The Dawn Is On Us

C H A P T E R 3 2

D R I V I N G into the tiny street he thought he would never visit this soon, Mustafa tried to think of a plan. A plan that would reunite Hoor with her family. For he knew how important they were to her. He could imagine his wife's pain. She had parents who did not want to see her face ever again. That was a pain that he had not felt. However, he was similar to her in the fact that he too had parents he could not see. But he could never see her in pain. He would never be able to live with himself if she had to bear the price of a mistake that was never made.

The 31st of December, the day that was heavily anticipated, was different from what they had all imagined. There was no sunshine or a gorgeous blue sky to cheer them all. Instead, it was like any other gloomy winter day. With cold wind blowing and the sky a dark grey. Just like the smoke that the factories in Lahore released. The smog clouded the area like a jungle. The thick air settling over them.

As the car slowed down due to the heavy traffic, Mustafa began to notice the kinds of people that surrounded him. There were a few children, playing with an empty bottle of oil. Kicking it around like a football. A few elderly men sat infront of a small shop, that kids were frequently rushing to to buy all sorts of junk. These men, with an age old wisdom, sat on the concrete steps, some smoking whilst some sipped on hot tea. It seemed like everyone was a busy bee. Each and every single one assigned a task that was important than their life.

They were humans too. Mustafa thought. Just like him. Eating, sleeping, breathing. And yet they had created a world completely different from his. While theirs seemed to be full of lights and colours, full of life. His was dull and bleak. Painted in shades of greys and whites that had been handed to him. For them, each new day brought a new adventure. While his life was planned to the T. It made Mustafa wonder. Was being rich enough?

A few minutes later, his car came to a halt. The driver and nurse helped him into the wheel chair. The stares of the young children not going unnoticed. The nurse knocked on the door, waiting patiently for someone to step out.
"Ji kia kaam-" Jahan-ara rudely opened the door, stopping as soon as she saw Mustafa.
"Humari kitni beizzati karwani hai? Us din sukoon nahi mila tha? Jo aaj bhi aagai?" She uttered venom.
Her tone was a total 180 of what most women would use with their son-in-law's.
"Aunty asal mein kuch kaam tha," Mustafa smiled at her.
He knew he could not be rude with her. It was wrong. His morals would not allow him to do that. And also she was the mother of his wife, even if they had broken all ties with her.

Jamal who returned with some vegetables, so his almost former boss at the door of his home. He also hear Jahan-ara's loud chatter. Not wanting to make things worse for themselves, he signalled for Mustafa to come in.

"Kia kaam hai sahab?" Jamal inquired.
"Uncle aap mujhe Mustafa bulain," Mustafa told him.
"Humara tumhara koi rishta nahi. Behtar yahi hai jo karnay aai ho karo aur phir jao!" Jamal spoke with him in a loud voice.
This was the man that had destroyed his family's reputation in the street. There was no use in treating him kindly.
"Darasal mujhe Hoor nai uski silai machine lenay keh liye behja hai," Mustafa told the purpose of his visit.
Jahan-ara scoffed. That young girl was truly naive if she thought she would let her have anything from her home.
"Ap kafi ameer hai. Behtar ho ga agar us ko ap nai machine khud lei dei. Humaray ghar ki eik cheez bhi usko nahi milay gi. Samjh gai ap?" She told him, not giving him any face.

Mustafa tried to convince the couple, but knowing it was going nowhere, he had no option but to retreat, empty handed.

"Sahab mein yeh kehna chahta hun apse keh, ab mein aap ki nukri nahi karun ga!" Jamal told him the decision that he had made.
"Par kyun? Ap nai tou kaafi arsa-" Mustafa tried to reason.
It was a blessing to have a job these days. And with the amount of time Jamal had worked for him, he would never kick him out and infact in a year or two, after Jamal would retire, he would be given a good pension as well.
"Yeh mera akhri faisla hai!" Jamal said, leaving no room for argument.
"Aap aisa karein, early retirement le lein. Taakey job na karni paray," Mustafa gave him an alternative.
"Ap apna paisa rakho sahab. Qarz bhi jald utar dei gai!" Jamal spoke in arrogance, not realising that it was no way possible for them to return the money.
"Ap kaam chod dein. Par mein ap ka qarz maaf karta hun. Yeh mera aap par akhri ehsaan hai. Qabool kar lena!" Mustafa said with great disappointment.

He would never have wanted for things to become this bad. But they were being stubborn. Not thinking about the consequences of their actions. Not realising how much they were damaging their own future.

They were asking Allah for help, and when He had sent it, they rejected it with their own hands. Destroying their own futures.

On the way back, Mustafa thought of Jamal and Jahan-ara's behaviour. Perhaps that was the difference between educated and uneducated. Having gone to school, the brain would be opened to more opportunities. You could think more clearly about how decisions of the present had the power of destroying the future.

Mustafa was now in deep thought. What would he tell Hoor when he returned empty handed? Fortunately, on the way back he had a brilliant idea. If they could not give him, what Hoor made use of, he would just get her a new one. To him, it was the first thing his wife had asked for after marriage so how could he not fulfill her wish?

"Driver chacha yahan par kahi silai machine milti hai?" He asked from the driver.
"Sahab, bazar keh andar jana paray ga. Magar mil jaye gi," he told him.
Humming, Mustafa asked him to stop at the next bazaar so that they could get what they had stepped out for.

"SALE SALE SALE"
"SAHAB SAB MILE GA. ANDAR AAO TOU SAHI!" All sorts of shouts began cheering at him as the nurse rolled him in.
They passed a bunch of narrow streets before stopping infront of one that had a row of tailor shops. And after a bit of struggle, they were successful in their mission and got what they had come for. Mustafa bought all sorts of cloths and laces. Buttons, embroidery frames and threads. The whole deal. He wanted Hoor to enjoy what she loved to do. And he would make sure she was provided with the best resources possible.

K A M A L M A N S I O N, DHA LHR
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Hoor awaited Mustafa's arrival. It was already four thirty in the evening. She had no idea where he was. They planned to leave the home at seven in order to celebrate new year's eve. But she could not even think of anything except for worry about Mustafa's whereabouts. It would have helped if she had a phone she knew how to use. She was busy cursing herself for her shortcomings that she did not even notice Mustafa enter, followed by a guard holding all sorts of things related to sewing.

"Mustafa yeh kia hai?" Hoor asked as soon as she saw the things.
Mustafa smiled, it seemed his pretty wife was holding her end of the deal. He began narrating all the incidents of the day. Hiding the part where they had insulted her.
"Phir bhi itni cheezon ki kia zaroorat?" She asked, still baffled at all that he had gotten for her.
"Thi. Shaadi keh baad pehli dafa kuch manga tha. Mana kaise karta?" His eyes full of stars.
Hoor had no option but to silently accept. Not telling anyone how hurt she was over the fact that she had no right to things that once belonged to her mother. Other than her, no one in the house used it. It would only accumulate dust. But perhaps the egos of her parents were much more important than her happiness.

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