Scrambled Tales

||03||

Kitne Dard Le Aye Hain
Hum Toh Teri Chaukhat Se
Apne Gham Chupa Lein Ge Hum
Jhooti Muskurahat Se

As she walks away from the culprit of her ravaged life, she halts her steps in front of a known room. Breath choked her throat as she recalls what she just did.

She had slapped Nawab Shahab. She had committed a sin. And she knows she will not be the one getting it back. Zaheer will. Oh poor him, but she doesn't care.

Nawab Shahab had ruined her life enough, played with it enough. Now no more. She gulps the pain. He did just justice to all but to his own family.

For once Aarzu wants to go back to her Amma's embrace and cry her heart out, but she can't. The people present around will not allow that. No matter what, Aarzu is respected amongst all, respect that chokes her always.

With slow steps, she walks to the familiar ancient corridor, remembering the days she used to run through these.

"Zaheer hum Dada Jaan se shikayat karenge apki." She stormed her foot as she enters the corridor.

Even the walls smiled seeing the regular scene. A horrified Zaheer runs behind, trying his best to stop her. But who will?

"Yaar yeh galat hai, woh mujhe maar dalenge aj hi. Mera toh nikah bhi nahi hua hai Aarzu" He tried but he is too late for she had already crossed the hallway and stepped inside the room.

Next up he knows, he was grounded for a week. Poor Zaheer.

She stops in front of the same room, only this time she has to wait to gather herself before she knock then step in. A decade had changed everything. She gulps, adjusting the dupatta upon her head, rubbing her sweaty palm against her lehenga, she knocks on the door twice.

A soft voice came as her clue she steps in. A decade later. Nothing changed but still, everything seems out of place. The royal walls scream glory, the portraits seem a facade. A facade of a happy family. Maybe not. But was she not a family?

"Aarzu Bacchey." The old voice even though it seemed weak now, still have the authority intact. Nawab Alamgir Shah's voice still roars.

"Salam Dada Jaan," Aarzu said softly, kneeling before him, kissing his knuckles then touching them to her eyelids. A habit she had grown over the years.

Tears fill his old eyes and Aarzu wish not to know the reason behind those, but she does. She knows better than anyone else her.

For Nawab Alamgir Shah chose to stay silent, he was mourning for his daughters. And his successor wrote Aarzu's faith, with pain, storming it under his feet.

And Alamgir Shah didn't utter a word, for he was mourning for his daughters. Was she not a daughter to him?

A question she always wanted to ask, an answer she knows she never will get. A pain she had survived for a decade.

"Hume pata tha ap zaroor ayengi. Humne call jo kiya tha."

"Nawab Shahab se chupke." Aarzu's voice is cold even taking his name.

"Woh Nawab hai Aarzu, woh humesha awam ki haq mein hi faisa lenge."

"Aur saalon sey riwaz hai Dada Jaan, riyasat mein apno ka qatal bhi maaf hai."