•| death |•
•••
maut se kaisa darr
minto ka khel hai ,
aafat to zindagi hai
barson chala karti hai
•••
Darkness filled the sky as bleak grey clouds loomed above. The warm dusky red and pink hues long forgotten. Several young men cladded in the combat fatigues of their prided country carried out a body wrapped in white and green linen and placed it in the middle of the backyard.
Fidah Mahmoud sat frozen as her limbs lay stiff. The face of the lifeless body sharing uncanny resemblance to her own. The man who raised her was gone. Her Baba was gone. Forever.
The body was soon taken away to commence the namaz e janaza before letting people pay their last respects to the late Chief General Rashid Mahmoud.
A gut wrenching sob bubbled deep within from Fidah's chest as she heaved a deep breath putting her face in between her palms. Her body shook mercilessly, not being able to see her old man go away like this.
Slow murmurs echoed in the background as the ladies peered looking over at the young girl who was now an orphan. Some glanced down with pity while some with wretchedness.
"I tell you, the girl is a curse. First her mother died while giving birth to her and now her poor father has met the same fate."
"Poor girl. Lawaarish hai ab wo. Kya hoga iska."
(She's an orphan now, What will happen of her?)
"Badnaseeb hai wo. Balaa jaisa naseeb. Bus barbaadi hi laati hai aisi ladkiyan."
(She's bad luck. She has the luck of a bad omen. Such girls only bring destruction.)
"Na koi waali, na koi bhai. Tauba hai ye akeli bacchi ka kya hoga?"
(No guardian, no brother. God forbid, what will happen of this lonely girl?)
All the inconsiderate canards were soon repressed when Reem Bakhtiyar finally spoke, coming to her beloved bestfriend's rescue.
"Have you all not got an ounce of shame?! Rashid Uncle hasn't even been buried yet and here you are exploiting and gossiping about his daughter. Kuch to khuda ka khuda ka khauf karlein aap sab." The young woman snarled glaring daggers at everyone present in the room as she grabbed her bestfriend by the shoulders who was now an inconsolable mess.
"Rushna Bee, please escort these ladies out of our premises. We must not entertain such fazool auratein to make a mockery out of a man's funeral who died fighting for our country." Saying this Reem walked out with Fidah clutched in her arms, leaving behind a room full of flabbergasted and embarrassed gossip mongers.
But the damage was already done. The bullet had already been fired and it certainly hadn't missed it's mark. Fidah had heard each and every sordid word that had left their mouths. The harsh truth of her existence hitting every insecure nerve in her body.
A breathless whimper left from within her quivering lips and huge bloated tears dripped down her already tumescent face. Reem wrapped her arms around her bestfriend's wobbling frame protectively and guided her inside, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Shh, meri jaan." Reem said, her voice filled with pain as she made Fidah sit on her bed, trying to console her.
Fidah made no attempt to calm herself down as she stared into space, mewling at this point. Reem slowly made Fidah lie down in her lap as she looked at her friend in helplessness.
"Meri jaan, Rashid Uncle wouldn't be happy seeing you in such a condition." Reem murmured softly as she stroked Fidah's hair.
"It doesn't matter now, does it Reem? Unki khushi ke baare mein khayal karne ka kya fayda, jab wo khud hi nahi rahe." Fidah found herself muttering back meekly.
(What is the point of thinking about his happiness when he himself is not there anymore?)
"Fidah, Meri pyaari si jaan. If there is anything that Uncle has taught you then it is that maut se buzdil darte hai, aur unki Fidah Jaan darpok to bilkul nahi hai."
(Only the cowardly are scared of death. And his Fidah is no coward.)
Fidah's face froze the instant Reem uttered those words. It was true that her whole life her Baba had taught her only one thing. Death was a gift and it was only a matter of time before this gift was due on each person's existence. Her Baba liked to call it 'khuda ka karishma', because according to him God only grant's death to his most beloved. And if we don't accept it wholeheartedly then we are nashukris because we are unhappy with God's gift.
Late Rashid Mahmoud indeed served for the nation and the fauji blood ran in his veins along with the unbreakable courage he carried like a valour, but he was also a god fearing man. Especially after his wife passed away. Fidah clearly still remembered an incident that took place when her Baba had come to pick her up from her Dado's place after his redeployment homecoming.
(Flashback)
___
An eight year old Fidah tumbled inside her paternal house, ready to indulge her Dado in her thousand complaints. Her face had specks of dust on them as her soft hazel eyes brimmed with unshed tears and the flawlessly ironed white uniform her Dado had dressed her in the morning was untucked and dirty as if someone had rolled it in the rubble. Her two pigtails were now arrayed as her bright blue backpack hung from one shoulder.
In sheer anger, little Fidah had thrown it on the sofa unaware of the man who was being an audience to all this. Finally when Fidah had taken notice of the man standing there in the corner beside Dado's ancient basket collection arms folded, keenly observing her, she ran towards him clinging to his leg. Her complaints were all forgotten.
"Baba!" Fidah chirped as Rashid Mahmoud picked his daughter up in his arms after months of seperation.
"Iddie Jaana" The man chuckled, swinging the last piece of his wife that was left with him in his arms.
"What has got you so riled up, Jaana?"
Fidah shook her head, refusing to let petty things affect her happiness that had come with her Baba.
"Come on, let's get you something to eat." Said Rashid Mahmoud, sighing as he put his daughter down rubbing away at the dust on her face.
"Khurram Chacha ke pineapple pastries?" Fidah questioned, her eyes lighting up with new found happiness.
"Khurram Chacha ke pineapple pastries." Her father smiled affirmatively as he grabbed her hand walking down the street.
People greeted her father and Fidah couldn't help but beam with pride. It wasn't everyday her father visited. As they neared the main street where the crowd got thicker, Fidah tightened her tiny arm around his.
Long before they could reach Khurram Chacha's patisserie the smell hit them ahead of the sweet indulgent display. Freshly baked bread, Sweet Yeast, Smell of warm butter. Fidah was already shaking with delirium as they walked inside the oldest shop on the block.
Her father engaged in small talk with good ol' Khurram Chacha and handed Fidah six pineapple pastries. Fidah was salivating at this point as she eagerly clutched onto the box that contained the bites of heaven.
But, Fidah found herself getting disappointed when instead of walking back home her father dragged her away in the opposite direction.
"Baba? Where are we going?"
Her father smiled solemnly as he squeezed her hand.
"To meet someone."
Fidah wanted to protest, she had no interest in meeting anyone apart from the decadent pastries meeting her mouth. But, she also refused to disappoint her father so she quietly nodded back.
Soon they stood overseeing a burial ground. They didn't enter it, but the nearest graves could be overseen from where they stood.
Fidah looked over puzzled at her father who was eyeing one particular grave near them with glassy eyes. She tugged at his hand trying to seek his attention.
"There is no one here, Baba."
"Bohot log hai, Fidah Jaan. Bus hum une dekh nahi sakte." Her Baba had replied still staring at that one grave, now that Fidah thought about it, it sent goosebumps all over her body.
(There are a lot of people her, we just can't se them)
"Kya hua tha aapke saath?"
(What had happened with you?)
Fidah bit at her lips, knowing exactly what he was asking.
"Nothing."
Rashid Mahmoud heaved a tiresome sigh as he sat down on the bare ground, tapping the safe beside him asking Fidah to take a seat.
Then he slowly started humming under his breath. An unfamiliar tune, but now that Fidah reminisced it, it only brought an array of streaming tears down her face. Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Pe Ho Nisar, was the name of the song.
The father-daughter duo sat in an unquestionable silence as Rashid Mahmud continued humming softly, his eyes still undeniably strained on the grave, while Fidah was left wondering the purpose of this visit
Later that evening when she was lying in her father's lap as he stroked her hair lovingly, that is when Fidah raised her questions about the peculiar visit they had taken earlier today.
For a second, the General had stopped stroking her hair and Fidah almost had an anxiety attack thinking she had somehow offended her father. But seconds later he resumed going back to his task.
"I will tell you, if you tell me what happened at school today."
Fidah's eyes widened as she jerked up pointing an accusing finger at her father.
"That's not fair, Baba!"
"I never claimed to be a fair man, Jaan." The man replied cheekily as he pulled at her puffed cheeks.
Fidah glared at him ambiguously, before signing she took a seat in front of him cross-legged. Lifting her eyes she looked at her father who nodded encouragingly.
"Today in school a few girls from my class were cornering another girl; Raniya and calling her names." Fidah started heaving a huge sigh.
"All because her father was working as a driver in one of the girl's houses and wore the girl's old handed down clothes and books."
"And what did you do?" Rashid Mahmoud questioned, softly as eyed his daughter tentatively.
"I went and tried putting the girl in her place. Raniya gets bullied everyday just because her father works a low income job. I couldn't handle her being in such a position anymore."
"Phir?"
(Then?)
"Then, as soon as I started defending Raniya. They ganged up on me. They called me names. Kaha ke mein to yateem hoon. Aapne Dado ke saath rehti hoon. Mujhe koi nahi pasand karta. Isliye meri Mama bhi mujhe chod kar chali gayi." Fidah said, clutching her fists as she looked down in her lap, hot tears building up in her eyes as she remembered the things that had happened.
(Said that I was an orphan, I live with my grandmother. Nobody likes me and that is why even my mother left me.)
"I got so angry I grabbed that girl's hair and wrestled her to the ground."
Rashid Mahmoud's heart clenched in agony as he eyed his brave daughter. He was so immensely proud of her. He slowly grabbed her hands in a reassuring grip and made her look at him
"Aapko pata hai, aapki Mama bilkul aap jaisi thi. Aap dikhti to mujh jaisi hai par aap ki himmat aur usool bilkul us jaise. She married a nikkama aadmi like me despite her parents disapproval." Her father continued, teary eyed himself.
(You know, your mother was just like you. You surely look like me but your courage and morals are all your mother's given.) (Useless man)
"Tauba kya haseen thi aapki mama. Agar mein shayar hota to bus unpar zindagi fanah ho jaati meri. Us zamane mein wo to muhalle ke aadhe larkon ka ishq thi. Par unki kamzor ankhon aur dil mein bas gaya." He chuckled, causing Fidah to smile seeing her father enter the nostalgic trace. Fidah felt as if with just his words her mother would come alive.
(What a Beauty your mother was, if I were a poet I would've have sacrifed my whole life writing about her. In that time she was the love of half of the boys in our colony. But, in her weak eyes and heart I got attracted.)
"Gareebon ke liye to unka dil darya tha. Badi mustaqil mijaaz ki thi wo. Jab wo aapse pregnant hui aur meri posting Hunza mein hui to mera dil bilkul nahi tha usko chodkar jaane ka, par usne kehdiya ke mein buzdil keh laoonga agar maine aapne watan se kiya hua waada nahi nibhaya to. Aur usko bilkul manzoor nahi tha ke uska shohar aur bacche ka baap ek buzdil kehlaye." He smiled sadly, looking at the clear black sky.
(For poor people her heart was an ocean. She was very generous in nature. When she was pregnant with you and my posting was in Hunza, I didn't feel like leaving her and going, but, she had said that I would be a labelled a coward if I didn't fulfill the promise I had made to my motherland. And she hated the fact that her husband and the father to her future child would be a coward."
"Today we visited the qabristan where your mother is buried. Where my Amina is buried. I visit her the first thing when I come home. But, this time I wanted to take you with me. To make her see how beautiful our daughter has grown to be." Her Baba had finally said clearing the air. A sob stuck in Fidah's chest as she replayed her memories from earlier in the burial ground. Her mother was there. She just couldn't see her like her Baba had claimed.
"You know the tune I was humming today in the qabristan? That was what my heavily pregnant Amina had hummed the day I last spoke to her. Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Pe Ho Nisar. Mera to dil usi din behta jaa raha tha. I thought I was going to die. I didn't want to die without seeing my unborn child or beloved wife. I had indeed become a buzdil like she had claimed I would be. But, how wrong was I?"
(My heart was not at peace that day itself)
"You know what exactly she told me, Fidah Jaan?" He questioned, tears streaming down from both their faces. Fidah shook her head negatively as she rubbed her already red nose.
"She told me--"oh buzdil aadmi, maut to sabhi ko aani hai, wo to 'khuda ka karishma' hai. Chalo meri dua hai, meri hayat bhi tume lag jaye." And unfortunately truer to her words ~uski hayat bhi mujhe lag gayi."
(Oh cowardly man. Death comes to everyone, it is a gift from God. Anyways I pray that even my life is granted to you.) (And her life was indeed granted to me.)
"Baba.." Fidah couldn't help out cry out loud. But, her Baba continued gathering her in his arms.
"Wo to chali gayi, par ek bahot badaa sabak de gayi. Maut to sabhi ko aani hai, isme dar kaise? Jab wo hoor jaisi mukammal aurat hi khuda ke paas chali gayi bina dare, to hum kis layak hai."
(She left, but she gave me a huge lesson to learn. Death is going to come to everyone, what is there to fear? That perfect angel of a woman itself left when God called then who are we to decline?)
"Hum sab ko ek hi jaga jaana hai aakhir mein, mitti tale, jispar hum naaz karte hai, jis se hum bane hai. Hum sab usi mein dafan honge ek din. Mein, Aap, Raniya aur wo ladkiyan jinhone aapko takleef pohachaya hai." Her Baba concluded as he kissed her forehead.
(We are to go to the same place in the end. To the soil, the soil that we proudly walk on, the soil that we are made from. Where all of us are going to be buried one day. You, Raniya, the girls that hurt you and me.)
___
(Present Day)
___
Back in the present day, Fidah whispered as Reem brushed her hair like her father had done in the past.
"Khuda ka Karishma."
(Gift from God)
And just like that Fidah found herself slipping into a dreamless slumber, the tune of her Baba humming Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Pe Ho Nisar echoing somewhere not far.
•••
a/n
Hello, Beautiful people!
I republished the first chapter with tons of editing, how did you like it?
To the new readers, I hope you enjoy reading and to my old ones, I am so glad you are here!
I am planning on slowly but periodically editing the whole book and yes, there will be major plot changes.
Until then do stick around and leave your feedback, I would love knowing if you like this reformed version of BS.
Also, the song Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Par Ho Nisaar is such a beautiful song! I just found it a couple of days back and loved it!
Anyways, Stay Safe!
~ flawfully