Kin Of Sapphire.

four.

The scent of rain washed across the horizon and stretched far, wide and beyond gaze. Torrential downpours had befallen the city in an uncanny return of the Monsoon spell from the Bay of Bengal. Currents of salty air and murmurs of heavy humid clouds had turned the otherwise crackling air into a sodden mess. Muddy piles sloshed along pot holes and sides of popular highways as rain continued to tear down on to the cheaply done cement. Droplets tore against each leaf and branch, like an axe at work to unbind mother and daughter.

Hazy, blurred mornings had become the norm for the last leg of Ramadan and despite it being a welcome feeling, the Prime minister and his lobby feared heavy flash floods. Still, the federal city continued to thrive in it's stately manner. At eight, despite the sun lazing across the skies, slithering down the gullies formed on the foot of the hills, street lights still buzzed with their filament bulbs. Occasionally one or two would flicker, and a car would whizz past them.

A dreary chill had mixed up with the heaviness of the humidity and as mighty as the zephyrs were, the aftermath would be a not so pleasant sight. As the birds dipped into the rain with their wings carrying their weight, the reflection of nature and God's momentary reprise flickered inside her eyes.

The deep woodiness of them matched the shades of wet soil, life having murmured it's final goodbye from the tenderness of her gaze. Her fingers fisted across the chilly bannister, fisting the iron grip until it pierced into the flesh of her warm palms. Labibah's eye's momentarily slithered towards the reflection behind her, the beats of her heart slipped low and slow. Dipping into the hollows of her collar bone they gave way to a soft darkness as she leaned her weight over the window.

Wires. A countless number of wires prodded the faint figure of her grandfather's body. She could make out a soft outline of it beneath the starchy covers, only his pale palm, thickly veined and withered, escaped from underneath. The soft mouth that would have otherwise been in a wide grin, sat in a grim line. Covered with the thick plastic oxygen mask. Beeping sounds — lub and dub — were inherently symmetrical and managed to offer her a gentle solace that at least he was here.

'He can hear you.' The doctor's words had been a kindness as he found her in the wee hours before dawn. On the side of his hospital bed, withered like the first rose that falls from the merciless heat of June.

Labibah pressed her hands against her warm cheeks, feeling the tears that had slipped in silence. Sniffling beneath her breath, exasperated and lost of her purpose, she stepped out of the shadows into the arms of her grandfather's bedroom. At least he was home. Fit enough to. That had to account for something. The strokes of her own thoughts rubbed the back of her spine in soft strokes. In a grand solace.

"Labibah gayi nahi abhi tak?" Her mother looked up from her grandfather's face, frowning.
[Labibah you haven't gone yet?]

Labibah felt her mouth move upwards, despite her willpower fighting it to keep ground. She shook her head — in a minuscule effort. Swallowing as she stepped closer, her pitch black caftan flowing behind her, she rested a hand against her mother's bony shoulder. Even as the tips of her fingers just made contact, she could sense the withered essence of them. Testing the strength of her own self, Labibah squeezed the flesh in assurance. Her aristocratic fingers, covered in thin bands of diamonds flickered under the hollow lights of the chandelier. The sequins on the hem of her attire reflecting them with gusto.

"Bas ja rahi thi, ap so jain." Labibah spoke.
[I was just going, you sleep.]

"Bas ja rahi hun. Aj jaldi ajana mujhe aur ap ke abu ko iftari par jana hai."
[I'm just going. Come home early tonight your father and I have to go to an iftar.]

Absentmindedly, Labibah hummed. Tenderly she pressed her lips on top of her mother's forehead. Lacing her fingers through hers, stroking the back of her pale flesh she marvelled at the contrast of their skins. Her mother pale as the moonlight and she tanned as the sun's kiss. A sweet middle between her mother's softness and her father's harshness. In between thoughts ; of one thing and another, Labibah slipped out of the bedroom. The sounds of her heels becoming her only company as she marched down the hallways of the still asleep home.