FADED PETALS (On Hold)

3.

3rd January
Old Delhi
India.

It was early in the morning, around 7 when the car halted in front of a mansion. She should feel nostalgic because this was the place where her childhood had been spent, but all she could feel was immense hatred.

It was her father's estate, which would legally be hers after a few years. The house was big, covering about half an acre of land. The front wide iron door was covered with various shades of blooms.

Thornless flowers for the spineless ménage.

Shehnaaz stepped out as the driver removed all her luggage from the boot. 

*
"Aapi, please come back. Asif needs you", Navya's last string of patience had broken. Asif had locked himself in a room, not ready to meet anyone. His condition was deteriorating. Six years of depression and nobody cared about him. Shehnaaz was her last hope and she had called her in anticipation that she might bring a change.

*

The driver helped Sitaara from her seat. He was a kind man, quite old to work. The whole journey from the airport to her house was accompanied by the melody of classical music. The man was chirpy and had told her how his wife who loved these songs was no more and how his only son for whom he had sacrificed everything and gone out of his comfort zone to educate had vanished with his newly married wife to New York. The man was quite chivalrous for his age and held no remorse saying what's done is done. He is happy that at least his son was living happily somewhere.

Sitaara was nervous. When Shehnaaz told her that they were going back to India, to meet her family she was scared.

"But aren't you my family? And I don't have mom and dad. So where are we going?", Sitaara had asked, acting completely ignorant but Shehnaaz could sense the little hope that the child carried, her eyes daunting, pleading shehnaaz to tell her that maybe she also had parents who would embrace her.

"Yeah, it's not mom and dad but different people like friends. You will get to meet a lot of friends", shehnaaz had replied adding "some mean people too" in an undertone.

Shehnaaz held sitaara's hand and moved inside leaving the luggage for the keepers to carry inside.

The place was beautiful, fresh and flowery. It was green enough to lure people who constantly fell into the trap of rotten lives.

Sitaara was tightly clutching Shehnaaz's black empire waistline Kurta, the place filling her with uneasiness. Having spent a long six years in Norway, Shehnaaz's love for Indian dresses had not even diminished a bit. She still had a dainty collection of embroidered suits which she usually paired with handcrafted jhumkas. Dupattas were her favourite part and since childhood, she would wrap herself in those twirling and running, so that it flows with the wind giving her wings.

"Aapi", Shehnaaz stopped right in her tracks recognising the voice. She had been yearning to hear her voice in real, longing to touch her. She ran towards Navya embracing her in the warmest of hugs.

Navya Chandra was Shehnaaz's caretaker's daughter. Shehnaaz was homeschooled till class eighth along with Navya who was educated as compensation to her mother's job. Other than Asif, she was the only person shehnaaz had trusted. She was her secret keeper, her best friend.

"How's aunty?", Shehnaaz spoke with a broken voice. She had missed this hug. She had missed her.

"Everybody is fine", Navya spoke letting the tears flow. "Leaving us", she finally added.

"Is she Sitaara?", Navya spoke after a while looking at the frantic small child. "She's so timid."

"Innocent too", shehnaaz added. 

"Come here, don't be scared love", shehnaaz wrapped her hands around sitaara who stood at a distance watching them silently.

"What happened? Are you fine? Breathe softly. Everything's alright", shehnaaz spoke softly stroking her back.

"We should go inside, you must be tired", Navya said, eyeing sitaara quite awkwardly.

"She's Navya aapi, she also takes time to get accustomed to new people like you. She's really nice just like rainbows", said shehnaaz as she took sitaara's hand in hers heading further inside.

***

Her room was clean and properly ordered, not even a bit like she left, with broken vases and torn pages. 

"So this is our new abode", she spoke, eyeing at sitaara who was busy watching the aquarium in the corner. The fishes had been replaced. 

"It is beautiful."

" Yes, you can paint and sketch here too. I had a canvas board with a palette. It must be somewhere here too."

"You used to live here?", asked Sitaara with her eyes still on a golden fish.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You also had a big TV in your room", Sitaara had now sprawled on the bed astonished of this lavish bedroom.

"Yeah", she replied, remembering how she threw her canvas board on the TV. The shattering sounds that soothed her reality.

"I want to turn it on", sitaara moved towards the TV cabinet turning it on. They hadn't installed a TV back in Norway.

The loud voice of the news anchor boomed through the stereos connected, it's vibration moving the porcelain artefact kept in front of it, making it fall on the ground.

The world's so fragile.

"The stereo's still the old one, not your fault", said shehnaaz as she bent to pick the pieces of the broken vase. "Who kept it here, knowing that its bass is so high."

"Sidharth Rathore, What do you have to say about the present unrest in the country?", The reporter's voice blared, making Shehnaaz look on the screen or rather his face after six years.

***

"Assalamu alaikum abba", Shehnaaz spoke as she saw him huddled on the sofa with some files on his lap. It was late in the evening and she had come down to fetch some water.

"See, I returned from Kerala today hearing about your arrival", he smiled. "Walekum Assalam beta."

How much shehnaaz begged that the soft voice she heard could be a forever thing. But she was aware of this facade. She knew how much of a wonderful actor her father was.

"This child will go to foster home, how dare you to bring this illegitimate thing home", his father's voice had hailed in the central room on seeing the baby wrapped in Shehnaaz's hand. 

"No, abba. Please", she had cried, begged and not once had her father looked at her.

"I was planning to call you. I wanted to talk to you about something", he spoke, this was how much he cared about his daughter.

"You told me that you wanted to join our party, a few months back. I think the right time has come. I want you to stand for one constituency", he spoke with a stern expression.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

14/02/2021

Tc.
Ahsmir