Bitter Sweet | ✓ (rewriting)

06 • phasna | پھانسنا

•| trapped |•

•••
unki ek hasi se toh meri puri
duniya rukh si jaati hai
•••

Fidah sat slumped down on the pile of bricks that were in the corner of the under-constructed hut with no ceiling, giving them a clear view of the dark starry night. She fidgeted with her fingers as she heard the fat pot bellied man rant on and off about mosquitoes in the bushes. Zarrar stood not far away, glaring at the strange man, his one arm handcuffed to a window while the other lay to his side, forehead bunched in tension.

"Tumhe pata hai ladki? Ek baar maine ek chuhe jaise mote macchar ko dekha tha! " The man exclaimed, spitting out the paan that he had been chewing for god knows how long.

(You know girl? There was one time when I saw a mosquito as fat as a rat!)

Zarrar's nose scrunched in disgust as the chewed up pile of betel leaves landed straight on his white Adidas leaving a disgustingly large red stain. His skin crawled with fury, almost ready to pounce on the man.

Fidah scoffed back an unconscious giggle that bubbled from deep within her chest. She was supposed to be the damsel in distress, literally stuck with two unknown men, her life a mess and everything that could probably go down in the history of ruination, but apparently the trauma was finally catching up and was getting manifested into inappropriate laughter.

"Tujhe chahiye, puttar?" The man questioned Zarrar, who was  staring at his stained white shoes in deep infuriation.

(You want, son?)

Fidah finally broke down giggling seeing the duo interact with each other, her lips stretching as she threw her head back. This caught Zarrar by surprise, if he thought she looked beautiful before, right now his heart seemed to be dancing to the sound of her giggles.

Almost like breaking away from reverie, Zarrar shook his head diverting his attention from her to the man before him. His features morphing into a glare that could shake a person's existence.
"Just let us go!"

"Hosla, puttar. Hosla. Yeh toh tab sochna chahiye tha jab tum jungle ke beech mein chumma-chati kar rahe the!" The pot bellied man shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance.

(Patience, son. Patience. You should have thought about all this before you were busy making out in the jungle .)

Fidah turned beet red at this statement, the amount of inappropriateness this man was spewing made her dizzy, while Zarrar groaned in frustration as his own ears turned red.
"We weren't doing anything of that sort! "

"Acha jo bhi hai. Just wait. Shafakat Ali ayega phir tum dono ke saath kya karna hai dekha jayega. " The man said, not paying heed as he shook his hands dismissively in the air.

(Whatever it is) (Shafakat Ali will come, after that we will decide what has to be done with the both of you.)

Zarrar's jaw dropped, or more like clenched as this statement. The absurdity was unreal. They had no authority to hold them here without their consent. He silently dialed the number of his friend who was in the police force with the hand that was free, hoping to get out of this disastrous situation before it gets worse but the darned place had no signal.

"Shafakat Ali kon hai, chacha?" Fidah meekly questioned out of nowhere before he could even speak up against the atrocious man.

(Who is Shafakat Ali?)

"Arrey! You don't know Shafakat Ali ? Konsi duniya say ho tum, ladki?" A sudden dramatic gasp escaped the man's mouth, as if she had committed the most horrendous in by asking such a question.