Qubool Hai (MeeraSim FF)

14 - Qasid

He haden't wanted the 4 years after his nikkah to pass like this- he was a proud man. He had made his own efforts to ease his conscience. 'But I fulfilled all the rights i could have, whilst you were half way across the world,' he hissed, his voice laced in irritation.

Being half way across the world was her way of protecting herself from him. Perhaps she though that if she stayed away, that he would forget about her and the nikkah would cease to exist. Out of mind out of sight- sort of a thing.

Whenever she had recalled her nikkah in the past 4 years, she assumed that he had disregarded it. After all he was wealthy and well connected - Why would be wait around her when he had every opportunity at his fingertips.

Her ears perked up at his tone and she asked. 'What rights?,' with the lilt of intrigue. There had been no communication between them so what could he have possibly have been doing for her?

He looked at her bewildered. 'To spend on you,' he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence as his eyes tried to read hers- she wasn't following, nothing clicking.

Spend? She had never received anything from him. Not a phone call, a letter nor a gift box. 'When did you spend on me?' She asked with a lilt confusion.

His heart sank at her not knowing , failing to credit him for his efforts. 'Toufay aasman say aah kar girthe they tumhari dehleez pe?,' he asked sarcastically. ( Did the gifts on your doorstep used to fall out the sky.)

He was only returned with a blank gaze. So he attempted to prompt, 'Eid pe kapre aur birthday pe phone wagerah?' ( Clothes on eid and a phone on your birthday.)

There was a sinking feeling in both of their chests, an formidable barrier which had led to confusion, understand lost in transit.

He had always thought that she had accepted them at-least, he didn't need a thank you or any acknowledgement . Murtasim did his part and his conscience had felt no burden- that was until now. He tried to confirm this, 'You didn't see the clothes and jewellery?'

She shook her head in response. She had no doubt- there was nothing from him. 'Murtasim, mujhhay khabi aisay kuch nahi mila.' ( Murtasim, i never received anything like that.)

'Par mainay bhajay thay.' ( But i sent them.) Then he questioned himself that if she had never replied, why did he ever assume that it had actually reached her. 

Then it hit Murtasim- she really hadent received anything.

He had never anticipated that half a world was too far of a distance for him to reach her, and the world suddenly much larger, un-trek-able. Perhaps he was mistaken as to his own might.

He just thought she was dheet and that she was ungrateful for his efforts. That why he had initially been cold to her- because he had been trying to make a place in her heart for 4 years, without a gram reciprocation. As though all gifts were fruitless and he thought that she was the being intentionally distant.

His voice was a little uneven when he asked, 'How is it possible you didnt recieve them? Mainay khud tumhare ghar bheja tha.' ( I sent them to your house.)

He stood up in frustration and itched his chin mindlessly- nothing made sense - he felt as though he had fallen in his own graces. If she didnt have them, where the fuck were they?

Ghar. Meerab froze at his use of that word. He knew her address. Her voice was monotone when she asked, 'How did you know where i lived?' Her hands came to clasp onto the edge of the bench to try to ease the tension.

Murtasim was pacing around. Trying to fugure out how this could be. In his agitated state, he began splattering, 'Tumhay kya lagta hai? ( What do you think?) Main tumhara ghar ka patta nahi kar sakta main? ( That i cant find out where you live? ) Yeh mere liye koy mushkil kaam?' ( Is this a difficult task for me?) He was Khan Murtasim Khan - the heir to his family seat. Money was no issue and his pride was rampant.