HBAS Chat corner - Page 71

With the old Emperor becoming too feeble to take charge and his jealous successors remaining preoccupied with expansion and power, the damage was never repaired. Not surprising then that new rebellions arose every day. Violence escalated, claiming many innocent lives.

Yet; in the midst of such turmoil and peril, there bloomed a beautiful story - much like a lone flower blossoming upon the steepest edges of a cliff - a story of love, of sacrifice and honour!

I am glad in presenting the story as a Ballet Drama.

'Lies, lies and more lies!'

He waited for her fit of laughter to fizzle out - a short, yet unpleasant wait - so that he could disclose the grave circumstances that had compelled him to 'lie, lie and lie'.

But before he could get a word in, he was stopped. By her glares. Chilling glares. He also noticed how she'd tightened the grip around the weapon's handle again - and strangely, her fingers were not quivering this time.

'You are right...' Heera recited quite calmly 'Khalil is NOTHING like you...'

'What?' frowned Akbar, studying the sudden change in her behaviour. The inconsolable 16 year old she'd turned into for a short while, had been left behind, somewhere. The person now facing him was a lady - a lady who'd somehow regained most of her composure. 'Sahiba...'

'Khalil is NOTHING like you because he's loud mouthed and brash... YOU, on the other hand...' her tone was oozing sarcasm 'you're an intelligence officer... a smooth operator... cunning and sly... isn't that why everyone has heard of Khalil's army, but no one's heard of you? He is dangerous, but he is a known enemy... we are aware of what to expect from him!' she shrugged 'But, YOU are an unknown enemy - the kinds that are far more destructive... like the snakes that lurk in the bushes... quiet... sneaky...' her lips curved into a dry smile 'difficult to tell how those snakes would strike... or how deadly their strikes would be... THAT's how they manage to outwit enemies! I... I... mean... princes from various kingdoms tried... influential businessman tried... many powerful men tried... Khalil's army tried... but...' she tut-tutted 'but none other than Ustaad Sahib could become the Mansabdar of Parnagarh! Isn't that what your friends outside were celebrating about?'

'Oh LORDDD!'

Since he could not scream aloud in frustration, he had to resort to exhaling hard to let out steam.
He had a mountain-load of explaining to do - where was he even supposed to start? 'Sahiba...' His lips tensed up, into a straight line.

However, her eyes had narrowed, turning her glares deadlier - deadly enough to stop a man twice her size, in his tracks. And while her eyes had turned stormy, the rest of her remained as 'still' as a marble statue, entirely detached from her surroundings. Stock-still.

DECEPTIVELY still!

The next instant, he knew! 'No'

WHOOOSH!

Akbar jerked his shoulder just in time, avoiding the blade that came lurching towards him. 'Sahiba... stop...'

'MANSABDAR? Y... you betrayer...' She raised the weapon once more, bringing it down in a flash 'You've taken away everything from me and my people... our homes... our lands... our pride... and you used ME to do it!!'

'Sahiba... I am not interested in Parnagarh... or in gaining power...' he angled sideways a little - keeping a watchful glance upon her, and another one upon the metal that'd just brushed past the skin on his arm 'trust me... I did this for...'

'I am supposed to protect my people...' she cut short his explanations with another swift attack 'but I... I'm the one who's let them down... and because of you...'

WHOOOSH!

'Sahiba! This is risky... the force with which you're handling that blade, it's going to cut your palm... please put it down...'

'What? MY palm?' How smug of him to preach about HER safety, when HE was the one facing the sharp end of the blade! It only made her feel smaller than she already felt!
Embittered, Heera sliced the knife against his blurry profile again.

And again.

But he dodged her attempts with such ease - it was as though he already knew where she would aim for, even before she actually took aim.

'You back-stabber'

'That is ENOUGH!'
Having finally slapped his fingers around her right wrist, and then around her left hand, Akbar restrained her within the might of his clasp. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but she'd left him no option.

She hadn't been able to harm a single hair on his head - just as she feared. But she had provoked him, well and truly. He'd avenge his insults now - possibly by grabbing that knife and driving it right into the core of her chest!

Be done with it... please...' she fervently wished.
At least that way, she would be free - free from living an eternal hell, from living in eternal pain and from suffering eternal humiliation in front of her people.

She waited for that 'freedom' to come. But it didn't come.

Instead, he took a step closer.

'Call yourself a man?' she tried to provoke him further - hoping to bring it all to a quick and permanent end 'Well... real men don't cheat orphans, who've already lost everything... you're a cold-blooded impostor... that's who you are!'

She waited for him to react furiously. And waited some more.

But the violent outburst never happened.

A heated moment passed in silence. And another. And another. Till she could take it no more. Why wasn't he doing anything? What was going on in his mind? If she'd looked directly into his eyes, she might have found an answer then. But she didn't want to look into them - not once since his admission 'Yes, I am the one they call Ustaad'

'Let go...' Desperate to free herself from the shackles of his grip, Heera yanked her wrist away. Twice. Thrice. When that didn't work, she tried wriggling out of his grip.


However, Akbar didn't let her go. He'd held her hand firmly, with the weapon pointing downwards.
It wasn't ideal. Restraining a lady - even if for her own safety - was not something he was comfortable doing. All the more so, because it was HER. Her breathing was fast and feverish - reflecting the extent of rage still bottled within her petite body. The lady was overwrought! That bottled-in rage had to be brought under control, before it consumed them both. 'Sahiba... the knife handle's too short... you've already cut your fingers twice... PLEASE drop the weapon... and I'll release of your wrists...'

Heera continued to stare into oblivion. There was no strength left in her arms, but the fingers stubbornly held onto the knife.

'Sahiba, you have no idea what I've been through just to keep you alive and safe... the LAST thing I want, is for you to hurt yourself... so, please drop the weapon...'

Alas. There was no reaction from her, whatsoever.

'FINE... you want to do it... at least do it right!'
Releasing her wrists, the young man abruptly drew his own knife from the cummerbund - a proper weapon of combat - and handed it over to her. 'At least this one has a better handle... wouldn't cut you...'

As soon as she felt the lethal blade in her hand, the young lady slashed it upwards, expecting him to duck.

However, the man didn't flinch. Instead, he stood there, overshadowing her frame, with his hands tied behind his back.

She swung it towards the outline of his neck, stopping just beside the life-giving veins that throbbed below his jaw.

No. Still no audible movement from him.

Sticking the cold metal upon his skin, she poked it through.

A blob of blood came trickling forth. The red droplets trailed along the handle, and onto the tip of her fingers.

She noted how the palm she'd managed to keep steady so far, was quivering again.

But his breath remained as tranquil as the ocean.

'God!' The more agitated she got, the calmer he seemed to get. And it grated against her already-bruised ego. 'What... what do you think... what are you trying to prove?'

'If you are prepared to listen... I'll prove to you that the last thing I wanted to be, was a Mansabdar!'

'What?'

'It IS for your sake that I became one, Sahiba!'

'Oh?' The young lady darted him a harsh frown.

'It may be hard for you to believe this... but, I'm not interested in power and fame... I never was interested in the iron ores of Parnagarh, never will be in future either... I became the Mansabdar of Parnagarh because that was the ONLY way I could save your life...'

'Not all of it could be an act, could it?' An angry gasp escaped her lips, but Heera wouldn't believe the sentence - not one word of it. 'After what I've seen now... ALL of it could very well be an act! Your simple life... your simple haveli... your business... everything...'

Soon, she broke out into another fit of laughter. Or at least she presumed she was laughing - only this instance, her voice was actually choking with grief 'I... I... I had my doubts... plenty of doubts... but, I didn't pay proper heed... and it turns out... that you're the chief intelligence officer himself!'
She laughed louder, till her voice disintegrated into weak murmurs, and her smiles were tinted with tears 'Who knows how many innocent lives you might have destroyed... how many homes you have looted...' she bit the insides of her lip to stop them from quivering 'who knows how many women you might have used... preyed upon... argh' she abruptly caught her head 'I... I...'

'What's happening?'
The lady was tilting heavily to one side. Another dizzy spell, perhaps?

Untying his hands, Akbar quickly grabbed her by her arm, wondering if she wanted to take a seat. However, it soon became evident she was in no mood to calmly sit down yet. So, he helped her stand upright, by continuing to support her arm.

'Sahiba?' checking to see if she was fine, he observed her features from close quarters, his gazes brimming with concern and tenderness.

Ironical indeed! Up until an instant ago, she couldn't bear to look him in the face.- and here she was, unwittingly using his assistance to stay afloat..Where his heartbeats that'd stayed calm until an instant ago, despite a knife being stuck at his throat - had now started quickening.

He made a weak attempt to fight the tremors off. Alas. The stillness within had been disturbed. Maybe it was spurred by the subconscious belief that she needed him to support herself - even if only temporarily. But as he held her, barely a hair's breadth apart, it set off a hush rumble of feelings - dormant feelings that'd otherwise been shut down, fires that he'd deliberately suppressed, ever since their separation.

The proximity, the touch of her soft skin beneath his hard palms, the warmth of her breath breathing life into his stony chest - the fires that'd gone cold were being stoked into a flame, bright and warm.

'Ai Khuda...' he sighed, interrupting the intense silence.
Before he would shut those doors and douse the fire again, there was one last thing he wanted to say - something important, for which he might not find the opportunity or the nerve, once he returned to his right mind.

Spinning around, Heera promptly liberated herself from his clasp and broke the spell before it would threaten to suck her in. Grappling at the folds and flaps of the tent wall, she stumbled towards a pot of water nearby and splashed handfuls on her face - forcing her mind to step out from the attacks of dizziness and bouts of throbbing headache.
'No I don't believe you, Ustaad Sahib...' she confronted him with renewed vigour, her sharp features glistening from the droplets of water that were dripping down in small trickles 'not one bit... since you've become the Mansabdar, you need me on your side, so that you have the support of the Parnagarhis... that's all... announcing that you returned to save my life is the perfect excuse for it!'

Giving himself a while to simmer down, he tried a different approach - one she might relate better to 'I have no interest in Parnagarh whatsoever... it was yours to control and will remain so... that is a promise!'
He waited.
But, no. Not even that promise about her dear Parnagarh could get her to react. Taking a step closer, he held up both hands 'Can you see these?'

Guessing from her blank stares that she could not see what he was showing, he lifted her fingers, against her will - and placed them on his palms, to make sure she could 'feel' what he wanted to show 'You can recognise what these cuts are... and how they happen...'

Heera hurriedly recoiled her hand. Yes she recognised what they were and how they happened - bleeding calluses from riding for too long. However, she didn't want to 'feel' anything anymore - let alone sympathy for this man. She didn't want to believe in anyone anymore. Because, those who believed, were the ones that ended up getting the most hurt!

'Sahiba... I've been a rider most of my life... and yet... my skin could not take the strain - tugging at those coarse reins like a madman, hour after hour, day after day, to get to you, before Khalil could harm you... these marks are not a lie, are they?' he signalled towards the tent exit 'if you go outside, you'll witness how exhausted my men are... they risked their lives for your sake... my horses are barely alive... THOSE scenes are not an act, are they?'

'Alright... Ustaad Sahib' hissed the young lady.
The man was busy hammering away at his justifications. Now, she wanted him to see HER side - she wanted him to realise why his words weren't affecting her much.
'Let me get your story straight...' she raised her fingers, up in the air, just like he had, before she began counting -

'A girl had just lost her home and family... she was running for her life... ONE, you act kind by offering her people shelter and support...'

'TWO, you were involved with her enemies... the very men who murdered her sister - but you hid it... so you could spy on her group...'

'THREE, you faked concern... and used her vulnerability, only so you could g... gain infor... inf... information...' the fresh lump that'd formed in her throat was impossible to ignore. It'd become painful enough that she had to pause and swallow hard before resuming her narration. What a powerful slush of sentiments attraction-and-rejection, trust-and-betrayal were. So powerful, that any amount of bitterness seemed incapable of wiping them clean! 'You used her to gain information!'

'FOUR... once you got what you wanted, you turned her away with no answers...'

'Then, you sneaked into her home... behind her back...'

'Took away the one thing that could have saved her pride!'

'Traded off part of her lands... made yourself the Mansabdar of the rest of it... all of this, WITHOUT her knowledge...'

What an effective argument the Sahiba had come up with. A list of questions that would've left the best debater tongue-tied - and this young man was a mere soldier with no knack for words.
So far, he had tried to explain as well as he could, why he'd done what he had done. He'd been gentle. Tactful. Assertive. Reassuring. Reasonable. Loud. He'd shown proof. But none of it had worked. And while he didn't blame her for not believing him, he really didn't know how else to convince a lady. Maybe give her space and time?

Nevertheless, whether she needed space and time or not, he definitely did. For this was as much agony as his heart could take in a day.

It'd already been bleeding from her earlier accusations. These fresh allegations against his deeds and his character - were another stab in his chest. A fatal stab. And this instance, not because she was 'wrong' about him, but because she was mostly 'right'. Making it near-impossible to defend himself. Thus reducing the essence of every sacrifice he'd made for her, to nothing!

And for this, he had no one to blame but himself - he had wronged her and he was paying the price for it.

Understandably, not everything that she'd inferred about Ustaad Akbar Mahmoud Khan was true. However, in order to show her the real picture, in order to make her see HIS side of the story, Akbar would have to take her on a journey with him, to a lifetime ago from where it'd all started - introduce her to a sick abused deserted hungry little 11 year old boy.
But, it was obvious that she was in no state to make that personal journey with him today. And he would not allow that very troubled part of his life be ridiculed and dismissed by anyone - not even by her.
Therefore, till he was certain that the Sahiba would welcome his answers with a broad mind and an open heart he would not explain himself further.

Until then, if she chose to believe that he was this ugly monster she'd made him out to be, so be it.

Slapping on the wall of armour around his punctured heart, he put his mask back up. To face her as the 'Ustaad' that she so sarcastically referred to him as - there was merely a resigned sigh on his lips in reply to her questions.

Of course, just because the young man had lost this debate, he wasn't going to retreat from the arena. He would never let the heiress do anything that would endanger her life or bring her harm - she would have to follow his plans, whether she liked it or not - for her sake.
But to get this clever young lady to follow his plans, Ustaad would have to return to playing the kind of games he was best at - not emotions and words, but a game of politics. Mind-games!


'So, I WAS right!' Heera announced with a dull smirk, wiping the last tear with the back of her palm 'Just as I feared...' an awkward lull followed when she paused - for whatever reason - to find out if he was going to refute her questions with fancy reasons - like he had been for so long.

But, no. It was just the one 'resigned sigh'
'Well... I couldn't care less!' she told herself - why care for some answers of his, when she despised who he was altogether? 'Anyhow...' that line of thought was brought to a swift end 'I didn't think all powerful men were the same... but after this...'

The dull smirk on her lips was not so dull anymore.

'You men toss a woman around as you please... get rid of us when you have no use for us... claim your right over us, when you need to! The Khalils... the Shehzaades... the Kunwars... the... USTAADS! All the same!' the lady bit down on the sharp sides of her teeth 'After selling me out to your master this way... you take my name with yours in public... announce a wedding in court... how dare you! I am NO slave...'

She glimpsed up at the blurry face, at wherever it was that his eyes were - wanting him to observe the extent of hostility in her glares. 'I would walk with my head held high to the gallows, rather than walk to a wedding hall with you!'
'Hmmm...' he replied with a pensive nod 'I have no right to force you to do anything... and you can turn down the wedding if you want... but...' he murmured grimly 'I'm sure you understand... cancelling the wedding is not going to do either you, or your people any good...'

'Oh? So THAT's the game we are playing now?' Heera shook her head with disgust 'Ustaad Sahib... I'll take my chances with cruel fate, but not with you! So... I request you to leave from here...'

'I understand Sahiba... but, before I leave... you might want to view this from another angle' he folded his arms - every bit like the shrewd businessman he was, when taking on a tough fellow-merchant. 'I'm a businessman... you're a businesswoman... why don't you treat this wedding like a business deal? I used you to get the Farmaan... in exchange, why don't you use my manpower and my title to keep your Parnagarh safe? I took advantage of you, to make my Huzoor happy... so, why not take advantage of my influence to keep your people happy?'

Feel safe and happy? How could she feel safe and happy when she being cornered and trapped? 'I'm thanking the Lord he took my vision away today... because you're the last man on Earth I want to be looking at...' she folded her palms together 'please leave me in peace!'

'Oh really? Last man on Earth?' Akbar winced at that unpleasant remark 'So you would rather it was one of Khalil's men standing here... facing you?' leaning close by, he dropped his pitch to a soft whisper 'The Lord might have taken your vision away, Sahiba... but you can recognise, understand and judge better than most people I've met... so... I'll allow your good heart to be the judge of how unworthy I am... on that same note... I'm certain that you can recognise I'm not the sub-human that Khalil is either!'

Then, the soft whispery tone disappeared as quietly as it had made an entry. 'Of course Sahiba, at present, your ego wouldn't let you admit any of it... but it is what it is...'

His gestures, his words, even the modulations in his tone - the man knew exactly what he was doing.

'God!' Suddenly, it was difficult to stand the very sight of him. 'Just go...' Heera turned aside, not wanting him to notice the fresh mist under her lashes 'please go...'


Picking up his knife from the floor, he slipped it back into his cummerbund 'I trust you'll keep the details of this conversation to yourself...' his dark eyes gleamed, as he brought his hand up to offer her an adab.

Oh yes, he knew - his secret was safe with the Sahiba. Why wouldn't it be? It would make her life far easier, if the Parnagarhis DIDN'T learn that the Mughal man their baisa had been involved with, was the 'Ustaad' himself! 'Khuda Hafiz!'

Thereon, his silhouette disappeared through the tent exit. But the echoes of his deep voice lingered around long thereafter...