across his face at her sneakiness, veiling her anxiety. (Why are you peerind down like a cat?)
She exhaled. 'Soch rahee thee kay saamna kaisay karoungey,' she replied, a glint of coyness in her eyes. (I'm trying to figure out how i'll face them.)
Murtasim found her fresh faced, natural curls air-drying in her hai. The pastel pink of her frock only accentuated her innocent aura. 'Neend kaisay aaye the?' He asked, taking another step closer. (How was your sleep?)
'Achi the,' she answered with a tight lipped smile. Then adding, 'Thank you.' (Good.)
Murtasim only clicked his tounge. 'Aap humaray mehmaano ho. Thank you ke zaroorat nahi hai.' (You're our guest. There's no need for thankyous.)
'Tumnay tou Noori ko kaha tha kay hum dono dost hai,' she retorted, trying to find an adequate label. (But you said to Noori that we're friends.)
He smirked in response, and confirmed. 'hum hai. Dono dono.' (We are. Both.)
The hum ringing in her ears, her heart tugging towards him.
'Nashtay kay liye challey?,' he suggested, walking a couple more paces. He had changed into ordinary crisp shalwar kameez now, his buisness attire long gone. Perhaps suave would have been an apt description as his hair had been jelled back, and the corners of his moustache were perfectly curled- he fit right into the man she had unveiled- a feudal lord that was willing to lay down all his resources for her freedom. (Shall we go for breakfast?)
Meerab nodded and walked along side him. 'School ko poocha hai?' She asked, mind skipping to his proposition in the dargah- that she could teach to earn a living. (Did you ask the school?)
'Kya poochna hai?' He asked, clearly not following along. (What should I ask?)
Meerab felt a little taken back, as though she had been played at his stalling. 'Teaching position kay liye,' she reitterated, not letting it slip. (For a teaching job?)
They passed down the stairs and turned the corner into another long corridoor area. 'School mera he hai, kisi say ijaazat kya poochu,' he clarified nonchalantly, everything sorted. (The school is mine, so what permission am I going to ask for?)
That was the pressing issue at hand, soon to be sorted. 'Aur september kay liye Univeristy ke jagah?' She asked, wanting to secure a position for a steadier future, not knowing how long he would keep her. ( And a place for me at Univeristy in September?)
'Pehle nashta karle,' he asked, brushing her off. (Let's have breakfast first.)
'Kyun, Univerity bhe tumhare hai?' She quipped, her mind fresh and blazing ready. For a moment, she considered it a real possibility that he owned it too. (Why, is the University yours too?)
'Nahi,' he scoffed with a wry smile. 'Admissions abhi nahi khulah, darwaza pe jaa kar behtey?' He asked sarcastically, his voice carrying a playful undertone. (No, but admissions arent open yet. Shall we go wait on their doorsteps for it?)
'Nashtay kay baad,' Meerab suggested, rising to his humor. (We'll go after breakfast.)
'Deal,' he said as they entered the living and were met with Maa Begum, Noori, Mariyum and her husband, Naurez. All the eyes lingered on Meerab, as though Murtasim was non-existent besides her. There eyes prying at the intruder.
Meerab took the initiative and gave a meek single salaam, addressed to all of them. Only at this point did she realise that they should have taken the walk down as an opportunity to corroborate a story.
'Kaisay ho Meerab?,' a very pregnant Mariyam asked, with a clear baby glow. Meerab had obviously already been a topic of discussion- she had returned home with her brother. (How are you Meerab?)
Before she could answer, Noori ran up to her, and giggled, 'Meero. Hum ja kar kehle?' Wanting to carry out her dreams of a new play mate. (Meero, shall we go play?)
'Kaisay ho Noori,' Meerab asked in a squeaky voice, mirroring Noori whilst lifting her up onto her hip, and glazing down at her bubbly face. (How are you Noori?
'Pehle Meero nay nashta karna hai,' Murtasim replied on Meerab's behalf to Noori, delaying her plans. (Let Meero have breakfast first.) before asking Noori, 'tumne naashta kar liya hai?' (Have you had breakfast?)
Noori stalled for a second to ponder on this question, before it clicked. 'Haan. Mainay paratha kaya hai Moomoo.' (Yes. I had a paratha.)
Both Murtasim and Meerabs's let out an exaggerated gasp at her yummy breakfast, and Murtasim's hands came to pinch her cheek, his sleeve just gazing Meerab. The fragrance of his heady ittar lingering around her as he stood so close, Noori as his excuse.
'Mamu kay liye paratha bacha hai?' Murtasim asked, reffering to himself in the third person, his niece had all his focus. (Is there a paratha left for your uncle?) He had missed her during his work trip, and from Mariyam leaving to reside at her own house. She had only returned to her mothers house to ease the welcoming of the new baby.
Noori shook her head and Murtasim fake whined to manufacture a giggle from her with professional fluency. The melody of her giggles began filling the room, sweet and boisterous.
Then Meerab's focus returned to Mariyum, mood lightened from the mamu-niece duo's banter. 'Main teek hu, tum kaisay ho?' she enquired with raised eyebrows, gaze lingering on her ready-to-pop tummy. 'Aur daawat kaisay the?' The one that Meerab had snored through. (I'm good. How are you. How was your dinner party?)
'Shukr hai Allah ka. Bohat maza aaya tha, tumnay bhe aajana tha, thori derr kay liye he sahi.' And if she knew what Meerab was thinking, Mariyum's hands came over her tummy to soothe it , her navy dress flowing down loosely from her bodice, but the pregnancy was still obvious. (I'm fine, thanks to god. It was lots of fun, you should have come too, atleast for a little while.)
'Jee,' Meerab confirmed, unsure how much to divulge them. She gazed around their living room, the high ceilings, flush velvet thrones and marble tables, all the picture of oppulence. It was nothing less than her own home. (Yes.)
'Aur yeh mera shohar, Naurez,' Mariyum directed to the man on the sofa next to her, lounging in a slate grey shalwar kameez outfit. (And this is my husband, Naurez.)
'Salaam Naurez bhai,' Meerab said to him, noting that the man seemed pleasant- an echo of Murtasim. (Hi, Naurez brother.)
'Wa alaykum salaam,' he replied, neutral, abstaining from keeping her from her breakfast. His gaze focusing on his daughter, and then to his wife, endearingly. (Hi.)
'Murtasim bhai nay bataya hai kay tum train pe millay the?' Mariyum asked with obvious intrigue, urging her to elaborate of their meeting and the decision to follow him along till his home. ( Murtasim Bhai said that he met you on the train?)
'Mariyum, pehle nashta tou karlene dou. Shaam bhe bookhi soy hoy ge,' Naurez interjected knowing his wife had a habit of rambling. (Mariyum, let them have breakfast first. She probably went to sleep hungry too.)
His comment caused Maa Saab to nod. 'Jee, jau tum dono. Har cheez tiyaar hai,' she advised as she pluched Noori back off her, excusing them with a tender pat to Meerab's shoulder. Playing the part of a good host. (Yes, you two go.)
Murtasim took that as his cue and turned. 'Iss taraf Meerab,' he guided, his paces longers that hers, causing her to skip a few steps. (This way.)
The building was lined in endless windows, the bright morning sun flooding in, rays upon the marble caused the entire path to glow, except what was covered in persian rugs.
On the table were a plethora of parathas, fried omelettes and a brimming teapot, just as Murtasim had dreamed about the prior breakfast. He pulled the chair out for her, and after their maid had left, she asked, 'Maa Saab ko kya bataya tha?' Her tone was hushed, careful of the listening walls. (What did you tell Maa Saab?)
'Bas itna kay hum train pe mile the. Sach,' he explained, as though his word was fact, somehow able to distort fiction into truth. (Just that we met on the train. The truth.) Whilst twisting the lid of the hot pot, he slid one paratha out for Meerab, and them another for himself.
'Aur mere baarey mai?,' she trailed, taking the first bite. (And about me?)
'Tum Meerab ho. Yateem hou. Phupho kay ghar say nikaali gey the jab phupho kay bete say rishta inkaar kara tha,' he narrated, rectifying her persona. This one would be welcomed by everyone and harder to probe. (That you're Meerab. An orphan. You were thrown out of your aunts house after your refused to marry her son.)
Meerab's face contorted at the web he had laced, her identifty had become increasingly fickle. Without a worry for her reaction, his hand folded to rip at his paratha and he took another bit- Meerab followed that red stone on his index finger.
'Yateem-oan say sab humdardi karte he,' he defended, shrugging as he further seperated her from the world- rendering her to not be Waqas Ahmed's daughter anymore. (Everyone empathises with orphans.)
She didnt like it, it irked in the pit of her stomach. 'Bata dete kay bhaage hou,' she offered alternatively, her naivety peaking through. (You should have told them that i'm on the run.)
He focused in on her and his investigative gaze sought out the slightest bit of frizz from the freshly washed hair, transforming into loose ringlets, then easily catching onto her necklace that had twisted. It was the one he had placed on her in the train and he imagined that he smelt a waft of that sweet musky fragrance that she emitted in the train- until he snapped out of it.
'Dunya zaalim hai, bhaagi hui larkiyoan say koy nahi humdardi harta. Isse liye tum nahi baagi- Nikale gey the. Remember,' he corrected, getting her into her role, coaxing her into a character that would tug hearts. (The world is cruel, and no one synpathises with a girl that runs away. Thats why you havent run- you were thrown out.)
There was a palpable thickness to the air as he painted the harsh reality for her in their society, plainly excluding himself. Par tum karta hou, she retored in her mind, wondering about the odds of coming across such an outlier. ( But you sympathised with me.)
Knowing that his family would be able unweave his lies soon enough, she began chizeling away at his constructed illusion. 'Aur jab mera baba aayega?' She asked, knowing the imminent end if she stayed at any place too long. (And when baba comes?)
His eyes narrowed, darkerend a shade from choclatey brown into midnight, and his jaw clenched. 'Nahi aayega. Maana kay powerful hai, par uski nazar mere ghar kay andhar tikar nahi pauncheyga.' (He's not going to come. I accept that he is powerful, but he dosent have eyes inside my house.)
'Tumnay tou sab soch liya hai,' she replied, her voice coming out deflated, being pulled behind to cower in his shadow. (You've thought it all through.)
'Na he humaray school-oan mei dekhhey ga. Woh Islamabad mei hai, aur hum Hyderabad. Jab Univeristy jau ge, tou naye naya naam rakh lena, niqab pehn lena.....' he trailed, somewhat hesitant at suggesting how she should dress. (Nor will he pry into our schools. He's in Islamabad and we're in Hyderabad. When you go univeristy, you give a fake name and wear a burqa...)
But Meerab was nodding, the dream seemed almost within reach, tangible. There would be independent earning, and her studies would be arranged and she would remain covert. The plan just required his assisstance, and they were on good terms- a bout of optimism filled her as he forced reality to conform to him, with casualness, without an ounce of stress.
'Kisi ko, kuch nahi pata chaleya ga,' he reassued whilst having another moutful, his hands glistening from the grease. (No-one will find out anything.)
She watched as his gaze darted behind her at the door, the footsteps loudend as they approached- he had become accustomed that beat, able to guess who, and estimate how long before their breakfast-date would thrwarted.
At the sight of who entered, he carefully held his tongue in check. 'Salaam Mai,' he called out, a softer Murtasim that had almost transformed into a little boy. (Hi Mai.)
'Kya nahi pata chaleyga bete?' Mai butted in, amused at her own impeccable timing. (What will no one find out?)
Meerab turned, twisting in her seat to see his Mai. An older woman, kind features and scurrying feet.
He stuttered for a second, his tounge faltering and then, he replied, 'Kay raat mei isne humara fridge loota tha.' The truth concealed instantly, a half chuckle escaping him too in relief. (That she looted out fridge in the dark of the night.)
That caused them to giggle too, the mood lightening instantly.
Mai's hand came to swipe over Meerab's head endearingly, before asking, 'Murtasim, yeh pyaari se larki kahan say laye kar aaye hou?' Taking in her radiating innocence and pretty almond eyes. (Murtasim, where did you bring this pretty girl from?)
'Yeh Meerab hai,' Murtasim introduced, gaze flickering between the two, eagerly gaging Mai's reaction as though it was crucial. 'Train ka safar saath kar ke aaye hai.' (This is Meerab, we spent the duration of the train ride tomorrow.)
'Naam tou sab ne sunna hai. Kharate bhe,' she joked, a giggle escaping her. (I've already heard her name, and her snore.)
At that idea, Meerab's cheeks dusted the same shade as her rooh-afza-pink attire. 'Safar nay thakaa diya,' she attempted to justify, heating from a flash of cringe. (The journey tired me out.)
'Mazaak kar rahee hou. Raat araam kay liye he hoti hai bete,' Mai added, assuring her before coming to pour their tea into cups for them. (I'm joking. The night was made for rest.)
'Aap bhe chai peo Mai,' Murtasim urged, inviting her to their table. (You have some tea too Mai.)
'Pee lee hai Murtu, sirf tumein dekhne kay liye aaye the,' she replied, taking a seat next to Meerab- obviously third wheeling. A knowing smile etched onto her face as she looked betwen the two, a flurry of excitement forming in her chest at the prospects of a budding bond. (I've already had some. I only came to see you.)
'I know that look. Kya soch rahee hou,' Murtasim probed, well accustomed to her plottings, always involving herself in every minuscule detail of his life, with a motherly affection. (What are you thinking.)
Mai knew that the time wasent right yet, so she joked, 'Kay tum bhe aisay kharatay liya karta tha, bachpan say,' she divulged with a look of reminisce gracing her visage. (That our Murtasim used to snore like that, he has done since childhood.)
Murtasim winced at the idea, before refuting her. 'Bachpan mei, ab tou nahi.' His tone was a mix of defensive, and coy. (In childhood, not now.)
Mai clicked her tounge in disagreement. 'Khabi khabi,' she corrected, pushing their saucers towards them. (Sometimes you do.)
'Tabiyet kharaab honey pe say kharate ley the hai,' he tried to defend, with an underlying edge of defeat. (Everyones snores when they're ill.)
She liked being right. 'Allah say khair maangti hou tumhere future biwi kay liye, tumhare karate tou bichare ki neend barbad kar dengey.' ( I pray for your future wife, her sleep will forever be ruined by your snoring.)
'Pehle biwi aaye tou, baad mei dua-ein maagna,' Murtasim interjected, the slightest tinge of peachy pink gracing his cheeks, half camoflaged behind his stubble. (Let the wife come first, then pray for her.)
'Aah tou gey hai,' Mai slipped out, murmuring so low that only she could hear. (She has come.)
Meerab's mouth opened to add to the conversation, but was left blank as she heard the womans words.
Obviously, Murtasim heard too, and attempted to redirect the attention onto Mai. 'Mai nay hummay Maa kay tarah paala hai.' (Mai raised us like a mother.)
She was like a nanny, a second mother, Meerab figured.
'Haa, Maa kay tara maara bhe hai, aur pyar bhe deeya hai,' she narrated, the same loving tone that he had greeted her with. (I've chastised him like a mother, and loved him too.)
Then Mai pivoted to Meerab, knowing that an issue remained outstanding in her 'son's' life. 'Bete tum kya karte hou? Parte hou? Shaadi hui hai?' The questions slipping out in quick succession. (What do you do? Do you study? Are you married?)
Meerab was caught off guard at the onslaught of questions and gave her curt nod, 'Parhoun ge.' A whirlwind of emotions gathered at her throat, forcing her to swallow the mouthful of paratha and omlette. (I'm going to study.)
'Achi baat hai. Humaray ghar ke Mariyum bhe parhi likhi hai,' Mai announced with a prideful glow. 'Yeh barrey Saab ka israar tha.' (That's good. In out house, our Mariyum is well educated too. Older Saab insisted in it.)
'Jee. Murtasim nay bhe barhe tareefein kare the, uske baba ke,' Meerab replied, her mind flicking to Murtasim's doleful state as they discussed him in the train. (Yes. Murtasim gave his father many praises.)
And with that, Mai's chair screeched as she pushed backwards. 'Acha, main chalti hou. Ney bachay ke nursery set karte hou. Allah hafiz,' Mai announced as she skidded out through a different doorway, her long white shawl trailing behind her as she exited. (I should to get going, as i need to sort the new baby's nursery out. Bye.)
The heavy wooden door shut behind, conveniently providing privacy, and the click reverberated through the room.
Who wants to see Meerab orchestrating a Mai-Baktu shaadi?