Khamosh Mohabbat

Part 3

As the car took exit from the motorway, the scenery changed. Although, people living in Islamabad are used to the mountains and trees, but as you climb higher towards Abbottabad, the feeling changes, and the weather becomes cooler.

Hamza lowered the window to feel the fresh air; it was filled with the crisp scent of pine, as the cool air touched his face. He felt like lighting a cigarette, but having his mom in the car made it not possible at that time.

In the heart of this picturesque landscape, a sleek black Range Rover navigated its way through the winding roads. As it ascended, the terrain changed dramatically. The smooth, paved roads transformed into narrow, gravel-covered pathways that clung to the sides of the hills. The vehicle's suspension absorbed the initial impact as it encountered the first set of small bumps, but soon the road became a series of undulating dips and rises.

Inside the car, the occupants felt the rhythmic jostling, yet the luxurious interior kept them shielded from the more intense vibrations. Soft leather seats cradled them, and the ambient lighting created a cozy atmosphere. The driver, focused and steady, expertly maneuvered the vehicle through the challenging road.

The clouds were forming above their heads, making it a little darker than usual for 4 o'clock during the day. The headlights cut through the gathering darkness, illuminating the rugged path ahead.

As the road became steeper, the car's powerful engine roared in response, effortlessly conquering the incline. The hilly landscape unfolded, revealing breathtaking views of valleys and distant mountain peaks. Despite the challenges of the bumpy land, the journey was filled with a sense of adventure and anticipation for Hamza.

However, he could see that inside the car, a sense of sadness prevailed. His mom was lost in her thoughts, the beautiful weather did not seem to be affecting her.

"Come on, Mom, why are you so sad? Insha'Allah, Mamu must be fine," he tried to comfort her.

"Nahi Hamza, Maya never called me this way, mera dil bohat ghabra raha hai," she sounded very worried.

"Don't worry," he again feebly tried to console her.

The car turned into a small lane, leading straight to Feroze Mamu's house. The driver dropped Hamza and Durri at the door and reversed the car to park at another corner, where the car could be safe and out of the way.

Hamza stood behind his mother while Durri knocked on the door and waited patiently for it to be opened.

The door was opened by a girl, draped in a big dupatta which almost covered her face. She immediately hugged her phuppo and started crying. They both kept standing there embracing in each other's arms for a while and then she led them inside.

As they entered the gate, they passed through a flourishing garden and a neatly manicured pathway, leading towards the entrance of the house. Hamza looked around the house; it was a small house but very clean and organized, a modest retreat embodying simplicity and warmth.

The house was made in an earthy tone, with a wooden door to the entrance. The door of the house opened into a living area, where he could see carefully arranged, thoughtfully chosen furniture, maximising the available space. A comfortable sofa and a couple of armchairs surrounded a small centre table, creating a welcoming atmosphere. The decor was minimal and looked old, but it was clean.

Three doors were opening in the living room; one seemed like a kitchen, and one was closed while the girl led them to the third door which was Mamu's room.

As they entered the room, there was a bed in the middle of the room, on which a very frail man was sitting, skinny, dark, eyes sunk in dark hollows. As Durri saw him in this condition, she sped up her pace to reach him, took the place next to him on the bed, took his hands in hers and started to cry.