It had been a surprising week of tranquility for Meerab. She and Murtasim had subtly crafted a non-verbal understanding, navigating their shared space with a quiet respect for each other's boundaries. Gone were the days of unnecessary arguments, and they seemed to coexist without getting in each other's way too much.
Meerab had gradually adapted to the environment of Pakistan, although the occasional perplexed stares from the women at the panchayat in Khan Haveli's garden still made her feel uncomfortable. She dismissed their scrutiny, knowing the cultural contrast between her modern attire of jeans and T-shirts and the traditional expectations associated with being the wife of Khan Murtasim Khan.
Returning to her routine of tending to the garden, playing around with the children of the house-help, and managing her work, virtually, Meerab found solace in the semblance of normalcy. However, amidst the serenity, there loomed the formidable figure of Maa Begum, relentless in her stream of demands.
Each morning seemed to unveil a new request, ranging from the trivial nuances of Meerab's walk to the intricacies of her attire. Maa Begum's persistent insistence on Meerab joining the panchayat added a layer of complexity to her otherwise harmonious existence.
"You know, Meerab, that ring on your finger holds immense importance. It's not just a piece of jewelry; it signifies a responsibility," Maa Begum would assert, her eyes holding a gravity that Meerab couldn't ignore. "I feel like it's time for you to fulfill your duties as the Khaani of the people."
The significance of being the Khaani, the wife of a feudal lord in Pakistan, dawned on Meerab gradually. Unbeknownst to her, marriage to Khan Murtasim Khan came with unspoken responsibilities, the ones she hadn't been informed about prior to their union, just like many other things. Meerab had unwittingly inherited the title of Khannum, a position that extended beyond the walls of the haveli to encompass the welfare and expectations of the people.
As Maa Begum continued to impress upon Meerab the weight of her role, Meerab found herself caught between tradition and her own sense of identity. The dichotomy between modernity and age-old expectations became an intricate maze, and Meerab realized that her role as Khaani was not merely a title; it was a delicate balance between preserving cultural norms and forging her own path in this new, complex world.
The morning sun cast a warm glow on Khan Haveli as Meerab grappled with the unexpected turn of events. Maa Begum, with an air of authority that seemed to engulf the entire haveli, had declared that today would be the day she officially introduced Meerab as their Khaani to the people at the panchayat.
"Meerab, my dear, the time has come. Today, you will be officially announced as the Khaani of this haveli. Dress appropriately; I've sent some clothes to your room," Maa Begum declared with an imperious tone, her eyes glinting with an unwavering determination.
Half expecting a modest selection of traditional attire, Meerab entered her wardrobe only to find it transformed. The sight that greeted her eyes left her flabbergasted and, quite frankly, infuriated. The pile of her clothes were neatly folded away while her cupboard was now replaced by an array of vibrant shalwar kameez, elegant suits, and regal Anarkali dresses.
"What the hell is this?" Meerab muttered under her breath, her annoyance palpable as she surveyed the room. Maa Begum's attempt to exert control over her attire had reached a new level, and it was a territory Meerab was not willing to surrender without a fight.
Determined to assert her independence, Meerab decided to choose the very Western wear that had been displaced. As she changed, a mixture of frustration and rebellion fueled her actions. The rustle of jeans and the soft swish of fabric seemed to echo her defiance in the confines of her room.
Just as Meerab finished dressing, Murtasim entered the room, his brows furrowed in concern, noticing the pile of clothes everywhere. Meerab was standing in the middle of the mess with a very palpable pissed expression looking as if she was on the verge of bursting.
"Is everything okay?" Murtasim questioned, sensing the storm brewing beneath the surface.
"NO! Nothing's okay, Mr. Khan. Your mother needs to understand that I am not some sort of a puppet she can control, and neither am I a doll that she can dress up according to her own will! She first went around saying how I need to be this Khaani or whatever, I don't even know what that is and now she wants me to change my lifestyle entirely" Meerab's frustration spilled over, her words cutting through the tense air in the room.
Murtasim seemed confused with the whole outburst as he questioned, "I— umm what happened?"
Meerab, visibly agitated, replied,"Maa Begum got my clothes folded away! I had agreed to go to the panchayat with her today and she asked me to dress up. I was expecting a dress or two lying down here but she replaced my clothes with all of these, and I refuse to be dictated like this. I won't let her strip me of who I am. "
Murtasim seemingly understood the whole situation as he walked towards her. Clearing his throat, he softly spoke, "Meerab, it's just that the people here can be judgmental and regressive. And I'm sure that Maa didn't mean any harm. And these clothes that she got for you, think of these clothes as your uniform. Something you wear in front of those people, and when you're done with the panchayat, you can change into whatever you want. It's about finding a balance between the two worlds."
Meerab looked into his eyes, a mix of anger and frustration still present. "Why do I have to conform? Why can't they accept me for who I am?"
Murtasim, understanding her concerns, spoke gently, "I know it's not fair. But sometimes, change has to happen gradually. And think of this as an opportunity; you can go there and help those women understand the importance of embracing diversity and different perspectives. Show them that traditions can evolve without losing their essence."
He paused, as if considering the best way to explain. "And about being a Khaani, Meerab, it means being a lady of the house, a figurehead who represents the values and traditions of our family. It's a role that comes with responsibilities, but it doesn't mean you have to lose yourself. You can be a bridge between the old and the new."
Meerab, though still conflicted, seemed to absorb his words. "I just don't want to lose who I am."
Murtasim nodded, "You won't. But if you're not comfortable with taking up this role, then, I can ask Maa to not force you."
Meerab contemplated his proposal, her countenance marked by contemplation. After a brief pause, she gently shook her head. "No, Mr. Khan. I'm not a quitter, nor am I someone who requires a spokesperson. If Maa Begum wants me to do this, I will give it a try. And maybe you're right, there might be a way to find a balance, to be true to myself while fulfilling the responsibilities that come with being a Khaani."
Murtasim's eyes reflected surprise at the instant switch in Meerab's behavior. "You're suddenly so determined."
A newfound resolve shone in Meerab's eyes. "I won't let circumstances dictate who I am. If being a Khaani is what's needed, then I'll do it on my terms."
A determined smile played on Meerab's lips, "I've always considered myself a feminist, you know. This job, as unconventional as it may seem, doesn't feel too far from what I've always believed in — empowering women to be strong and true to themselves. And I'm sure I can make a difference here as well."
"Well, then, all the best with that, Miss Meerab," Murtasim responded with a supportive nod.
As Meerab embarked on this uncharted journey, the haveli echoed with the promise of transformation. Her commitment to empowering women and challenging traditional norms marked the beginning of a new chapter, where she sought to redefine not only her own role but also the expectations placed on women within the confines of tradition.
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"Meerab, you look absolutely beautiful, my dear," Maa Begum exclaimed, her eyes filled with admiration as she beheld Meerab in a stunning deep maroon anakarli dress. The attire, contrary to Meerab's expectations, didn't impose the discomfort she had anticipated. While she had previously adorned herself in Eastern dresses for Eids and a handful of weddings, the thought of integrating such dressing into her daily wardrobe was not a prospect she fancied.
Suppressing a subtle unease, Meerab moved forward, allowing Maa Begum to envelop her in a warm embrace. "You look perfect, but one thing's missing," Maa Begum remarked with a twinkle in her eye. Meerab couldn't help but roll her eyes at the predictable comment. Maa Begum, ever the traditionalist, gracefully took the dupatta and draped it over Meerab's head. "Okay now, let's go. Everyone is waiting for you," she announced, guiding Meerab to the vibrant lawn for the impending panchayat.
The haveli's garden welcomed a tableau of women, a customary gathering on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Mats were meticulously arranged, providing seating for the expectant assembly. As Maa Begum and Meerab made their entrance, a collective rise from the seated women symbolized their shared respect. Amidst this, a chair, synonymous with Maa Begum's usual seat, awaited Meerab. "Come, Meerab, sit over here," instructed Maa Begum, prompting Meerab to awkwardly comply.
Maa Begum, radiating a regal grace, stood before the assembly of women, her voice commanding the attention of the entire garden. The vibrant hues of the haveli's flora seemed to bow in deference to her presence.
"Ladies of this cherished assembly," Maa Begum began, her voice carrying the weight of tradition, "As you all know, this, right here, is Khan Murtasim Khan's esteemed wife. From this moment onward, she is more than a mere individual; she is your Khannum, the guardian and owner of this cherished abode. In her hands lie the responsibilities and privileges that come with this title."
The women leaned in to listen to Maa Begum attentively. Her gaze swept across the expectant faces, and her voice resonated with a blend of authority and compassion, "In her hands lies the legacy we have built together, a legacy that has weathered the winds of time. Embracing her is not just a formality; it is an acknowledgment of the continuum of our traditions, a passing of the torch from one capable hand to another."
Her eyes, filled with both wisdom and compassion, swept across the faces of the assembled women. "I implore each one of you to welcome her with open hearts and respect. Let the warmth of our unity be a testament to the resilience of our community. In her journey as your Khannum, may she find strength, support, and the unwavering bond that has defined us for generations."
The chant of "Jiye Khannum" rose from the gathering like a harmonious melody, a symphony of approval and acceptance.
Maa Begum, with a warm smile, took her place beside Meerab, the atmosphere shifting as a young girl stood before them. Maa Begum explained, "This girl is getting married, and I want you to give her these gifts from your hand. It is said to be a good charm for a newly married woman to present gifts to another."
A maid, carrying a tray adorned with an assortment of jewelry, money, and exquisite garments, presented it with a delicate reverence. The girl, standing before Meerab, seized her hand and pressed a kiss to it. Meerab, momentarily surprised by the gesture, instinctively withdrew her hand, but quickly recovered with a reassuring smile, "No, no, it's okay. This isn't necessary." she uttered, extending the gifts graciously.
As Meerab glanced toward Maa Begum, she couldn't help but think, "This is going to be a long day," while Maa Begum's wholehearted smile persisted.
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"So, Maa Begum has officially declared Meerab Bibi as the Khaani to the public today," Farukh remarked, leaning in as both he and Murtasim traversed back from their routine visit to the factory. Murtasim, sounding somewhat nonchalant, responded, "Yeah."
Farukh, undeterred, continued to probe, "You know, Khan, it's on you now to make Meerab Bibi feel at home. She's your wife, and being a Khannum isn't a walk in the park. Her background is vastly different from ours, and you ought to assist her in navigating this intricate blend of modernity and tradition."
Murtasim, though acknowledging Farukh's advice, replied, "Yes, Farukh, I'm aware. Now, if you've finished with your insightful lectures, perhaps you could shift your focus to the road. We still have one more factory to visit." Murtasim's response carried a hint of disinterest.
Farukh, undeterred by Murtasim's lack of response, pressed on, "Well, you can't blame me for being concerned. She's alone here now, stepping into a place where she doesn't even know what's going to happen. The transition can be overwhelming. You need to be her anchor, guide her through this maze of societal expectations. After all, you know what they say, happy wife, happy life, you know." Farukh teased, a playful twinkle in his eye, as Murtasim shook his head in mock exasperation.
Murtasim sighed, "I appreciate the concern, Farukh, I really do. But Meerab is not a fragile flower. She's more resilient than you think. And she sounded confident about it this morning as well, so I guess she knows what she's signing up for."
Farukh shook his head as he spoke, "You're too thick-headed. Even the strongest being needs someone to rely on, and it won't hurt you to make sure that she's okay and is comfortable with all of this."
"Okay, I hear you. Now, focus on the road and hurry up," Murtasim responded, redirecting his attention to his phone while Farukh sneakily observed him, silently sympathizing with Meerab for being stuck with a numbskull like Murtasim.
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Murtasim wearily entered his home around 10 pm, a routine that had become all too familiar. The persistent quality issues in the textile factories and the persistent staff shortage in the ceramic factories were starting to grate on his nerves. To make matters worse, the constant presence of Malik Zubair, with his irritating tactics, felt like dealing with a relentless leech. His temples throbbed with fatigue as he navigated his way to his room.
As he pushed open the door, there was Meerab, surrounded by files and ledgers strewn about the bed. Her hair was haphazardly tied in a messy bun as she sat on the bed in her purple pajama set. Lines of confusion were clearly visible on her face.
"Welcome to the war zone, Mr. Khan," Meerab sighed as she looked over at Murtasim. He took in the sight of the scattered papers and files with a puzzled expression. "What is all of this?" he inquired.
"These are accounts of the panchayat," Meerab explained, waving her hand over the sea of documents. "I didn't realize there would be so much work. Suggestions, decisions, accounts—it's all here, and it's a lot to handle."
Murtasim hesitated for a moment, while Farukh's words were playing in his mind. "Are you... managing well?" he asked, his voice cautious.
Meerab gave a weary smile, "I'm trying. But honestly, it's tougher than I imagined. The responsibilities, the expectations—it's overwhelming at times. It's more than just attending gatherings and following traditions. It involves making decisions that impact the community, managing accounts, and dealing with diverse opinions. I want everything to be perfect but it's not easy."
Murtasim, sensing her struggle, hesitated for a moment before offering, "Do you want me to help you with this?"
Meerab looked at him, surprised by the offer. Murtasim was never the one to initiate the conversation, he barely even responded to her but his willingness to extend a helping hand felt like a small shift in the right direction. "You'd do that?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
Murtasim shrugged, "Of course. This is all new to you and you look like you could use a little help."
Taking a seat beside her, Murtasim patiently began explaining the intricacies of the panchayat's accounts. He walked her through the ledgers, detailing how each entry represented not just financial transactions but the heartbeat of the community. "See, this entry here," he pointed, "it's a contribution made by the community to build a well. It's not just money; it's the collective effort of people aiming to improve their lives."
Meerab listened attentively, the confusion on her face slowly giving way to comprehension. Murtasim continued, "And these expenditures here, they represent decisions that affect the well-being of everyone. We need to ensure the funds are allocated wisely, balancing the needs of the community."
He went on to explain how suggestions were a vital part of the process. "Your input matters, Meerab. It's not just about numbers; it's about understanding the pulse of the community and making decisions that resonate with their needs."
As they delved into the intricacies of decision-making, Meerab began to feel a sense of empowerment. Murtasim's guidance transformed the overwhelming accounts into a narrative of community life, making the process more relatable.
Meerab hesitated for a moment before expressing her thoughts. "I didn't realize it could be so... meaningful. I thought it was just about following protocol."
Murtasim nodded, "It's more than that, Meerab. It's about creating a meaningful impact. Each suggestion, each decision, contributes to the welfare of the community."
As they continued deciphering the accounts, the room transformed into a shared space of collaboration and understanding, bridging the gap between their arranged union and the potential for a partnership built on shared responsibilities and mutual support.
Meerab, feeling the subtle shift in their dynamic, couldn't help but be curious about Murtasim's connection to the community. She looked up from the ledgers and asked, "How much do these people mean to you, Mr. Khan?"
Murtasim paused, reflecting on the question. "They mean everything," he began, his gaze sincere. "These are not just accounts; they represent the lives and dreams of the people in our community. Their love and respect for my family have been the pillars that got us here."
He gestured towards the entries in the ledger, each telling a story of contribution and sacrifice. "Look at this," he continued, pointing to a sizeable donation. "This was from the community to support a family in need. They came together because they genuinely care for one another."
Meerab observed the passion in Murtasim's eyes as he spoke about the community's reliance on him. "They trust us to make decisions that benefit everyone," he explained. "It's not just about authority; it's about the responsibility we hold for their well-being."
He shared anecdotes of community events, milestones, and how they rallied together during challenging times. "Their love and respect for my family have been earned through generations. It's a legacy that we uphold, and it's what binds us together," Murtasim added.
Meerab, listening attentively, could sense the weight of responsibility Murtasim carried for the community. "It's more than just paperwork, Meerab. It's about preserving a legacy of trust, respect, and care. The decisions we make here impact the lives of those who have entrusted us with their hopes and aspirations."
As they delved deeper into the stories behind the accounts, Meerab began to appreciate not just the numerical entries but the emotional investment that Murtasim and his family had made in the community. The room, once filled with paperwork, now echoed with a shared understanding and a glimpse into the intricacies of the community they were navigating together.
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Apologizes for the late update. I've been caught up with uni work!!!
I hope you like the update and the baby steps that meerasim are taking towards mutual understanding. Drop your feedbacks and i'll try to update as soon as i can✨