NOVEL~*Hiding behind a Stranger*~THREAD 50 - CHAPTER 55 - Upd 17th Nov - Page 49

Originally posted by: lashy

Who said this to whom?

Here are the results sweeties...

James - 12 (special mention for giving it a try even though you haven't read HBAS fully👏)

Bindup - 27

Selvi - 26

Rose - 22

Rashmi - 28

Chellam - 28

Lavanya - 30

Sandy - 28

Rekha - 28

Lavanya you are on a winning streak darling.🥳 CONGO SHONGO!

Chellam, Sandy, Rekha and Rashmi share the second spot. 👏 Lovely efforts girls...

Good afternoon/evening/morning lovely Sahibas.🤗

Periyamma, Lashy Sahiba, Chellam, Bindup, Shruthi, Manu, Selvi, Lana, Vathsy,Lavanya, Mitu, Sandy Begum, Bindu,Muskaan,Anindita, Aparna, Pallavi, Amita, Jiya, Harshu, Shagun, Jyothi, Adwi, Shivangi, Vrinda, Avika,Divi, Divya, Kanishka, Payal , Rekha, Rashmi, Namsika, Aishu , Kruthik , Rupinder, Tanya and 6Bs.🤗

Page 50 (13 pages)<<<😊

Would this allude to AMK as Shehzaade's codega until the Shehzaade decided that AMK wasn't as indispensable as he thought him to be, an act of utter folly on the part of the Prince?😊

His chamber...

'Alright!' Akbar rubbed his brow sceptically, before giving in to their pranks by stepping in front of the mirror, to make sure everything was perfect.

The special green silk tunic seemed to complement him well. Brocaded with fine gold threads, the colour flattered his complexion. Draped snugly around the contours of his ripped chest, the material felt like second skin.

In contrast to the green, the thick crimson overcoat of the richest velvet that enveloped his shoulders and arms, resembled a sheath of soft armour.

Offsetting the opulence of the attire, was the plain broad cummerbund that ran tight around his toned midriff, holding every pleat in place.

And finishing it off to perfection were the studded diamond ornaments - dazzling against his dark clothes like the stars spread across a night sky.

Akbar was not vain. Yet, he had to admit - he was quite pleased by what he saw. Well, which man wouldn't be?

Akbar frowned with relief. A small part of him was dealing with a kind of emotion he was not familiar with - embarrassment.

What was the point of all this - of getting embarrassed or of making sure his attire was perfect? What was the point of the finery and fun, when the one person for whom this was being done didn't care? When this wedding was nothing but a contract for security and benefits? And who knew how long the situation was going to stay that way - months? Years? Forever?

Which is why this groom had neither bothered with the finery, nor with the fun.

However, when he realised that his mates simply refused to treat the wedding that way, when he noticed how Chacha jaan seemed truly happy for the first time in years, the man found it tough to dishearten them by stomping on their high spirits.

'Let's leave...'

The Baraat...

Boom..

Pop..

Pop..

Boom!..

The vast valleys rang with bursts and whizzes, as colourful streams of light and sparkles were propelled towards the setting skyline, over and over. Rivalling the sounds of fireworks, were the beats of drums, melodies of horns, songs from composers and dances from performers - during which, thousands of wedding guests lined the pathways to witness the baraat making its way towards the haveli.

The entire procession was a slow and noisy affair, marked by elements from both cultures throughout, right until Bahadur was allowed to come to a complete stop at the gates.

With an army of friends and relatives following him closely, the young man then proceeded towards the main entrance, where ladies stood with platters of lamps and flowers to receive the guests.

After the young groom placed his sword upon the 'thoran', the auspicious string of flowers - as an announcement of his arrival - the elaborate Arti ceremony was carried out.

With traditional Marawari folk songs and dances forming the backdrop, Ratan kaka finally welcomed the groom in with a large floral garland, before leading him towards the private hall, where the men had assembled.

The Nikah...

A short interval was spent on meeting and greeting with important people from both communities, while drinks and refreshments were served all around.

Till the time came for everyone to be ushered towards the area, where the Nikah was slated to take place.

As soon as the groom knelt down on the prayer rug and brought his hands up as an act of worship, the room fell silent.

The Imam then recited a short sermon, following which, he talked the young man through the Holy terms and commitments of a marriage, including the Mahr - the dowry promised to the bride.

Once Akbar gave his willing consent to the Nikah, in the presence of witnesses, the Imam left for the adjacent hall to conduct the other half of the ceremony.

Approaching the bride, who sat amongst a large gathering of women, he presented the proposal aloud, on behalf of the groom.

Having heard the Imam's words, Heera slowly glanced up from behind the screen - her eyes empty, her features impassive, her lips quiet.

'Please reply...' the Imam prodded her, a few moments later 'do you give your consent? And where is your Wali? Or, would you want me to be your Wali?'

'I... I...' She swallowed to moisten her parched throat, but the words failed to form. It was as though her mind had suddenly gone blank. Having forgotten what she was supposed to say, the young lady searched the faces around her, like a lost child, for some form of guidance. But for whatever reason they appeared unfamiliar. Or those that were familiar, didn't know how to help.

Until a frail voice echoed by her side.

'I am her Wali... her guardian...'

It was Chacha jaan.

'Bitiya... I'm here...' he whispered, reminding her that he was still here by her side, ready to give her away 'repeat whatever we ask you to, alright?'

She nodded her head.

With the help of Ibrahim's wife, the old man advised the bride on how to respond to the proposal in Urdu.

'I...' Heera shakily repeated their phrases 'I have agreed to the Mahr offered and I have given myself in Nikah to you... I have accepted the Nikah... I have accepted the Nikah... I have accepted the Nikah'

'Thank you Allah...' whispered Akbar, when the Imam returned to announce his bride's decision 'Thank you...' he smiled again, the softness of his smile masking the flurry of emotions that'd erupted within.

Responding to the news with a nod, he thus displayed acceptance of his new wife - into his home, his heart and his life.

After a few prayers were recited for the goodwill of the new couple, the Nikah was thus solemnized and declared to the crowds with a lot of pomp and fanfare.

The Main hall...

Along with the shifting crowds, the bride and groom left their respective halls to proceed towards the Mandap too - both of them sensibly ignoring the divided sentiments of the wedding guests for obvious reasons.

And it was at this juncture, through the thin jasmine strands of his sehra, that he had the first glimpses of his wife.

'M...' His lips were about to part, to mutter a remark under his breath. Instead they momentarily stalled, as did his feet. A fervent heat rushed from within, right up to the surface of his skin.

'Red' A colour he'd never seen her in. But now that he saw her in it, he wondered if she'd reserved the best of herself, for the wedding day.

Her pearly skin appeared to glow beneath that grand red - and as she took each measured step, with eyes lowered behind a sheer veil, the silken fabric of her skirt flowed around her beautifully.

What was more, her petite frame seemed to carry it off with no effort - be it the weight of the heavy wedding jewellery, or the burden of grief weighing upon her. A perfect mix of femininity and inner strength she was. Ethereal.

Allowing his beats to settle down, he resumed his pace, joining the procession towards the Mandap.

Impassive was what she'd been towards the wedding rituals right from that morning. That was how she'd reacted to the first audible sounds of the baraat outside. That was how she'd remained when the news of the groom's arrival had reached her ears. That was how she tried to be, during the Nikah too.

But now that she was meant to take a seat beside him, in front of the Holy Fire, a strange queasiness was beginning to set in. Maybe because of the finality of it all?

'Heera...' Gauri held her shoulders firmly, when the bride had stood in her spot for longer than she must, and guided her towards her seat.

The rituals started off with a few offerings into the fire, after which, the couple were given garlands to exchange. Carrying the heavy garland between her hands, the young lady faced him. Without so much as a peek at his features, she reached forth and garlanded him just as he ducked his head low to make it easier for her - a feat she somehow managed with relative composure.

But when the time for Kanyadaan came, her nervousness grew apace.

For a few empty blinks, she was left staring at the hand he was holding out for her, her own palms having become lead, too heavy to move from their spot. Memories had begun flashing past her eyes. Faces of ones she loved. Jiji. Bapusa. Kakasa Kakisa. None of them were here to give her away. Couldn't ONE of them have been here today?

Thankfully, Vaid kaka who sat right behind her, had sensed her predicament. Picking her right palm, he placed it in the groom's, and blessed the union.

With her emotions at a million places, she should've instinctively recoiled from that full-fledged touch of his. But she didn't. She let him support her. Why? Was it because her fingers had turned limp and it was his grip that kept them from slipping away? Had he sensed it too?

Whatever the reason, it was the first sense of comfort she'd enjoyed all day - even though she wouldn't admit it to herself.

Shortly, the ends of her veil were tied to the edges of his shawl - signifying the nuptial knot 'Ghat bandhan'.

The moment of the sacred vows had come!

Most of what followed was a haze. A blur.

But she was vaguely aware of being led by him around the Holy fire, the 'Phera', and taking the seven significant steps, the 'Saptapadhi', with him. She was also aware of how her fingers never slipped from his grip once throughout.

Sometime during the course of the Pheras, her eyes fell upon the canopy of unsheathed swords that Mohan banna, Daya banna, Bajrang banna and Ratan kaka were holding overhead, as if to protect her from evil eyes. It was a gesture that lifted her spirits to some extent. As did the genteel shower of flowers and smiles that never stopped raining over her - a reminder of the love that these people had for their baisa.

Before she knew it - Heera was sitting by his side again, her veil lifted, her hair uncovered, so he could fill her hairline with the red vermilion, the 'Sindoor'.

She could perceive the heat of a thousand eyes watching her unveiled face right then, but it was nowhere as intense as the sensation of his dark eyes upon her, studying her expressions closely. So overwhelming was the sentiment that her eyes shut close as soon as she noticed him picking up a pinch of red powder.

'Ma Bhavani... bless me' a shudder rattled her spine, when she felt the cold ornaments on her forehead being moved aside. 'Jiji...' her throat painfully choked up, an instant before he filled the partition of her hair with the auspicious red powder 'your little sister's a married girl...'

With a large new nose ring replacing the old one she wore, and sparkling new pairs of toe rings slipped into her toes, the ceremony reached its culmination.

Later that night...

'We have one last task for Akbar bhaijaan...' the ladies hid their suggestive grins behind the edges of their veils 'if he passes this task, we will let them go... leave them both in peace for an entire day, if that is what they wish...'

The women were blocking off the entrance to the Mansabdar's main chamber..

'Alright' Akbar tried not to let his exhaustion show 'What task?'

'Oh worry not... it's one of our traditional games...'

Ibrahim's wife quickly whispered something into her friend's ears, who scampered off to return with a wide cauldron of water, which was placed in front of Heera's feet - in such a way that the bride's reflection fell in the water. 'Bhaijaan... imagine you're seeing your bride for the first time...'

The lady had to pause and allow the burst of laughter in that room to settle down - apparently, everyone was finding it difficult not to snigger at the irony of that statement 'So, describe what you see... like a poet would!'

'A poet?' he scoffed mildly 'you know I am no poet, bhabhijaan...'

'Which is what makes the task challenging, doesn't it?'

Squeezing his tired eyes, he finally gave in by glimpsing down at the cauldron of water. Through the soft ripples, he observed the outline of her face, before honing in on her features.

...

'What happened, Khan Sahib?' the voices drew them both out of their silent banter

'Our bhabhijaan has left you tongue-tied, has she?'

'I... was thinking of a few nice lines... that's all' Akbar pensively scratched the top of his brow, trying to come up with something good enough -

'I... I...' he cleared his throat

'I broke a few rules and went against the norms,

With no regrets whatsoever.

Because every time I gaze into your eyes,

I'm reminded why I did for you, what I would do for no other!'

The room that'd fallen quiet, stayed quiet - everyone still surprised by his modest yet sweet attempt at poetry.

The ongoing silence however was making it quite uncomfortable for her, since it meant she could actually hear her beats loud and clear.

'That's enough!' she demanded her heart stay still. But the disobedient thing apparently had a mind of its own!

She had told herself that she wouldn't get carried away, whatever he came up with. Yet, as soon as she decoded his message - I'm reminded why I did for you, what I would do for no other - the true meaning of which, only he and she would know, her heart had gone racing off like a wild horse.

But the embarrassing lull was brought to an end thereafter, when the crowd erupted into a roar of claps, in appreciation of the man's efforts.

Midnight...

Heera watched as the last of the folks left, her pulse skipping a few extra counts as the heavy curtains of the room were drawn to a shut.

And then there was silence - deafening silence.

She stood transfixed in her spot, unaware of what she must do. Must she turn around and face him? The very prospect made her weak in her knees.

'Maybe I can sit down for a while...'

But the only accessible 'seat' anywhere nearby, was the bed.

'No!' she swiftly dismissed the thought. It would give off the wrong signals. 'I'll just stand here...'

'Ai Khuda...' he loosened his collar, having had just about enough of the fanciful dress. Pulling up his sleeves, he stepped close to a large bowl and splashed handfuls of scented water on his face and neck like he did every night!

Patting himself dry, he took a quick peek in the mirror, before opening the top drawer of his dresser. 'The gift'

He drew in a deep breath, unsure if he must give it to her now. Then again, it WAS a wedding gift.

But, what was he supposed to say? How was he even supposed to greet her? 'Congratulations?'

Surely, that would only sound like a taunt to her!

'Hand it to her and she'll figure out the rest...'

The moment he brought his feet to a halt in front of his bride, Akbar knew what it was that'd kept her transfixed to her spot. He also knew from the worry lines between her brows that she would not look up or meet eyes with him any time soon.

However, from where he stood, HE could look at her. And he felt inclined to - seeing how this day would never come in their lives again.

So, he did.

Be it, those familiar features he could never tire of - like her long eyes, petaline cheeks and flaming red lips. Or the fresh marks of a married woman he'd never seen on her - like the henna and the Sindoor - marks that tied her to him in strange ways.

'Mashallah!'

'W... why...why doesn't he say something?'

Imprisoned under his gazes, her fingers had turned white from kneading against each other so hard.

No, Heera wasn't worried that he was going to force himself upon her. He was not that kind of man. However, he was the kind to entrap a woman with blackmail to suit his needs. So, was he going to entrap her till she had no other way but to surrender to his demands?

No, she WOULDN'T let herself be entrapped once again!

Driven to exasperation, Heera finally looked up. But just as she did so, she had to avert her gazes. She'd done the mistake of meeting eyes with him for a flash - and the intensity in them was too overpowering. 'I... I wanted to talk ...'

'Begum Sahiba...' he held out his hand, his manner sombre 'Here's something for you'

Mildly taken aback by the interruption, and by his formal tone, she observed the rectangular object in his hand. It appeared to be a jewellery box of some sort.

It took her longer to receive it from him.

And even longer to realise that she must open it once, for courtesy sake, to acknowledge the gesture.

'Oh...' it was a beautiful set of ornaments studded with uncut diamonds. 'It's nice...' she nodded slowly 'thank you...'

'You're welcome...' he responded with an adab.

And just like that, he walked away from her presence.

'You're working? Now?'

'Well...' Akbar shrugged, glimpsing up from the documents 'I admit, I am no expert in these matters, Begum Sahiba... but I think if we both don't spend at least a few hours here tonight, we'll end up being the talk of the town tomorrow... so...'

'Oh...' an embarrassed gasp slipped through her lips.

'Anyway... with the wedding and everything else going on, I have a lot of work pending... so...' he indicated towards the bed 'you go ahead... rest... this is going to take me a while...'

'Oh... a... alright' she stuttered.

'Thank you...' she gradually began walking towards the bed 'for respecting my sentiments'

'Good night...' he briefly watched, while she retreated towards the bed, his eyes hazed with poignancy

He hadn't planned on gifting her the set and walking off abruptly either. He would have preferred having a short conversation with her. Perhaps, continuing to behold her feminine form behind that sheer veil for little longer. He'd taken a step closer to do so, his heart racing faster than it did during the most thrilling of chases - a feeling he cherished.

However, that was when he realised something else too.

The thrill was beginning to feed temptation. The temptation to close-in on his bride. The temptation to unveil her face. The temptation to hold her in an embrace. To tangle his fingers in her hair. To lay claim upon the lips he'd never claimed yet. In essence, the temptation to take it a few stages beyond the point where they'd ceased their affections, by the canal.

Moreover, there were those few other factors driving it ahead too - the fact that as a bride, she was more mesmerising than ever today. That he was within his rights to want her tonight. And that there was no one stopping him from doing so here.

His body was turning into an inferno of unrequited passion - but, he couldn't share any of that warmth with her. Because, he could not touch his wife, like he'd touched her as a lover! And the emotions he saw as she briefly glanced up - the fear, the mistrust - it added to the rude doses of reality.

Putting an end to the self-torture, he'd stopped his gazes from tracing the outlines of her alluring form. He broke the silent tryst - quite abruptly, in fact. Since that was the only way he knew to snap out of the effects of her spell!

He'd wanted to observe his bride from close quarters.

He had.

Now, work would keep his mind distracted.

'I... I...' Heera wasn't sure which side of the bed she must take. She was about to ask, but thought the better of it when he seemed to be busy. So, she picked a side that she assumed wasn't his.

Soon thereafter, her eyelids dragged to a slow close.

And then reopened with a start.

It was awkward trying to get used to the unfamiliar pillows - especially in that wedding attire. It was awkward trying to make herself comfortable on a bed that wasn't hers - especially with some of the lights still on. She twisted a bit. Turned a bit.

Sometime later, her eyes slowly shut again.

And, reopened again.

It was really awkward sleeping in a room that wasn't hers..

The young lady was sure she wasn't going to get any sleep here tonight. So, she tinkered with her jewellery. Toyed with her toe rings.

'Toe rings...' Heera hadn't enjoyed the ceremonies. But one thing that did fascinate her were the 'toe rings'. She'd always wondered about them when she watched married women flaunting those small ornaments with pride. And since she had them on, she had to admit, the feeling was nice.

'A pair of toe rings... a new nose ring... a pinch of vermilion...' Suddenly she was a different woman altogether.

Her eyelids came down heavily.

The next time they reopened, it was mid-morning the following day.

He was gone, his side of the bed just as it was when she'd drifted off - untouched.

[Journey continues]