The Dawn Is On Us

C H A P T E R 3 8

S I R E N S of the ambulance rushing to the crowded street, dominated the air. People that lived in homes nearby, rushed out. Their tounges reading all sorts of verses that they had memorised over the years. Praying hard for the man that lay on the floor. Many of the elderly women, sighed, crying over the fact that the man was young and how a family must depend on him.

The nurses lay him on the stretcher cautiously, not wanting to cause him more damage. The wound was open, the blood although no longer flew out of the wound, his rapidly paling complexion, told another story. It was clear that there was some sort of serious damage to his internal systems. The nurses prayed to Allah, for the wellbeing of the man.

The ambulance rolled out, the sirens blazing high. Calling for people to empty out the streets. The man was lucky, some random passerby had called them. A few minutes later and there would have been no man to save.

The dark night moved on. The operation theater shrouded in complete silence as the surgeons rushed to get things ready. Their equipments were sterilised, the patient was given anesthesia. His heartbeat fell by the second.

Time was of the essence. Life and death worked hand in hand. As the grains of time rolled out, the surgeons got nearer to stitching his wound. The bullet had managed to pierce an important artery, causing heavy blood loss. Thankfully, it had missed the heart by a close centimetre.

Outside, it was complete chaos. The nurses rushed to get blood bottles for the man. Meanwhile, the receptionist constantly tried to get hold of his family. However, the man had no wallet on him. So it was next to possible to identify him. Furthermore, his phone batteries were dead. So they could only wait for the outdated mobile to charge enough.

The police had been called. It was being called a murder attempt. For now. It was a police case. And as soon as they had arrived, they had fallen right into investigation. One team was sent to the crime site. To find anything that was of use.

In such troubling times, his family remained blissfully unaware.

P.C L A H O R E
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Hoor and Mustafa finished dinner. Their stomachs still half empty. Nonetheless, they had no choice. They were after all the bride and groom. Wiping their hands clean with the help of the wet wipes provided, Hoor smiled at Mustafa.

The man looked so elegant. His dark blue suit contrasted with her light blue perfectly. His beard, trimmed to perfection. She was busy gazing at him, unable to see Raees who had stepped onto the stage with three young girls. They seemed to be in their teens. Each wearing an outfit better than the next.

The girls smiled seeing the couple, congratulating them on their wedding, complementing the decor of the event.
"Yeh Myra, Umaimah aur Heer hain. Yeh humaray business partners ki betiyan hai!" Raees introduced.
"MashAllah! Ap sab bohat khoobsurat hai!" Hoor complimented them from the bottom of her heart.
The girls thanked her, walking away from the stage to enjoy the Kashmiri chai they had seen the waiters serve in the white porcelain cups.

"Yeh lein bhai aur bhabi!" Raees enthusiastically handed them both a cup of tea aswell.
Hoor thanked him, sipping the fragrant tea, soothing her nerves instantly. The flavour of cardamom and the salt that had been added, made a perfect combination. Just the perfect thing to have on such a cold night.

"Aur ab waqt hai kuch khaas ka!" Raees took a mic from the D.J.
He stepped onto the stage that was detached from the main one. Smiling at the crowd. Highlighting his dimpled cheeks.
He threw the mic back, taking position. Waving over a few university friends of Mustafa. The beating sound of the drums began to resonate from the speakers. As the group of boys began to dance in utmost coordination. It was the highlight of Hoor's evening. She was seeing such dancing skills for the first time. Everything was timed perfectly. From the jumping to the thumka Raees did. It was splendid.

When they sat in their cars to return home, Hoor did so half-heartedly. She had enjoyed the night so much. Eventhough, her parents absence caused her heart to hurt, she knew they were adamant.

Hoor tried to control her tears. Trying to stop them from falling. She did not want to end such a beautiful night on a sad note. She wanted to be happy. And for once to not have any weight on her chest.

A FEW HOURS LATER
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Mustafa woke up due to the constant ringing of his mobile. It was three am. Who would call him at such a godforsaken hour? He sighed. Rubbing his hands over his face. Much to his surprise, it was Jamal.

He had no clue why the father of his wife was calling him. Especially now that they had disowned her. Cementing their decision by not attending their Walima last night.

"Hello. Assalamualikum," Mustafa greeted in a heavy voice.
His voice still clouded with sleep.
"Waalikumassalam," Mustafa sahab neend tou nahi kharab huwi?" Jamal questioned.
From his cracking voice, Mustafa could make out that something was not right.
"Jamal uncle kia huwa hai?" Mustafa asked, worried.
"Woh beta, Ali--" his voice cut off due to some honking truck.
"KIA UNCLE SAMAJH NAHI AAYA?" Mustafa shouted over the phone.
"Beta Ali ka inteqaal ho gaya hai. Janaza subah 11 baje hai," Jamal shouted equally loud.
Cutting the call, without waiting for a reply.

Mustafa felt his heart had jumped into his throat. How had a young man, who was perfectly okay, pass away so suddenly? How would he tell his wife that her elder brother had passed away? He knew she would become an emotional mess. She was still not over the whole drama that had played out on their wedding, and now this.

Mustering courage, giving himself a pep talk, Mustafa nudged Hoor's shoulders. She thankfully had not waken up while he was on the phone.
"Hoor utho!" He shook her.
"Hmm," she pushed his hand away.
Not in the mood to be woken up from her slumber.
"Hoor zaroori baat hai," he kept nudging her.
After what was an hour of constantly trying to wake her up, Hoor sat upright.

"Kia hai Mustafa?" She asked, cranky.
She had no idea why her husband was disturbing her. When he knew she would wake up early and the event tonight had tired the life out of her.
"Woh apke abu ki call ai thi," he began to speak slowly.
Seeing Hoor have no reaction, Mustafa continued.
"Ali fout ho gaya hai!" Mustafa uttered, his voice thick with pain for his wife.
"KIA!" she shouted, unable to believe her ears.
"Haan. 11 baje jaanaza hai," he told her softly.
Hoor broke into instant tears. Crying, unable to control herself. She had never thought a day would come where she would loose her brother. At such a young age. Her shoulders trembled. A dreadful chill settling all over her body.

She heaved, panted. Did everything to control herself. All in vain. She sat lifeless on her bed. Waiting for Mustafa to get changed so that they could leave for her paternal home. She was thankful that they atleast had the decency to invite her. Otherwise, they could have ignored telling her. She fisted and unfisted her hands. Remembering all those days of her childhood that she had spent with him.

"Ya Allah ap nai mujh sai mera bhai kyun cheen liya?" The tears dripped down the side of her nose.
The pain knowing no end.

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