A wanderer Episode 17

 

"It's wrong... wrong... wrong..." Morgan was driving. His mind kept telling him: "Beg Sahib, you are making a mistake... don’t go... it’s Miraj’s... I’m telling you again."

"Mister Brain! You're saying strange things... she's had her operation... Morgan should definitely go. In sickness, medicine doesn’t work like a glance does. Maham's one glance will act as a balm. Mahem will recover quickly." The heart called out Mahem’s name with utmost reverence as it presented its arguments.

As the heart and mind debated, the journey from Model Town to Miraj came to an end. Maham parked the car next to his factory and entered the mosque with his eyes lowered. After the prayers and group supplication, he raised his hands again for Mahem’s recovery.

"O Allah! Grant Mahem the health that leaves no room for disease." Maham prayed briefly while Hakeem Sahib watched him. Maham wiped his face with his hand and got up to leave.

Upon reaching the mosque steps, he looked up. She was standing at the window, like

the light of a full moon. Just as the light of the full moon peeks through a window, she was peering out.

Her face was as white as the moon, clear and bright. Dark circles under her eyes seemed as if the moon had faint specks on it. There was a smile on her lips like flower petals.

Maham glanced at all of this and then lowered his gaze, walking straight to his car. Today he wanted to go back and see that beautiful face again.

The heart's desire was against his principles. He started the car and set off for home.

That same afternoon, Chaudhry Shamshad and Shahida arrived at Mahem’s house to inquire about her health; they had set a date five weeks later. Shahida wasn’t particularly happy about Shamoon’s marriage to Mahem. Such a major decision in Mahem’s life had been made without her consent. While her life belonged to Maham, the decision to live it was made with Shamoon.

Maybe this is life.

"Shouki will enjoy life forever... if you facilitate this marriage..." Mehr Saeed patted Shouki on the back as he left.

"Mehr ji! Why are you pushing so hard for this match?" Mehr Saeed's wife asked after Shouki had gone.

"It’s a big deal. Think like a chaudhrain. My father has already given away six plots in Simbal’s name. I had sent her to Mian Channu for this reason. We will have a good time on her land. She has now also brought a tract back. Now tell me if I marry outside, those six plots will be gone. Chaudhry Shamshad’s land is adjacent to ours. I will tell Shamoon that the land adjoining yours is yours, and the land adjoining mine is also yours, but let me cultivate it.” Mehr Saeed was addressing his wife, and he was Simbal’s half-brother.

Their father was afraid that after his death, his son wouldn't give anything to his daughter. That’s why he had recorded her share in Simbal’s name during his lifetime.

"I will marry only Simbal… Mama, you promised me. You would support me. Now you have also gone along with Father to set a date," Shamoon was turning red with anger towards his mother, Shahida.

"What could I do? You know how your father is; does he listen to anyone?" Shahida spoke innocently, referring to her powerlessness.

"Mama! I have already promised to marry Simbal."

"Shamoon, understand me... First, marry with your father’s consent, then you can do it your way."

"Simbal says she will marry me only after you break off that engagement. She won’t agree to an engagement… so how will she agree to a stepwife? Mama, you have put my life in trouble." Shamoon said this and left the house. Shahida sat for a while, covering her face with her hand, then spoke:

"Tell me…! Is his life also a trouble?"

"Life requires struggle, and death stands before you without effort." Mahem replied to Ishal. Ishal had come to take care of her.

"So you mean to say, life is on the other side of this window, and death is right in front of us?" Ishal said, looking towards the window.

"No... my life stands at the bottom of the mosque stairs. It gives me hope for living and disappears for twenty-four hours. I spend the next twenty-four hours waiting for that moment." Mahem was sharing her heart while looking at the wall clock."Ishal…!I will find my life standing at the mosque stairs eight hours later. Then it

will provide me oxygen for the next twenty-four hours and leave." Mahem took a deep breath while lying on her bed. Ishal sat across from her on a chair.

"Ishal...do you remember when you told me about Maham Beg while I was getting out of thecar?" "He is mute but beautiful." I glanced at him and fell for him at that moment.

I don’t know what was special about him. During the wedding ceremony, I kept looking at him."

"Yesterday morning, he came to our house with my father. I had a brief conversation with him. He even had tea with us." Ishal shared this, sending electricity through Mahem's body.

Despite her pain, she sat up.

"Whatwas discussed?" Mahem asked eagerly.

"Nothing special! Actually, we both have an old relationship."

"Whatkind of relationship?" This time Mahem asked anxiously.

"I’ll tell you another time. I have his number… will you talk? Shall I share the number?"

"No..." Mahem firmly declined.

"Mahem! Communication strengthens relationships." Ishal said, examining her with keen eyes. A smile emerged on Mahem’s lips.

"Then aren't relationships among the mute and deaf strong?" Ishal...! My dear…! Silence also has a language."

"Mahem...! My dear…! You have a voice, then why this mute and deaf kind of love? Let me share the number with him so you can express everything in your heart."

"When I see him, every feeling in my heart descends into his, without a word." Mahem answered with complete conviction. When Ishal heard this, she chuckled lightly.

"You remind me of Juliet. Let me find out if Maham is Romeo?" Ishal said this and dialed Maham’s number.It was ringing. Ishal opened the speaker on her mobile.

"Hello…! Maham received the call.

"Maham…! This is Ishal speaking."

"Ishal who?"

"Ishal Ansari."

Ishal emphasized "Ansari."

"Yes, Ishal… how can I help?" Maham asked in an expressionless tone.

"I went to visit Mahem. I was just inquiring about her health." Ishal said this and fell silent. There was silence on the other side too.

"Maham…! Hello Maham…! Are you listening? I went to visit Mahem."

"I already know you went to visit Mahem." Maham said coldly and softly.

"Will you not inquire about her well-being?" Ishal asked, her tone questioning.

"You seem so relaxed, as if nothing has happened. You know, Mahem had her operation."

"Ishaal…! I know, Mahem had her operation," Maham replied nonchalantly.

"I’m confused; what kind of love is this?" Ishal asked, a hint of sarcasm in her surprise.

"Ishaal…! Sorry to say, I never told you that I love Mahem, and as for inquiring about her health, I already know she is absolutely fine. You don't need to worry."

"Who told you?" Ishal quickly asked, glancing at Mahem.

"No one told me. It’s just that my heart is at peace. Ishal dear, I am a little busy; I can’t talk further."

"Mahem's wedding is next month." Ishal hurriedly announced.

"Thank you for the breaking news… I already know." Maham replied seriously and hung up the phone.

Ishal glanced at Mahem, whose face also reflected satisfaction.

"You've put on the engagement ring from Shamoon, but your commitment is with Maham." Ishal said with a hint of annoyance. Just as gently, Mahem replied:

"Ishal…! Neither did I voluntarily wear this engagement ring, nor has there been any promises of love made. It’s also true that I have fallen in love with Maham. I will not refuse to marry nor will I deny my love. Whatever is written in my fate will happen." Mahem openly acknowledged her love for Maham.

"Ishal Baji…! Hakeem Chacha has come to pick you up." Momena announced as she entered.

Ishal lay in bed, thinking about Maham and Mahem. She was lost in their thoughts, talking to herself:

"This world has become a Global Village. Twitter, Instagram, WhatsApp, Facebook… so many connections humans have created. Yet these two fools still don’t communicate. For a year and more, they have only seen each other’s faces."

Getting up from her bed and despite the door being open, she began muttering softly while grinding her teeth:

"They're both crazy... the year 2020 is about to begin, and they’re indulging in a love story from 1857... if I go to Manchester and tell someone this story, they’ll say, 'Shut up, liar!' No matter how much I try, Maham can never be for Mahem. Shamoon will never allow that. Mahem is my friend. I’m with her, but what can I do? I’ll tell Maham how dangerous Shamoon is."

"Ishal, darling...! Drink your milk." Ishal turned to see Hakeem Sahib standing behind her, holding a glass of milk. Quickly picking up her dupatta from near her pillow, she wrapped it around herself and stood up.

"I'm sorry, dear...! The door was open; I entered without knocking." Hakeem Sahib said, noticing Ishal's flustered expression.

"Abba…! I would have taken it myself; you shouldn’t have gone through the trouble." Ishal tried to appear normal.

"Ishal, dear…! The effects of eating amla and harra are always known later. I told you, it's not right for Maham to come here. The truth is often bitter like harra. I know you want Mahem and Maham’s marriage to happen, whatever it takes. Wrong is wrong. Ishal…! You have to prove that you are the daughter of Hakeem Aaqil Ansari, not Nauman Laghari… I have medicines for stomach pain; you can take them or give them to your friend. But, daughter, I've never been able to make a remedy for the pain of the heart, no matter how hard I tried. Mahem is the daughter of my late friend Master Mahmood. On the other hand, Maham is also my own child. Some decisions are made by time; you should wait until next month. The twenty-first of next month has been decided." Hakeem Sahib handed Ishal the glass of milk and left.

"I don’t know what to do." He sat helplessly in front of his grandmother. It was the first time in the past year that he had shared his heart with her.

"Love comes at a high price, Maham beta! And death is free..." his grandmother replied sadly.

"I’m even willing to pay the price. I just don’t understand whom to pay..." Maham said, placing his hands on his temples, feeling anxious.

"Maham beta! To pay the price of love is not the task of wealth... love demands tribute from life."

His grandmother wiped her tears off her cheeks.

"Then tell me... how do I gain my love...? I’m ready to pay life's tribute, too." As he said this, tears welled in Maham’s eyes. When Mumtaz Begum saw this, she said to Maham:

"Come here to me." Maham sat next to his grandmother on the bed. She hugged him and lovingly stroked his face.

"Child, you have spoken today. I have known about this for a long time..." His grandmother said, and surprise spread across Maham’s serious face.

"Who told you?" Maham asked hurriedly, with worry.

"Ishal told me..." His grandmother revealed the informant's name. As soon as he heard this, Maham's expression changed in an instant. He said in a dry tone:

"Ishal..." Maham stood up without saying anything and left. When he reached his bedroom, his anxiety increased.

"Ishal might have told others apart from Dadi; at this rate, Mahem will get defamed." The thought made it feel as if someone had driven nails into his heart.

"I also spoke to Ishal in a bitter tone that day," his conscience reminded him.

"Perhaps... Ishal...? No, no... absolutely not... she is Mahem’s best friend... she wouldn’t do such a thing." A war of thoughts raged in his mind.

When his heart regained consciousness from the wounds of those nails, it spoke up: "Maham Sahib! Don’t worry... nothing like this will happen." The heart's reassurance brought him some comfort. Yet, because of doubt, a name lingered on his lips.

"Ishal..."