The Fallen Widow

Chapter 6

Sang E Mar Mar haveli was buzzing with young, eligible bachelors dreaming to marry Fiza and acquire a lofty dowry. The search for her groom was on. Fathers turned up with their son petitioning villages issues in a subtle bid to introduce their son. Fiza barricaded herself in her bedroom crying with fear that she would marry an unknown man. Devoted to her grandfather, his word was his honour. If baba asked Fiza to marry an unknown man, Fiza could not refuse. She was terrified of the uncertain future.
Uzayr returned to the river bank overlooking from the cliff where he found his father's bloody body. Hungry for information, time was running out; Would it be possible to find his father's killer in under a month?
****

Standing on the scorching hot roadside, watching her maid Razia argue with the driver over a punctured tyre, Emaan lifted her veil to breath the fresh air. Emaan made a weekly pilgrimage to holy darbar to seek some solace from the suffering.
"Damn you driver! How many times have I told you, to drive carefully!" Said Razia jumping out of the SUV and kicking the tyre.
Emaan stood in the blazing heat and dust and stared far at the ice capped mountains. Since she informed her grandfather of her secret nikah, the haveli was in mourning. Her mother cursed Emaan for destroying her future and left.
"You would have been queen of Jahanpur if you kept your mouth shut!"
Her grandfather enjoyed a soupçon of victory, until Shah Nawaz stole the title of chief of Jahanpur. This left Muzamil in a state of anger. Nothing was the same. Shah Nawaz left a bitter taste. But there was something which lingered. Emaan licked her dry lips. Shah Nawaz was the first man who ever saw her face. Surely this meant something. This was fate. Shah Nawaz was meant to be the first and last man who saw her beauty. Does he think of me? Does he hate me for telling his secret? Will he see me again? She felt guilty for ruining his plan. Maybe it was better if she was silent, today she would be queen of Jahanpur. Shah Nawaz would be her husband. Maybe she would be happier?

Over the fields, few roads away was Sang E mar Mar haveli. She'd heard stories of the dome sculpted of pure gold, tiles glimmering white marble; the jewel of Jahanpur. She pressed her chest and felt a yearning. The guilt poured in, whilst the heartache of losing Shah Nawaz as her husband stoked the fire in her. It was strange, she'd only seen him once, but her heart accepted him as her husband, this was deep and intimate. She'd dreamed of donning bridal red, her hands dressed in henna tattooed with his name. Now it was a distant memory, Shah Nawaz was chief of Jahanpur; she was left in the dust without a shade.
Emaan observed her maid argue with the driver under the scorching heat, their voices mute. The world was nothing but a noise. She found peace at the mosque and spent most her days there reciting the Quran, if only, I could see him and apologise. Would he accept me? At that moment, the driver jumped to the side as a convoy of vehicles drove by.
"It's the convoy of Jahanpur."
Emaan turned towards the white SUV's one by one, four cars drove by blowing dust upon them. Who could be in the cars? Was it Shah Nawaz? Her heart pounded with anticipation. Maybe they would stop if they saw her? She made her way to the front of the car, but the convoy drove past without a flicker of a thought.

With Wajahat Ali at the wheel at breakneck speed, Shah Nawaz sat in the back making last minute arrangements on his mobile. Returning from the city, Shah Nawaz was due to meet his planning committee back at Sang e Mar Mar Haveli. The team of thirty had spent the last month conveyancing the land, mapping out the new reservoirs and upgrading the electricity in the region. Shah Nawaz's plans were ambitious and expensive.
Wajahat Ali slowed the car when noticed a gang of buffaloes and punched his horn repeatedly. The mammals were slow, lazy and thirsty in the hot summer day and there were in no rush to move out of the way.
Outside, on the narrow road, the nervous petite farmer whipped his buffalos commanding them to move. Fear spread through him as the headlights flashed.
"Hurry!" He smacked them. "Move!"
The lazy, summer heat weighed the bulky buffalos. It was a long way to the river, and they grazed on the leaves for a snack. Wajahat Ali jumped out of the SUV waving his gun in the air.
"Get out of the way!" He kicked the stubborn buffalo who refused to continue their path.
"I'm sorry!" The farmer begged clasping his hands. "I have been trying with my apprentice, but they won't budge."
"Hurry!" Wajahat Ali joined in and began physically pushing the large beasts. He spotted the so-called apprentice. His head suspiciously covered in a black shawl at the far side of the buffalos.
"Who is your apprentice?" asked Wajahat Ali, signalling his guards.
"Saab, he has been with me three days. He works really hard." The farmer pleaded staring at Wajahat Ali's AK47.
Wajahat made his way towards the tall man. Dressed in black salwar kameez, he hid mysteriously behind the buffalos.
"Oi, you show your face?" Wajahat Ali poked the barrel of his gun against his arm.
The farmer shook. The apprentice refused. The guards surrounded the shifty looking apprentice who refused to cooperate. The farmer pleaded for his life.
"Show me your face- or else I'll blow your brains." Wajahat Ali yelled.