Tum Se Hi

♡

"Maa begum..!" Meerub called out, walking towards her. She was chilling on her takht, enjoying a hookah.

"Aao bahu, tum to shakal hi nahi dikhati." She remained still and raised her eyebrows, indicating her to sit down. Meerub carefully sat down near her on one of the couches. Maa begum was right. Since the day she showed her around, meerub had barely left her room.

She'd had her meals in the room too.
"Mai bor hojati hoon. Ghar bhi yaad ata hai na."
"Shadi ke baad larkiyon ka ghar susral hi hota hai. Is pr dehan do." Maa begum did not care. Meerub's stomach lurched. She was a typical saas, the one she'd dreaded watching in those indian soap operas with her amma.

"Murtasim.. kahan jata hai?" She thought asking discreeetly wouldn't do her any good.
"Tumhara shohar hai.. khud pooch liya karo." Maa begum took a deep breath in, along with the toxic chemicals of hookah.

"Ji.. mai.. mai chlti hoon." Meerub rised, assuming no point in talking anymore, and left. A week and 3 days had passed since the marriage. Since she stepped foot into this house. And it was going absoloutely no where. Meerub felt stuck. Sometimes she'd feel like she's in a haunted house, where robots worked. They wouldn't talk extra to her.

Once when she was walking around, she saw a woman, a maid, specifically to talk to maa begum. Others weren't allowed. There were maids assigned to her for bringing food, ironed clothes etc, and when she tried talking to them, they posed deaf.

All this was not helping meerub's state at all. Somewhere deep down, she had a hint of hope that her parents would come. They must love me! She would tell herself. But then as days passed, she started losing that hope. The only way to get out now was he, himself. Murtasim. She was stuck here because of him. She wasn't able to kill herself because of him.

And now, she will live because of him.
****
Muratsim and ashar entered the shabby house. The door creaked as the paint peeling of the walls came in view. It was old, and the inhabitants were really poor, it was clear.

"Chacha.." ashar called out. Ashar was a fine man, with black curls, and a muscular body. He was adorning a black t-shirt with jeans. No one could tell ashar was a country boy. As murtasim looked at him proudly, he approached the bed ridden old man in worn out clothes.

"Bolo bacho.. kaise aana hoa.." he could barely talk between his coughing.
"Inhe severe bronchitis hai.. emphysema."
"Oh...." murtasim did not know.
"Chacha, hume maloomat chahiyen thin, ap kisi zamane mai anwar khan ke liye kaam krte the na?"

The old man's eyes shot wide open, he looked at both of them, joining his hands together and cried out,
"M.. mai.. mai nai janta. Mughe.. mughe maaf krdo.. chor do mughe.. mai nai.. mai nai.." as his attack continued murtasim called the driver and hastily instructed him to take the old man to a hospital.

After leaving the place, they roamed around the city aimlessly. Eventually ashar entered a public parks's parking lot and they walked in. The sun was about to set and the birds chirped, heading home.

Ashar seated himslef on a closeby bench, while murtasim stood by him, leaning on a tree.
"Agar hamari source sahi hai.. to anwar sahab.. jo apke chacha hain.. unho ne is admi ki family ko mar ke phikwa diya tah kahin. Tabse ye aese hi hain."

"Lekin.. kiyun.. wo aesa kiyun krenge??"

"Wohi mai soch raha hoon.. lkn baat to pakki hai, apke chacha.. wo ya to apki maa se bohot mohobbat krte the, ya bohot zada nafrat."

Murtasim closed his eyes in frustration on Ashar's harsh words. He was pained but was also sure of his theory.

"Mai wapis ghar jana chahta hoon, aj ke liye itna kafi hai." He said without looking at ashar and walked away.