Husband For Hire

45. Jaan, the Lyricist

45. Jaan, the Lyricist
Fate was a funny little fiend.

* * *

Much against Ashar's protests about staying here, his stepmother gripped my elbow and rushed me towards the pseudo priest. Jhanvi followed me with curiosity. Not to lie, I wanted to watch the scene for my film script inspiration.

All of us sat down behind the four clients in front of us waiting for "blessings." Ashar's baba had to force him to sit. I observed the dirty ground I had voluntary planted myself on. My black jeans were going to be destroyed and these were limited edition!

Versace was never going to invite me to their fashion shows if they saw the damage their clothes went through on my body.

Nobody else seemed to care much about sitting on heavily sanded ground. The man in front of them was the center of interest.

He was in his late fifties with perfectly dyed black hair. I saw a gleaming gold chain hidden under his black kurta. His kohl covered black eyes attentively paid attention to a tired husband telling his problem with his wife not having a baby. The woman next to the him—his wife, most likely—was crying into the husband's shoulder.

I gave Jhanvi a pointed look which she ignored. There was a woman crying she wasn't having a child. My cousin had been crying earlier because she was having a child. Fate was a funny little fiend.

The priest surprised us all when he opened his mouth.

"You're destined for a child," he told the couple. "But not right now. You have to wait another few years when the time is right."

"We've tried everything," said the husband.

"That I know," the priest replied calmly. "You have visited quite a lot of . . . places before coming here."

The husband looked startled by those words.

"I can give you all the dark materials if you want to get you a child faster," said the priest. "But is that the kind of child you want where you do dark magic and throw your misery on someone else?"

The woman cried even more hysterically and her husband shushed her. They seemed to be in their mid 30s. The priest murmured a few things under his breath before one of his disciples placed a glass of water in front of the woman. The priest muttered a few more incoherent things before telling the lady to drink the water while wishing what she wanted in her mind.

She seemed satisfied after drinking the water. Was it a placebo? He gave her the water to calm down while making her think she was wishing for something?

The man must've mastered human psychology!

After everyone else was done, the elder man turned to face Ashar's stepmother. She introduced us to the priest and asked him to bless me.

"We found out today she's expecting," added my cheery stepmother.

The man eyed me before shutting his eyes. I wondered if he had a third eye open or something. Would he realize I wasn't the pregnant one? Jhanvi looked at me nervously too because the priest didn't seem like a fraud from what we had observed. He hadn't asked any of his "clients" to pay him anything nor had he given poor advice.

Sometimes, people without ulterior motives were scarier than people who lied to your face.

He opened his eyes and gestured me to move forward. Uncomfortably, I went close enough for him to place his hand on top of my scarf covered head. He didn't say anything.

I wondered what he was praying under his breath.

Once his hand was withdrawn, I returned to my original spot and briefly met Ashar's eyes who was stone faced. He was definitely waiting for the moment we'd leave.