38. Chess || شطرنج

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Shatranj waqt ka khel zaroor haiPar usse khelne ka koi waqt nahi

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Shatranj waqt ka khel zaroor hai
Par usse khelne ka koi waqt nahi.

شطرنج وقت کا کھیل ضرور ہے
پر اسے کھیلنے کا کوٸ وقت نہیں

Note: I have never been to a shrine or a mazar, thus the description in this chapter is purely based on my imagination and from what I've seen in movies. The description does not in any way aim to describe any particular place, nor does it subscribe to any sect. If any account is incorrect, please reach out to me in private so I may rectify it. Thank you. Happy reading!

The afternoon sun leaned over to place a fiery kiss upon the green dome of the mazar. The four pearly white minarets, on each corner, stood like erect soldiers vigilantly guarding the holy shrine of the Sufi saint. The sweltering summer heat wrapped around us, heavy with the fragrance of roses, oudh and incense. I gaped at the majestic monument in front of me. The white marble courtyard gleamed under the blazing light of the day, cool and calming, a stark contrast to the buzzing energy surrounding us. Green flags flared with the vagrant breeze and loud murmurs of recitation danced in the air. There was something about this place that calmed me. Was it the spiritual holiness or the electric glory, I wasn't sure.

It was nearing midday when we arrived, a little early for the usual crowds to begin thonging the place. A few murids and worshippers climbed up the stairs carrying heavy baskets filled with rose petals and green chadors, while a few needy and destitute lined the streets waiting for alms and foods from the followers of the shrine. Fruit and flower vendors prepared themselves for the busy day ahead, squalling in their high pitched voices to gain the attention of the worshippers.

When we stepped out of the car, Aliyaar was quick to slip beside me, his hand reaching out for mine. Our guards rallied around us, forming a human wall. "I told you I don't want the guards here." I muttered in his ears, annoyed at the attention we were attracting. I could see the inquisitive pairs of eyes turning around to stalk the cause of the sudden mayhem. A few faces turned away in irritation, but others lit up with recognition.

"And I told you it's not safe."

I pursed my lips, making no attempt to argue with him further. He was right and after everything he did for me, I had no heart to fight with him over such a trivial issue. I nodded and began to climb up the stairs. With each step, memories came flooding in like a ghost from a misty past. A tear slipped down my face as last night spun before my eyes in a whirling hypnotic motion. I had cried, cried till tears had dried my eyes and drained my soul. He had cradled me in his arms and whispered honeyed words in my ears. He was patient and loving. If there was ever something I feared, it was to be vulnerable. So I had learnt to hide. Every time a storm threatened to strike, like a pigeon, I'd tuck my features and hide underneath the leaves. Hiding my fears behind a rock. But last night, in his embrace, I realised I was a peacock, a peacock born to dance under the rain.

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