NOVEL~*Hiding behind a Stranger*~THREAD 48 - CHAPTER 53 - Page 153

Originally posted by: karkuzhali

Chapter 10.

The Feast.

Like Rose, I had this question too.. is this meant to depict Azeez leaping off his steed or Akbar awaiting good news?

'Ai Khuda... please... let it be good news...' he prayed for the wounded pet that lay beside him.

The sort of good news you'd be getting is something that would be the start of a story for eons to come, Khan Sahib!

'Nothing will happen to you, my friend... I will drag that stubborn Hakim here, if I would have to use force to do it!'

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.

Gracefully armed thus - an armour tougher than the one Ustaad dons!❤️

'Chacha jaan!' Just as he'd guessed! 'No wonder he suddenly had some urgent business in the market...'

😆

'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!'

Angry young man!😆 Trying to guard his heart!

'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...'

😎

'Harka Sahiba...'

First time!❤️

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!'

Later that hoon..at the main Haveli..

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

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

😭

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

At the time, it felt like nothing much... but now, when you read this line, it sort of makes one a bit emotional😊

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.

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

'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.

'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.

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.

👏

Such a cute pic❤️

Guest Quarters, Aidabad..

'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 laddus still live on! 😆😉

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.

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.

He washed his hands in rose water this time girls! 🤣

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.

'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'..

And thus they became friends after being soulmates 😆