Originally posted by: karkuzhali
HIDING BEHINDASTRANGERA Historical Romance by Lashy.(Abridged)Part II The Tempest.Chapter 3.The Search.
Parnagarh.
Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide
But never did she find me, because I know how to hide!
It'd been long since they managed to gain entry into the haveli. In fact, as soon as the guards had locked up after their routine morning rounds, the two spies had made their way in. But it had taken them a good while thereon, to comb through the many rooms leading up to the main bedchambers. Scouring through every furniture, every corner, in search of the Farmaan was time consuming. Moreover, all this had to be done keeping their heads low, their feet quiet and their voices hush.
There were still 30 odd rooms they hadn't even set foot in. Progress was slow. Slower than he would like. And they didn't have plenty of time left. At most, a couple of hours - before the maids would return to sweep the floors, water the plants and light the lamps in the Goddess' shrine.
So wasting not a moment further, the young man moved ahead stealthily to tackle the next bedchamber, following the clues and trusting his instincts as he continued his search of that elusive document.
Every trick uncanny, she may have tried
Every nook and cranny, she may have spied..
The poem played in his head over and over, his eyes keenly scouring through the fresh set of scenes that surrounded him now.
A majestic desk at one end, a lavish dressing area at the other.. Pieces of grand furniture dotted all throughout, with a sweeping terrace far beyond. It was one of most sophisticated chambers in this mansion - and yet there was a certain warmth about the elements in it, almost like it was the hearth of the haveli. All throughout this empty mansion were the invisible footprints that the Sahiba had left behind in some form or another. But no place were those imprints more noticeable than it was in here.
This was HER personal chamber.
Drawing in a lung-full of air, Akbar stepped into her room - treading upon the very paths where the chirpy sounds of her anklets used to echo until not too long ago.
'I'd hide inside planters, trunks and urns... she'd act like she could never find me... and I would sing this poem to tease her!'
He began his quest in that room, by kneeling beside an arrangement of pots bordering the archways. It was then that his gazes fell upon a particularly large planter. Or rather, the shrub in that planter that boasted the most exquisite bloom of roses he'd ever seen.'She loves her plants, doesn't she?'He observed the man who'd brought up the query - the Sahib's eyes were still fixed on his work, but his lips had uncurled into a straight line, almost like he was clamping down on distressing emotions 'Why...' asked Azeez 'should I dislike him?'
'Dislike?' Akbar scoffed 'I'm just a bit sceptical about this Kunwar... and his intentions...'
'What intentions?'
'I learnt last evening that...' he exhaled sharply 'that he is going to be wedded to Harka Sahiba...'
'Oh!' Azeez' eyes widened as the facts dawned upon him. Harka Sahiba was going to get married to him? That was sudden. No wonder the Sahib had been so unlike himself. 'But, why are you so sceptical about this Kunwar's intentions?'
'Of what I've heard, the Kunwar was positively smitten by Durga Sahiba... barely 4 weeks since she's passed and preparations are underway for him to get married to the younger sister? Doesn't that seem odd?'
'But what if it was Maharaj Chitranjan who'd pleaded with him?' Azeez tried to put across other logical perspectives 'What if the Kunwar is doing it only to protect Parnagarhis?'
...
Closing his eyes for a prolonged moment as he swallowed a very bitter pill, Akbar finally opened his eyelids - his gazes falling upon the planter with the large blossom of roses in it. Having poked and prodded into all the remaining urns lining that wall, this was the only pot he hadn't searched so far. He had kept putting it off, since it felt cruel to disturb a tender bloom that'd been nurtured with such care.
But, it had to be done.
'We have about an hour left, before the maids are meant to return... if we don't find the Farmaan now... shall I come back in the night to...'
'No...' Dismissing the suggestion by a flick of his palm, Akbar continued to take brisk strides along the empty hallways, past many-a-stately room 'we can't do this at night... the security outside the haveli increases after sunset... besides, we'd need to use a lamp to find our way around... which might attract attention... if we don't find the Farmaan today, we'll return tomorrow...'
'Maybe the Farmaan is not in this haveli at all... we've searched all the important rooms, haven't we? The library, the reception rooms, their bed chambers, the cellars, the shrines...' Azeez paused 'Shall I look in the shrines again?'
'Go ahead...' Akbar nodded..He recalled the rhyme for the umpteenth time, racking his brains for an alternate interpretation of its contents. And it was sometime during this exercise that a few 'telling' words in each line gradually started standing out.
Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide
Every trick uncanny, she may have tried
Every nook and cranny, she may have spied
But never did she find me, because I know how to hide!
Focussing on these new words as fresh cues, he tried to work a new angle to the entire mystifying puzzle
'A place where BOTH sisters RAN AROUND... a place which is probably NOT a nook or cranny... a place you can look around, with your eyes opened wide...'
His steps slowed down. His glances panned across the entire breadth of the haveli, surveying its sweeping interiors from where he stood 'Ai Khuda...' a quiet outcry escaped his lips, as he realised the spot that he was at.
It WAS a place where both sisters could run around.
It WAS a place that had no nook or cranny.
And it WAS a place from where you could look all around, with eyes opened wide.
It was also the only place they hadn't searched yet - the Hallways!
Making a hasty visual inspection of the corridors that connected all the inner walls of the haveli - he spotted a segment that he hadn't been in yet. The Eastern side. Quickening his pace at once, he approached the Eastern hallways - till somewhere along the way, a sight caught his fleeting attention.Slowed in his tracks, Akbar peeped up for a better view.
The small ripples in his brows immediately evened out when he saw what it was that'd managed to grab his attention, his features blanketed by a thin sheath of amazement.
It was a large set of twin paintings, impressive replicas of the two sisters that hung majestically on a wall.
Soon, his footsteps followed the direction of his glances, leading the young man towards the paintings that were a true likeness of the two heiresses.Akbar was spontaneously drawn towards the second painting, tempted to admire the profile of the younger sister. But, setting aside that temptation briefly, he made the conscious decision of paying heed to the older heiress first.Durga Sahiba... A 17 year old noblewoman, who'd lived by her principles - and sacrificed her life protecting them. The 'Ustaad' in him could relate to those rare qualities. So he did what he would do, when he met any other great warrior. Bringing his palm up to his forehead, Akbar bent forth to offer Late Durga Sahiba an 'Adab'.
After a solemn spell, he shifted his focus towards the second portrait...
With none around watching or judging him, the grimness came off straightaway - his gazes rife with both, fascination and dejection.
Even in the form of a portrait, she exuded charm and finesse, her eyes spellbindingly radiant..Charm. Finesse. Radiance. Vibrancy - they were reminders. Reminders of what she'd brought into his life, and elements she had taken away with her when she left. As though the numerous other reminders in Parnagarh weren't troubling-enough already, this unexpected meeting with her painting had to happen!
His gazes then trailed to the flushed cheeks and soft lips that'd begun stirring up memories too. Memories of those bewitchingly feminine smiles - an addicting sight that he'd stolen many glimpses of, in the stable-yard.
Whelmed by an inexplicable sense of belonging, Akbar moved closer, his hand meandering up towards her profile. However, he stopped mid-air and curled his fist into a ball, preventing his fingers from yielding to temptation.
'What would you gain by doing this?' he asked himself 'More pain? Further loss of peace?'But attraction was a strong drug - and Akbar hadn't found the antidote to fight its effects. Eventually, his palm found its way up to her face, so that his thumb could lightly graze her cheek.
'Yes, it's real!' The simmering impulses returned. Impulses just like the ones he'd experienced when he'd actually touched her face, in the canal. The only difference was that he hadn't been in his senses then, but he was in his senses now - well aware of what he was doing. Well aware of the invisible hold she had on him. A 'hold' from which his resolve to break free was weakening further with every passing day.
'So you admit you miss my presence in your life, Khan Sahib?' she seemed to giggle at his predicament 'Then, why are you letting me go... why are you letting me get married to another man?' the imaginary giggles then faltered, into a nervous sigh 'Why are you betraying me to your Shehzaade?'
His palm nearly flinched, as one driving force of his life suddenly clashed against the other - compelling him to recoil his hand and step away from the painting...
* * *
'The sun is about to set...'
Akbar ground his teeth in restless agitation 'It's nowhere in or around the painting... then where could it be?'
'Checked in there...'
'And there...'
'What's left?'
The young man relentlessly charged on, till he was back at where he'd started. The tension in his mind had escalated to such an extent that his head felt like it would implode from the pressure.
'Could it be that I'm reading too much into this? What if the poem was only a warning... asking Harka Sahiba to hide? What if it wasn't a clue to the Farmaan at all?'
'NO!' a cry ratted his guts the very next instant. In the past ten years, his instincts had rarely been wrong. And if anything, the gnawing feeling in his bones was stronger than ever now! It HAD to be a clue.
He glanced up at the badi baisa - partly intrigued, partly in awe 'Where have you hidden it, Durga Sahiba?'
He bore into her dark eyes, seeking answers.
Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide
'Eyes opened wide?'
Suddenly, it struck him - call it intuition or inspiration - but Akbar spun around. To note what it was that those dark 'wide-opened' eyes were facing!
And there it was, a few feet behind him - a large square-shaped stone planter. He had passed by it, but hadn't noticed it earlier since it was partly-hidden by a set of drapes.
It seemed to hold no special place in this haveli - neither did it appear as attractive as the marble planters nor was it as bright as the clay pots. Even the plant in it was not special in any way. It was just an unremarkable old stone box.
'I'd hide inside planters, trunks and urns... she'd act like she could never find me... and I would sing this poem to tease her...'
A tingle ran up his spine, making his hair stand on end, as he pulled up his sleeve and dashed towards the stone box, two steps at a time.
Akbar thrust his hands into the soil, digging away using every ounce of force that he could muster.
It took him only a short while to reach the very bottom - but all throughout, he could feel nothing apart from the odd sensation of wet mud slipping into his nails or slimy roots brushing against his skin.
'Argh' Abruptly, his actions were brought to an immediate halt. Something sharp inside the pot had scratched his knuckles. Something metallic and cold that obviously did not belong at the bottom of a pot.
Curling his fingers around the slim object that neatly fit within his fist, he brought it up to the surface - his intrigued features coming alive with a glimmer of fascination as the buried box finally saw the light of day.
It was a brass rectangular case. Heavy. Possibly an heirloom. Not surprisingly, its surface was coated with a thin film of green, since it'd been sitting under the pot for a month now. Akbar knew the sturdy brass holder must have done a good job of protecting its contents.
A bead of nervous sweat trickled down his brow and fell upon his wrist, awakening him to the fact that everything else around him had come to a brief standstill. His throat parched from the heat of feverish breath, Akbar swallowed back on some of his agitation before going on to break the small clasp, almost certain of what the case was safeguarding. His fingers then flicked open the lid to unravel the mystery and witness the marvel for himself.
An old rolled up scroll, sealed and intact!
To his trained eye, it took less than a blink to recognise the original seal of the Mughal court.
Here it was, finally. The Farmaan!
An authentic document that proved the Shehenshah had promised Mansabdar Jagat Prasad Singh and his family all rights over Parnagarh and its neighbouring lands.
It was only a thin flimsy roll of record - but this flimsy roll had cost one heiress her life, and sent the other one into exile. It had become an unhealthy fixation for the Shehzaade's ego, and thus for many-a-Mughal general too. It would decide the fate of hundreds of lives - and in its own small way - the future course of the Mughal Empire too.
Suddenly, the document did not feel so thin and flimsy anymore. It felt heavy. Uncomfortably heavy, in fact - so much so that he couldn't wait to unburden himself of it.
Azeez froze in his spot, his mouth left agape by the unexpected scene he'd just stumbled across 'W... w... what... what is THAT in your hand?'
'The Farmaan...' Akbar replied with a quiet sigh..
Shaking off his stupor, the young man ran forth to kneel beside his master, forced to express his brimming excitement in the form of low whispers 'Ya Allah... y... you... found it... Ya Allah... congratulations... you've done it!'
'Yes' he nodded slowly 'I found it!'
'Huzoor will be elated, Khan Sahib... when he comes to know of this! Another achievement... another feather in your cap... what a proud moment it'd be when you hand it to him...'
Akbar didn't respond to that last statement though.
'A proud moment?' Somehow, he wasn't sure this was an achievement he was going to be proud of.'..
[Journey continues]
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