Jageer-e-Mohabbat - جاگیرِ محبت
In the heart of rural Pakistan, amidst the opulent estates of feudal lords, there existed a tale of love and enmity that defied societal norms. At the center of this story were two individuals whose initial animosity...
As they left the hospital, Shah Nawab pulled Bahlaj aside, his expression stern and unyielding. "Listen to me carefully, Bahlaj," he said, his voice low and intense. "Don't even think about misbehaving. This girl has been through enough. Make sure she is comfortable and well taken care of. Do you understand?"
Bahlaj nodded, feeling the weight of his father's words. "Yes, Baba Sai. I understand."
Shah Nawab's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained firm. "Remember, Bahlaj, our actions have consequences. It's time for you to take responsibility and do what's right."
With that, Shah Nawab turned and walked back towards the waiting car, leaving Bahlaj standing there as he said to himself " of course Baba Sai , I will make sure".
As they drove to the guest house, Bahlaj glanced at Sitara through the rearview mirror. She sat quietly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes staring out the window, lost in thought. The journey was silent, the weight of recent events hanging heavy in the air.
When they arrived at the guest house, Bahram helped Sitara out of the car and led her inside.
Bahlaj stood by the doorway, watching as Bahram showed Sitara around. "This will be your home for now," Bahram said softly, pointing out the amenities. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
Sitara nodded, her expression a mix of exhaustion and fear. She kept her eyes cast downward, too afraid that she might meet his gaze, worried that any eye contact might provoke him. Her body language spoke volumes—she was tense, her shoulders hunched, and her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
Bahram, noticing her distress, stepped closer with a gentle demeanor. "Sitara," he said softly, trying to reassure her. "No one is going to hurt you. You're safe here. And we are sorry for what happened ".
She nodded again, her response barely more than a whisper.
Despite his assurances, Sitara's anxiety was palpable. She had been thrust into an unfamiliar world, one that was far removed from her modest upbringing.
The guest house was modest in size, but its interiors screamed money and power. Sitara looked around and in her eighteen years of life, she had never seen anything like this. Used to her humble hut made of mud that provided a sense of security, she now felt insignificant amidst the grandeur and opulence surrounding her.
The polished marble floors gleamed under the soft lighting, and the walls were adorned with expensive artwork. The furniture, with its intricate carvings and luxurious fabrics, seemed almost too lavish to touch. Sitara's eyes widened as she took in the plush sofas, the ornate rugs, and the elegant chandeliers that cast a warm, inviting glow throughout the room.
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Despite the comfort and luxury, she felt a profound sense of alienation. This place, with all its beauty and wealth, was foreign to her in every way. She had spent her life in simplicity, where every possession had a purpose, and nothing was wasted. Here, everything seemed excessive, a stark reminder of the gulf between her past and the present moment.
