The Fallen Widow

Chapter 7 - The Oath

It was after Maghrib, sun set, darkness blanketed the haveli when Shah Nawaz entered the hookah bettak in his haveli, taking care in each step like he was walking on a wire. Meh'r-Bano jumped off the prayer mat and onto to her feet when she heard his footsteps in the corridor. For over an hour she listened to the ticking of the clock in rhythm to her heart beat.
Quickly, she adjusted her scarf and swallowed into her dry throat like a shadow in the corner of the room. Her heart pounding wondering what Zaman Ali said, what was the verdict?

Shah Nawaz made no attempt to acknowledge her presence and switched on the stereo player. The sound of a tabla echoed in the dimly lit room; pounding against the wall. He sat in the armchair, his left hand running over his beard.
Did he forget I am here? Meh'r-Bano looked around the room wondering if she was a mirage. The qawaal singer began to raise his voice, mastering the raag notes. Meh'r-Bano edged closer.
"I once read that there are three elements in the world that create empires-" Shah Nawaz stared into the darkness in deep thought.
"Politics, economics and enterprise."
Biting her nails, she stood back and listened to him. They were alone- no maids, no guards.

"The most crucial element people tend to forget."

The singer broke into a song, his voice throaty, deep and profound filling the room with colour. Meh'r-Bano didn't care for games, she wanted to know the verdict. What happened?
"If the final element is not met- it can destroy empires. One mistake- could cost me years of work." He turned towards her finally validating her. His face stern, in contemplative mood. The room was lit from a corner lamp creating shadows of mountains.

"When I walk into a room I find the underdog." His left hand in a fist. "When I find him, I champion him."
"What happened Choudhary Saab?"

Shah Nawaz summoned Zaman Ali into the room of his executive planning team. An illiterate farmer amongst graduates and high earners.
"Tell Zaman Ali- tell me about your land, near the river." Shah Nawaz summoned the nervous old man who held his shawl between his hands.
Zaman Ali didn't dare to look up at his master, he wiped the sweat from his brow.
"What do you want to hear, Choudhary Saab?"

The city workers eyes were upon this feeble man. A weak man who they couldn't understand, only caught a word or two. Shah Nawaz informed him about the plan, and Zaman Ali gasped- his red eyes wide, he finally looked up. He shook his head, informing his master of a monumental disaster if they constructed a power station on his land to supply electricity.

"It's a catastrophe, Choudhary Saab." He slapped his left hand on his head. The land floods, my harvest is wasted- if you build on the land, you will suffer greatly." Zaman Ali warned. "All the land is yours- you can take it, but take my advice, the advice of a little man. It won't be beneficial to build on the land."

Fury spread through Shah Nawaz. He sent Zaman Ali away and turned to the suits sat around the table demanding answers. They shuffled paper, clicking on the laptop, looked at each other but couldn't give an answer. There were no answers. They estimated the land, the costs and did not carry out any field work. Saving time and money.
Meh'r-Bano stood oblivious to the seismic shock that occurred hours before.

"I met my nephew, Jahanzaib today- roaming the fields like a vagabond." Shah Nawaz shared his meeting with Jahanzaib who rejected luxury and wealth for the soil of Jahanpur.

Meh'r-Bano eye's widened on hearing Jahanzaib's return. What would Shah Nawaz to do him?

"He has returned to learn from the land. Now that's a leader, maybe I should take a leaf out of his book. With great power comes great responsibility."

Meh'r-bano was astounded by Shah Nawaz's reflection. Was he in regret? This was a different side to him. What happened in that room? What did Zaman Ali say?
Shah Nawaz finally met Meh'r-bano glimmering eyes, wide and beautiful with a thirst for knowledge.
"Did you ever think, why you were on tea duty?" His voice deep and low like a soft brush against her skin. He was intimidating, she turned away looking at him took her breath away.
"It's your haveli, you're the master."
"But why?" He inched closer, she stepped back.
"To keep an eye on me."
"Try again."
There was more to this conversation, what was he trying to tell her?
"Bulbul perched in a room full of professional city team. Why?"