The Fallen Widow

Chapter 2-

Drums beat in a rhythmic deafening flow over the next seven days leading to the inauguration. A festival exploded in the haveli. By day, fresh, hot meals were served to the villagers and night dhols beat with synchronised dancers lighting up the atmosphere in the haveli. Sang e Mar Mar Haveli was alive.

It was the day of the inauguration when drums partnered with trumpets played to a group of forty four, traditional, colourfully, dressed, male dancers who swirled their traditional dresses mirroring the spiralling fireworks.

Outside in a field, a large stage was set for the pinnacle moment, the inauguration ceremony. Colourful canopies shaded the stage and enclosed around the stage. Hundreds of chairs were lined for the audience where panchayat members, police, officials, guests and politicians gathered creating a thrill of excitement in the air. Behind the seats, villagers gathered taking the first seats on the floor held back by guards.

"You hold his right hand in your right -" a chief police inspector tutored his new recruit.
"-You bow and kiss his hand and press his hand on both your eyes, with your left hand firmly on your heart. Then you say, 'I, Lala Miah, do solemnly swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi, son of Dilawar-Baksh Qureshi of Jahanpur, to their heirs and successors. So, help me Allah."

It was customary that all panchayat members, police officers and politicians who worked and lived in Jahanpur swear allegiance to the ruling leader.
"Can you remember that? If you get one word wrong-" The inspector spanked the back of his head like a child.
"or hold Choudhary's hand in the left hand his guards will chop your hand hurl it off. You only have one chance." Sweat dripped from the young man's forehead. He couldn't think. He couldn't remember his own name let alone a sentence.

One by one the panchayat members dressed in their ivory salwar kameez, starched clean for the day arrived. Their turbans fixed on their head with a band pointing sharp up to the sky. The excitement was fever pitch, any moment they expected Shah Nawaz to appear.

With the audience seated and waiting with bated breath, bullets fired into the air silencing the entire enclave. The dancing and drums stopped. Everyone froze.
"Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi has arrived." Announced a booming voice in the crowd.
The eager guests stared at the stage. The heaving crowd of villagers stood to their feet and punched into the air with power, shouting in unison.
"Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi Zindabad (long live Choudhary Shah Nawaz Qureshi)" They repeated over and over like a choir.
The drum pounded once again raising heartbeats. The pressure was so intense that it seemed the crowd was about to burst. When the convoy of vehicles arrives, voices were shrill, on the brink of screams.

When the long line of cars stopped, the security team stepped out. Twenty black uniformed men with AK 47's held in their large shovel-like hands and fingered the trigger ready to fire at the blink of an eye. A set of bullet belts were strapped across their chest in two diagonal directions. The hulking men scanned the area for snipers, their narrow eyes penetrating through the crowd scanning each and every face.

Quickly, the guards sprang into action creating a human barrier, linking their hands around the convoy of jeeps pushing the intense crowd of villagers back. The jeeps coughed up dust blinding the crowd behind them. The chants echoed through the district of Jahanpur keeping every one awake in fear coupled with excitement. The young Choudhary had arrived at the centre stage.

Fireworks exploded marking the significant arrival. The blue sky painted in a temporary shade of green and red like the wedding celebration of a groom arriving for his bride. In one of the jeeps was the young Choudhary but no one knew which of the tinted windows masked him.