NOVEL~*Hiding behind a Stranger*~THREAD 48 - CHAPTER 53 - Page 150

Originally posted by: Sandhya.A

🤣

Originally posted by: lashy

You remembered this without looking? How? 😕

Originally posted by: Kalgi22

My part of surname before marriage in it. 😉 😆 I still remembered I laughed at that name when I first read it. 😆

Originally posted by: lashy

^^^

Done! Fixed both for you!

>>>hehe, thank you!

By the way, do you arrange Golu too?

Done preparations for tomorrow?

Originally posted by: Kalgi22

My part of surname before marriage in it. 😉 😆 I still remembered I laughed at that name when I first read it. 😆

>>>really? Shocked

And I told you na that I reread all the chapters recently. 😃

Originally posted by: Unbeknown

Now that Balaur is mentioned, Lashy, does this have any significance in the upcoming chapters or just one time place mentioned?

Originally posted by: lashy

Am on scene 2 da 😳

4 scenes in total... I think 🤔

Be happy for me Chellam... that's the sign of true friendship!

Originally posted by: karkuzhali

HIDING BEHIND

A

STRANGER

A Historical Romance by Lashy.

(Abridged)

Part 1. The Tornado.

Chapter 10.

The Feast.

At the Stables..

Anxiously awaiting news of his friend, the young man pulled out a long grass from a heap of soft Earth close to where he sat, skilfully shuffling the blade of grass from one finger to the next. And then, from next finger to the last.

All of a sudden, he glimpsed up, alerted to the beat of oncoming hooves 'Ai Khuda... please... let it be good news...' he prayed for the wounded pet that lay beside him. But before that prayer could be completed, his mate's long face had given away the outcome.

It was not good news.

'Khan Sahib' Azeez leapt off his steed even before it'd come to a stop, and nimbly hastened up to the man 'Not before tomorrow morning...'

'Darn' crushing the blade of grass and throwing it aside, Akbar ruffled through a few strands of hair in frustration 'If the Hakim cannot get here before morning, Bahadur's injuries might get seriously infected... and... and...' he stopped.

'Nothing will happen to you, my friend... I will drag that stubborn Hakim here, if I would have to use force to do it!' having patted its neck supportively, the determined young man then stood up 'Ibrahim... Azeez... handle the stables... Sayyid come on... let's go...'

'Khan Sahib...' Azeez interrupted, though in two minds if he must bring up this information now 'While riding up here, I noticed the Sahiba walking along with a couple of her guards... I think she's on her way to meet you...'

'Actually... THERE they are...' Ibrahim indicated towards four specks, emerging upon the fields 'What do you want to do?'

Brusquely turning around thereon, he let out a loud whistle - a signal - and out trotted another horse from the stables. 'Handle the matter, Ibrahim... I'm off...' he instructed, whilst grabbing a saddle from a stall nearby and flinging it upon the horse's back.

All set to leave, Akbar was about to jump atop and dash off - but what should have taken him less than a moment, seemed to take much longer. His boots remained grounded on the spot - a small part of him not allowing his feet to take off just yet. Not once he'd gotten a clearer picture of her.

In one hand, she held aside a small pleated bunch of skirt to stop its edges from getting in the way. In the other hand, she managed both - her veil of shimmering summery-yellow silk, and a sleek wooden cane to help with the uneven surfaces. Gracefully armed thus, the Sahiba was scaling the stretches of greenery, resembling the radiant sun rising from the fields, her elegance undiminished even during an awkwardly-inconvenient adventure such as this.

And it was this rare picture, which somehow got him to think that if an heiress had gone through all that trouble to get here, the matter could not be so trivial.

So, he temporarily set aside those strong impulses to 'dash-off', and saved everyone valuable time by striding up to her.

'Salaam Khan Sahib...' she wished the man.

'Salaam...' he clipped short his greeting.

Recognising the haste in his tone, she got straight to the point 'I heard that your horse suffered an accident... I was asked to come take a look at it...'

'What!' he lifted a brow, astonished by the very suggestion 'and who might have asked you to take a look at it?'

'Chacha Sahib...'

'Chacha jaan!' Just as he'd guessed! 'No wonder he suddenly had some urgent business in the market...' Akbar briefly shut his eyes, trying to get a grip on the annoying developments 'There's been a mistake, Sahiba... I was leaving to fetch the Hakim now...'

'But, I was told your veterinarian is away in a distant town... and that's the sole reason I agreed to come...'

'Well... this Hakim is a respected professional... he has been treating my horses all along... and 'HE' is the only one I trust my animals with!'

'Fair enough' Heera nodded, reminding the 'Hakim' in herself that she mustn't take his frank admission personally 'Are you certain its condition will not worsen, till your return?'

'Why? What makes you think its condition will worsen?'

'Your horse has become lethargic... exhausted... has it lost a lot of blood?'

'Fine...' he nodded, since the Sahiba was making absolute sense. Besides, for all of his in-depth knowledge about racing horses, he was no veterinarian. So, he decided to take the bait 'Have you treated animals before?'

Heera shrugged 'I've cured many people before...'

Staring at the Lady for a deliberate pause, the stern young man shook his head 'Then, I can't let you handle my horse!'

'Khan Sahib... I haven't come here to prove myself' she gently tilted her head in the direction of the guest quarters 'I am hosting a feast today... in honour of my sister... I left all that behind at the request of Chacha Sahib to help treat your pet... but since you've made it quite clear that you don't need my assistance, I shall return to my work now...'

She began retracing her steps - no frown on her brows, no ill will in her heart.

And about 3 steps on, she heard him.

'Harka Sahiba...'

Her pace slowed.

'Harka Sahiba?'

It was the first time he'd taken her name - and my, had he done it with flair. A short sigh later, she turned around 'Yes?'

The man was facing the direction of his injured horse 'You may go ahead... and examine Bahadur...' he announced, startling one and all in that stable-yard - even his closest mates - with that announcement. It was partly desperation, but mostly trust and instinct, that got Akbar to do something he'd never done before - reverse his decision.

However, when the Lady didn't move from her spot, he knew why, and amended the tone of his request 'Sahiba... please, take a look at Bahadur...'

A faint smile fringed on her lips. 'I will...' she nodded.

Sometime later..

'Finally...'

Some skill and lot of perseverance was what it took - the thorn was plucked out at long last!

But when it came to the larger splinters caught within the folds of torn skin, Bahadur was not going to be fooled into co-operating. And no sooner than she slipped her fingers towards the sharp fragments, the stallion whinnied and jerked its torso defiantly, showing its displeasure towards the unfamiliar Lady for poking and prodding at its injuries.

Heera put down her reading stone and sat back upon the rocky ground 'Khan Sahib' she muttered to the young man, who was kneeling on the other end 'Bahadur has to have the entire portion of that powder... if it doesn't calm down and stay absolutely still... I would never be able to do the stitches!'

A droplet of sweat trickled down from his temple and fell upon his forearm as he paused to take a breather, his eyes fixed upon the potent powder that sat untouched - a herbal sedative.

Gliding his hand around his cummerbund, Akbar reached over for a pouch tucked underneath and pulled it out. Unfastening its drawstring, he removed the peanuts from within - the pet's favourite treats - and dangled the delicacy in front.

As soon as Bahadur recognised what was on offer, it opened its mouth to gobble up the nuts. And that is when Akbar managed to skilfully slide in both - an ordinary set of peanuts and some that'd been mixed with the powder.

Three such attempts, and the horse realised it was being misled - but those three attempts were enough to feed him the sedative.

A short interval thereon, and Bahadur was already showing signs of calming down. With a co-operative patient to work with, Heera found it easier to do what she'd come to.

'Only skin deep... not life threatening...' she deduced, on examining the injury and the amount of blood it'd lost 'Plenty of water... plenty of rest and a strong young stallion like this should recover within 3... 4 weeks...''

That reassurance got Akbar to breathe a huge sigh of relief 'I told you, didn't I?' he muttered to Bahadur 'You are going to be fine...' he bent low and patted the horse's neck - unperturbed by the fact that his reactions were being watched.

And it wasn't just this reaction, but all of his interactions with the pet, that Heera had been noting in silent amazement. She was aware that the young man was attached to his horse, but it was only now that she'd gotten to see how strong a bond they shared. An endearing bond indeed!

Smiling to herself, the Lady was about to move on to the next protocol, when her gazes fell upon his palm that was resting upon the horse's neck and thus, upon the fresh bluish-red bruises on one side of the wrist.

It didn't take long to identify what had caused it - the ink-stand that he had famously cracked in two..

'Keep your hands to yourself... or I will crack their bones too!'

Just as her heartbeat began striking up an unusual rhythm, Heera glimpsed away from the small discovery she'd stumbled upon, to revert to the treatment.

'Time to stitch-up that nasty wound' she told her aide 'please hold the lens for me...'

Once her assistant did as told, Heera gently cut off the frayed corners of skin, her eyes focusing through the lens for greater clarity. She then began suturing shut the skin. It took a few initial trials to get the knack right since it was her first attempt at working with animal skin - but once her fingers grew comfortable, the process was completed swiftly.

And before long, she was giving the master her final set of instructions 'Your Hakim should be able to administer the appropriate kind of medicines tomorrow... but for the meanwhile, the herbal paste I've applied should prevent any infections.'

'Thank you' he responded with a simple nod. It wasn't a fancy acknowledgement of her timely help, just like she hadn't spoken elaborate words of gratitude for protecting her maids.

But the appreciation was there. She had sensed it in his actions, like he had seen it in her smiles.

'We are hosting a feast in honour of my sister this noon, Khan Sahib...' she mentioned cordially before she started to depart, 'you are welcome to join us...'

Later that hoon..at the main Haveli..

'Chacha jaan...'

'Ibrahim...'

'Azeez...'

'Sayyid...'

'Sahib...' rushed a stable attendant inside, on hearing his master calls 'is there something I can help you with?'

'Haven't they returned from the luncheon yet?'

'No Sahib...' he shook his head 'but they left you a message... requesting you to join them, if you can...'

'Alright... alright...' he dismissed the attendant.

Hurling a glance at the unforgiving sun outside the window thereafter, he decided to make his trek towards the quiet kitchens of his haveli. It was past noon and with all the troubling events that'd taken place from dawn, he hadn't had the opportunity to eat.

The young man had to admit - he was absolutely famished.

However, when he got to the kitchens, there was nothing.

The pots sat in their corners, untouched. The plates hadn't been moved from their shelves. There was no sign of food anywhere. Not a single morsel. Not even of leftover bread.

'So you weren't joking when you said, you've grown tired of cooking for me, Chacha jaan?'

The quiet question might have been uttered in jest, but his pitch was laced with heavy doses of poignancy.

Unmindful of a headache that was thumping every muscle in his head, he leaned his shoulder against the wall, observing the desolate interiors of the kitchens, the emptiness weighing heavy on him.

* * *

Many years ago, a boy used to stand the same way in the empty kitchens of his Abbu's mansion, his weakened shoulders leaning against the wall, while his eyes scoured the place for signs of food. Even at 12, he was a handsome youth, but one would have to see through layers of sweat, tears, dirt, blood, illness, exhaustion and scars of abuse to recognise that.

It would be late noon by the time he would complete all of his chores, like it was now, and his body would be famished. But there would be nothing left. The members of that house would have eaten. The managers would have eaten. Why, even the maids would have been fed. But not this fatherless boy.

Yet, no one would care. And those who did, were too frightened to raise a voice.

All, except one - Abbu's old servant, who swept the kitchens.

When no one was watching, the elderly man would ravage through whatever ingredients he could lay his hands on and whip up a hot meal for the child. Some days wouldn't be so fortunate, and he would have to go so far as to steal a few pieces of bread so the boy wouldn't go to bed hungry.

'Made this especially for you...' the man would say, as he'd secretly place the plate in front.

'Thank you...' the boy would say, and gobble up the meal. The salt in the food would sting his chapped boyish palms and bleeding knuckles, like acid on a burn - but raging twinges of hunger would numb all of that. The rice would be under-cooked and coarse, the meat over-spiced. But, he would relish each morsel.

And, not only did the kind old slave feed this youth, he clothed him too - many-a-time stitching up the rips on the tunics himself. And this he did not only so it'd keep the boy protected from the weather, but also so it would cover the tracks of burns and lashes on his back - marks which other children chose to ridicule him about.

'Chacha jaan...' the 12 year old would smile with gratitude ever so often 'when I grow older and become a big man... I'll take you away with me... I'll care for you... and I promise... I'll eat no one else's food, but yours... I've become so used to your delicious dishes...'

'Thank you...' the servant would respond with a warm smile. Of course, he assumed that those words were merely a hungry boy's appreciation of his efforts.

But for the 12 year old, those words were a pledge he'd meant with all of his little heart. A promise he would keep up many years later too.

After all, it was the selfless service of an elderly servant, which served to remind a boy during his most vulnerable years that not everyone had abandoned him yet. That not all people were out to abuse him. That humanity was still alive.

Today that boy had grown into a powerful young man, with the world at his feet. If he wished, he could have the finest Mughalian chefs working in his kitchen. He could afford to order a banquet in the noon, a feast at night, and there'd be numerous servants waiting to do as he pleased.

But how much ever this young man might have hardened up, there were some scars that could never be forgotten. And for all the power that he might have accumulated over the years, there was still a small corner of his heart that anguished over the home that was snatched away, over the innocence that was cruelly lost.

And Chacha jaan's barely-edible food was one of the few sane memories from a very muddled adolescence that continued to remind Akbar of that lost innocence. That he could continue to relate to, as the 'home' he never had.

Guest Quarters, Aidabad..

'Baisa...'

'What is it now?' she sighed at the unexpected intrusion - if this was another problem Gokul had brought her to tackle, the timing couldn't possibly be worse. She turned around, tempted to offload her exasperations upon the young guard - but the sensible young lady that she was, Heera managed to curb her reactions in time 'Yes, Gokul?'

'Baisa... I just wanted to inform you...'

'Yes...'

'Khan Sahib arrived... a short while ago...'

'Oh!' Her limp fingers instinctively stiffened around the borders of her veil 'Khan Sahib arrived a short while ago?'

'Yes baisa... for the luncheon... in fact he must have finished his meal, by now...'

'So he DID come?' Her worry lines gradually lightened - a sign that the befuddled thoughts in her mind had begun levelling out. Heera wouldn't disagree - the news had left her a little surprised.

'Baisa...' Gokul paused, unable to determine what to make of his baisa's ongoing silence 'we didn't inform you earlier .. but, don't worry... Daya banna was there, to supervise the arrangements... and Maharaj kakasa personally served him the food.'

'Thank you Gokul...' she nodded - before temporarily setting aside all other duties and proceeding towards the reception rooms, to take on the short role of a hostess.

'Anyway baisa... you needn't worry about the luncheon here...'

'Yes baisa... it went very smoothly...'

'Khan Sahib enjoyed the meal...'

'There... he's sitting there...' the ladies parted, making some space so she'd be able to have a better view.

'Can you see him, baisa?'

But before Heera could reply, the enthusiastic maids had drowned her words - they apparently had more titbits that they couldn't wait to share

'Kadhi... achaar... kichdi... ghewar...'

'Dal... gatte sabzi... rice... Marwari mirchi...'

'He ate it all...'

'He liked most of it...'

'But baisa, what he loved the most, were Maharaj kakasa's laddus... he must have eaten at least 4 of them...'

'And the khoba roti too... kakasa made fresh khoba rotis, especially for Khan Sahib...'

'Hush! You silly ladies...' shushed another group of maids playfully 'you'll end up casting an evil eye on his plate...'

'It's not manners to speak that way...'

'I agree... he is a well-built young man... he must have been hungry...'

'Moreover, this is a household without women in it... he mustn't have tasted the kind of feast he tasted today...'

Heera had said nothing - she'd realised that it was entertaining enough to watch them in silence, as they continually spoke over one another, to give her a detailed account of the feast.

At first, the scenes of dining on the other side of the screens, were a hazy blur. But once her eyes had adapted to the new surroundings, Heera found herself struck by a second wave of surprise.

Encircled by the pleasant company of his men. Attended to, by maids and guards. Accommodated quite comfortably amongst bolsters and cushions of red velvet. Presented with a rich array of Marwari food. And served by the renowned Maharaj himself.

The young man who was at the centre of it all, looked a far cry from the 'lone stranger' she'd met a week ago. Instead, he looked every bit like the head of a large household, like the lofty 'Sahib' of this haveli.

Of course, he was still his typically reserved self - unruffled by the attention, laughter and mirth. However, today, he didn't seem averse to all that ruckus either - at least, not as averse as she assumed he'd be. It was as though Khan Sahib didn't mind - at least for a short while - the change in lifestyle and routine.

Why, even his attire indicated the same. Having abandoned his rustic cotton tunics, the young man had chosen to don a more appropriately formal Persian-styled attire of fine red silk, embroidered with threadwork of beige and gold. His sharp features had somehow forgone their severity too, trading it for expressions that were more peaceful. Expressions that made him appear charming. And refined. And gentlemanly.

'Harka!' hurriedly reminding herself that she'd been staring for longer than she should have, she averted her gazes, in case the maids assumed something wrong.

But those longer-than-should-have stares hadn't gone entirely unnoticed.

Despite the distractions, and the screens, and his apparent preoccupation with the feast, this 'charming gentleman' was well aware of how closely those gazes had been observing him - and for how long too. So, he decided to return the favour.

Once he'd washed his hands in a bowl of rose water and patted them dry with a muslin, he stood up, marking the end of that sumptuous meal.

Then, tying his hands behind his back like a true aristocrat, he directed his glances straight at her. Through the screens and the veils, he beheld her graciously, ensnaring the Lady's attention once again.

It was for a rare moment, but he didn't flinch or blink. Neither was he concerned by the people watching him.

Maybe it was the continued gratitude he felt towards her for having saved Bahadur's life that prompted him to do it.

Therefore, before returning to his desolate existence; he wanted to look her in the eye, and thank her once, for bringing a few rays of sunshine into his dim world. For giving him this opportunity to taste a selflessly satisfying meal. And for giving him a glimpse of how a real home felt.

Raising his right hand, Akbar tilted forth and brought the palm up to his forehead as an official 'Thank you', leaving Chacha jaan, Ibrahim, Sayyid and Azeez literally astounded with this gesture. This man, who was no fan of courtly formalities, had offered this Sahiba an 'Adab'!

But Akbar had done it, because it was the symbolic Mughal gesture offered to those who were either high-ranking, or respectable - and Harka Sahiba was both.

As soon as Heera realised what it was that the Sahib was doing, a soft gasp replaced the half smile that'd been adorning her lips. Her stoic features that'd never known of any such emotions, felt their first rush of heat - leaving her fair cheeks a few shades closer to the colour of her glossy lips.

And just as she was coming to terms with the unexpected 'adab', she believed she spotted something else quite astonishing - something that'd stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She believed she'd spotted the smallest hint of a smile on his face, as he brought his palm up!

'But, a smile? From Khan Sahib?' her sense of logic was quick to dismiss the notion 'Unlikely...'

Sadly, this was a question that would remain a mystery - for, she could neither see clearly, nor ask anyone else about it. And of the few instances in life that she regretted suffering from poor sight, this was one.

Nevertheless, Heera subsequently reciprocated, with the traditional Rajasthani salute that conveyed her honest answer 'You're welcome'..

[Journey continues]

Originally posted by: lashy

Oh Rose you are like my Rithi then... who bails at the sight of any 4 legged thingy 😆

And I live in a suburban area where every other household owns a dog... and they ALL bring their canine friends for a walk during the morning school run😆 so imagine the comedy it creates!

Originally posted by: Kalgi22

My part of surname before marriage in it. 😉 😆 I still remembered I laughed at that name when I first read it. 😆

And I told you na that I reread all the chapters recently. 😃