"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
― Lao Tzu
"Happiness is holding someone in your arms and knowing you hold the whole world."
― Orhan Pamuk
Murtasim smiled at Dua as she banged her rattler with zest. Junaid had gone with all the ladies to the salon to get it as today was the first function of Armaan's wedding. So, little Dua and he managed small things like businesses and farms. She had just awakened from her nap, during which he had sent emails and coordinated with his Karachi office. Friday was Armaan's Nikah, and his begum's first shift at the hospital was the following Monday. A package with the papers of Malik Haveli was delivered to him today, which now lay on his desk. He had the last piece of chess. Now, it was time to lay his trap. The panchayat meeting from yesterday gave indications of trouble brewing.
Dua's baby gym was on the floor, and Murtasim sat on the floor with his back against the couch in his office. Dua gargled in happiness as Murtasim played cycle with her little feet. Murtasim felt an ache as those little mirrors looked expectantly at him. Dua squealed in delight as Murtasim gently tickled her, and her laughter filled his office with joy. Longing grew in his heart and then came the fear that sometimes women don't survive childbirth. A world without Meerab for him was unimaginable.
Before Murtasim could elaborate on his fear, Heer walked into his office, "I am here to take my baby girl. Thanks for playing with her Chacha Saab." Heer picked up Dua as Murtasim craned his neck out the door into the hallway to hear the familiar sound of bangles. He had not seen his begum the entire day. Murtasim felt incomplete. He turned as Heer tapped his shoulder, "Your Begum has gone straight to Armaan Bhai's house. She had sent your clothes with Badi Amma, who is waiting for you in her room." A frown covered Murtasim's fair forehead, and annoyance replaced fear.
An hour later, with his family in tow and dressed in light green silk kurta salwar, Murtasim stood outside Armaan's house. He had rushed everyone from Agha Jaan to Ayat. Only Junaid and his family would come later to the concession for baby Dua. The Khan had arrived in their humble neighborhood; everyone was on the terraces to see him. Typically, the Khan only attended the Nikah and was gone in one hour. But this time, he would be there for the entire Qawali. It was not the Qawali but the Khan who had the excitement humming. The girls on the deck noticed that he was carrying a bag of Gajras in his hand. Instantly, every female in the neighborhood was envious of Meerab. Throwing his deep green chaddar over his broad shoulders, the Khan entered his sasural.
Meerab knew the minute Murtasim entered the house. The house went quiet for a second, then bustled with even more fervor. Khan Sahab was early. She was not expecting him for another hour. Meerab had come to the bedroom to get the gifts for relatives who would leave after the Mehndi and not stay for the Qawali. If her husband had not laid his eyes on her in the next 10 minutes, there would be no Qawali in this house tonight. Patience was not a virtue Murtasim Khan could claim to have. There was a brisk knock on the door. The stern sound of a fist on the door only meant that it was her husband who did not even want to wait for another minute. As Meerab grabbed her dupatta off the bed, throwing it over her shoulder as she walked to the door to open it, her husband said, "Begum," from the other side. His deep and velvety voice made her blood sing.
Meerab opened the door to a frowning Murtasim Khan, so she smiled her brightest smile in return. Murtasim took a step forward, so Meerab took a step back, his eyes not leaving hers with an adorable frown on his crown. Just like that, he was in the room. His large frame made the humble room look even smaller. Murtasim closed the door with his arms behind his back, and Meerab heard the lock click in. "Khan Sahab, you are early," Meerab said. The intensity of his gaze warmed her skin. His golden skin shone through the light green Kurta, enhancing the chiseled planes of his body.
"There is no one here. It's Murtasim, begum," her husband corrected. An electric current ran through the air, "You did not come home to me." Her husband accused her, and she fell in love with him a little more.
"It is my brother's wedding. There is a lot of work to do. Aarzoo needed help." Meerab responded softly, trying to soothe the turbulent waters.
They stood opposite each other, not moving an inch, their eyes trained on one soother. His stormy, hers gentle. "You are Meerab Murtasim Khan. Say the word, Begum, and a fleet of employees will be lined up for you. I had not seen you the whole day, Begum. I could not breathe," her husband laid another charge against her, and Meerab's heart fluttered. She had missed him too.
"Well, then you better take a good look as I am staying the night, Khan Sahab," Meerab gathered courage and informed him. Her words made the storm in her husband's eyes slightly stronger.
"Murtasim," her husband reminded as he stepped to close the distance between them. "There is no way you are staying the night away from me."
"Ladkiyaan maayke jaati hain, Khan Sahab," Meerab pointed out a universal truth.
"Murtasim," her husband corrected while pointing out his ultimate truth, "Meri Begum nahi jaati."
" We will see about that," Meerab responded lovingly.
"Yes, we will, meri jaan," her husband challenged.
As the Qawals tuned their first tune on the harmonium, Murtasim's thoughts were in a whirlwind. When he had entered the house, he had made his way straight to her. He was their Khan, and no one dared to stop him. Meerab wore her dark green sharara to contrast his light green. His hands itched to touch the peachy skin that called to him through her dark green kurta. His wife's eyes had become more mysterious with layers of Kohl, and those lips colored in ruby red were a sin in his eyes. The Henna on her hands tangled his heart in its design. His heart thudded. She took his breath away. His wife was the most beautiful mystery, and he was grateful to have her. Even a second without her was a trail for him, and she wanted to stay away for an entire night. That would only happen when there were icicles in hell. As Murtasim stepped towards his Meerab, the Qawals sang what his heart desired.
Bina Mahi Kive Dil Parchava, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
Koi Sunda Nee Kehnu Main Sunava, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
Mahi Baaj Mera Lagda Na Jee Ve, Bina Sajjna De Duniya Te Kee Eh
Akkhan Soundiyan Nee Aakh Kive Lawa, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
Murtasim's heartbeat danced with music as his eyes spoke their love language. Murtasim took her hand in his and intently admired her Henna. His other hand slid out the gajre; fingers light on her skin. He slid the gajra on one hand and then the other, giving her glass bangles company for the night. Her hands on top of his, Murtasim frowned when he found what he was searching for, "Just M? Not even full, Murtasim?" He complained.
"Khan Murtasim Khan is imprinted on my heart," his wife replied, and his heart surrendered, "How does it matter if it's only an initial on the hand?" His Meerab beamed at him with her kind eyes, and as she tried to move her hands out of his, her bangles clinked, and the sound soothed his inner turmoil a little.
And then her eyes were moist, his world halted, "You are wearing Baba's watch?"
Murtasim had to fend for himself today as his wife was not there to sort his accessories. Rummaging through the closet, he found Bakhtu Chacha's watch and decided to wear it, "The entire world should know that I am yours, meri begum. Zanmureed hoon main." The smile on her ruby-red lips was offering an inciting invitation.
Kehdi Gallon Mainu Chad Ke Tu Gaya Ae, Aiven Shakkan Wich Vehman Wich Peyan Ae
Dhola Maaf Karin Hoyiyan Jo Khatavan, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
Maithon Russ Ke Tu Lain Ki Ae Haniya, Main Tan Marr Ke V Teri Diljaniya
Je Tu Aaven Te Main Akhan Te Bithavan, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
Murtasim pulled Meerab closer. She stumbled into his chest as his arms went around her waist to steady her. He nuzzled into her neck to take in her scent, which was his sanity. Her breath hitched, and Murtasim looked up, pleased with her reaction. He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, "This red tainting your lips is driving me crazy."Murtasim declared as heat filled his blood as his chin dipped and hers tilted up to him; their breaths mingled, and his mouth was on hers. A moan escaped her as her hands slid into his hair. Having gained more access, Murtasim took his fill. She was flush against him. The kiss was hungry, wild, and frantic. He was a drowning man, and she was his oxygen. He wanted more, so he took more as he deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing together. Her sweetness soothed his turbulent heart as she whimpered in his arms.
Ruttan Lakh Lakh Taahne Mainu Dendiya'n, Kithe Mahi Tera Sayiyan Manu Kehndiya'n
Hove Kol Mahi Teinu Main Vikhawan, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
Baithi Boohe Wich Sajjan Udeek Di, Aiwen Kandhan Utte Leekan Pyi Leek Di
Keeta Pyar Teinu Miliyan Sajawan, Raatan Di Meri Neend Uddh Gyi
The Qawals hit a high note and brought them back to reality. Murtasim touched his forehead to hers, "This should last me until we leave for home," Murtasim whispered, then brushed his lips again for another taste of her sweetness. His wife looked up at him, her eyes dazed with desire. He wanted nothing more than to be lost in her, but he had to be aware of his surroundings. He would not have anyone spreading malicious words against his wife. "As much as I loved the red lipstick, Begum, I think you should fix it before we leave," he smirked, pleased with himself. Hence, Murtasim Khan sat on the bed playing with his wife's dupatta as she fixed her lipstick on his phone's camera. When she was done, he carried the gifts she had come to get.
A/N- I know this is not much of a part, but this was all I could muster this. My brain is still muddled with that fabulous shoot of Mr Ali, so I can't concentrate. This one can totally be blamed on Wahaj.
Feedback please, comment what you liked and hated. Your comments keep me going.
Keep shining till then,
Amnu