NOVEL~*Hiding behind a Stranger*~THREAD 48 - CHAPTER 53 - Page 151

'Ai Khuda... what a long day it's been!'

A steady breath escaped his lips, as he stood still - as still as the darkness around him. Till an odd gust of wind barged in through the large window to his left, and brought with it a distant sound of a chirping cricket.

Resting his forearms upon the dresser thereafter, he viewed the contents of a large brass bowl - chilled water infused with scents of sandalwood-musk. However, instead of taking his tunic off, splashing his face with a few handfuls, and be done with the routine nightly ritual, he glanced up. At the mirror hanging in front.

The reflection showed the face of a young man, who often sought as his loyal bedtime companion, the black shadows of midnight - since this young man had learnt the hard way that 'sleep' would cheat him often, leaving him abandoned on many-a-night.

Tonight was possibly going to be no different.

Additionally, there were plenty of issues to keep him awake too. The day had been quite an erratic one - even by his standards. At first, the accident. Followed by, the theft. Then, Bahadur's surgery. The feast. Problems with the Hakim. And plenty more to list.

Yet, for whatever reason, that face-in-the-mirror was not as worn out as it should be. It appeared to possess a strange sense of serenity.

'Serenity?' he mused at his odd choice of word, as he took his hand to the top knot of the red silk tunic - the one he'd worn for the feast.

He undid the first knot. And then the second, revealing a taut chest that possibly cradled a heart somewhere in it. This was a part of him that'd felt quite empty from within for many years now. So empty that it never let him enjoy any sense of 'serenity'. And definitely, never let him find a reason to smile.

Yet somehow, today, he'd been tempted to smile. Not once, but twice.

'Could you possibly sing him a song, then Khan Sahib? To try and lull it into a slumber... so I might start the treatment?'

Was a woman's innocent smile always this intoxicating? And this contagious?

Despite being sick and injured, it was a strong beast, heavier than five grown men, and mighty stubborn too. It did not like the smell of that strange medicinal powder, and would not touch it - how much ever they tried!...

* * * * * *

This morning in the Stables...

'Does Bahadur like music?' Heera asked softly..

'Huh?' Akbar huffed with a shrug 'Maybe...'

'Could you possibly sing him a song, then Khan Sahib?' her tone sounded sincere 'To try and lull it into a slumber... so I might start the treatment?'

'Absolutely not... ' the flustered young man was about to protest - so engrossed had he been in the exhausting exercise that he'd initially failed to see her suggestion for what it was - a joke.

Till she broke out into a soft fit of giggles.

Akbar looked up with a piercing stare, to defy the lady who was amusing herself at his expense. But the confrontation that followed, was not the kind of confrontation he'd set out to achieve.

Because it was a trap - and he'd fallen right into it.

The young man hadn't stared in her direction all along - mainly out of respect, but also to dodge those enticing gazes of hers - which'd kept him immune to her charms.

Till he met the marvel that were her smiles. Heard the music that were her giggles. And witnessed the bewitchingly feminine manner with which she bit down upon her tender lips.

Never had he caught her smiling before - or he would have known to steer clear of this trap. For, it was an addicting sight. A sight, which the mind wanted another glimpse of. And another. And another. Till the viewer was thoroughly sucked in...

...

* * * * * *

His conscience had begun taunting him, slowly rehashing incidents from all of last week!

'What have you been doing?' it seemed to ask 'Don't you realise that the ground you're treading on, is extremely risky? One step more, and you'll fall... worse, you'll pull her down with you. The Sahiba doesn't know the truth... that's why she's breaking out into fits of innocent giggles... and inviting you to a luncheon... but YOU are aware of the truth, aren't you? Then, why are you indulging her smiles...' he heaved a few more dashes of water on his face - possibly so the rough reminders would hit home harder 'At first, you returned the 4 dams because you did not want her money... fine... but why carry on with the conversations thereafter... what's this never ending fascination with her vision and skills about... why the need to communicate in Marwari... or to talk about your charity work? And the conversations don't even end there... so, what are you trying to prove, Akbar Khan? And, to WHOM?'

'Ridiculous!' his conscience jolted him out of the lull 'It IS your fault... you shouldn't have allowed it get to this... because it's YOUR decision to adopt a lifestyle so dangerous, that it has no place for women in it... and, why are you bridging gaps now... that too, with THIS Sahiba, out of all ladies! What would you gain by knocking on this door now? Is it to find out if she holds the cure for this never-ending pain of yours? Even if she has the secret remedy, you'll never live to enjoy it... you'll die and get her killed too! So muster that adamant determination of yours... don't let your wall of resistance show cracks... you need to show discipline... fight temptation, now more than ever!'

'Yes... you're right!' hurling aside the towel, he grabbed a fresh cotton tunic from a trunk nearby and slipped it on 'I have to leave tomorrow morning to catch up on my work... wouldn't return to Aidabad for two days... hopefully, the Sahiba and her party would've left the haveli, before I get back!'

One large camp.

A group of 40 boisterous men.

A seemingly long half-an-hour had passed.

And yet, there was absolute stillness. No movement anywhere.

Except, of course, for the men at the centre - two of them to be precise.

Because the soldiers knew -

That their Huzoor, the Shehzaade, preferred it quiet when he was engaged in a game of cards.

Especially, when the card game being played was Ganjifa.

And all the more so, when one of his favourite opponents was part of the competition!

'Ustaad...' Shehzaade mulled under his breath, looking at the Wazir card sitting beside the Safed-shah card in his hand 'how do I win this round against you?' And in order to win the round, he had to figure out his opponent's winning cards and moves. So, he subtly glanced up - to see if he could guess from his competitor's expressions, what sort of a set he was holding.

Testing his luck further, Shehzaade tried taking a peek at his opponent's hand. As expected, another futile pursuit. The clever manner in which the deck of cards had been tucked between the fingers meant no one would be able to steal a glimpse, any which way. How ironic that a pair of strong hands that were capable of crushing enemy skulls with brute force - were just as capable at handling a deck of precious Ganjifa cards with splendid tact.

Well, the man wasn't called an Ustaad, a 'Master', for no reason.

'I'll win this round...' the prince vowed.

He had to use the last trick he knew - a few clever mental calculations to figure out his odds at winning the game. So, while his mind started doing the maths, the sly man decided to buy some time by delving into idle chatter..

'Ustaad...' he spoke up, his authoritative tone dispelling the still air 'What is your opinion on the tribes up North? That war shows no sign of ending... and I'm running out of resources and ideas.'

'My opinion? Pardon my insolence, Huzoor...' he mused 'but isn't it true you want my opinion now, only so you can divert my concentration from the game!' The remark was polite, but the tone had an unmissable blunt edge to it.

'Ya Allah!' the prince laughed off the shrewd guesswork 'You KNOW I always value your opinions, don't you?'

Ustaad said nothing in reply for a moment.

And that telling moment was enough for the prince to sense that the man's earlier remark hadn't been made in jest.

Surprised by the scepticism, Shehzade put down his cards and slowly arched forward from the backrest - thus dragging down the light-hearted ambience in that camp to a sure death 'Value your opinions? Then, WHY do you think I've been calling you by your title 'Ustaad'?' he queried, returning the man's steady glances with firm glares 'Because, if the 'heir to the Mughal Empire', calls you by that title... everyone else... younger OR older to you... HAS to call you by that title too! Now that is the kind of regard I've showed, over the years... so do not repeat the mistake of bringing up this subject... next instance, I might not answer so patiently...'

'And I've always appreciated your gestures...'

'Then speak up... what's on your mind...'

'If you value my opinions so highly, why is Khalil still a free man?' Ustaad asked, without so much as batting an eyelid - something very few would've dared to do so, since this particular Shehzaade was notorious for being more ill-tempered and impulsive than anyone else in his family. Then again, unlike the others, Ustaad was never fearful of saying or doing what he believed in 'Khalil and his soldiers are turning into something we'd never stand for... something Islam never stands for!'

Shehzaade immediately raised a stern palm in response. And the rest of the members took the hint - that they must leave.

Thereafter, the remaining players at the table surrendered their cards and exited the tent, one by one.

Then, the soldiers followed suit.

Once they'd been left alone, the prince did something he generally never had the patience to do - decided to clarify his stance to the man, just this once 'I despise what Khalil's done... which is why, I punished him by removing him from this assignment... I banished him to Kabul, while I hid the fact that I'd already handed over the Parnagarh assignment... all this, despite the fact that he could've been winning wars for me here...' a sarcastic huff escaped his mouth 'whatever his flaws, Khalil still remains my most powerful general... take pride in what you've created, Ustaad... besides, most of your recruits have turned out to be fine soldiers, otherwise!'

'Pardon me Huzoor... but as a soldier of Islam, I cannot take pride in the fact that I mentored Khalil into something so powerful... the man's literally unstoppable now!'

'What more must I do? Have him imprisoned? Killed?' Shehzaade scoffed 'When I come to power, I will make laws... and punish all those who defy Islam... but at THIS point, I am in need of supporters... if I start punishing soldiers who've committed crimes, I'll be left with no men!' By the end of that declaration, he was nearly yelling. Swiftly realising that the subject was taking an unpleasant turn, he decided to shift the discussion in another direction - at least for a while 'Forget about all this for now... tell me, my dear friend... any news of the Farmaan yet?'

Following a tense pause, Ustaad placed his cards, facing down, on the table 'Not yet, Huzoor!'

'That darned Farmaan! Have the cursed fires of Hell swallowed it?' the prince grit down on his teeth, whelmed by a quiet surge of frustration 'Such a simple task... and yet, it's been eluding my best men...' it took him a few deep breaths and a few verses from the Quran, before he could return to his cold-composed self 'nevertheless... any news about the Sahiba?'

Ustaad's glances grew guarded.

'I mean... any news about the younger heiress, Harka Sahiba? Any updates... or thoughts on her?'

'Nothing much' he frowned, as his attention veered away from his Master's glares for the first time, and towards the tent flaps in the backdrop, to observe Mother Nature's own painting of a sunset oblivion beyond it.

ANY thoughts on her? Well, he had plenty. Plenty of news and updates too that he could convey if he wanted to, as part of idle talk. After all, he'd stumbled across quite a few small facts about her over the past two weeks, which they hadn't known about at the start...

'I am blind... actually, partially blind!'

[Journey continues]