The Fallen Widow

Book III- Chapter 1; The Howling in the Wind

Author's note: Here we go. Eid Mubarak to everyone. Here is your Eidi. Enjoy. 

****

Present Day:

The ghostly waxing moon surrounded by smoky, misty clouds looked down at the cursed province of Jahanpur. The nights were long, dark and cold with a bitter chill in the air. Jahanpur was never the same after the widow was stoned. Six months later the memories fresh from the rainy ultimate panchayat haunted the people of Jahanpur. The field where Meh'r-Bano was summoned, judged and stoned lay barren without a single seed rising from the blood drenched soil. Jahanpur was a different and terrifying place to live, the haveli had regained control of Jahanpur and their reign of terror was unleashed.

Fresh graves were dug. Three members of the panchayat were brutally murdered in the middle of the night. After the ultimate panchayat, it was an end to the tradtional panchayat- democracy died.

Villagers were made to work twenty four hours a day as the quarry and brick kiln roared night and day with villagers working in shifts. Time was money and Jahanpur demanded the blood and sweat of villagers to create more bricks than before.

Cranes, diggers and foreign workers were shipped into Jahanpur for the most ambitious project ever- yet no one knew what was being constructed. Villagers were displaced moved from their homes to create space for the new ambitious building project, but what was being built? The lack of information created an atmosphere of fear from the vainglorious dictator ruler, Choudhary Shah Nawaz. He owned the change and created a sinister mood that was unforgiving and brutal.

Dilawar-Baksh stood on the balcony and looked over at his land. The roar of diggers and the sky high crane filled the horizon. Coughing up phelm he spit onto the ground and held the trellis of the balcony. His health deteriorated and he had been bed bound for weeks. This was the first time he stepped out to breath the fresh, bitter cold taunting air. Fiza nursed her grandfather to health, but every day her smile faded since the day she married Uzayr. She lost her laughter, her joy and this broke Dilawar-Baksh's heart.

"That bastard doesn't deserve my jewel."

After another bout of coughing, he took a deep breath and tried to stand up straight. He tried to forget that day, but the more he wrestled with his mind, the harder the memory stuck.

"Choudhary Shah Nawaz has been stabbed at the panchayat!" A cry called him out of the bed.

At that moment his worse fears came to light. His reign and lineage ended. He'd lost Jahanpur. Shah Nawaz failed. The panchayat leaders ousted his son.

However, his fears proved wrong. Shah Nawaz recovered from the stab wound which missed any vital organ. He emerged from the ashes of the ultimate panchayat, stronger and brutal and ruled Jahanpur with an iron fist.

He ordered the panchayat leader Jawad Malik and two others throats to be slit in their sleep. He threated peer haider and put him on lockdown. He was forbidden to hold a chillah at his darbar. His saintly forefathers saved him from an early death.

"Oh Allah! What legacy have I left?" Dilawar-Baksh cried out staring at the cloudy sky. "My son has turned to ice. He has no mercy for anyone, not even his parents. What will become of my legacy?"

Inside the haveli, in the women's zinana Shah Gul sat rolling her tasbeeh beads whilst the maid washed and massaged her feet. Deep in her thoughts she stared at the ivory pillar as the maid dug her finger into the heels of her feet.

Downstairs she could hear the murmur of the haveli panchayat. Shah Nawaz set Uzayr and Jahanzaib as his deputy and any local issues they had the authority to deal with them. There were no village elders. The haveli settled any issue. It had been three weeks since she saw Shah Nawaz. He rarely checked in or sat and shared a meal with his family. He was on a deadly mission which he shared with no one. Had he found Meh'r-bano?