"Meri zindagi mein aaye ho aur...hmmm,
Jo ghul gaya hai saanson woh...nanana"
Her petite form travelled swiftly across the room, swinging side to side as she let the music rule her movement.
"Tum hi kaho...tum hi...something something
Koyi kyun na muskarye
Meri zindagi mein...omo", she stepped back startled. She'd bumped into a young man standing crossed armed with a look of admiration adorning his features.
"Such sweet singing deserves appreciation. What do you say I take you out to a meal now? Miss...", he held out his arm until she grabbed a hold of it.
"That is mighty forward for a man your age. A man any age, in fact".
She smiled and played along as if this was routine. But no, it wasn't. He wasn't like the middle aged businessmen who would indulge in harmless flirtation for the sake of business acquisitions. Nor was he a three piece suit looking for a bargain to feed corporate greed. He was certainly too young to be an art collector. Then just who was this daredevil dressed summer shorts proposing dinner to the most powerful executive in the building?
"Do you realize what your action implies?" she continued.
He took his time to phrase his words carefully. "Yes. I am asking the chief curator of a prestigious museum out on a date. I am brave like that", he winked in her direction and she saved her heart from falling out of her chest just by a nick.
"I am 35 and you don't look much older than 20".
"22. I am a man in every way".
She almost said her thoughts aloud- I am sure you'll prove it when the time comes. Ahem. Before the lust overwhelmed her rationality, she jumped to the meat of the conversation.
"What are your intentions?"
"When I see a woman I am attracted to, I usually ask her on a date. Plus, I've got less to worry about compared to you. I am broke, you know. Relative to you atleast. I mean I am an engineer so I can earn enough for myself. But I can't afford mansions or sit with the big boys yet".
She laughed, a faint smile at first then a full blow sound of crackling happiness.
"Alright. I like you".
That was all it took- one confident encounter led to years of unfaltering endearment. Although a proud woman who would rather save face than compromise, she got down on her knees to plead his parents when they rejected her.
"We want grandchildren, not some old hag to take up space in family albums", they said. Neither her abound fortune nor her status would dissuade them. So Jodha and Jalal decided on a civil union instead.
There was no pandit or kazi but they had love and that was enough. He smiled through all the gatherings where her bosses berated him as the boy toy, the gold digger. Things finally started looking up when she became pregnant with their first child- Sooha. A precious little boy, Sooha brought his parents the societal acceptance their marriage lacked. Jalal's family finally agreed to the addition of Jodha as their daughter in law. So much so, in fact, that they agreed to arranging a Hindu ceremony right after the niqaah was complete.
Jalal was even more elated to find a sonogram in the gift his new bride handed to him right after they said "qubool hai". They were having twins this time. Sooha was certain God sent him a brother and a sister to play with. But a happy family union was not meant to be. On their way down to the temple, Jalal and Sooha were killed in a road accident. Jodha went in deep shock and was rushed to the hospital. The doctors kept her in artificially induced coma to ensure the health of the twins.
With her life in ruins and nothing to live for in this world, her soul sought refuge in the simpler times. Though her body lay still in the hospital ward somewhere in Mumbai, she'd magically travelled back in time. When she woke up from a chaotic dream, the pregnant widow of Jalal found herself in the chains inside the harem of Jalalludin Mohammad. Her body was atleast 20 years younger but she her heart still aching from unbearable loss. Her world still bleak and uncertain, she gathered her grief and chose to live- live for the name of her family, live for the two kids alive in her belly, live for Jalal.
"Jalal"
She opened her eyes to the sight of her beloved.
"Jalal"
His name rolled of her tongue like rosary beads in prayer.
"Jalal"
From behind the cloudy lens of teardrops and overwhelming relief, she admired his presence.
Her hands shot up in gratitude, thanking the almighty for keeping him safe.
"Jalal"
His name sounded more and more like that of an angel coming to her rescue. This was once love but no longer that. It was more, more that just love. He was the sun and she was a moon living in his light. He was the saint and she was the devotee. This was worship.
*THUD"
With a loud slap begum-e-khas reddened her cheeks, scraping every bruise in her hardened heart.
"Badtameez baandhi! How dare you!"
She was being berated by the mallika and she could see he was watching. But he did nothing. And it hurt. Hurt to have him looking out from the corner of his eye but pretending she didn't exist. Like he didn't care if she lived or died. And perhaps he didn't for he didn't love her, not in this lifetime.
In another world, he was her man. Completely hers. Only hers.
But here, here was another story. A different time.
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