The Fallen Widow

5. Hookah Bettak

Designing symmetrical patterns on the floor, Fiza worked diligently creating a welcome for her beloved grandad. Complicated circles with flowers designed elaborately. The gate opened announcing the arrival of a Black SUV vehicle. She brushed her hair back with her right hand smearing red powder on her forehead.
"Here take this." She gave the tray to the maid and clapped the remaining powder from her hands.  She wore a smile and draped her head ready to greet her grandad. The vehicle made it's way in and the tap of a walking stick hit the ground. Choudhary Dilawar-Baksh stepped out on his weak legs , donned in his turban and he looked sharp. 
"I'm here baba jaani!" She ran to her grandad throwing her arms around him. 
"Careful." He chuckled with joy. "You will knock your baba over." The seventy two year old man wrapped his arms around his favourite granddaughter and kissed her forehead with his tickly moustache. Dilawar-Baksh's eyes widened with joy seeing his beautiful granddaughter after such a long time. He pressed his hand on her head.
"My pari is here." He chuckled and embraced her.
Adorned with a patterned silken shawl, Shahgul was Dilawar-Baksh's third and final wife who he married for love. Entering her early fifties, there was a twenty year difference between the couple and this showed in her glowing skin. She stood with her shawl over her shoulder with grace commanding attention .
"By Allah, this girl illuminates the haveli whenever she is here." Dilawar-Baksh looked at his wife and she nod her head in agreement. Fiza was the most cherished grandchild of the clan.
"Baba-Jaani, I missed you so much!" She squeezed him and kissed his cheek. "But look at you." She stood up and pressed her hands on her slender waist.
 "You've gone frail. Do you take your medicines? Does anyone pluck fresh plums, apricots and grapes from the orchard for you? Now I'm here-" She rolled her sleeves ready to take care of her grandfather. "I will fatten you up with ghee infused paranthas and lassi."
Dilawar-Baksh chuckled and walked to the central haveli with his arm over her shoulder.  "My beti is here, she will look after her old baba-Jaani." He alerted the maids who stood at the doors preparing the hookah pipe for him to enjoy in the grand betak.
"You're not old baba-jaani, you'll always be young in my heart." She held his hand and kissed it. The grand bettak was the heart of the Central Haveli. It was a large rectangular room dressed with heavy damask curtains which were rarely drawn and there for decoration. Sunlight flooded through the rectangular shapes windows glaring on the luxurious leather sofas. The walls were decorated with portraits of the noble household clan, their frames embossed in gold and silver. It was here where main conversations were held with village elders, matters settled with villagers or emissaries from neighbouring districts. Shahgul took off her shawl revealing her fine duppatta. 
"How is your family, Fiza beti?" Asked Shahgul.
"She send her salaam to you, Choti-ammi." Fiza called her young mother. "I bought freshly made pinjiri for you baba jaani. Naani sent it with her love." 
Fiza was the grandaughter of Dilawar-Baksh's second wife; a wife he rarely met now he had Shahgul by her side. His wives would often send delicious food to remind their husband of their presence and their desire for him to call them to the haveli or visit them.
"I'll phone her and thank her." Dilawar-Baksh looked at his aide, Allah Ditta. Allah Ditta was his loyal ally and carried out all Dilawar-Baksh's tasks with due diligence. Allah Ditta doffed his head in reply.
"Where is Uzayr? Has my grandson arrived?" Dilawar looked around and asked. Fiza sat next to her grandfather and fluffed his cushions making him comfortable when Uzayr Sultani was called.
"Choudhary Saab, he went hunting. I will call him." Allah Ditta obediently walked away.

Moments later, Uzayr Sultani filled the doorway with his hulking figure. Dilwar looked at his grandson with pride. Uzayr  was his first wife's grandson. Borne from his oldest daughter, he grew up in his Dilawar-Baksh's haveli. Uzayr met his grandad and kissed his hand pressing it on his forehead to show respect. Dilawar-Baksh washed his hand over his head with pride.
"My sher ." He aligned his tough exterior to a lion's frame.
Fiza pinned her eyes on Uzayr unable to tear them away. He took her breath away.
"I have something to discuss." Dilawar-Baksh instructed his grandson to sit beside him with Fiza on the other side. She tilted her head with her earring dangling and stuck her tongue our in a childish tease.
"How is your mum?" Dilawar-Baksh asked Uzayr. Uzayr struggled to maintain his bitter sentiments to himself. Dilawar-Baksh had no time for his daughters. Only his land and his son meant the world to him.