Riwayat- Pt 5

*****

Zaahira fumbled on her feet as she stared at the huge haveli in front of her. It had gotten way too dark out and no more than a few villagers were in sight. After numerous curses to her bright luck, she found herself in a situation that looked promisingly dramatic and highly filled with topics that didn't concern her even in the slightest.

"Itna ghabrao nahi. Yaha-"

Dilawar had only started when a huge commotion rose near the entrance. Zaahira's once nervous form had now fully turned into one of panic as she quickly ducked herself behind Dilawar who just blinked, not understanding what had happened.

He straightened up, clearing his throat, he looked ahead only to find the clan of men entering the house with an unwanted bustle and loud greetings.

"Baksh do mujhe."

He muttered under his breath and heaved a deep sigh of annoyance. Zaahira peeked from over his shoulders by standing on her tiptoes. Her eyes squinted in concentration at the men and unconsciously she leaned a little forward.

The tiniest bit of space was diminished when her front brushed Dilawar's back in the slightest and the latter was quick enough to rush forward as though her touch had electrocuted him in the most unpleasant of ways.

Frowning at his sudden actions, Zaahira opened her mouth to question him but was stopped when he shook his head- more to himself than her- and glanced over his shoulders as a motion for her to follow him inside the haveli.

"Lekin-"

"DILAWAR!"

A loud scream was heard across the lawn, successfully making Zaahira scream in terror and the man addressed to merely flinched before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Yazan came running to him in the most dramatic of ways and Zaahira just watched with confused and slightly wide eyes at the man who was behaving like a lost lover meeting his love after ages.

"Haye, mera bhai! Kaha tha tu? Aaya toh aaya, lekin apne saath yeh manhusiyat lana zaroori tha?"

He mumbled the last part in a low voice.

Zaahira looked visibly offended, thinking his words were directed towards her but on seeing the way he motioned with his eyes at the group of men that were entering the haveli, she relaxed her stance.

Yazan's eyes fell on the female standing behind his cousin and they instantly widened more if possible. With an agape mouth and expressions of disbelief, he moved his gaze to Dilawar who was already scowling at him.

"Ye-yeh- yeh ladki hai!"

"Kitna samajhdar hai tu."

Dilawar faked a cry of happiness before he smacked Yazan's head-

Hard.

"Ahh! Khudaya! Sun, kala jaadu toh nahi hua hai na tujhpe?"

He whispered- loud enough- to Dilawar who was now getting annoyed by every passing second.

Meanwhile Zaahira stared blankly at the man, contemplating whether he had his brain cells in the right places or had they abandoned him long back?

"Yazan, chup chap andar chal. Baaki batein waha karenge."

He gave a push to his cousin and Yazan gave one last look to the two before walking back into the haveli whose surroundings had once again reigned with hushed silence.

"Tha kaun woh?"

Zaahira asked in irritation, not really expecting any reply but to her amazement, Dilawar chuckled lowly as he started walking forward.

She was quick to follow behind him, taking in the haveli as best as she could. The walls were dark brown or so they seemed in the little bit of light that fell upon them through the lamps and the insides. By the gate, there were flowers planted as far as the lawn, just a narrow pathway left as bricks for people to walk into the haveli.

Neem trees stood tall and proud on either side of the haveli, granting it the shade and the medicines for cure if ever required.

Zaahira quietly walked behind Dilawar until they stood in the middle of the traditionally grand looking living room or whatever it was. Hung on the walls were antique pieces of knitted clothes, thick and beautiful with all the different colours set in a perfect blend of texture and shape.

"Dilawar, acha-"

An elderly female voice was heard and came into view a woman in her mid fifties, wearing salwar kameez with a colourful chadar wrapped around her small frame, covering her from head to the knees before flaring down past her ankles.

Her eyes gleamed with warmth and happiness as she gazed at Dailwar but slowly, on sensing another presence, she turned her gaze towards Zaahira and looked absolutely confused.

"Amma, abba kaha hai?"

The first question that he asked.

Ruqayyah looked back at her son and instantly, the once expression of joy turned into a look of seriousness and worry.

"Attaullah saheb ke saath apni study mein hai. Dilawar, sab theek toh hai na? Itni raat gaye unhe kya kaam aa gaya?"

Dilawar sighed at his mother before hugging her for a few seconds and separating immediately.

"Amma, tension na le. Wahi siyasi baatein chal rahi hai. Hum ja kar dekh ke aate hai."

"What the-"

Zaahira's once lost anxiety came back with full force on hearing his words. She quickly latched onto his wrist when he tried to take a step ahead.

A gasp was heard around and then it was silent.

Dilawar's wide eyes looked into Zaahira's panicked once. His gaze moved from her to their skins that were in contact and almost in a heartbeat, he snatched his hand away, stumbling a little due to the shock and surprise of the unexpected action.

Ruqayyah blinked her eyes in daze. Her vision must be playing with her- that's what she thought at first. Looking at her son, she realized how pale he looked as he gaped at the unknown woman.

Dilawar blinked at Zaahira who was frowning at him. Straightening up, he cleared his throat and peeked a glance at his mother who seemed to have gone in shock as she stared at him.

"Amma, yeh-yeh Zaahira hai. Rasta bhul gayi hai lekin jaise hi ise ghar bhejne wala tha, Attaullah dada mil gaye. Aap iska khayal rakhe aaj ke liye. Main filhal abba ko dekh kar aata hu."

Hastily, he took his leave, leaving behind a now panicking Zaahira and a stiff Ruqayyah.

One thing that was common about most villages was the conservative ways with which they lived, something that Zaahira had slightly failed to catch onto and touches as such wouldn't be taken as casual as they would be in some cities.

"Beta, chale, thaki hui lag rahi hai aap. Hum khana laga dete hai aap ke liye."

Ruqayyah said politely, offering her a small smile of kindness but the worry that gleamed brightly in her eyes made Zaahira feel out of place.

Not having any other option, Zaahira offered an awkward smile back and followed the elderly woman towards another part of the haveli, opposite to where Dilawar had just disappeared.

"Humara naam Ruqayyah hai, Dilawar ki amma. Aap ko bura na lage toh hume bata sakti hai ki aap usse kaise mili?"

The question came off with a little hesitance. Zaahira gazed at her for a few seconds before nodding her head and starting the tale from all the way to her getting lost and then the small journey that she had covered with him.

The two conversed in hushed tones, unaware of the storm that was brewing under the same roof just on the other side.

*****

Dilawar rubbed his slightly sweaty palms on his kurta. Taking deep breaths, he knocked on the oak doors twice before turning the knob. Sitting in the vast room were his father, Attaullah and a few of his men.

Mushtak's features were contorted with a heavy frown. The expression of anger that swirled in the eyes identical to Dilawar's was bright as the afternoon sun as he listened closely to Attaullah's words.

"Mushtak bete, ab khair, zyada kuch salah toh de nahi sakta lekin itna zaroor kahunga ki Dilawar hi harkat ki wajah se shayad intikhab ke dawran haar ka saamna karna pad sakta hai."

(Intikhab- elections)

Dilawar scowled upon hearing the old man's words. Who was he to determine his character and that too so lowly?

Mushtak turned his gaze towards his son, a heavy look was passed between the father-son duo and Dilawar stepped forward to ask for an explanation for Attaullah's words.

"Maaf ki jiye dada jaani, lekin kis harkat ki baat kar rahe hai aap? Khul kar bole kehna kya chahte hai."

Attaullah's eyes didn't waver from Mushtak's form as he leaned back on the chair, glancing at Dilawar for a fleeting second.

"Yahi ki itni raat gaye akele kisi ladki- na-mehram woh bhi- ke saath dikhna koi fakr ki baat nahi hai. Na jaane kya hua-"

"Dada jaan, izzat karta hu aap ki kyu ke aap bade hai lekin aise lafz soch samajhkar istemal kare toh zyada behtar hoga."

Dilawar clenched and unclenched his fists, a motion to control his rising anger. He couldn't remember the last time he lost his cool so easily and that too twice in less than an hour.

Attaullah's grip on his stick tightened before loosening it with a smile- a smile so manipulative that Dilawar flinched knowing well what was to come.

"Mushtak, hum sirf tumhara bhala chahte hai. Agar kal ko Dilawar siyasi pare mein utar gaya toh yeh kissa bhulaya nahi jayega. Khandan ki aan ko chot bhi lag sakti hai. Hume Dilawar par yaqeen hai-"

A sympathetic expression took over Attaullah's features and he continued,

"Lekin duniya wale toh bolenge hi na. Gao mein pehle hi yeh baat phail chuki hai ki Dilawar kisi anjaan aurat ke saath ghum raha hai. Na jane yeh baat aur kitni aage tak jayegi."

"Aapko kaise pata ki gaon wale kya-"

Mushtak glared at his son, silently asking him to shut up and listen. Taking deep breaths, Dilawar looked away from the two men and stared at the wall. The intensity in his gaze could have worked as a laser if need be.

"Hum toh bas itna keh rahe hai ki is baat ka koi hal nikalna chahiye isse pehle ki baat aur bade."

"Aur kya hal hai aapke paas?"

Mushtak asked with a skeptical tone. He knew the man he was conversing with could deceive a snake but right now, he needed to be careful with the words he spoke and the reactions he gave.

He knew his son and he had faith in his upbringing. Attaullah's baseless assumptions did nothing for him to doubt Dilawar for a second but the way Attaullah's eyes gleamed, he knew that if he didn't comply with his wishes then an ugly rumour would bring down his next generations to their knees.

And that was unacceptable to him.

"Kehne ko toh yeh sirf ek mashwara hai, lekin ghar ki izzat ko bachane ke liye, humare khayal se Dilawar aur us ladki ka nikah karwa dena chahiye."

Dilawar looked ready to faint with the way his face paled all of a sudden. His eyes snapped towards Attaullah who looked as though he didn't just say a blunder. Mushtak didn't retaliate almost the very instant but chose to stay silent.

"Chacha jaan, hum dekhte hai hum kya kar sakte hai. Aap aaj raat ke liye yahi rukenge?"

Mushtak easily tried to dodge further suggestions from the man in front of him.

Attaullah shook his head at his question. Getting up, he leisurely took his leave after patting Dilawar on the shoulder with a grip that didn't settle well with the man.

One by one the room started getting empty. In no time, the only ones left were Mushtak and Dilawar.

"A-abba, aap dada ki baato-"

"Hume us ladki se milna hai Dilawar. Ghar mein hi hai woh is waqt, nahi?"

Dilawar swallowed the gulp in his throat. A whirlwind of mirage wreaking havoc in his head and before he could control himself, a stiff nod was sent in his father's way.

"Chalo phir. Milao usse humse."

Mushtak walked out of the study and it took some time for Dilawar to move his feet. Trying to ignore the heaviness that had suddenly enveloped his form, Dilawar guided his father to where Zaahira and his mother could possibly be.

The place where the females usually gathered in the haveli during occasions or festivals. A separate section was made for both men and women and by chance, maybe his mother would have taken Zaahira to the same.

As they neared the entrance, loud laughs were heard. The aura that surrounded the men was a complete contrast to the bright and cheerful air of the room they were about to enter.

Dilawar shared a look with his father who now looked curious. Taking small steps ahead, Mushtak didn't make much sound and looked at where his wife sat along with another female, whom he'd like to guess as the one Attaullah was referring to.

"Lekin aisa kiya kyu?"

Came out Ruqayyah's amused question that she had directed towards Zaahira who looked the least bit apologetic.

Shrugging lightly, a mirthy smile took over Zaahira's lips as she got comfortable on the seat.

"Karna pada. Murad ki aadat hai duniya ko bhul kar kitabo mein ghumna. Main bore ho rahi thi toh socha-"

"Ki uski puri book pe galti se paani daal du?"

Ruqayyah completed her words and the two fell into light chuckles once again.

A good half an hour had passed since the two had been together and second by second, the air of comfort kept increasing. Ruqayyah had the gentle motherly breeze around her, something that made Zaahira relax her shoulders and just forget her worries even if it was for a little time.

The two had eaten some bits since neither felt too hungry and after the light dinner, they started talking, sharing little pieces about who they were and what they did.

More like Zaahira narrating the ways she got her revenge on her brother.

"Tum dono bilkul Dilawar aur Yazan jaise sunai padte ho. Allah, dono ko akela chod do toh kisi bhukamp se kam kaam nahi karte."

Curiosity sparked in Zaahira's eyes as she leaned forward, asking the question that had suddenly lit in her brain.

"Yazan? Kahi yeh wahi toh nahi jo bahar Dilawar ke saamne aa kar ajeeb ajeeb batein kar raha tha?"

"Ajeeb? Phir toh pakka wahi hoga."

Mushtak was more than amused seeing his wife and the girl talking to each other in such an informal manner. The air of jollity around brought a smile on his face but he quickly hid it with a cough, a sound that made Ruqayyah and Zaahira look their way.

Ruqayyah quickly straightened her chadar and smiled at her husband and son. A more sophisticated expression took over her features as she stood up alongside Zaahira who tried to suppress her nervousness.

Mushtak put on a serious facade, his eyes guarded unlike a few minutes before. He didn't enter the room but instead, motioned for his wife to follow him. The look of seriousness on his face worried Ruqayyah a little but anyhow, she patted Zaahira's head gently and quickly followed her husband.

Left behind were Dilawar and Zaahira.

The latter looked at Dilawar with a confused expression but the rude man gave her a glare for no reason and walked away too, leaving her behind in complete bafflement and indignation towards the man.

Huffing to herself, she sat back on the couch and crossed her arms across the torso. Words left like strings from her mouth but she didn't bother making any sense of them.

"Khadus kahi ka. Thodi madad kya kar di, apne aapko tees maar khan samajhne laga hai. Naak toh dekho uski, kaisi chadi hui hai gurur se. Allah, dimag mein koi short circuit toh nahi ho gaya hai na uske jo aisi harkatein kar raha hai?"

A dramatic gasp escaped her lips at her words and within no time, she was staring at the ceiling with her head resting on the couch.

Looks like the night would be a long one after all.

Only if she knew..

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I am alive... surprising, but I am...

Now now now, I'm sowwiee for leaving in the middle but I'm back now!! Oh, and I've changed the blurbs for Hamraaz and Riwayat, do give them a read if interested...🤧

Ah, maybe we all knew it was gonna happen. Though I initially decided that they would've gotten married when Attaullah interfered their way on the road but I thought it would be too cliche, so why not add a little bit more of drama?!

Ahh, let's hope I give quick updates from now on. I just want a break but that's not possible since I can't leave you all hanging in between... (isi baat pe vote aur comment kar dena pwweeaassee!)

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