The Fallen Widow

35. Dark Reflections

The mood of the haveli was deadly silent after the screams and the crack of the whip. Members of the haveli sat alone in their rooms in deafening silence reflecting over the troubling day. Something changed. Something shifted. No one wanted to point it out or say the obvious. Shah Nawaz no longer required the approval of his father. He was commanding the haveli, shutting down Dilawar-Baksh, summoning orders.

Nightfall blanketed the haveli. Standing on the balcony, Jahanzaib could hear Meh'r-Bano's screams echoing in the courtyard. Behind him, in the room he couldn't look at his mum's bruised face. He couldn't sit. He couldn't eat. Jahanpur was testing his patience and conscience. Why were the women in this haveli tortured? There was no peace. His mother- a fighter- had submitted to the will of the haveli and her spirit melted. How was that possible? There was only one goal, to get his family as far from Jahanpur as possible and keep them safe. As for Baba, he couldn't forget the bruise he imprinted on his mother. He wanted revenge. He tapped his feet with anger.
'Jahanpur belongs to Shah Nawaz. Stay in your lane!' Jahanzaib recalled Uzyar's stern words at the stables.

There was noise about his father who would have lead Jahanpur, and how he must follow his footsteps. Jahanzaib had no intention of staying in Jahanpur let alone leading Jahanpur. But then, in the echo he could hear Meh'r-Bano's scream. How was she? What would they do to her?
Inside the bedroom, Nirma sniffed her tears as her mum bought a spoon of chicken soup to her lips.
"I can't stay here! I'm going to go mad!" Nirma leaned back into the sofa and turned her face away.
"Who knows what they will do to her? These people are animals. This place is a jungle!"
Surraya's heart drowned in black depression. Watching her children shrivel away with grief bought tears to her eyes. She knew Jahanzaib would go out of his way to help a stranger. But this was Jahanpur. It was hell. The final judgment rested with Dilawar-Baksh.

'Please, you must save Jahanpur from ruin! Your son is the inheritor of Jahanpur. He is our only hope for Jahanpur.'
Surraya recalled Ulfat's cries sniffing into her chador. Jahanpur was swallowing up her family. Jahanzaib loved food, but here, he rarely had a bite to eat. It was impossible to stay here with her family. Deep down, in the darkness of her mind, her beloved husband's voice calling her.
What would he want? Would he want Jahanzaib to lead Jahanpur? Surraya shook her head from the stifling thoughts. She had no desire for power or wealth. Greed was the root of all evil. After the trauma of losing her husband, she wanted her children around her; Jahanpur was not her concern.

***

Making his way upstairs, Shah Nawaz rarely ventured to the first floor. He could hear a conversation inside the room between Fiza and the doctor. Shah Nawaz straightened his beard running his left hand over the thick black hair. He loitered in the hallway. Dr Arifi carried her bag and her belongings. She made her way out of the room and approached the staircase where she saw the familiar sight of Shah Nawaz. He looked up at Dr Arfi. She met his silver-grey eyes, the ones she found in the University canteen many years ago.
'One, cold, tall, lassi!' Confident, popular and the life of the concerts, she barely recognised him in his traditional attire.
Dr Arfi shook her head, narrowing her eyes at him demonstrating her disappointment. She grit her teeth, holding her anger. Jahanpur never ceased to amaze her, but tonight, looking at Meh'r-Bano's torn naked back she felt sick.
"She's sedated." The young doctor's voice shivered with anger. "The pain was unbearable." Dr Arfi wasn't allowed to ask questions about the patients, it's the only way she worked in Jahanpur.

Fiza took the doctor towards the staircase leaving Shah Nawaz staring at the door. He made his way through the haveli through the corridor and towards Fiza's dimly lit bedroom. Today was the first time he stepped in the large, square bedroom. The ceiling fan whirred above. A strong, morose smell of antiseptic lingered in the room. There at the far end of the room was a four-poster bed. Long, white, muslin drapes tied around each post, floating like a ghost from the pressure of the ceiling and wall fans. Shah Nawaz clinched his jaw tight and entered the room inching towards the double bed. He looked through the veil of the drapes, Meh'r-Bano lay in the centre of the bed. Her chest and stomach lay on a pillow, with her back towards Shah Nawaz. She slept in a loose, white cotton top; they'd changed her clothes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and edged closer that his leg hit the bed. A thin, black blanket pulled up to her waist, her arm over the pillow like she was hugging it for comfort. He could just make out the bandages they'd applied to her back. He turned away from her taking in a deep breath and peered at the door like a thief. His feet heavy. His could hear his quickened breaths. The clock ticks intensified. He couldn't leave. Flicking the long arm of his shawl over his chest, he arrived at the head of the bed. Her face turned away from him. That's when he noticed her slender, swan like neck. With her auburn curls swept up out of the way, exposed and vulnerable she lay, to the side revealing her bare neck. Shah Nawaz noticed a second beauty spot, just on her pulse, moving gently up and down. He swallowed the lump in his dry throat and inched near to her staring at gentle curve of her neck.