It was the first time Meh'r-Bano heard the terrifying sound of the war siren repeatedly with the distant sound of gunfire. Sitting beside the choolah watching the red lentils boil, every house in every village was sitting on edge waiting for the gunfire to end. Babu lay on his kat, his mouth ajar staring at the blue sky whilst hearing the distant gun shots like fireworks. Unable to communicate his feelings, he froze like a statue in fear.
"When will it stop?" Meh'r-Bano asked her mother in law. Kaneez filtered through the long grain rice flicking out the tiny stones and grit listening silently to the firing. The anticipation was fever pitch. After the firing, the wind would carry the wailing from the poor households carrying their dead to their final resting place. A sacrifice for Jahanpur.
"It stops when it stops." Said Shafiq scrubbing nails sitting on small wooden stool with a plastic watering lota next to him. He'd closed his garage early and returned home.
"Last time it lasted seventy-two hours. Three whole days. Then, came the funerals." Said Kaneez.
Meh'r-Bano recalled her conversation with Tasneem. The forty days of mourning.
"I knew this would happen." Meh'r-Bano recalled the tension at the grand bazaar when Shah-Nawaz shoved the barrel into his uncle's chest. The stench of war was rife in the air.
"What do you mean?" Shafiq shifted his body on the stool and turned to Meh'r-Bano. Now she was working at Central Sang E Mar Mar Haveli, she had inside information.
"How did you know?"
Did I say that aloud? It was too late when Meh'r-Bano realised what she said. She couldn't tell Shafiq about the scandal with her sandal? Or reveal how she ended up the Grand bazaar and escaped from the guards? Shafiq's eyes dilated with worry. Kaneez blew over the rice and turned to Meh'r-Bano waiting for an answer.
"What do you know that we don't?" She asked creasing her eyebrows.
"Umm...I mean..." She stuttered whilst mixing the red lentils with the wooden spoon searching for a plausible lie.
"Uh....it's inevitable. There is tension until the inauguration." She saved herself. "Everyday there is talk of war at the haveli amongst the maids." She pinned her eyes on the boiling lentils. The water evaporated and the lentils were softer.
Kaneez began praying softly. "May Allah protect us." She placed the rice tray aside and lifted her hands with her palms facing towards the sky.
"May Allah protect Jahanpur. May Allah protect us poor from these war mongering Choudhary's whose greed for land and wealth will have no end. We are weak, too weak to speak up and oppose these lofty powerhouses." She sighed in despair. "I have only one son-May Allah protect him from these evil Choudhary's. May Allah bless him with strong sons."
A large lump formed in Meh'r-Bano's stomach and she switched the cooker off. Her feet were still sore from the bruises, but her mother in law's prayer pierced deeper. Inadvertently, her mother in law reminded Meh'r-Bano of her emptiness in her womb. However, much she tried to busy herself, the reminder flung her to rock bottom. The rush of the Grand Bazaar, the Haveli, the desire to educate young children was a distraction from the emptiness she felt inside. Meh'r-Bano gazed at Shafiq who scrubbed his nails with soap until they were raw red wondering if he would ever understand how lonely she felt? He told her to ignore his mother's brutal remarks. He refused to acknowledge her feelings and searched for miracle and spiritual cures. Her best friend Tasneem would never understand, God had blessed her with an abundant brood. Meh'r-Bano sighed with a deep, dull sigh and tilted her head up staring at the sky with her hands around her stomach. The gunfire would end one day, but the war inside herself intensified every day compounding her loneliness.
****
The line of black SUV stopped twenty feet from Muzamil's haveli and fired indiscriminately riddling the haveli thick outer walls with bullets. Muzaamil's reinforced his haveli with five foot thick and ten feet tall brick walls protecting the household from attack. His guards retaliated with rapid gunfire. Behind the row of armed men, Dilawar-Baksh watched from a safe distance with his Kalashnikov gripped in his left hand. Guards screamed and tumbled from the rooftop to a painful death.
Uzayr hid behind the bonnet of the bullet proof SUV. He reloaded his gun with bullets cheering at Wajahat Ali.
"We're going to kill these mother fuckers!" He cheered with joy. "It's the end of Kharagpur." His blood pumped his body with adrenaline. The battlefield was his home. From the distance, he saw a Jeep appearing in the distance. He couldn't make out who it was, but the jeep belonged to the noble household. There was no time to linger, he turned and pointed his gun aiming for the guard hidden between the railings.
"Today you're going to hell, you son of a bitch!" he aimed at the guard and missed him injuring his arm.
Inside the haveli, the women cowered in the corner of the basement holding on for their life. The maids screamed in fear not far from the gunshots. Emaan held onto Adnan who wailed like an injured animal. The shooting sawing into his brain cutting it into half. He punched his head, rocking forward and back. Yasmin chanted silently preparing for death. She held her palms out rocking forward and back praying for protection from calamity
"La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inneekuntu mina aththalimeen." She repeated in every breath.
In a bid to escape the noise, Adnan broke free and dashed to the door gasping for breath. He pulled the handle and pounded on the door trapped.
Emaan ran after him. She flicked over her veil and grabbed his arm.
"Stop. Don't." She tugged on his arm.
The panic-stricken young boy was trapped. He had to leave. The noise was too much. He shook the door and Emaan held him back. She called the maids, but fear disabled them into a pathetic heap in the corner. Each woman for herself.
"Ammi!" She called out. "Stop him."
Adnan was strong. He elbowed his cousin in the ribs and kicked the door. Emaan bowed over in pain. Adnan broke the door open and shot through wailing up the stairs and into the courtyard. Emaan screamed through the pain fearing for his life. There was no chance he would survive outside. Once the pain subsided, she ran after him, but her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her into the basement slamming the door shut.
"I have lost everyone. I will be damned if I lose you!" Her eyes bloodshot glared at her daughter. Yasmin guarded the door safeguarding her daughter.
"Ammi he'll die." Emaan cried. "Get out of the way."
"I can't lose you." Yasmin shook her head. "I can't."
With his hands pressed against his hears, his breaths rapid, Adnan ran out into the firing line, into the courtyard and past his granddad.
"Where are you going?" yelled a guard.
The gate bolted with a large rusty metal lock, he grabbed the lock and tugged it yanking it open.
"What is he doing?" Yelled another guard cowering from the rapid gunfire.
"Leave him! He won't open it!" They ignored him and returned to their positions. With fear and panic fuelling his body, Adnan pulled the lock free and opened the large rustic gate at the shock of his grandad. Gasping for breath, the eighteen year old raced into the field bare foot sinking his feet into the soil. Around him he saw bodies fallen from the terrace, men injured squirming for death. He cried out and fell to his knees crestfallen. His hair wild like a mane, his hands pressed hard against his ears until his knuckles were white, Adan hyperventilated. He couldn't breathe in the barrage of gunshots and wailed like an animal.
Dilawar-Baksh raised his hand and yelled for his gunmen to stop when he spotted the boy emerge from the gates. Was this another trick? Was his brother sacrificing a kid?
Then, silence returned far more thickly than it was before the shots, as if everything around them was collectively holding its breath. Adnan rocked forward and back wailing, his hands over his ears whilst the gunshots ceased.
"Come back in boy!" Yelled Muzzamil from inside his haveli. "Come in you stupid boy!"
Dilawar-Baksh made his way through the army of men. His grandson covered him and Wajahat Ali was by his left side. Dilawar-Baksh mocked with laughter.
"Come out here you coward, don't hide behind you crazy grandson!"
Dilawar-Baksh was a man of principles. He had stern rules of war, killing innocent children and women was no act of a soldier. Whilst the unstable young boy sat in the middle of the battle field, no shot would be fired. The young boy's wails were loud and piercing. The guards wasn't sure if it was a human or an injured animal.
"Move the child!" Yelled Wajahat Ali covering Dilawar. "Fight like men!"
The tense fighting came to an unusual halt. Guns pointed at one another waiting in abated breath for the signal to shoot. From inside the haveli, a frail figure grasping two walking sticks, waddled forward. Reshma courageously inched her way into the battlefield. The woman spent her lifetime around powerful, selfish men crying for war. She'd lost her sons on the battlefield and cried until her heart bled dry. Fearless, the eight five year old stubborn woman approached her distraught grandson.
"It's Choudhrani Reshma." Said Dilawar-Baksh with a snigger spread across his moustache covered mouth. "The coward sends his woman and his grandchild." he scoffed with disdain. A light laughter spread.
Bravely, the old woman struggled but stepped out into the battle field where naked guns pointed at each other, fingers tense on the trigger ready to fire in a breath.
"Enough." She yelled waving her left walking stick. "Enough of this madness." She called out standing next to her grandson. With her maid fearing for her life in the basement, she'd abandoned the wheelchair and struggled on her recovering hip.
"Your war has already killed enough people. My sons have died. My grandson has lost his mind. Enough!" She yelled to Dilawar-Baksh making out his figure in the field by his turban.
"Get inside you mad woman!" Muzaamil called out from behind the haveli bullet riddled walls. "Get your mad grandson inside!"
Dilawar-Baksh was amused. His brother had no control over his household.
"Come in front of me so I can shoot you in the head you despicable excuse of a man. We don't talk to your emotional women. Where are the men?"
"They're dead. You killed them." Reshma cried out to be recognised. The pain of losing her sons raw in her heart.
With Wajahat Ali by his side and Uzayr covering him, Dilawar-Baksh neared the old woman. Every guard that stood on the haveli rooftop had two opposing black guards guns pointed on them. The angels of death lingered waiting to carry the souls to their destination.
"Your son was an alcoholic." Dilawar-Baksh reminded the mad woman.
"He bought liquor from unsavoury people. We had nothing to do with it. But my brother, your husband has plotted many times to kill my son. He shot at him when he was a child. Did you not speak then? Yesterday, he held a rally in protest of my son's inauguration, he shot and killed our fighting dogs and guards. He planted a hoax bomb in the rally!" He roared.
"I did not plant a hoax bomb!" Muzamil appeared from inside carrying a rifle and pointing it at his brother.
"I did not plant a hoax bomb!"
Uzayr stood in front of his grandad ready to give his life to protect him.
"Why do you lie?" Dilawar-Baksh pushed his grandson aside ready to face his brother.
"You have been caught out? You plot to derail my son's ascension to the throne has failed. I have come here to call you out and put an end to the war by killing you."
"I will kill you before you can think of killing me!" Muzamil cocked his gun. Uzayr quickly returned to his position and stood in front of his granddad.
"Tell me when, Babaji. I will proudly empty every bullet in his chest." Uzayr grinned for the first time in years.
"Enough of the killing." Intervened Reshma "You men shoot and kill. We women drink our tears for years. I will put an end to this once and for all." The old woman had nothing to lose, she was ready to embrace death on the path to peace.
In the distance, Shahgul stepped out of the jeep. The shooting ceased and now they were into negotiations. She wanted to be involved.
"Cover me" She ordered the guards and approached her husband with caution.
"I will end this all! Today!" Said Reshma "We want our share of Jahanpur." She said with vigour.
Dilawar-Baksh laughed at the little old woman. "And what? Who will rule? Your villagers?" He sniggered at her. "You will die soon with my brother. You have no lineage."
"My granddaughter, my Emaan will rule Jahanpur." She pointed at the haveli.
Dilawar-Baksh was amused.
"My Emaan will take her share of Jahanpur on her deceased father's behalf. She will rule Jahanpur."
Dilawar-Baksh roared with laughter. The army of guards eased off their guns whilst waiting for the signal.
"How so?" Mocked Dilawar-Baksh
"We will settle this war like years before, like our customs and traditions guide us. My daughter will rule with your son."
Dilawar-Baksh stepped back and his laughter dissolved. The woman called in their traditions. Their traditions were strong and embedded into their principles and ran through their veins.
Shahgul was intrigued as she neared the group. She knew everyone in Kharagpur. She paid the stocky maid who push Reshma's wheelchair for inside information. Emaan was well known of for her spirituality, her piety and her soft singing voice. She remained behind the tall walls of the haveli and not visited her mother's home.
"How? How will you use our traditions to stop the inevitable?" Asked Dilawar-Baksh worried about her reply. Wajahat Ali peered from his gun, he met Uzayr's gaze wondering about the tradition that would stop the war between waring brothers.
"Your son-" Pointed Reshma. Her voice raspy. "My Emaan will marry your Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi and form a sacred union of marriage bringing an end to decades of war."
Silence was thick and heavy. Uzayr's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Wajahat Ali. He lowered his gun slightly considering the possibility. Shahgul was pleased and smiled. A chaste girl, bearing the fruits of the next generation, from the pure lineage.
"Never!" Yelled Dilawar-Baksh! "My son will never marry from your household."
"I would rather shoot my granddaughter than give her to the enemy." Replied Muzamil. "Anyway, Peer Saab has asked for her hand in marriage and I have agreed."
Now Shahgul wanted the girl even more. If the pious Peer Saab asked for her hand in marriage she must be special. The girl was well known for her chastity, and already held a status in Jahanpur. She could bring peace and the final pieces of Jahanpur as her dowry and secure her son's ruling bearing him strong rulers to secure the future. Shahgul was dizzy with excitement and marched forward flicking her embroidered shawl over her chest with two guards by her side to secure the deal.
"We will do what our ancestors have done before us. We will end this war by a marriage of the two households. The panchayat will decide!" Reshma finalised and called on the Council of Village Elders of Jahanpur.
"I am the panchayat!" Yelled Dilawar-Baksh in anger. "No Panchayat is loftier than me! I will not agree to this!" He raged stamping his foot in the soil.
"We women won't sit in the background any longer." Shahgul created an alliance with Shahgul. "We need to protect our family future generations."
With his angry bloodshot eyes, Dilawar-Baksh glared at his wife, how dare she interrupt the conversation and give her lowly opinion? Dilawar-Baksh looked up at the guards standing on the haveli rooftop ready to fire. Both brother glared at each other with death on their fingertips. Adnan wails pierced the two men's glare. Dilawar-Baksh stared at the terrified child. He was the future of Jahanpur. He was the chief of Jahanpur, the leader of people and villages. In nine days, his son would rise and he would retire. He couldn't allow the cry of war to ruin his son's day and loom over his head like death. He stepped back and lifted his hand signalling to his men.
"I am Choudhary Dilawar Qureshi, ruler of Jahanpur." He declared with vigour yelling at the men on the rooftops. "I agree to a ceasefire for the interim until my son takes the throne of Jahanpur." He spoke with pride. He made no mention of the panchayat or the offer of marriage.
"And the panchayat will decide the future." Muzaamil accepted. There were four days till the panchayat sat on Sunday. This gave Muzaamil ample opportunity to rally his troops, make fresh alliance with the rebels and call them for back up when he would attack Central Sang e Mar Mar haveli on the day of the inauguration. He needed the time. his wife was useless after all.
"We accept the ceasefire Choudhary Dilawar-Baksh." Said Reshma.
"Once the panchayat rules in favour of the marriage, we will come to your haveli with peace, mithai and shagun. Our daughter shall rule Jahanpur with your son. This will be our legacy we leave behind after the decade of tragedy, death and stench of corpses." She spoke wisely.
"But I have given my word to Peer Saab." He reminded his wife still playing his part of a man who disapproved.
"Peace is far greater than your word." Reshma replied to her husband.
With the ceasefire agreed until the day of the Panchayat it was time to retreat and pick up their injured and dead. The future of Jahanpur was in the hands was in turmoil. Only the arbitration of the Panchayat could safeguard Jahanpur. Could the two warring noble households unite under the union of Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi and Choudrani Emaan Qureshi?
Sitting in the jeep and making their way back, Shahgul was nervous after speaking up during the negotiations. The jeep rocked over the uneven ground.
"Wajahat, arrange for the funerals of the dead and admit the injured into the city hospital." Dilawar-Baksh ordered. "Allah Ditta will register and pay the war widows every month and their debts are settled."
"As you order, Choudhary Saab." Wajahat Ali knew the process very well. Men were worth more when they died in war.
Dilawar-Baksh wondered why his brother denied the hoax bomb, if he didn't plant it, who did? Who was this third interfering party?
Nervously, Shahgul tested the water. "Our son needs a pure and chaste wife to carry our grandsons. The granddaughter is in the family, she is one of us, from the clan. She is highly respected and no man has ever laid eyes on her. She is behind seven pure veils." She argued softly.
Twisting the end of his grey moustache in thought, Dilawar-Baksh required a daughter in law and if a peace deal came with her dowry along with the final piece of Jahanpur, what could be better?
"My brother won't agree, He has given his word to Peer Saab."
Shahgul grasped her husband's arm with anticipation. "The panchayat can overrule his decision if peace and safety of Jahanpur is at stake!" She shifted her body to face and convince him.
Wajahat Ali gazed in the rear-view mirror whilst driving the jeep at Choudhrani Shahgul's jewelled hand on her husband's arm. A knot tightened in his stomach. He stamped on the accelerator and speeded towards a large deep pothole.
Dilawar-Baksh straightened his beard. His hip was hurting after standing in the field for too long. The Jeep juddered sinking into a pothole shaking the couple in the back seat.
"Apologies Choudhary Saab." Wajahat Ali gazed at the rear view mirror at Choudhrani Shahgul tumbling to the far end of the seats as her bangles jangled.
"Do you think Shah Nawaz will agree to marry the girl?" Asked Dilawar-Baksh
"He is my son." Shahgul straightened her shawl and sat up. "He does what I say and he does what is best for Jahanpur. This union is the best step forward for Jahanpur." Shahgul replied with fortitude and a promise.
That afternoon of contemplation left both households with something to deeply mull over. The small whispering of a new beginning sewed hope into the fertile soils of Jahanpur. A new world were death didn't lurk on corners and the enemy was now family. The sharing of the land and wealth with a granddaughter from Kharagpur was the first glistening of hope on the cards. With the haveli clouded with a deep sense of failure, Dilawar-Baksh was in contemplation. What would the panchayat decide? Who was behind the hoax bomb and made a fool out of him?
It was later afternoon when Shah-Nawaz arrived from Manghal Haveli. The dancing women left that night, but his favourite thwaif entertained him till the late hours of the morning leaving her imprints on his neck. The sirens had stopped and it was time for Shahgul to inform her son that he was part of the peace deal, that he would marry the pious and chaste Choudhrani Emaan Qureshi.