Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

7 - Neend

Meerab was abit taken back at his ability to decipher the tone of her voice, having being strangers. 'Thakkan,' she told him, and indeed her voice did seem fatigued. (Tiredness.)

The tumultuous downpour of rain had only increased, sounding like miniscule bullets ratting upon their roof, striking a cord of fear in her.

Only in that moment did Murtasim appreciate her inability to relax. 'Agar aap souna chati hou, tou mai chalay jata hou. Aur jagah dhoond lounga beht nay kay liye.' He suggested, feeling like he was trespassing in her personal space as darkness had encompassed them. It would have been a different matter if it was a short ride, but he assumed she wouldn't attempt to sleep in his presence. (If you want to sleep, I can leave and find a different seat to sit.)

They both knew that neither of them could be fully comfortable, nor can sleep over come them whilst in each others presence.

Meerab shook her head slightly and clenched the edge of the bench in reaction, quickly muttering, 'Nahi.' She wondered if she even wanted to be alone anymore, with only the freightful shower as her companian. 'Baarish ki awaaz say merey dil mai bechaini si dal jathi hai.' She confessed, unsure if it was proper to share such a thing with him. To her, the rain wasn't soothing, it was unnerving pattering, the noise invoking a foreboding sensation which engulfed her mind in fear. (No. The sound of rain causes uneasiness in my heart.)

He nodded, that was understandable.

Meerab reiterated her words, clearly telling him, 'Mujhay yakeen hai kay koi neend nahi aayegi.' Matlab- please dont go. His presence distracted from that, it was even somewhat soothing, as he rambled on in light conversation.  (I am sure I won't sleep.)

Murtasim faintly smiled at the discovery of having something in common- insomnia. But the glimmer of hope for a budding friendship was lost when she said 'Main chaley jati hou. Aik seat tou khaali mil jagey gi,' as said she shuffled forwards to get up. (I would leave. One seat will be vacant.)

Murtasim's features fell in displeasure. Without thought, the words spilled from him mouth, 'Koi zaroorat nahi hai, kisi soye huye insaan key darwazay pe dastak denay ki.' His fingertips tempted to reach out to her to prevent her moving another inch. Then he tried to justify wanting her to stay. 'Mujhay waisay bhe neendh nahi aati train mei- hilnay kay wajah sai.' (There is no need to disturb another person in their sleep. And also, I can't sleep in a train.)

It took her a second before questioning, 'Aap bhe nahi soungey?' (Won't you sleep as well?)

'Nahi.' He clarified, picking his newspaper again. He should have planned better, like purchasing a cross word book or novel for long ride ride instead , but he was usually the driver of the car, not the passenger. (No)

Murtasim then stood up and Meerab's eyebrows furrowed at him leaving despite her telling him that there was no need. 'Main abhi aaya.' He excused himself to use the toilet. Meerab took the opportunity to wrap the biscuits in a rumaal and shove them into her bag. (I'll be back.)

When he return, he immediately fiddled with his laces to tie them neatly.

She noticed the ring on his fingers again. It was an oval burnt amber coloured stone in a silver band. She recognised it to be carnelian perhaps, by some faded memory of her grandfather owning one. 'Aap gemstones ko maantey hou?' (Do you believe in gemstones?)

Murtasim stared blankly at her for a second before gazing down to his own hand. He exhaled slightly before saying, 'no.' Then he hesitated and changed his answer, 'yes.'

Meerab suppressed a smile at his contemplation over the simple question. He seemed lost in thought, the ring striking a memory in him.

Murtasim twisted his wrist to get a good look at the ring in question, his eyes glazed like he was reminiscing a moment lost in time. His thumb grazed over the smoothness of the polished pebble as he told her, 'Yeh mere baba ki thi.' (This was my father's.)