The Dawn Is On Us

C H A P T E R 2 4

J A M A L, felt his heart turn heavy as he turned his back towards the small metal gate of his house. Turning his back on his precious daughter who had betrayed their trust. Never in his life had he thought that it would be his daughter who would cause him to lower his head infront of everyone. It was something that was expected of his son, Ali.

Inside the small veranda of their house, there was no one. Except for the family of the young girl who jad revealed the truth. Removing the veil of blind trust from their eyelids. Rumaisa and her mother, stood next to Jahan-ara. Consoling her. They tried to calm her down, reminding her that it was not her fault that the child she had painstakingly raised, turned out to be namak haram. For she was not her khoon.

Jahan-ara walked upto her husband. The frown lines on his tanned face a reminder of the confrontation that had happened but mere hours ago.
"Jamal sahab, ab hum kia karein gai? Hum tou barbad ho gai. AAP ki sahabzadi nai kahin ka nahin choda humein!" Jahan-ara clutched his collar, shouting at him.
The pain in Jamal's heart magnified, as he heard his wife denounce all ties she had with their daughter.
"Jahan--- Jahan-ara woh toh tumhari bhi aulaad---"
"Mera ussai koi rishta nahin! Behtar yahi ho ga aap bhi sab khatam kar lein!" She murmured, clenching her teeth.

Her husband was a brave man. He had went through a lot while he was young. At first, he had been cut off from his inheritance. Then his beloved wife had passed away, not being able to live the harsh life of the city, as they had to leave the village. A village where they had servants at their beck and call. His son had become addicted to gambling and now his daughter, had an affair with a man. A man who was her father's boss and her ex-fiance's best friend. He had pulled the short straw in all scenarios. She could not help but pity him.

Seeing the melodramatic scene in front of them, Munazza turned to Abdul Rehman, smiling at him.
"Abdul Rehman, mera khayal hai humein chalna chahiye. Yahan par eik sai bar kar eik Indian drama ki shooting chal rahi hai," she whispered into his ears.
Abdul Rehman nodded, signalling to both his children that it was about time they left.

"Acha bhai humein ijazat dein. Allah Hafiz!" He greeted Jamal.
Jamal and Jahan-ara simply nodded their heads. Opening the door for them to all pass. Stopping Rumaisa in the way, Jahan-ara hugged her.
"Shukriya beta. Tumne aaj meri aankhein khol dein. Allah tumhein khush rakhay!"
Rumaisa passed her a short smile, grabbing her mother's hand, exiting the tiny street.

The neighbours all watched the last of their guests leave. Feeling sorry for the Jamal family. The man, Jamal, was a hard working man. In the twenty or so years that he had resided in this street, he had never treated anyone unfair. Jamal was a man who always smiled at them as he crossed the streets. Even when he would enter the home, late at night, he would greet everyone that was standing outside. On the odd day that he did not have any work, he would join the men at the popular khoka of the street, sipping lazily on his tea, saturated with sugar. Dipping a cake rusk occasionally.

Never had he eyed a woman in the wrong way. Infact many parents would trust their daughters with him, asking them if he could drop them of to school or at the main road. His eyes were always cast on the floor when on of the woman from the streets passed by. For him to have kids that were so rotten was very unexpected. They did not understand how a man with such strong character have children with the worst personality traits? Where had his tarbiat lacked? Perhaps it was the effect of them being raised under the care of a sauteli maa who was always sick.

Inside the home, Ali exited from his bedroom. Looking at the lights that were being taken off. The ruthlessness in the actions of his mother, clearly depicted how frustrated he was.
"Ammi idhr aain," Ali waved his mother over.
Jahan-ara sighed. Having no idea what he need at this hour. Stumbling towards him, she sat on the sunbed with a huff.
"Ab kia huwa?" She questioned, out of breath.
"Woh eik zaroori baat karni hai," Ali rubbed his neck.
"Bol bhi!" She rudely muttered.
"Woh kehna tha, Hoor ka saman jo upar hai, woh usko kaise pohanchana hai?" He asked the million dollar question, knowing it would make his mother uneasy. Serves her right though, Ali spoke to himself, all his life he was in the shadow of Hoor. Today he finally had leverage over her.
"Subah apnay baap keh saath jana aur de ana! Aur uss ladki ko achay sai samjha dena, ab uski iss ghar mein koi jaga nahin!"
Ali nodded his head to his mother's words. Acting like he was an obedient child, never stepping out of line.

R E H M A N H O U S E, D H A, LHR

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The evening passed away within a blink of an eye. They had come back from the  wedding ceremony, feeling empty hearted. They or atleast Rehman had went from the home with expectations high. Feeling ecstatic at the idea of welcoming a daughter into his home. He had prepared everything with his own hands. From the wreath that covered their staircase to the gifts that had been wrapped for the bride. His heart was bursting with love. Ready to finally have a feminine presence in their household.

"Mujhe maaf kardo Rizwan. Meri ghalti hai. Kash mein nai tumhari baat maan li hoti tou aaj yeh din mujhe dekhna na parta. Maaf kardo beta tumhara baap tumhara gunahaygaar hai!" Rehman raised his hand in front of his son.
"Baba aap kyun maafi maang rahay hain? Aap ki koi ghalti nahi hai. Yeh tou meri kismat mein tha," Rizwan gripped his father's hands.
Hugging him, giving him the shoulder to rest his head on. He knew his father was hurt from what had happened today.

"Baba waada karein aap ainda iskay baaray mein soochain gai nahin. Yeh sab zindagi ka hissa hai. Chalein ab so jain," he pushed his father down on the bed.
Pulling his sheets on him. Rizwan passed him a smile and exited the room. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he entered his bedroom.

The room had been heavily decorated with flora just a few hours ago. However, as soon as they entered the home the servants saw their sad faces, and the empty car. It was a clear indication that something had gone wrong and their beloved Rizwan bhai was still a single man. The maids rushed to the bedroom and pulled off the decorations. Lest they see them and feel more depressed.

Rizwan ran his hands through his silky hair. Falling on his bed. He did not know how to feel. On one hand he was beyond happy that he had not been married to Hoor. The woman whom he looked down on and was nowhere near the level of Rumi. But he also felt horrible. That she had to bear the brunt of his and his wife's actions. He was however, a hot headed man. To soothe his ego, he calmed himself. Thinking that perhaps she still had the better end of the deal. Atleast she got married to a rich man. She would never have to struggle with problems in her life.

Little did he know, to Hoor relationships and bonds were worth much more than material things.

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