Note - The last portion of chapter 42 has been edited and added here, as the start of Chapter 43.
Chapter 43
Private meeting chamber
'Please have a seat, Chacha jaan...'
'But I've been sitting down for long enough...' said the old man stretching his back 'I would actually like to give my legs some exercise...'
'And you, Mirza bhaijaan? Why don't you help yourself to another glass of Sherbet?'
'Bhabhijaan... three glasses is all I can have in one evening...' he smiled, as he darted a quick peek around the room. Private meeting chamber. No maids within. And four guards posted outside. Surely the heiress hadn't called them here for a game of Chausar or Ganjifa. Not to mention - the hundreds of thoughts behind her eyes that were plain to see. So, why did she want them here now?
'Bhabhijaan...' he gently eased into the query he'd been wanting to put forth 'may I ask why you've called for us?'
'Oh that...' She looked down at her pale skin, a fresh nervousness creeping upon her. They'd greeted. They'd made small talk. They'd downed glasses of Sherbet. Yet she couldn't get herself to ask them the question. Was she doing the right thing? How would Khan Sahib take it when he learnt of it?
But with him gone, and her heart having agonised over his unfinished statement for over four hours, Heera didn't think she could take the crushing anxiety for another hour - forget months and years. The only option she had, was to approach those closest to him for answers. 'It's about...'
'Please go on...'
'What is it, bitiya?'
'It's...s about Khan S...ahib' her words were turning into a mess of stutters. So, clearing her throat she resumed from the beginning 'Earlier, Khan Sahib mentioned that there was plenty I do not know about him... what did he mean by that? What is the story of his past? And... and... how did he become so close to the Shehzaade?'
'What!' Ibrahim gradually got off his seat, taking his place beside Chacha jaan - both of them staring at her as if she'd just asked for the impossible.
'Chacha jaan' Heera was dismayed. Their reaction was everything she feared. And more! 'Bhaijaan?'
'Forgive me bhabhijaan... over the past month, I have obeyed each request you've made of me... but THIS request of yours, I cannot oblige...'
'Mirza bhaijaan...' she stood up, joining them both 'I am his wife... is it not my right to know where he was born? Who his parents were? Where the rest of his family live?'
She waited for a response. But received nothing. 'I wish the best for him... which is why I want to learn the truth... I feel he is hurting... and I might be able to help... but I cannot do that unless I'm told the whole story'
'Then you must ask your husband, bhabhijaan... that would be the right thing to do'
By bringing his palm up to his forehead in a Taslim, Ibrahim effectively made it clear, that the discussion had ended from his side. 'Please allow me to take your leave now...'
Then, grabbing Chacha jaan by the elbow, he began making his steady way towards the doorway.
'You are his closest friend. Do you think he'll tell me everything?'
She crossed the distance between them, with a few heavy steps 'Whether it's because he has a painful past he does not want to resurrect. Or maybe it's something else...' she shrugged 'but I have an inkling that Khan Sahib wouldn't open up about this'
Ibrahim listened to it all in silence. He agreed with each word. And yes, he felt immensely moved by her predicament. Being the Ustaad's wife was not easy.
Alas, there was nothing more he could do.
'I serve you because I serve my master, bhabhijaan...' he declared without so much as turning around to face the Lady 'I have given him my word that I wouldn't repeat any of it, to anyone... so forgive me for not wanting to break my promise...'
'But...' her voice cracked like broken glass 'I am not merely anyone... I am his wife... his rightful partner'
A poignant silence followed.
'Khuda Hafiz...' Ibrahim bade her a solemn farewell, before resuming his way towards the exit.
However, two steps on, and Chacha jaan's elbow would not budge.
He spun around 'Chacha jaan? Come on...'
'No Ibrahim... I am not coming...'
'But, why?'
'Because, I haven't yet had the chance to say what I want to say...'
'This is not sensible, Chacha jaan... let's leave'
'Why Ibrahim? What do you want me to be afraid of? That Akbar would learn of this meeting and punish me by sending me away? That he'd come storming in any moment, seeing how he hasn't left Parnagarh yet?'
'Khan Sahib hasn't left Parnagarh? Why?' Heera quirked her brows, quite confused by what she just heard.
She had to admit, she could not bring herself to sit idly in the terrace waiting to hear the sound of Bahadur's hooves disappearing into the horizon. So, when she didn't see him around, she assumed he'd left.
Apparently, he hadn't though. Then where WAS he? In the stables? Holding meetings in the hideout behind it?
'Chacha jaan...' Ibrahim curtly folded his arms across his chest 'It's not fear... but respect and gratitude...'
'Respect and gratitude is all that this lowly kitchen slave has for his master too, Ibrahim! Which is why, I tried everything in my power to get Akbar to choose a bride and settle down with a family - for HIS happiness and peace. I failed. But within ten weeks, SHE's done what none of us could do in ten years' he emphatically pointed to the heiress standing by their side 'so much so, he even went against our Huzoor to keep her safe... it gives me hope... there is someone who can bring my once-happy ten year old master back - HER... and I want to help her help him, by telling her what really happened'
'Lowly kitchen slave? Once-happy ten year old master?'
Her cold palm went up to her chest, her head beginning to spin with questions. From the heated words being exchanged, new facts were coming to light. And before she could try and make sense of one fact, another one had already surfaced. It was all happening too fast for her to comprehend, too fast to be able to react to. 'What are you referring to, Chacha Jaan?'
'Chacha jaan! This is a personal affair, don't you think?' Ibrahim took a cautionary stride towards the old man, his mutters dropping low 'When Akbar is ready, he will tell her himself'
'And WHEN will that be, you think? Not anytime soon, for sure!' The old man wasn't too fussed about speaking in whispers 'Do you not think bitiya deserves to be told she is living under the false impression that her husband has no parents... or family? Do you not think she deserves to know that she actually DOES have a mother-in-law, who's alive and well? Who's living a comfortable life with her own family all by herself?'
'Chacha jaan!'
'WHAT!' Her lips parted - the shock so profound that it pushed a loud gasp through her dry throat.
'No no no no' she swiftly shook her head in a daze. 'I must have misheard'
A mother? Could not be. He had NEVER mentioned her. Not even during the wedding! As though his mother - the woman who'd brought him into this world - was non-existent.
'Impossible!' Not even the most hard-hearted of sons would be able to completely disassociate from a mother - much less someone as noble and principled as Khan Sahib. 'I must have misheard' she told herself for the fifth time. However she couldn't quite explain why her eyes were starting to well up 'I MUST have misheard'
'Ibrahim' Chacha jaan shifted his attention towards the young Sahiba, the father in him reaching out to her 'Do you not think Harka bitiya deserves to be told that it IS a woman who's made Akbar the way he is today - mistrustful... and hard-hearted? That she is responsible for MORE than half the visible scars and ALL of the invisible scars on him?' His crinkled eyes shrank away at the sight of her anguish - and surely enough his own tears came rushing down too, each droplet reflecting a horrific memory of hurt and abuse 'The woman who was supposed to protect him from harm was the one who left him most bruised... so much so that he hasn't lived at the capital all these years because he cannot bear to share the same city... the same soil upon which his mother lives!'
'Wh... wh' her expressions froze from disbelief 'wh... what are y... you...s... saying?'
Coming away from the shadows of Ibrahim's disapproving glares, Chacha jaan haltingly approached the young lady.
'Everything was fine till our Bade Sahib was alive, bitiya... business was flourishing... life was happy... Akbar was his father's beloved child... but once our Bade Sahib passed away, circumstances slowly and steadily spiralled out of control... with none to keep the business running, debts grew... but... but...' he sniffled 'but, the worst thing the little boy did for himself was fall ill...'
'Ill? H... how do you mean?'
'The Badi Sahiba had always harboured resentment against the Choti Sahiba for being the favourite wife... for being the one to give the family a son... and it seems, the Choti Sahiba harboured resentment too... against the life of a widow... and they both took it out on the poor boy in their own ways! His own ammi cruelly abandoned him when he was sick from Masaka fever - knowing he would either die, or live to be abused' a bitter grimace clumped up the wrinkles below his eyes 'He lived - and the Badi Sahiba finished what his own mother didn't - killing the rest of his body and soul, bit by bit... what was worse, society watched and laughed as the boy would be whipped senseless till the dishes were scrubbed clean - only for his cold meals to be served on filthy floors... they blamed HIM for being the son of a mother who ran off with her lover, you see!' Chacha jaan wiped his face into his tunic sleeve 'Unfortunately, I was the lone friendly face who made sure he had at least SOME food to live by, though there were others who were sorry for him...which is why, even as he grew into a powerful man, my son continued eating whatever I cooked... out of gratitude'
Heera was staring into oblivion, unresponsive. She had lost the courage and the voice to ask him to continue. Because being thrown into the world of this 12 year old was far from the kind of journey that she had imagined it would be. It wasn't a sad or a sombre world. It was appalling. Gut-wrenching. A kind of journey she wasn't prepared for. In fact, her psyche wasn't sure how much more of this horror she could take! 'Abandonment... abuse... blame... isolation... they killed every part of his body and soul, bit by bit'
'Bitiya... he would not have survived those conditions much longer... and I couldn't sit by and watch a child being slowly slaughtered... so one week, when he was in a condition to travel, we packed our bags... took whatever I had saved up... and left... we faced many troubles on that lonely journey... but, never looked back... slowly working our way across... carrying out small errands to earn favours... sometimes, stealing leftover bread from roadside vendors so we both could be fed... till we finally reached the capital...' the turbulence in his tone eased off, the scenes playing in front of him as if they'd happened only yesterday. Scenes of him and that boy, finally coming face-to-face with the palace. Memories of them gaping at the grand walls - beyond which there lay hope of a future. 'The land of opportunity, it was called...'
A gentle stir in the room interrupted him and he held back, to observe the Sahiba - worried by her prolonged lack of reaction 'Bitiya, are you alright?'
The young lady turned away, her feet beginning to drag her weight across in search of support. A chaise? A chair? A stool? Anything would do, to support her numb legs. For, however profound the shock, it wouldn't be proper for a baisa to sink to the floor in front of two men, would it? 'No... no... I need... need to take a seat...'
'Bitiya... I didn't mean to upset you so much... but I wanted you know... that he has never had it easy... not in the past 14 years... even at the camp, men laughed when he enrolled to join the army. All men, except one!' Chacha jaan smiled a wistful smile.
'I still remember the first day that child set his sights on the prince in the camp. His fingers were polishing metal, when in walked the Shehzaade - an enigmatic man, beyond all harm and hurt... his small eyes instantly brightened!' he recounted with pride, unaware that his own eyes had brightened like a child's too.
'Everyone would be on their best behaviour when the prince was around... but this boy would be on his best behaviour always... and that didn't go unnoticed. Huzoor took a liking to Akbar, heard his sad story out and the rest was history. He became the father that the boy lost... the brother that he never had... the mentor that he needed... he tutored him... gave him an identity, a home, a purpose, a title and a business - never abandoning him throughout! So I'm sure you understand why Akbar works tirelessly for our Huzoor... dedicatedly serving the man who made him what he was... BUT' he thumped his frail chest 'not once has my son lost his innate goodness during any of it!'
'There...' her knees had knocked against something soft. She briefly faltered around the object that'd come in her path before staggering onto its seat. 'The chaise' Or at least that was where she presumed she was sitting since her limbs had lost most of their sensations - what with the stories having sucked into a vacuum all of her ability to 'feel'.
As it is, her glimpses had become oblivious to the presence of the two men watching her. Now, parts of the old man's voice was fading into noise too, his many truths turning into a distressing drone. Painful truths that kept coming... and coming... and coming... and coming... and coming...
'No... not once did he lose his innate goodness... ask Ibrahim and he'll tell you... Sayyid was a convict... Azeez a pickpocket, falling in bad ways... till Akbar intervened... Ibrahim had an ill wife and no money for treatment... till Akbar supported him... like the orphans he still supports, at Aidabad'
'Unfortunately, not every man is grateful though... you may not know this bitiya, but my Sahib was opposed to Khalil's ways long before he met you ... he despised what Khalil did at Parnagarh... and after he knew you, it began affecting him personally...'
'Never before had he faced such a dilemma in any of his assignments... on one side, his need to keep you protected... and on another side, his loyalty to the Shehzaade... it killed him from within... night after night'
'As the days went by... as you both grew closer... there were many hard facts he had to face - the hardest being that you both had no future together then... so, he stuck to the single truth he was sure of - which is, he wanted you to be safe... which is why as your scrolls were discovered... he did the unimaginable... he committed treason by burning them, and hiding facts from our Huzoor...'
'I'm aware you couldn't forgive him for how it ended at Aidabad, bitiya... but, with the Shehzaade closing-in on the assignment, Akbar was worried that an order might be given to eliminate you... so, steeling his heart, he turned you down - hoping you'd reach the safe abode of your God parents and never be tempted to look back... he even had Sayyid and his men trail your retinue to make sure you travelled safe... believe me, his feelings for you were as earnest as could be when sending you away'
'When the news of your betrothal came, he forced himself to take solace in the fact that a powerful prince would keep you safe... frankly, the news took away most of his spirit... that and the guilt of betraying you... even after handing over the Farmaan, he was making plans to help your people in his own way... of course, it all changed once he learnt of Khalil coming after you...'
'I remember the accounts vividly... a MADMAN was what he turned into... gambled everything that he'd built over a decade... risked his own life and the life of his men - if only it'd keep you safe and alive... for no one else would he have done such a thing'
'Bitiya... a man whose very identity was defined by loyalty, rewrote those principles only so he could give you a future... a man for whom the Shehzaade was the home and family he lost, shook those foundations, only so he could keep you sheltered... so, I'll say no further than this - treasure both, his choices AND his regard for you... they BOTH define who he is!'
Wiping what felt similar to another cold droplet of tear from the dimple of her chin, her arm dropped upon the armrest of her chaise. Her eyes were staring at the yellow aura of one of the many lamps lighting that private chamber. But what she saw was darkness instead. She might have as well been sitting in a cave or a dungeon. Because ever since she'd heard it all, she was doing nothing but trying to find her way back into the light.
'The home and family he lost...' even lifeless whimpers refused to slip out of her mouth anymore 'lost home... lost family... you've lost your home... your family... run baisa run... we beg you...' the room seemed to be getting colder 'save yourself choti baisa... those murderers warned they'd be back for you'
Heera quickly pulled the thin veil over her icy arms tighter 'Ma Bhavani'
Far from finding her way back to the light, she realised she was moving deeper into this dark cave than ever before. Alone. Exposed. Vulnerable. Made her feel like a little girl.
She had to get out. She wanted to get out. For, the haunting nightmares of her ransacked home and her sister's mutilated body were beginning to reappear, gradually closing-in on her.
However, more desperately the little girl struggled to find her way out, the more those ghastly voices trapped her in, as if deadly vines wrapping around her tiny feet. She had no weapon to cut them loose. And screaming for help did not seem to help. So, she wrestled against them as hard as her small body would allow, till she barely made it free. 'Save yourself choti baisa...' A dash for life she made thereafter, running from those demons right behind that were threatening to tear her down. She stumbled many times along the way. She stood up. She ran. She stumbled. She stood up. She ran again. And this cycle continued forever - each stumble bruising her further, rising from each fall getting more exhausting.
'Don't stop!' Jiji's voice shrieked 'The demon is chasing you... run!'
'I am jiji!' With not much hope left within, the lone little girl clung onto her torn veil and pushed on, her bleedings legs limping past stones and slime, unaware of where she was headed. Until fresh tragedy struck and her foot got caught in a sharp rock.
'No...' She clawed against the mossy walls, about to collapse.
Strangely though, she didn't.
For a hand had caught her.
'Wh...' She peeped up, through the hazel eyes of a child.
In the fog of dense black, the silhouette wasn't clear. But she could make out that the hand that'd caught her, belonged to a boy. A bruised boy. Of about 12. 'Who are you?'
'I reside here... I know the way outside... to where the light is... follow me'
And before she could reply, he tugged her on.
She let him lead her anyhow - for anything would be better than being trapped down this hell-hole haunted by evil voices. But their first step together, and her heart was already telling her something - that it'd found what it was searching for. It'd found home! And not long thereafter, they seemed to be walking towards light, the cackles of the demons steadily waning.
'Who are you?' she asked, as soon as she'd found her way out 'And why have you helped me?'
'I have no home and family either... so I understand...' whispered the boy, before he began retreating to where he came from.
'No don't go... I'll be your family...' she immediately held her hand out to stop him from leaving.
But her palm was barren. She could feel him no more, his silhouette having vanished into the cave again. 'No... don't go...'
'Heera... what are you doing?'
'Wh... what?' she blinked her salty lashes, having just been jolted from the staggering vision.
The young lady glanced down at her feet - they weren't bruised, but sitting pretty in that chaise, in her beautiful home. Her fingernails weren't mossy and her clothes were pristine too. But her arm was outstretched, as though it were still searching for the silhouette that'd rescued her.
The most terrible nightmare? The most beautiful epiphany? She knew not what to call it. Whatever it was, it was life-changing.
'What's going on? Are you alright? You've been talking to yourself... I got anxious and came in...'
'Gauri? Wh... where's Chacha jaan... Mirza bhaijaan?'
'They left a while ago... apparently, you'd told them you wanted to be alone?'
'What?' It was the second time Heera found herself jolted within that spell. 'They left? A while ago?'
'Yes' The chief-maid palpated her mistress' forehead worriedly 'You're cold... are you coming down with something? Do you want me to get you a shawl?'
'No... I need to go...'
'Go? Go where?' Gauri held her Lady's pale cheeks warmly 'What happened, Heera? What did Mirza Sahib say? You were fine till an hour ago!'
'I need to meet him...'
'Whom?'
'Khan Sahib...'
'What? But, I assumed he'd already left on business?'
'But he might not have...'
'Heera... you don't sound very well ... can't this wait?'
'No' she shook her head vigorously. This couldn't wait. What if he didn't return for a week? Or, another month? 'NO!' She only had a few words to tell him. But each of those words were as heavy as lead - too heavy to be borne by her heart alone. She HAD to tell it to him now!
Elsewhere... at a desolate marshland near Aidabad
'Ma Bhavani...' he shuddered through the anguish, as he prayed a hundred prayers for the departed souls of his fellow-messengers who'd eventually succumbed to their injuries in captive. 'Ma Bhavani... help... help us!' The muscles in his legs were throbbing from pain, the bleeding on the side of his waist had barely stopped and his limbs were exhausted from four months of near starvation. He did not have the money or the time to find himself a Vaid, which meant he would eventually succumb to his wounds. Nor did he possess the strength to carry out menial labour tasks and earn a daily wage that would sustain his body till the dark forces of death came knocking at his door. So, a respectable man like himself would most probably have to beg for a few meals hereafter. 'Maaa'
Lying at the bottom of a pile of wet farm waste in the biting cold, on this ominous night, stranded in a desolate marshland, this young man was at the lowest point in his life.
Yet, worse than those hardships, was the knowledge that his dear land, Parnagarh, was being governed by a Muslim Mansabdar now - his revered baisa tortured into becoming a glorified slave in her own home. The conniving Akbar Khan who'd pretended to shelter them during their halt at Aidabad had ruined them all.
'KHAN SAHIB!' a desperate cry for revenge rattled the deepest pits of his nether 'you might have taken everything away from us... from me... but my integrity is still mine! Till my last dying breath, I shall do what I was assigned to - deliver the message meant for the Kunwarsa of Manswar from our Harka Baisa.
While the Kunwar was still mourning over Durga baisa's demise, you maligned our choti baisa's name and took her away by force... burning her messages - her pleas for justice... only so you could have Parnagarh all for yourself... I'll let the Kunwarsa know of how deceitful a man you are... of your ties to the Shehzaade...of EVERYTHING!'
But, how was he going to make it all the way across to the other end of the Empire, and reach Manswar, in this state?
'Ma Bhavani!' his bones shivered. SHE would help him, wouldn't she? After all, it was nothing short of a miracle that he'd managed to escape from a safe-house that was guarded heavier than a fortress. In fact, it was a miracle that he'd even survived the four months in captive. It was as if she was watching over him, from above. As if he was meant to fulfil HER will. So, the Goddess wouldn't abandon him hereafter, would she?
'No... no... she wouldn't...' his cold eyes gradually lit up through the layers of grime slathered upon it. 'What if... what if... I... I... I met a kind Hindu family nearby?'
Surely there'd be someone in the next village or two, who would empathise with his plight. A Good Samaritan maybe, who might clothe him and feed him out of compassion. They could also help him find a ride - for some of the way - if nothing else, in exchange for a reward from the Kunwar. And thus help him play the rest of his role in their fight against the tyrannical Mughals. 'Yes... yes... yes... that could happ... w... wh...' The messenger abruptly stopped.
His thoughts, the rattle of his teeth and even the murmur of his shallow breaths stopped - everything dragged to a deathly quiet. His ears had picked up odd noises in the distance. The kind of noises that made his blue skin crawl, from utter dread. 'No!' It was the sounds of hooves. And the voices of his captors. They'd made it all the way out here, tracing his tracks hadn't they? 'Oh Ma... PLEASE... help me... please help me stay hidden'
'ANY footprints around here?'
'No Sahib...'
'Tracks of any kind?'
'No Sahib... we have been searching high and low... but no luck so far...'
'It's much too dark and the rain has washed away the soil'
An eerie spell of emptiness took over.
Till a violent outcry broke the spell. 'I ORDERED you men to keep watch over him ALWAYS, didn't I?
'But... we did...'
'Then, HOW did he get out? In all my years as keeper of the safe-house, this has NEVER happened'
'We're still trying to figure it out'
'What should we do if we don't find him soon, Sahib?'
'Should we inform Khan Sahib? That the messenger has escaped?'
'NO' the keeper of the safe-house immediately roared back. However, the brunt of his roar couldn't mask the tremble at the bottom of his throat entirely. 'Not yet, I meant. He's only been missing a few hours... we'll track him down... if we have no success till tomorrow... I'll head off to Parnagarh myself, to inform Khan Sahib...'
The horse broke out into a whinny, from its whip being cracked hard 'Now let's not waste time... that scoundrel couldn't have gone far! So, let's KEEP HUNTING!'
The Stables
The hideout
'Mystical...' he rubbed his arms, casting a drowsy glimpse through the small high window, at the beauty gazing back at him. There WAS something mystical about the qualities of the night. Unpredictable, she was. Similar to the whims of a woman. With black streaks for kohl-lined eyes, rustling clouds for tresses and stars for jewels, she could lure the toughest men into her arms for a night of snug peace and slumber. Or keep them awake if she chose, with her bitter frostiness.
And she seemed to be in quite the frosty mood tonight.
'I should've worn an overcoat...' he waved his hand over the small flame of the lamp - its orange glow a welcome distraction from the harsh cold.
'Should've worn an overcoat Azeez... if the cold is getting to your old bones...'
'Old bones?'
The young chap threw his shoulders back, hastily falling into a nonchalant pose more befitting of a 17 year old 'Cold? Not at all Khan Sahib...'
'Alright' shrugged Akbar, while continuing to seal his scroll 'If you say so...'
Watching his master repress a sly smirk, Azeez kept his hand as far from the lamp as he could 'Oh yes... I AM fine'
However, not long thereafter, when stifling a half-yawn, he realised he was chafing his palms against his thighs again, to generate some heat.
Not feeling so fine, was he?
'Well, I returned from the capital this morning...' Azeez guffawed at the voices in his head 'and I have been busy running errands all day...' he paused, hurling a wary glimpse at the man sitting behind that makeshift desk.
Then, how was it that the Sahib could keep going?
He had also returned only this morning.
Yet after a busy day, he'd been holed up in this dingy secret room behind the stables for the past couple of hours, with no complaints whatsoever - tending to scrolls from the Huzoor that needed his urgent attention. Perusing through each of its contents - not once, but twice.
All this, so he could leave tonight to chase up on another lead!
Azeez admired the man for being so thorough. And he was aware the Sahib never cared much for his own comforts. Even so, he was pushing himself hard this time - the fact that he had to press his tired eyelids between every scroll, a dead giveaway.
'Khan Sahib...' he came off the wall he'd been leaning against 'Sayyid could have gone to meet the informer... and someone else could've been sent to the safe house... to deal with problems there... you could've stayed back at Parnagarh and rested'
Akbar smiled, as he stood tall from his chair, his work there done.
So, the young chap was fussing over him now, was he? 'Well... Sayyid's already left with the Sahiba's letter for the messengers... so no point discussing it... besides, THAT young man's size alone is capable of accomplishing what most others wouldn't be able to!'
'That's true...' Azeez chortled. 'But you could've rested... left in the morning... the informer is not going to leave till he meets you...'
'And risk our enemies getting to him first?' exhaled Akbar 'Like what happened to Chota Faizan?'
The young chap slowly nodded, the chortles dwindling down to a frown. 'Anyhow... are you sure you don't want me coming with you? I could accompany you...'
A low grunt slipped out of his mouth as Akbar brought his affairs to a pause.
This was delicate. Azeez couldn't come along - and for reasons they BOTH knew.
A moment later he glanced up, the worry lines shifting into something less grave 'You're half asleep Shah Sahib... in no condition to travel tonight' out of the blue, he flung at the youngster a scroll to catch 'come on... get those lazy limbs working first... and we'll think about it next time'
'Oh...' With a wry smile, Azeez stretched his arms out - making it just in time. So, the master was sparing his feelings now, was he? Resorting to games to distract him from the case? Like a typical older brother would? 'Caught it Khan Sahib'
'And another...'
'Got this one too...'
'And another...'
The chap had to dunk down sideways, grazing his shoulder against a pole, before seizing the third scroll. But the young athlete managed it. And managed it in style. 'You forget how you found me, Khan Sahib? And WHY you took me in, in the first place?'
'Forget?' How could Akbar forget his first brush-in with the infamous-duo that fated evening? Faizan had tactfully swiped a purse of coins from a nobleman and thrown it halfway across the bazaar - only for Azeez to catch the purse with closed eyes, while still munching on a Naan-e-tanuri! A mute spectator to it all, 'impressed' would be a mild word to describe Ustaad's first reactions to the duo's masterful schemes!
'No... I haven't forgotten it' the Sahib and student exchanged a twisted smirk. 'Regardless... the letters in your hand need to be sent out, Azeez... and the rest of this pile needs to be destroyed'
'As you say...'
'Talking of masterful schemes...' he tapped the boy's shoulder with the end of a scroll 'where's the message - the classified one, referring to the minister... it was to be destroyed... but, I don't see it here...'
Azeez quickly dropped the jest, his gait stiffening up. 'I... I did not bring it here since... I... assumed... you were...'
'What?'
The next instant it became obvious there'd been a miscommunication. 'I... I shall fetch it for you rightaway, Khan Sahib!'
'No... I was leaving for my chamber anyway... and planning to head off from there... so let's get going!'
Azeez hurriedly stuffed the scrolls into two separate bags, while Akbar hastened out with his belongings. The door to the hideout was then locked, and its presence furtively disguised by tall piles of straw. Before long, the men had mounted their steeds, well on their way to the Haveli.
'Do not fret Khan Sahib...' Azeez was nearly jogging up the marble stairs, trying to keep up with his Sahib's two-at-a-time stride. 'Mustafa and two others are standing guard...'
'Still...' Akbar rushed through the corridors, nodding lightly at groups of chirpy maids passing him by. His whispers to Azeez though, continued to be grim as ever 'It IS oversight... it shouldn't have been left there'
'Khan Sahib...' the guards outside his chamber welcomed him with a salute 'Salaam...'
'Salaam...'
'Salaam...'
'Salaam salaam' he rushed straight into the waiting area to make his way to the bedchamber 'All's well, Mustafa?
'All's well Khan Sahib...'
'Except...'
'For one small issue...'
'One small issue?' Akbar stopped.
And then backtracked, so he could look at his guards face-to-face, as they explained this 'small' issue. 'Go on...'
'Harka Sahiba...'
'She's waiting for you...'
'In your private chamber...'
'What?'
'She would not heed our words... went so far as to challenge us...'
'How could we detain the Sahiba? In her own home?'
'It would raise the wrong kind of attention, would it not Khan Sahib?'
The Mansabdar's chamber
The footsteps. The voice. 'He's here...' her eyes immediately misted over. Her dam of composure was on the verge of being breached, a deluge of emotions threatening to flood to the surface. If merely hearing his voice had this effect on her now, how was she meant to face him? Talk to him? Confess the truth?
'No... Ma Bhavani... help me do what must be done...'
Letting it all recede down to her chest, the young lady put on a brave front as she stood up to greet him.
However an unexpected pang in her elbow immediately threw her off balance. 'Ouch' massaging the painful spot, she peeked down. 'The desk!'
In her fervency to greet him, she'd forgotten where she was seated and ended up knocking an edge of the table hard. 'The inkwell!' the white of her eyes suddenly widened - much to her horror, its quill had toppled over. And there was an open scroll beside it - its seal indicating that it came right from the Shehzaade. Had ink splattered on its contents? 'Oh God... no!'
With her vision limiting what she could observe from the corner of her eye, Heera hastily went around the desk to evaluate the damage 'Let there be nothing... let there be... nothing...' Gathering the scroll up, she gave it a quick look, from top to bottom 'Oh yes...' It was clean - possibly since the quill was dry 'Oh thank you, Ma! Thank you... thank you' She replaced the quill in its holder.
'Begum Sahiba!'
The skin on his left jaw twitched from a wary confusion.
Parts of the fresh line of kohl outlining her lower lashes, had smudged. And her lips were redder than they would be, if they'd been adorned by red tint. The Sahiba had evidently wept. But, why? And why had she overridden his guard's orders second night in a row - only to be caught stealing a peak of his classified scroll this time around?
'Sahiba...' His confusion slowly morphed into a rising displeasure 'what are you doing?'
'Khan Sahib...' Her glances hazed over, brimming with affection. After what felt like an eternity, she'd gotten to behold him. It was the same Khan Sahib she'd known for months. But beholding him in a new light now meant his persona was stronger, nobler and wiser to her gazes than before. And yet as she peeled off those flawless layers of his persona, to read his heart as only a wife could, she saw how vulnerable, withdrawn and hurting her saviour still was. The man had pulled her out of the jaws of that black cave, away from its evil shadows, keeping her in warmth and light - while he was still trapped within its cold walls, languishing in its darkness all alone. He had guarded her from the gates of hell every step of the way, while his own body had been bled, his memories bartered, and his soul betrayed by the many demons in his fate.
She wanted to run over, and wrap her arms around him, to let him know that she would try to heal every wound till the scars of betrayal totally faded away. To promise him that she would paint fresh moments in the bleak canvas of his mind, till those grey memories disappeared altogether. But he'd stopped ten steps away. And crossing each of those last ten steps towards him, seemed tougher than crossing miles.
Nevertheless, however arduous the journey, the first step had to be taken - and in the right direction. So, she tried. 'Thank God... you're still here...' she cleared her throat 'I feared you might've left... I... I have been waiting for you... there's something... important... I want to talk to you about... b...' All of a sudden, realising that they weren't alone, she cast a fleeting glimpse at Azeez, while her unwitting fingers put the scroll down on his desk.
'By the way, Khan Sahib... as discussed earlier, I'd written the letter, meant for the messengers... and sent it to you...'
'I know'
'You read it?'
'I did... and it's on its way'
'Is it alright?'
'Possibly' It was obvious, he wasn't thinking about her letter just then.
A peculiar silence loomed - a silence that grew increasingly overpowering by the beat.
Till Azeez decided to diffuse it. 'Khan Sahib, shall I put that scroll away?'
'Azeez' Akbar motioned his right hand towards the exit in a deft low sweep and clicked his fingers - his glares stubbornly cemented upon her features as he did so. 'Please leave us alone...'
'As you say, Khan Sahib...'
As the silence crept back, Akbar didn't really hear the subsequent echoes of receding footfalls, or of the screen being drawn thereafter - for his own thoughts were louder than them all.
'I have been waiting for you' she'd claimed. But, why specifically by his desk? And if she was indeed waiting, why peek into his confidential letters while doing so? When he'd explicitly asked her not to, explaining the dangers it entailed? That too, when she'd promised him she wouldn't?
'Darn!' The muscles of his chest clenched into an unpleasant rigour - he simply couldn't help but feel disappointed that her actions didn't match her words. 'Darn... darn... darn...'
What was worse - the first ensuing reminder that came to his mind wasn't very reassuring. He did try hard to shut those concerns away. He did hate the fact that he wasn't able to do so right away. But the mind was a strange animal. And even as he knew it was foolish, even as he knew he was jumping to conclusions, his thoughts wandered towards her strand of hair that he'd found this morning -
Had she only stopped by his room last night, to lay on his pillow? Or did she have other, not-so-romantic reasons too? Watching his chamber, through the binoculars - was that plain mischief or were there other underlying intentions? After all, her offhand remark about the 'Ustaad' serving an 'undeserving master' showed she didn't trust him fully yet. Could that be why she was still tempted to snoop on his work each chance she got? 'Damn!'
Then again, he couldn't blame her for not trusting him wholly, could he? It was HER right to decide whether the joy that his sacrifices brought, would erase the pain that his betrayal had caused.
Nevertheless, putting aside those dilemmas, he decided to focus on the matter at hand the scroll. 'Begum Sahiba...'
'Yes, Khan Sahib?'
It seemed she needn't have worried about crossing the miles, for he took a good few strides towards her himself. Only, there was nothing charming about the manner in which he closed in on her this time. Come to think of it, there was none of the usual charm in his responses ever since he'd stepped in. Why?
Heera watched his haunting stare - haunting her in a way that made her insides shudder rather than flutter 'I... I don't understand... w... what's happened...' but before she could complete the question, she got her answer when he went on to move the scroll away from her hand.
'Oh Lord!' It abruptly snapped her out of the daze - her attention wavering between the letter on the table and the displeasure on his features. So wrapped up had she been in this avalanche of sentiments that she'd failed to notice anything beyond it. 'What was I thinking?' He had no idea why she was here, what she was going through. And the scene that he'd just come across had given him the unpleasant impression that she'd been sneaky, reading his classified message, wasn't he?
'Oh Lord... no... Khan Sahib'
'Begum Sahiba' His tone was sharp enough to cut through the thin wall of air between them 'Do you think it gives me great pleasure in keeping secrets from you?'
'No... no... that's not how I...'
'Those guards outside... do you think I have them stationed, because I want to flaunt my power over you?'
'No... you mistake me...'
'Then WHY did you challenge their authority and walk in when you KNEW I'm not around... you could have sent a message for me and I would have come to you... do you think this is a game too - defying my orders and reading my classified scrolls? These scrolls...' he banged on the table - the jounce of the inkwell drowning her gasp 'do you have any idea how dangerous the contents of this scroll are? Dangerous enough to be a THREAT to your life!'
Akbar loomed near her, dropping his pitch to a murmur gruffer than coarse rubble 'The letters that come to me talk of evil plots by people as high as ministers... there are references made to the Shehzaade... some even to the Shehenshah... these letters are not meant for anyone but the eyes of an intelligence officer... in fact' he hissed, exasperated that he had to repeatedly spell facts out to a lady as intelligent as herself 'I'm obliged to silence anyone who chances upon my classified scrolls... don't you understand...'
'But I DO understand...' her tone rose - not as loud as his, but loud enough to be heard 'I do... which is why I have not read a single word of this message...' she gently shook her head 'as I heard your footfall and stood up to greet you, my elbow hit the corner of the table... and this inkwell nearly toppled over... so I picked up the scroll to move it aside... and THAT is how you saw me when you came in... you've explained earlier, Khan Sahib. Do you think I would disregard your orders again?'
Akbar didn't back off at once, his brows bridging in confusion. That was it? An explanation as simple as that? Her gazes appeared to have nothing but honesty in them. And pride, of course. But then, why was he getting the vague inkling that she was hiding something from him? 'Why did you defy my guards?'
'Because I wanted to be certain I get a chance to meet you... urgently!'
The young man's expressions were still as statue. But the next moment, his fingers did something she did not quite expect. Reaching for the scroll that was meant to have been destroyed, he held the piece of parchment over a burning lamp.
Heera observed the fiery corners of the scroll its - edges changing shape with every passing flash, before reverting to his face.
'You are not convinced, are you Khan Sahib?' The flames of the blazing scroll were not half as heated as the exchange between their eyes just then. 'I do apologise for opposing your guards and walking in when you were not around... but that was because it was the only way I could be sure I wouldn't miss you before you left... but...' she let a sleek layer of authority slip into her tone 'I am not going to own up or apologise for a mistake I have not committed'
Their parley unbroken, he let the flames grow. Till they steadily reached the tip of his fingers. And half-an-instant before it got too hot to bear, he dropped the smouldering ash into a pot of water under the desk.
With half-a-nod and an adab, Akbar then withdrew - his first step backwards passive, after which he made a swift turnaround and paced away from her presence.
Approaching the table at the far end of the room, he subjected the riding artefacts upon it to a long hard look. 'Anyway, I have to leave now' he slung the bag across his shoulder 'I've already been considerably delayed...'
Picking up the dagger belt, he fastened it around his waist, tucking his riding whip in right away. However, when it came to the gloves, his hands lingered above them haltingly. 'The matter that you wanted to talk about... we'll discuss it when I return... I shouldn't be gone more than a week anyway' he shrugged, forcing his palm into a glove. Having said what he had to, he pulled the wrist-strap on his gloves tightly - tighter than he did most times. 'Shab-ba-Khair'
Yes, his manner WAS curt, but he wasn't being cruel when refusing to sit down and listen to what she had to say. If anything, he was trying to be empathetic.
The matter she wanted to speak about was not a life and death issue or she would have said it straightaway and he would have stood and listened. Rather, from the dried trail of tears at the corner of her left eye and from the fervour marking her attitude - it was obvious the matter at hand was highly emotional. And it didn't take him long after their brief heated exchange, to figure out that it was most probably about HIM - his past - since that was where they'd left the previous conversation hanging.
If so, Akbar was truly not in the right state of mind to rehash all of that - that too, with one foot nearly out of the door.
Because yes, he WAS getting late. Yes, he WAS somewhat preoccupied by the Chota Faizan case. And yes, he WAS still attempting to clear his head from those restless doubts within. Why had he reacted impulsively when he saw her with a scroll in her hand? Why was he guarded against giving her the benefit of doubt too quickly? Why couldn't he be his usual objective self? He was worried, wasn't he? That one reckless act by her might jeopardise everything he'd worked for - a safe future?
Anyhow, in his bid to be protective, he was aware that his firm interrogation must have hurt her sentiments. And he didn't want to her sentiments hurt again. Because he knew that with so many issues already weighing on him heavily, he could not and would not be patient or sensitive enough to deal with her dilemmas.
'Rest well, Sahiba... take care of yourself'
'Are you really not going to hear me out, Khan Sahib?'
The young man paused what he was doing. 'I will... on my return... I promise'
He looked over his shoulder once, his eyes holding her gazes, a prisoner.
The moment. It reminded her of the first time she'd been imprisoned by those deep-set eyes - their pupils harbouring many-a-stormy emotion on that dark night.
This night was no different. Only she now KNEW what each of those emotions were. Anger. Agitation. Agony. Anguish. Pathos. Caution. Concern. Longing. And somehow, she found herself ravaged by the same storms, alongside him.
Heera took a few quick deep breaths while waiting for him to turn around. To face her. But he didn't. Instead, the man paced for his bedstead to pick up his dagger, his attention straight ahead - as if he didn't want her observing him.
'You continue to be concerned about what just happened between us, aren't you Khan Sahib? But don't you see that I now understand? I understand that you are so guarded... so protective because you always have everyone's best interests at heart. Particularly, mine!'
She closed her eyelids, trying to quieten some of the upheaval within 'Khan Sahib...'
An uneasy lull followed.
'Hmmm...'
His tone was sober. Sober and quiet. Possibly compensating for the tone of his interrogation earlier.
'Oh Khan Sahib...why? Why so cautious around your wife? She is not so delicate, your Heera... she yearns to understand you... be your partner in all ways!' sighed the young lady 'You've endured sleepless nights aplenty ever since you've met her... endured heartache and let her go... endured displeasure from your mentor to protect her home... ensured several hardships to save her honour... endured hatred while securing her future... and yet you're worried about hurting HER sentiments?'
With renewed resolve, she adjusted the veil on her head and the strength in her voice 'Khan Sahib... what I have to say wouldn't take much of your time...'
'No... not now Sahiba... please...'
Alas, she heard nothing more from him thereafter, apart from a soft snap. It was the sound of him yanking at the strap of his right glove. Again! 'Why, my Sahib? What are you agitated about? The case? Or... is it something else?'
Leaving behind the bounds of the study desk, her feet drifted in his direction, one small stride at a time. She stared at his persona from behind, noting how the riding shawl sat listlessly between his palms for a few instants, before it was thrown around his neck and face - possibly as he noticed her approaching him.
'What's pushing you so deep into thought? The issue I want to bring up?' A sad smirk offset the melancholy in her expressions 'You've guessed it, haven't you? And don't want to talk about it today. Is that why you aren't ready to listen to what I have to say? Why? I am your wife, your confidante... why postpone the inevitable?'
Then again, this was a man whose feelings were destroyed as a child, and its shattered remnants locked away forever thereon. All of a sudden, exposing those broken parts of his life to a lady he'd sworn to protect, could not be easy on any man's pride - let alone the exalted Ustaad!
If she wanted to make him feel whole, meeting him only halfway wouldn't be sufficient here - she might have to cross and conquer this unfamiliar trek, the whole ten long steps, by herself.
Swallowing down that growing lump of anxiety, Heera paced towards him, as he crossed the edge of the bed, and past where she stood. 'Khan Sahib...'
Akbar stopped.
Not because he noticed her silhouette drawing nearer, from the corner. Nor because he'd heard her call out to him. In fact, the whole time he HAD heard her calling out - he'd heard her words, and he'd definitely heard her prolonged silence too. But he managed to curb his raging emotions and handle the situation pragmatically, getting on with his routine as always.
Till now.
Because, this instance, it was a pair of soft hands that'd forced him to stop in his tracks.
The young man glanced down his shoulder, at the palms wrapped firmly around his elbow. A moment later, his glances rose slowly upwards, to observe his captor. However, he stopped abruptly short of her face. It would be unwise to meet eyes with her, he realised. For, it'd get infinitely tougher tearing away from the sight of that angelic face - tougher than even tearing away from the clutches of her hands.
So, his glances returned to the palms that continued to hold his elbow. The image suddenly reminded him of something else - of what'd happened earlier that day. A few hours ago, she'd held his palm and got him to change his mind about the fate of her messengers. Was that what the Sahiba was trying to do? Trying to get him to change his mind? About leaving?
'Please...' her voice was shaky, but the syllables were clear enough 'Ustad Akbar Mahmoud Khan Sahib... your Begum Sahiba wants to confess that she's grateful for everything you've done for her... grateful with all her heart...'
The air fell still. So still that for a spell he could sense nothing but the symphony of their ragged breaths. His body was screaming with a desire to spin around and face her right away, but the man within was still busy trying to come to terms with what he'd just heard.
'Ustad Akbar Mahmoud Khan Sahib...' It was what he'd been yearning for her lips to utter so far. Yet when she addressed him as such, silence was all he seemed to be able to offer in return then - what with his head already battling a hundred thoughts, his pulse already running a thousand races.
'Your Begum Sahiba is grateful with all her heart' It was the most beautiful gift he'd received from her so far. An admission of her gratitude - a gift he would treasure forever.
Yet, if he had to be honest with himself, he realised something strange as soon as he received it - THAT admission wasn't the actual gift his heart needed. Because it was a gift he already had. He was aware that he possessed his Sahiba's heartfelt gratitude, like he was aware of the blood warming his veins. It was something else that his heart craved for. A gift that he couldn't bring himself to ask aloud, because she had to gift it to him of her own accord.
'Thank you, Begum Sahiba...'
'Khan Sahib...'
No, she wasn't done yet.
'Your Begum Sahiba now understands... she understands the reasons behind your choices in life... and she understands that those choices have been admirably made... she understands how important a pledge is to you... and while she might not be entirely in agreement with all that the Shehzaade does, she understands why he is the master so deserving of your loyalty'
The air descended into stillness once more. But he couldn't even sense the ragged breaths this time. It was the dull spasm around his ribs that snapped him into realising he'd briefly forgotten to breathe. 'The reasons behind your choices in life... important pledge... the Shehzaade... a master deserving of your loyalty ...'
So, he WAS right. She HAD come to learn of his past. Or at least parts of it. But, how? And why? It was his past, HIS dark secret to tell. It shouldn't have been shared behind his back. 'Your Begum Sahiba now understands... understands that those choices have been admirably made...' And having learnt of his story, she was now expressing her unreserved acceptance of him - the actual gift his heart craved for.
But while she was eager to lighten her heart tonight, his soul wasn't prepared for an encounter so profound, out of the blue. And despite his wishes, by unleashing her feelings upon him, by trying to help heal, she was pulling out the daggers from his body, one after another. Only, those daggers had been embedded in his flesh for far too long - so long that they'd become a part of him. Pulling them out, meant the pain was excruciating.
How was he meant to deal with this pain, when he was supposed to be stepping out on a mission? Why was she doing this to him now? Why couldn't she wait for a better hour? How was he meant to even find the words to respond?
Suddenly, he felt her grip around his elbow loosen. The Sahiba had let him go, as though she'd sensed the extent of turbulence within him.
The effects of the daze carried his feet for a short distance forward, to the entranceway. If nothing else, at least to release him from the force of her hold, so he could try to think straight.
'Khan Sahib...' her voice was beginning to cave in, but she pushed the words out, through subdued tears 'what MORE do you want to hear?'
'No More! Enough!' That's what he wanted to say as he clutched the velvet screen, beyond which lay another life summoning him - a life of duty and discipline. His quivering fingers soon turned white from a molten fury. But for some reason the 'Enough' wouldn't escape his arid throat.
'You want to hear MORE? That she trusts you? Yes, your Begum Sahiba now appreciates that the Ustaad has always wanted the best for her... whether it was by burning her scrolls... by sending her away from Aidabad... by bargaining her home... or by forcing her into a marriage she thought she didn't want... You want to hear MORE? She trusts you now... and will do so forever! You want to hear MORE? Yes, your Heera loves you like no other!'
The precious chain of confessions snapped under the strain, breaking down into droplets of tears 'I did not intend to upset you or delay you, Khan Sahib... I could have said all this on another day... but with both of us leading lives where we don't know what tomorrow holds, I did not want to leave these unsaid as you depart on another mission'
Her pitch dwindled down, and so did the depth of her conviction - as if she couldn't bear to stare at his back anymore and would rather stare at an inanimate floor as she spoke. 'I understand you may need time to come to terms with all this... I will wait patiently for that day to come. Shubh Ratri!'
'Your Begum Sahiba trusts the Ustaad now... and will do so forever'
His senses had turned numb to the world outside, but his pulse was still throbbing with a fiery frenzy. Why? Who did he want to punish? Who was he really angry with, for this excruciating pain from the blades coming off?
Not the Sahiba, really. So, himself? People from his past? Or the sands of time, for showing no mercy?
'Both of us leading lives... where we don't know what tomorrow holds'
His glares shifted through the slit of his neck scarf to the sand-timer that sat upon a distant table.
Time slowed down.
Till he could count each speck of sand-grain slip through.
Grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain... after... grain.
'That IS enough!'
The curtain folds were released from his clenches.
Akbar Spun around, staring at the sight of those lowered lashes flickering against her moist cheeks. The neck scarf was forcefully tugged down his face. The soft slow crunch of a right boot interrupted the silence. And then a left boot. The right boot crunched again. And so did the left. Till the boot strides gradually grew in spirit and pace. The shoulder bag was limply dropped upon the floor. The strap of the right glove snapped open. Followed, by the left one - both gloves flung aside to a random corner. The dagger belt came undone, its sharp contents thumped on a table somewhere.
Two final strides and his sinewy frame had crossed the foot of the bed, facing her.
'Khan... Sahib?' She watched on, her wide eyes making no effort to hide the questions behind them.
In response, he pulled her passionately close and clasped her within his arms in a firm hug. Then, he fastened her palm to the top of his chest unabashed, since she was the only one who could tend to its unstoppable beats.
Words failing her, she quietly obliged, not certain what to expect.
Propping her cheeks up within the thick of his palms so he could gaze directly at her, he let the tips of his fingers trace their mark along the soft lines beneath her ears, and through her dense tresses till they found their resting spot on the velvety arch at the back of her neck.
'Heera... my love...' Without any further warning, he plunged low, like a drowning man gasping for air, allowing his lips their lifeline by claiming hers. They were his. His to cherish. His to enjoy. And his to spoil with love.
'Khan Sa...' The moment she felt their lips touch, her eyes shut. Her startled fingers frantically clung at his back, creasing his overcoat with permanent folds. While she knew to expect the unexpected with him, the aura around them had indeed changed shades quite drastically. Fortunately for her, being housed in the arms she was meant to be in, also worked as a miraculous remedy for those nerves. Her nervousness soon ebbed into relief. And relief into bliss. Only for that blissful ebb to return with a wave of soft tremors that grew and grew, keeping pace with his growing thirst. Till her insides were swept by its thrills, thrown into a vortex of unfamiliar sensations.
Her lips parted in submission, letting him take the lead.
And he did.
It wasn't the first time. Yet and still it was more potent. Infinitely more so. He did try to ease into the affair at first for her sake, brushing delicately against the rounded edges of her lips, delicately locking his lips with hers. But that resolution didn't last beyond a few beats. For, it seems the angry fury in him had morphed into a fury of another kind. Soon, he found his fingers digging into her soft skin with the possessiveness of a husband, his lips plunging deeper into hers with the ardency of a lover. And when that wouldn't do, when even that wasn't close enough, he dropped his hands from her neck down to her waist, nudging her up by a bit, so she could rest her feet upon his boot.
Tasting the sweet flavour of her lips mixed with salt from her tears and the spice of her fragrance, was already driving him wild. Sensing her body wilfully melting in his clasp while doing so, drove him wilder.
And it was then, at that instant, that Heera had a true inkling of how far her husband had been keeping his desires lidded. It sent a tingle bolting through, knowing she had SUCH an effect on him. Knowing she was the ONLY one who had such effect on him. My, how new these feelings were. The feeling of submitting to the strong pair of arms of her man, with the compelling rhythm of his beats coming under her palm. The feeling of his gruff jawline brushing against the smooth dimple of her chin, while his fingers entrapped the soft sides of her neck. The feeling of his short feverish breaths adding fresh layers of scarlet to her cheeks, his heady fragrance mingling with hers. The feeling of having crossed over to the other side wholly, no remnants of walls keeping them apart. The feeling of becoming one, with no doubts, no questions tainting the union. It was a blissful feeling that could not be described.
'Akbar...' Ibrahim's voice echoed from the other side of the screen 'Bahadur is ready... the bags and water-flasks have been loaded... when will you be leaving?'
Please join me in about 20 days time to find out what fate has in store for our young leads!
A humble request to my readers - if you read the story, please leave me a line, or a small shout 'like', to let me know... since there can be nothing as encouraging to an author as the support/encouragement she gets from her readers :)
Edited by lashy - 6 years ago
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