Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

6 - Izzat

Meerab looked up, not shying away as her eyes met his, and then she questioned, 'Mera khaana kah kar, mujsay he jhoot bhole rahe hou? Yeh kahan ke tehzeeb hai?' ( You ate my food and you lied to me. What sort of manners are those?)

A smirk appeared on his face from being outed so easily. He asked, 'Aapko kaisay malum hua?' Without a hint of shame for the façade he had constructed, and that she had dismantled with ease. ( How did you know?)

Meerab was a little bewildered as he didn't even try to defend himself or rebut her suspicion. He must have been playing a game to give up so easily- but she wasent playing at all. This game was her life and she would carry on making up little white lies untill she arrived at her destination, where ever that may be.

Despite the awkwardness of his lie being outed, Meerab picked up the teapot to pour it out for him first. It was just muscle memory- out of habit.

Murtasim didnt mind her taking the lead, he didnt have the habit of pouring out his own tea anyways.

Rather than informing him of the source of her suspicion, she politely asked, 'Cheeni?' (Sugar?)

Murtasim nodded. He doubted that it would need any after she hand poured his drink, but for good luck, he said, 'Jee. Aik.' ( Yes, one.)

By his direction she tilted a singular spoon of sugar, the crytals tumbled off and plopped into his teacup. She stirred, before adding milk and then stirring again, watching as the beverage transformed an opaque brown- like the exact shade of his skin. The circumference of the saucer decorated in small pink flowers, their vines weaving into one another into an infinity.

Her kaanch bangles made a pretty clinking noise at every bump of the train tracks, reminding them that there were in a constant motion.

Meerab picked up the teacup and saucer, and carefully handed it to him. Only when it was firmly in his grasp did she divulge him, 'Aapke kapre aur gharri mehngey lag rahee hain.' There wasen't any photographer that could afford that outfit. It was a simple cotton button-up shirt but the fabric hung with the elegancy of fine silk. Along with the fact that the thread didn't snap at the first opportunity like one of a lesser quality would. His bulky watch was refined, the crisp shine of the crysal face was a easy give away of it's value. ( Your clothes as watch seem expensive.)

She had a sharp eye too, Murtasim noted to himself.

He looked down to his own wrist and clothes, trying to see it from her perspective. He did look good- he reasoned. 'Shayad main bhe shaadi say aah raha houn.' He quipped as he took a sip. His full tummy had begun to changed him. The veil of formality was lifting as he teased his story with hers. ( Maybe i'm coming from a wedding too.)

Meerab didnt reply, only making her own drink and taking a sip, hoping that he wouldnt finnish these biscuits too. She needed some extra food to sustain her going forward, untill she could get some loose cash.

When she didnt find the humor in his suggestion, Murtasim admitted, 'Main zameendaar gharana say hou,' more truthfully this time. ( I'm from a land owning family.)

He wasent a photographer then- it was only a hobby it seemed. She had guessed right. Zameendaar seemed more apt- just from his privileged sort of aura, powerful without being overbearingly so. In control but without any urgency in utilising it.

He might have been wealthy, but her father had status. 'Mera baba vakeel hai.' She announced with a hint of pride, not wanting to seem any less than him. They weren't landowners but they their income was halal and respectable, none the less. ( My father is a lawyer.)

Even Murtasim was able to assess that she was analytical and calculated. She was concise with her use of words. 'Aap bhe vakeel banney kay liye parr rahee hou?' He asked, reffering to her earlier statement of needing to return to univeristy to give her exams. ( Are you studying to be a lawyer too?)