The Fallen Widow

15. The Hero King

It was almost a month since the night of terror when Uzayr went wild. Mehr-Bano was not called back to the haveli- she watched the gate of her house, waiting, each day for a summon. It never came. Home was her safety, her comfort zone. Washing babu, cutting his toenails, feeding him lentil and chick pea soup every evening. Shafiq calmed down after seeing the cut on her neck. His wife was home, cleaning, cooking like she should. Her dreams thwarted; she'd finally seen the light. She was kneading dough, making perfectly round chapattis and not trying to conquer Jahanpur.

"Babu, what would you like to cook for this evening? I will send the boy round to Shafiq. He can pick up vegetables from the bazaar and send them home." Meh'r-Bano polished the silver trays that decorated the lounge room. The trays were never used but it was placed for show.
"I will order kerele, I know you love kerele. Maybe make some aloo pakora. With vermicelli after. Yes, that would be delicious." She enjoyed being the lady of her kitchen. At the haveli she followed orders, and had no autonomy.

But this morning, her day broke when a loud pounding on the gate took her breath away. They were here. The haveli sent orders. Her mother-in-law stood up. Babu pushed his body upright on the kat.

"No!" He mumbled.

It was inevitable that she had to return to the haveli.

"Grab an overnight bag. You are going to the city." Ordered the guard.

That was the only information she received.

"The car is out of the village on the main road."

Due to the narrow alleys, only two wheels bike and motorbikes could get through the village. Large SUV's and car would wait outside the village.

"What now?" Said her mother-in-law. "Where are they taking you? What do I tell Shafiq?"

There was no resisting or arguing with the guards. The order came from the Haveli and Meh'r-Bano had to comply.

Gathering a spare pair of clothes, comb, facial crème and lavender oil, she filled a small bag and bid babu goodbye. She kissed his frail, bony hand. He rested his hand on the crown of her head to grant her blessings. She wasn't sure what was expected or where she was going, heading to the unknown. She looked at the ashes in the choolah; her pot was ready to light. Today, she had to abandon it.

Making her way in the back of the SUV, she watched the yellow mustard fields ripe with crops pass her by. She gazed at the cows making their way to the river for their daily wash. Life was normal in the village and she pined for normality.

No one knew she was in the car as the windows were blackened. It was her and the driver.

"Where are we going?"

"City. To dai amma's house.""

"Who else is coming?"

"The chief, Choudhary Shah Nawaz will be on his way."

So, they would pick up few more maids and make their way to the city. Meh'r-Bano assumed. There, the maids would be expected to cook, clean and cater to Shah Nawaz's needs whilst he lived in a opulent haveli in the city.

What Meh'r-Bano expected and what transpired were two separate things. Today, she would see a different Shah Nawaz. A simple man living in an ordinary house, with his three milk-sisters. There was no formality, no pomp and no guards or maids allowed in the ordinary, small house. Shah Nawaz became Shawaj. He became part of an ordinary family; leaving Meh'r-Bano speechless.

***

The bustling, hooting, humid city filled Meh'r-Bano with nostalgia. She was born and grew up in the city surrounded by shopping malls, bazaar, busy rush of people and cars. She attended college, celebrated chand raath in her neighbourhood with her friends and neighbours.