Caged Nightingale

atif-66

We spend the afternoon talking, it feels like a silly dance really. We go through all the motions of lunch and coffee in the garden. Saara's mother looks like she's suffered terribly from her daughter's absence. She touches her often and reluctantly leaves the room when they are together.
Saara's father on the other hand watches my every move closely. Silently.
He notices Saara's light touches on my arm when she wants my attention, how she smiles and nods when she agrees with me, all the micro expressions that pass between us. He sees them all. Even the silences, he watches us closely.
before long I find myself in her father 's study. Alone with him. He sits behind his desk and motions for me sit across from him. I do.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything. The light outside is mellowing, the daylight waning. Shadows begin to creep along the walls. And still saara's father's silence bares down on me like an accusation.
This is the bit where he offers me money, I tell him to go fuck himself, then he offers me oppertnities and I still refuse. Then he'll threaten to ruin me- I'd be ruined anyway without Saara. The truth is she's going to leave me, but he doesn't know that yet.
"My wife had 4 miscarriages before we had Saara." He says finally. "The doctors told us another pregancy might just kill my wife. My mother wanted me to divorce Saara's mother and marry again. What's the point in having just one child-a daughter at that!" He turns to look out of the window at the giant oak with its reddening leaves. "But I knew, it didn't matter, not really. Even at 34 weeks, premature she was a fighter." He stops for a second, thoughtfully. "See, we made the mistake of constantly protecting her. I never raised her to take over my business empire, follow in my family footsteps and go into politics. I just wanted her to live and be safe and happy. Just live a normal life and forge her own little path. It was enough for her, her mother and even me. For a while." He shakes his head slowly. "Even finding asim for her. It was so unprecedented. A million rishtey and we pick a boy who has the exact same nature as her, all he wants is to make her happy." He laughs sardonically. "Okay, I agree. Let them live in a bubble, be innocent of the terrible realities of the real world. But even that doesn't last. We can protect them from a lot but we cant protect them from what is written. When death comes calling..." He sighs, his voice becoming dangerously soft. "When Saara disappeared, I thought that was the end. You can't reason with fanatics. They are so intoxicated by ideas, you'd get more out of a junky. The police?" He tuts "more deprived that the terrorists! It was bleak. I thought that's it. This is what happens: Its always the vulnerable that become the carrion, the collateral damage of the carnige caused by these anarchists." He picks up a globed paperweight. Inside, frozen forever is a flower. He holds it up in the palm of his hand, turning it gently. It catches the light, bends it and throws a spectrum off color against the wall across the room. "Thriftless ambition. I didn't expect to see her again, hear of her death, or even find out what happened to her." He turns his head to the side and lifts his hair away from the side of his face. He's missing an ear. "Humans are such deprived animals." He says and half laughs. "It was better to think of her dead than alive and suffering- beyond my reach."
He turns back to me. "From the moment she could stand, I saw the way eyes followed her across the room. Relatives, friends, strangers, waiters in restaurants. I knew it was not mere curiosity. It felt . . . ." he stops to find the word"-inevitable." He sighs. "Uncertainty is a terrible thing. Terrible, terrible thoughts can plague you relentlessly." He looks grim and turns to look directly at me. "I saw the footage of her inside the hospital being wheeled out and moved into a car with no plates-Taken right out, in front of everyone. If they wanted her dead, they would have shot her right there. Why take her alive? Unless they wanted her."
He gives me a level look. I stare back keeping my face passive.
"Imagine my. . . reaction." He means fury "-when I received a note from Jangir Malik's son, two weeks later!"