A wanderer Episode 22

 

The henna ceremony took place on the grounds of Maham's school. The wedding procession was to be arranged at the Millen Marriage Hall. During the henna ceremony, like Maham, Ishal also looked listless. On the morning of the wedding day, Morgan was descending the steps of the mosque. Despite his efforts, he couldn't hold back his gaze. When he looked up, she was standing at the window as usual. Instead of light, there was darkness in her eyes.

Alongside the sadness, there was desolation as well. Maham, adorned with henna on her hands, wearing bangles on her wrists, a garland around her neck, and dressed in a yellow outfit for the henna ceremony, appeared to be a charming girl, almost angelic. But that was her outward appearance.

Internally, instead of feeling the coolness of the henna, she felt heat. The bangles on her wrists felt like shackles.

The garland around her neck resembled a noose.

The yellow attire made her feel like she was clad in mourning. Maham, who looked like a moonflower, had become shattered inside instead of blooming.

There was no treaty or agreement between Morgan and Maham. Nevertheless, both stood as if guilty on their respective battlefronts. It was a puzzle of who had hurt whom. Still, they both felt restless.

Without a meeting, their bodies had become scented through the experience of love. During that distance, they encountered the fragrance of love but did not find the destination of love. There seemed to be no way for their meeting in sight.

Since the henna ceremony, Maham had remained like a statue at the window, waiting all night for morning.

The one she was waiting for was right in front of her.

She was gazing at him, perhaps for the last time before her marriage. Within moments, Morgan felt as if he had lived centuries; he didn't know why but he turned back and went inside the mosque. A few minutes later, when he returned, Maham was still standing there. He glanced at her, as always, then lowered his gaze and got into his car to leave for Lahore.

Now it was Morgan Baig's turn to awaken.

He spent the night on his terrace, waiting for morning. This time, the eager eyes looking at the open window belonged to Morgan Baig. He had nothing in his mind except that window, wanting to see it as soon as possible. He was not allowed to look before the prayer.

Morgan passed through the street with his head bowed. No thought of the window crossed his mind. He performed his prayers with humility.

With all the worshippers gone, for the first time today, Hakim Sahib also left. A while after Hakim Sahib's departure, he stood up as usual and headed towards the mosque's outer door. He had never thought of the window or the one at the window while inside the mosque. That day was no different. Morgan started descending the stairs. He looked up, and the window was open. Maham was standing there, dressed as a bride.

As usual, Morgan took a glance and then lowered his eyes. The dim lights in his eyes ignited. A smile returned to his lips. His heart began to beat loudly. His heartbeat became unbearable for his mind. His mind said: "Baig Sahib…! There's a bride standing behind that open window. Instead of being happy, check whose bride she is?" The heart ordered: “Morgan Sahib…! Lift your gaze and look again; my beating isn't without reason. My heartbeat is a sign of life.” “You’ll be disrespectful if you look up,” the mind quickly messaged. In that moment, the heart also chimed in: “Mr. Brain…! You stand with the rational, while I am a companion of lovers. Morgan Sahib! Raise your gaze.”

Morgan looked up. There was a strange joy on Maham’s face. He kept looking at her for a while. The conversation through their eyes brought peace to their hearts. Morgan found it inappropriate to continue looking this way while standing in the street. He lowered his gaze and walked towards his car.

“Come inside, dear…!” Marium Bibi said confidently, standing at her door.

Morgan entered the house. In the drawing room, a man was sitting in a wheelchair. In front of him sat Hakim Aqil Ansari, Gulab Khan, and Shamail’s husband, Sharafat. On the other sofa were several women, including Momina, Ishal, Shamail, Shahida Bibi, and on one side, Aroosa was seated in a wheelchair.

“Young man…! Will you marry my daughter?” Chaudhry Shamshad asked in a thunderous voice.

Before Morgan could say anything, Maham entered, dressed as a bride in the drawing room. Morgan looked in surprise at Chaudhry Shamshad.

“Young man…! Will you marry my daughter Maham?” Chaudhry Shamshad repeated in the same manner.

“Yes…!” Morgan said, looking at Maham.

“What will you write in the bridal price?” Chaudhry Shamshad boldly asked.

“Write down this factory.” Morgan Baig replied decisively.

Maham glanced at Morgan. Everyone present in the drawing room exchanged looks with one another. Their faces reflected mixed feelings—happiness alongside astonishment.

“Hakim Sahib! Begin with Bismillah,” Chaudhry Shamshad commanded for the marriage to commence.

“Hakim Sahib…! Begin with Bismillah.” Last night too, Chaudhry Shamshad had said the same.

“Chaudhry Shamshad! This marriage cannot take place,” one man spoke with thunderous authority.

“Why can’t this marriage take place?” Chaudhry Shamshad challenged.

“Because your son is already married to my sister Simbal. He doesn't want to marry again,” Mehr Saeed clarified.

“Why, oh Shamoone…?” Chaudhry Shamshad asked fiercely.

“Yes, Abba ji…!” Shamoon quickly admitted, keeping his head down.

“Oh, son of a mule…! Then why was this drama necessary?” Chaudhry Shamshad lost control while still seated in his wheelchair.

“If you had told me earlier…shameless, insipid…now what will I say to all the relatives? Who will marry my late brother’s daughter?” Chaudhry Shamshad lamented.

“Serve the food,” Hakim Sahib, seeing the seriousness of the situation, instructed the marriage hall administration. Hakim Sahib himself pushed Chaudhry Shamshad's wheelchair towards the bride’s room. Within minutes, the crowd dispersed. Whether there was a wedding or not, people needed to be fed.

People ate, wiped their hands clean, and made their way home.

“Who will marry my brother’s daughter?” Chaudhry Shamshad again asked, shedding crocodile tears.

“There’s a boy… I think he is related to us,” Chaudhry Shamshad glanced at Hakim Sahib with questioning eyes.

“That same one who bought the Seth’s factory,” Hakim Sahib reassured him.

“He’s such a big shot; why would he want to marry?” Chaudhry Shamshad’s tears instantly vanished, and he immediately began questioning.

“He told me to seek a proposal from you. When I told him that Maham was already engaged, he said: Hakim Sahib…! You are my superior. I will marry whoever you say," Hakim Sahib recounted.

“But…still…Hakim Sahib…I don’t think he will pursue this,” Chaudhry Shamshad cautiously voiced his doubts.

“Uncle…! Why are you worrying? He wouldn’t dare refuse a request from my father. Our Maham will reign. He has two more factories, two bungalows, four cars, and millions in his bank account,” Ishal said, squeezing Maham’s hand.

Chaudhry Shamshad’s eyes widened in surprise. At that time, only five people were in the bridal room.

The fifth was Marium Bibi, who arrived a little later.

“Whatever happens, I cannot agree without Maham’s consent,” Chaudhry Shamshad carefully declared, trying to conceal his greed.

“Lala ji…! Maham and I have never objected to any of your decisions, nor will we in the future. Whatever decision you make will be accepted by us,” Marium Bibi stated, fulfilling her part of the duty with compliance.

“Then Hakim Sahib…! Call that boy now. Let’s perform the vows now. Insha’Allah, may it be good,” Chaudhry Shamshad quickly expressed his consent to save his honor.

“Chaudhry Sahib…! It’s inappropriate at this time. I will talk to him over the phone. Insha’Allah, I will conduct the marriage after Fajr tomorrow. This is my promise. Please stay here tonight, and do not go to the village. Only after the marriage, you can go to the village. This way, your honor will remain intact, and the community won’t have any reason to gossip,” Hakim Sahib’s words struck a chord with Chaudhry Shamshad’s heart. He immediately agreed.

Maham came to her room. Despite the harsh cold of January, she did not close her window. Dressed as a bride, she began looking at the steps of the mosque.

Where Morgan had stood that morning. He had seen Maham, lowered his gaze, and returned to the mosque.

“Why has he gone back to the mosque?” Maham, still standing by the window, contemplated.

“Everything comes from Allah. Oh Allah…! O my Master…! I had stopped asking You. Today, I ask You once more for my love. Master…! You are the cause of all causes; I do not know how it will happen, but You can do it alone. Grant me Maham with all her status and rank.” After entering the mosque, Morgan was prostrating in prayer, crying out in supplication. His tears soaked the prayer mat. He made a fervent plea. Wiping his wet lashes with his handkerchief, he glanced one last time at his beloved as he descended the steps and left for Lahore.

He stood on the terrace, thinking about the window all night, while Maham spent the night gazing at the stairs from the window.