NOVEL~*Hiding behind a Stranger*~THREAD 53 - CHAP 58 (Pt 1&2)- 4th - Page 141

Good morning Sachu Patti , kal di and all my lovely baisas and James banna! 😳

Happy Saturday! 🤗

Hiding Behind

Imperial Prison Fort

Heera's chamber

'Why... why...'

'Shhh' Cradling her mistress' head in her own lap, Gauri sought to dampen the course of a fresh wave of heat with a wet towel from a bowl of liquid.

'Why... why...' her voice quivered more than a withered feather 'WHYYY... even as he was being dragged across in chains, he didn't utter a word against his master... my Sahib considered him a brother... then, how could the Shehzaade do this to...'

Her heart jumped violently - the macabre visions were re-emerging. Visions of those flesh-shredding lashes from the barbed whip that would've broken his skin and spirit bit by bit. Images of his blood-soaked body made an example of, left to hang pendulously in the air thereon. Reminders that her Sahib now lay alone in his cell, with none but an hourly visit from near-death to keep him company. 'Ah...' She gagged, as if the noose around her own throat had tightened, barely allowing her to survive the horrors. 'Ma!'

'Heera...'

'Why? Why was the Hakim's visit unsuccessful? What do they say the Palace Hakim treated him with?'

'I am not certain, Heera... they say a few of his wounds were sutured... and bandaged... but...'

'Gauri' She tore open her swollen eyelids to catch a fleeting silhouette of her chief-maid 'did you ask the jailors too... ask if only they'd let me see him for a moment...'

'I did...'

'What if we tried to get in touch with the Shehenshah? He was close to my father... he might empathise with our situation'

'Heera...'

'Gauri... are you certain you've done all you can... we'd pay them whatever I have - if they allow me to see how he's doing'

'I am trying... and I will try again, Heera... but first, you must rest'

Gauri said nothing beyond that, her voice so choked up from grief that it would have cracked if she did.

She HAD enquired. Spent nearly two hours doing so. Scuttling from one prison guard to the next, one jailor to another . Eventually she'd returned empty-handed, empty-spirited!

'Heera!' Gauri tried to cloak her sorrow with sternness 'You have to stay strong!'

'But, for whom?' Her frail lungs trilled with disenchantment. 'A dark life he led, but he was a man content in it... I came... and brought such misery upon him! Destroyed so many that depended on him that... that...'

A spasm had struck again, and with such great ferocity that it forced her to recoil to a side 'Arghhh!'

'Oh Lord!'

Laying her Lady on the mattress, Gauri hurriedly dragged her deadened feet towards the trunks. Retrieving the containers in which the medicines had been stored, she opened the small empty silver box for the third time - the one that'd held the medicinal opium in it before the guards threw everything away. 'Ma Bhavani... help me... help me, help her'

Rushing back with whatever meagre remnants her fingertips could manage to salvage, Gauri mixed it with a drop of water and poured it inside her mistress' lips - all in all, a futile attempt.

'Heera... your health is deteriorating... you will have to stop worrying so much... you've writhed in guilt all night... used up the strength in your limbs and the tears in your eyes... enough... please...' her tender fingers continued kneading the Lady's forehead 'And DESTROY lives? How could you ever blame yourself for things so dastardly? You've never wished ill upon anyone... not even your enemies... then, how would you do so for the man you love most? When you wrote those scrolls, the circumstances were entirely different... you KNOW that, don't you?'

'Remember this Heera... each moment that you blame yourself hereon, you take blame away from the real sinners - the ones who actually brought ill upon all... with every mishap that you hold yourself responsible for, you lighten the crimes of those criminals who've destroyed our lives - the hypocrites, the bigots, the murderers and the tyrants!'

'W... wait'

Heera thought she'd just spotted a faint glow amidst the random blurs in the ceiling. But she couldn't be sure - not after having been blinded by grief and guilt night and day. 'Gauri... w... what did you say?'

'That with each moment you blame yourself hereon, you take blame away from the real sinners... every mishap that you hold yourself responsible for, you lighten the crimes of criminals who've destroyed our lives'

Heera never guessed she would find a sane voice amidst the crazed cacophony plaguing her ears. But she had. A whisper of it - reaching for her. And she wanted to reach back.

'You said something... please repeat it... for me... once more'

'Once?' She'd gladly rephrase it a THOUSAND times over, if it helped.. 'Every instance you blame yourself for this, you take the blame away from the real sinners... and lighten the crimes of true criminals'

Heera blinked a few blinks striving to focus on the blurry silhouette of her friend, her expressions frozen in time, lips stunned into silence by what she'd just heard.

'Every instance you blame yourself, you take blame away from the real sinners'

Yes, she could see it clearly - the light - a celestial glow caressing her face with its divine touch, consoling her downtrodden soul and calming her sobs into a snivel.

'Say it again...'

'Again?'

Relief transformed her grimace into a smile. That turned wide. And wider still - till Gauri was beaming. The baisa WAS listening now. Finally!

So, she obliged. Saying it five times over, till the sound of those words rang in Heera's ears forever - the force in their meaning finding a permanent abode in her soul.

'Gauri... p... please...' The young lady's features briefly came alive 'please help me sit'

'Certainly' Rendering the frame of her own body as a backrest for the sagging silhouette of her baisa, Gauri propped her up.

Dredging up the stamina to drag herself on the floor, Heera edged towards the small altar of the Goddess in the corner, inch after inch..

'Give me courage ma...'

Letting go of her spinning head, she folded her palms at the vague frame of the beautiful bronze statue - that act alone having squeezed dry what little strength she had.

'Give me courage ma... to face this... to endure this... for HIS sake... and for the sake of so many dependant on him... my heart beats in him and his in mine... if only one of us were to make it out of this alive, the other would walk through life as a soulless body... yet, if only one of us were to make it out of this alive... it must be HIM...'

The capital...

Campsite

Barely two stones' throw away from the thatched dwellings that littered the narrow snaking streets of the capital, lay a leafy lane - the corner of which, was home to the grounds of a double-storeyed house and all of its extensions - a sheltered balcony, a backyard and a barn. A calm household it was - possibly one of the few places in the capital where the creaking of the water wheel was louder still than the the voices of its residents and the smell of Earth was yet untainted.

It belonged to a Mughal nobleman who coincidentally knew both Mansabdars of Parnagarh - Hukum Jagat Prasad Singh, and Ustaad Akbar Mahmoud Khan. And it was the only residence - amongst the many Ibrahim Mirza had enquired about - that was prepared to open its doors to the Men of Ustaad.

So, as the reunited men of Ustaad - along with Daya and Bajrang banna - set down their belongings in the backyard of these grounds, there should have been the first signs of a few sighs of relief.

Alas!

The reunion turned out to be something else altogether. Something 'indescribable' - when Azeez Shah pulled up a macabre pile from a jute sack and dropped it in their midst.

'Found this... as I was limping my way out of the rear exit of the prison fort... it was lying between heaps of scrap at the street corner, discarded for rag-pickers to collect'

Discoloured with blood and grime, and torn beyond recognition, it took them a good while to realise that it was no rag - but a piece of clothing. A man's clothing. A grey tunic.

'Exactly like the one...' he pushed down the bile that'd come up to his throat 'Khan Sahib had been wearing last'

The tattered tunic told them more tales of horror than they'd seen in all their days as an assassin! 'Ai Khuda!' Is THIS what the Huzoor had reduced their Sahib to?

'They say he caused a ruckus in the dungeons and had to be punished by the barbed whip - at least that's what the Shehzaade wants everyone to believe!'

'Apparently, the palace Hakim paid his cell a visit this morning... I heard the guards say there wasn't much hope left...'

'NOT much HOPE left?'

Sayyid fisted the bark of the tree beside him with all that he had, cracking its lowest branch and sending it rustling to the floor. 'First they torture him... then, defame him... and now callously declare that there is no hope... How DARE they?'

'What's worse...' A forlorn Daya banna walked up to Sayyid, and patted his shoulder to offer support 'there's no news of the duel being postponed... with our Mansabdar in such a deplorable state, what does the Shehzaade plan to do?'

'The Shehzaade's plans?'

'Azeez...'

'We need to sneak in... get him help... we're stealthy... experts at disguise...'

'Azeez...'

'We know how to break in... we HAVE to get him help... he will DIE if left there!'

'Azeez...'

'I'm with you...' Sayyid joined the chap in one frenzied stride 'and if any of those measly guards dare stop us... they'll find their necks snapped in two'

'Sayyid... please...'

'I'm in!'

'Me too...'

'Tell us what we must do...'

'We must act immediately!'

The rest of the men stepped in, one by one, followed by Daya banna and Bajrang banna.

'We are with you too... our conscience has already been lamenting over the unforgivable crime we committed at Parnagarh... by faltering in our loyalties towards our baisa...'

'Please give us a chance to make amends for it... by helping you save them both now'

'Save? But, HOW?'

A few instants later, the young chap took his deepest breath, allowing the tears to dry 'HOW do you propose we get them help, then?'

'How?' With the palace Hakim having ruled that there wasn't much hope left for Akbar, how could they help him? 'HOW?'

His lungs still catching up on wind, Ibrahim let his misty glances travel to a distant realm - his mind wading through the maze of dangerous choices and options that stood in front of them then. 'Let's work it out step by step... those instructions and clues that Akbar had signalled to you... let's start with that fir...'

'Shhh hhh...' Azeez abruptly shot his palm up 'wait... wait... everyone... do you hear that?'

The group stiffened up - their senses sifting through every murmur and movement in the air around.

And there it was - a 'creak', in the distance. The creak of a few wheels. Like those of cart-wheels coming to a slow halt. There was a bustle too. Tussle of feet, and shuffle of voices. Like those from a horde of people descending upon the place.

'On guard...' The men of Ustaad reached for their belts and daggers.

Bajrang banna, however, stayed put.

A moment later, his tense shoulders dropped, as if something had swooped over him and lifted off a few loads of stress.

'Please wait here...'

Breaking away from the group, he then glided his way towards the street outside. 'It's HIM...'

That commanding baritone.

Those familiar words.

That uneven footfall.

'Mohan banna!' Bajrang smiled his first smile in days 'And he's brought our folks along too'

'Bajrang! Daya!' The voice boomed through not long thereafter - its owner rushing into the grounds, on crutches.

'Mohan banna!' Bajrang rushed forward to offer his respects 'you've come...'

'I promised you I would... our townsmen are here too...' Mohan roared in relief amidst the flurry of gasps and sighs that'd suddenly taken over the place 'we left Parnagarh soon after you did... came as quickly as we could... but it took us all morning to locate you men'

And then, in a pulse, the signs of relief disappeared from his face as if the looming evil forces had made their presence known. 'We heard terrible things on the way here... concerning the Kunwar of Manswar... about the sentence that awaits our baisa... and... and the fate that befell our Mansabdar yesterday...'

'Yes banna...' Bajrang's frown dropped 'it is those dark developments that we were discussing about too...'

Sometime later...

Azeez blew at the steaming drink sitting in his hand, his mind slowly becoming clearer as he watched the ripples on its surface ebb away. He was ready to do this - a 'calm and collected' ready, not the 'frantic and frenzied' ready he was, until half an hour ago.

Checking out the four plans that had been etched on a patch of mud beside him, he looked up to meet eyes with the audience that sat facing him.

On one side were his mates - joined now by the company of Chacha jaan. And on the other side, sat the important men of Parnagarh - Mohan Sahib, Daya Sahib, Bajrang Sahib and Ratan Sahib.

Plan 1

'The first clue... was very clear' spoke Azeez in low tones 'Khan Sahib wants us to get in touch with Kunwar Tejraj...'

'What?' Ratan kaka flashed his fellow-men a confused peek 'Kunwar Tejraj?'

Ibrahim shrugged a shoulder 'Well... Kunwar Tejraj is a noble man, unlike his cousin... it's a long shot... but Akbar possibly hopes that the good Kunwar would join our side, support our cause and speak up for us'

'Kunwar Tejraj?'

Bajrang gradually threw his shoulders back. And it was then that he noticed from the corner of his eye that Daya was watching out for his reactions too. In the very next wink, they both turned to face each other - as if the same thought had struck them both simultaneously.

'We might be able to help with this...' they spoke up in unison.

'Being Rajputs, we might be able to infiltrate the good Kunwar's camp relatively easily... and yes...' added Daya just as Ibrahim was about to do so 'we know to keep mum... not a word of this shall be uttered to anyone! Worry not!'

A hush lull later, the doubts and worries had been dusted off - their glimpses twinkling sharper than ever.

'Alright Daya Sahib, Bajrang Sahib... Kunwar Tejraj is yours to find and to bring to our side!'

'Done!' The first plan was crossed out from the list.

Plan 2

'For the second instruction...' Azeez took his next sip 'Khan Sahib revolved his finger... in this fashion...' holding up his palm for all to see, he imitated the gesture 'did so a few times actually'

'I know...' Sayyid clicked his fingers with confidence - the sound of his clicks twice as loud as the voices around 'It's a symbol for 'spinning'... similar to how our Sahib often spins a blade... is he hinting that we must smuggle blades... weapons in?'

'NO! He wouldn't have planned anything so risky - not when our Sahiba is their prisoner too!'

'Maybe it signifies a 'circle'... does he want all of us to encircle the prison fort?'

'Darn no! Our Sahib believes in playing it quiet'

'That gesture also symbolises 'repeat'... what if he's asking us to repeat a few tricks from one of our past missions?'

'No!' Murmured Ibrahim under his breath, waiting for the clamour to come to a stop.

And it did.

For, everyone was eager to hear the guesswork of their wise mate.

'I do not think that gesture was meant to be a circle, a spin or a cycle... I think Akbar was furling up something...' His fingers inadvertently made small rolls as he spoke 'like a scroll!'

'A scroll?'

'A SCROLL?'

'Which scroll?'

'Harka Sahiba's scrolls?'

'Yes!'

'Why?'

'Possibly to spread the message that was written in them... if it works, public empathy for Harka Sahiba might grow to such an extent that any further rash decisions by our Huzoor will become political suicide, no less...'

'But, how? All those scrolls had been burnt' Azeez slowly tilted forth, towards the Parnagarhis 'Do any of you know its contents, by heart?'

'I... I... I... might'

Struggling not to count the number of stares suddenly coming his way, Ratan kaka accepted the drink Azeez offered him - hoping a few gulps would settle the nerves that were letting nothing beyond hoarse air slip his mouth. Well, he was a timid man. Speaking up in grave discussions, wasn't something he was used to. And speaking up in grave discussions with professional assassins definitely wasn't something he was used to.

But, if there was ever a day and a place to make up for his cowardice at Parnagarh, and to help his bitiya - it was now!

'I... I... I was there with Harka bitiya, when she wrote the scrolls... I might remember a c... couple of lines'

'A learned man you are, Ratan banna... you can do this...' Mohan banna tweaked the edges of his moustache, blinking at his fellow-men with pride 'while WE shall be making copies of the scroll in both, Marwari and Brij languages'

'And WE...' Azeez matched the banna's pride with style, by winking at his own mates 'shall be distributing the scrolls'

Plan 2 was crossed out from the list.

Plan 3

'For the third clue...' Azeez thumped the empty goblet down beside him and rose - the demonstration would be clearer this way.

'Khan Sahib rolled his pupils all the way towards the Huzoor, once... and then... rolled his pupils, in a grander manner, towards the Huzoor AGAIN!'

'Where exactly was our Huzoor standing, then?'

'The Shehzaade was SEATED... on his seat... at the other end of the hall'

'Hmmm...' Ibrahim pressed the small folds at the midst of his temple 'Signalled twice... in grander manner... towards the Mughal heir... seated on his throne...'

He looked up, a much-engrossed pause later.

'It's the 'Shehenshah'! Akbar was referring to the SHEHENSHAH, when he signalled TWICE at our Huzoor!' Observing the plethora of frowns surfacing on many-a-face, he nodded slowly. 'I guess, he wants us to reach out to the old Emperor... and enlighten him on the happenings in the Capital... hoping he'd interfere...'

'But the Shehenshah is very sickly... has lost the will to interfere in most state affairs... why would he interfere in a relatively private matter?'

'Because...' Mohan banna clenched a determined fist 'the Emperor had always been fond of our Late Mansabdar... he would be disappointed to learn of the manner in which his daughters have been treated...'

'But the Shehenshah resides in a private quarters which remain heavily-guarded...'

'Even if by some miracle, we did slip into the palace compounds, we'd never be able to enter there...'

'None of us have any sort of authority either!'

'Other than Harka Sahiba, possibly...'

'And she's a prisoner, trapped in the fort'

'What are we to do about the Shehenshah?'

Moments passed, and no solution came up. Precious time was running away. With lack of answers beginning to eclipse those little beams of hope, the clouds hovering over them threatened to turn heavier, their cottony forms sponging in more and more darkness.

'Uhhh...' Azeez brushed his hair brusquely. 'What ARE we to do? We have plan 4 left too!' And it WAS the most urgent plan of all! 'Khan Sahib needs medical help... the Palace Hakim has been of little use... it'd be near-impossible to get him another Hakim...'

'At least, got to get him those medicines...'

'Or ointments...'

'W... wait!' Mohan banna's lips parted 'What? What did you say? Hakim? Vaid? Medicines? Ointment? Were you planning to seek all of this from outside for our Mansabdar Sahib?' he scoffed 'But, WHY?'

The group shared a round of confused stares.

'W... we don't understand, Mohan Sahib'

'Why look elsewhere for cures, when we have a blessed Healer in our midst?' His glances moved from one dazed face to another 'Why, Harka bai of Parnagarh, of course! A miracle-worker, she is... revered across many provinces...'

'Y... yes... but'

'Have you seen the way her hands work? It's sheer magic... simple leaves evolve into nectar... potions dance to her tunes... as if the Goddess herself has misted her divine powers onto them'

'He's right' Bajrang banna swallowed through the emotion clogging up his throat. 'Our banna does not exaggerate... I've served at the Haveli several years, and seen it myself... dead plants have literally come back to life with her touch... '

Ibrahim brought both palms together in a solemn clasp, resting his chin upon its tip.

'We are aware of this, Mohan Sahib... and ideally, we'd want NOTHING more than for Akbar to be treated by bhabhijaan... BUT, she is being held captive... that too, in the women's wing... where men are allowed nowhere near... besides...' his eyelids scrunched shut 'if guards find out, we'd be putting her life at great risk! And Akbar would not...'

'Ibrahim!' Chacha jaan drowned those concerns under a loud cry 'I do not know how it's meant to happen... but, I know this - it is in Harka bitiya's hands that lie my son's best chances of survival!'

With a heavy sigh, Ibrahim slowly sat up. As did Azeez, Sayyid and the rest of the mates. 'His best chance of survival lies with Harka bitiya' It was true. And who possibly to recognise its truth better than them? Time and again they'd witnessed how it was her healing powers alone, that'd miraculously come to their Ustaad's rescue - whether it was on bleak nights by healing the wounds on his body, or whether it was from a bleak existence by sprinkling some cheer into his life. Obvious then, that in such a crisis, if there was anyone who could rescue him from the jaws of death, it was HER!

They had been trying to play it safe, looking for solutions elsewhere. But Harka Sahiba was the answer, their ray of hope - her gifts no less than glimmers of divine intervention.

With the clouds slowly beginning to lighten and their features starting to brighten, the glares that the men of Ustaad swapped thereon turned hard and dogged again. 'Yes!' They would take the risks. Do what had to be done to ensure her medicines reached him. Disguise as Khwaja Seras, if they must, to get in! But they'd make it happen.

'Fine...' Rolling his shoulders, Azeez wrung his palms - the pain in his limbs having somehow diminished all of a sudden. 'How shall we do this?'

'I could try my luck!' Wiping his wet cheeks, Chacha jaan flashed them his telltale smile 'An old man might find it easier to enter the women's wing... besides, not many have been able to resist the charms of this wrinkly smile...'

'Chacha jaan... they aren't going to let you get in...'

'No...'

'No...'

'In fact... NONE of you men might be let in... but they'd certainly have lesser reasons to stop ME!'

Biting down on the borders of the veil that was being held between her lips, her shapely brows rose in alarm. All she'd received in response was a sudden silence staring her in the face from all directions. And it was difficult to make out if this was because they found her suggestions absolutely ludicrous, or a stroke of genius!

'I apologise we eavesdropped on your discussion...' murmured Dhani after giving the men a few moments to regroup 'but the situation is tense... and we are sorely worried for our baisa and Sahib'

'We would love to do what we could, to help too' added Bindiya sombrely

'Y... yes... I understand' Ibrahim scratched his forehead - since no one else seemed to have anything to say to the ladies just then 'your intentions are noble... and yes, you both would have better luck there... but... you both are not experienced... and working with untrained spies can lead to unpleasant... sometimes, even disastrous consequences...' It was not a pleasant remark to make to a lady, but it had to be said 'we've seen it happen'

'Sahib...' she hummed 'I agree... we are not trained like you lot are... and we have no experience with missions of such sort... but do not underestimate the natural weapon that women do possess - beauty and charm... it could weaken the most powerful of men, if wielded correctly'

Ibrahim broke out into an awkward half-frown, while Daya and Bajrang coughed aloud - clearly embarrassed by the suggestive tones of her rebuttal. The features on Dhani however, remained unfazed as always. 'We are short on time, Sahib... allowing us to act as your messengers, would be the wisest choice'

'This is dangerous, Dhani... a thousand guards patrol the place every hour...'

'If caught, the punishment is instant death.

'We understand the risks... we wouldn't endanger our baisa and Sahib... ever'

'We'd rather die...' Bindiya clenched her chest, as if swearing under oath

'But, Bindiya...' blurted Daya banna 'you are a child... far too innocent to carry out such dangerous tasks'

'Bindiya has been our baisa's eyes for years...' Dhani held her young friend's shoulder tenderly 'she has an uncanny ability to describe five sagas in five sentences... her presence would be crucial'

'Alright...' Azeez eventually shrugged when the words stopped whizzing back and forth. The ladies might have a point.

'Let's begin, then'

A short grin gradually sneaked its way onto their features, as everyone's pupils zipped towards the ground - at the list that'd been sitting untouched for a while.

With a silent prayer and a sleek smile, the young chap crossed out plans 3 and 4. 'Done!'

That evening...

Imperial prison fort and dungeons

'Hey...'

'WHO are you?'

Snorted the guards - their fickle glimpses running swift trails across the pair of intruders, whose path they'd blocked with iron spears planted like a row of prison bars.

Two ladies. Both young. Both carrying satchels by their sides and tall torches in their hands. Torches of ornate wood with a bronze urns at the top that were puffing sweet-smelling - almost overpowering fumes - from several tiny holes.

By attire, they were too well-dressed to be beggars and yet, too plain to be gypsies.

'I do not think I've seen you before...'

'WHAT are you both doing here?'

The eyes of the younger lady flicked wide open, as her lips fumbled for something to say.

However, her companion responded by batting lashes over her long swan-like eyes.

'Sahib...' her voice shifted, under the mask of a sultry tone 'We are fumigators... the smoke from our torches are so potent... they can famously drive off pesky mosquitoes... keep away dangerous diseases... cure all sorts of ailments... and ward off evil eyes...'

[Journey Continues]

Originally posted by binduprasad41

Our Ustaad is Man of few words. He won't speak unnecessarily but when he speaks... Even Heera at loss of words. 😳 😉

Even at duel, Ustaad made Mahendar frustrated without giving any response for his provocative words. 😳

Hiding Behind

STRANGER