Fibs and Fables

Chapter 5

Ma Begum eased herself into the black Mercedes idling in their driveway and waited for Mariam to join her. Their entourage of multiple cars and trucks carrying fruits, sweets, and other gifts had started to slowly drive out of the Haveli's gates. It was the most anticipated moment in the whole of Hyderabad; two of the reigning clans were going to have their official meetup for marriage. Unlike other marriage proposals, everyone knew that this meeting would not change or decide any course of action. The decisions were made and fates were sealed, but still, this meeting would mark the official beginning of the truce and a new era in their history.

The news about the morning's showdown had reached her ears, with the rumor mill churning faster than ever before. And it had honestly surprised Ma Begum. She knew that her son would not forcefully encroach upon Meerab's birthright, but she also did not expect him to make a public show of handing the reigns over to Meerab. From what she had heard, in today's incident, it was Meerab Malik who had challenged Zubair in front of their men, and her son had cleverly stayed out of the commotion even when it was his arrival at the Manor that had kindled the flame.

Ma Begum had always been fond of Meerab, but listening to the news about her valiant entry had significantly spiked her respect for the younger woman. It took a lot of courage to stand against people you consider family, to stand for something that was rightfully yours but was being snatched away from you in the name of social vices and baseless discrimination.

She knew that most of the people on both sides of their boundary had expected Meerab to be married off to Zubair, and when this new proposal had seemingly risen out of nowhere, there were whispers and speculations. Some had even reached her ears, but she had deftly dismissed them, for she knew that Malik Mukhtar seemed to have a growing dislike for his nephew. Though her father's emotions might not necessarily reflect on Meerab, she had a fairly strong conviction that the latter did not harbor any romantic feelings towards her cousin. But this level of animosity was something she did not expect.

Everyone—their guards, the malik men, and the commoners—who were in attendance for the morning's confrontation had sworn to have seen sparks fly out of the future Khanam's eyes. Baktu, her son's loyal righthand, had even conspiratorially whispered about the pride that had shone in his Khan's eyes as he took in the sight of his bride in action. And that had spiked her interest.

After Murtasim had singlehandedly disrupted the Panchayat with his proposal, she had called for an intimate gathering comprising just herself, Nadia, and Anwar, her most loyal confidants. They had convened to discuss the best course of action so as to minimize damage.

Her son had proposed marriage, to which the bride and her father had voluntarily agreed, and then it had become their duty to ensure that the wedding and related ceremonies would occur smoothly. She had an inkling that Mukhtar would be doing the same on his side, but unfortunately for him, he had lesser allies on his side.

They had first made a list of people who would be vehemently opposing this union, and to no one's surprise, Zubair Ali and party ranked first. Based on wealth and influence, they were the only significant opposition. It was a known truth that Zubair and Murtasim loathed each other. It was seemingly surprising because Murtasim had a very pleasant relationship with Mukhtar, one that she was sure would grow into a beautiful father-son bond after marriage. Her heart silently sought Shahnawaz, for she was one of the few who knew about her husband's secret camaraderie with the Malik head. He would have been delighted to have Mukhtar as a close family member rather than a supposed rival.

Zubair has always been a thorn in Murtasim's side, an insignificant but still annoying presence. But as the years went by, Zubair's vicious quips turned into bloodied knives and raging flames. She was not a stranger to violence, but her husband's rule with Mukhtar as his rival had been relatively peaceful compared to her son's. In the past year, she had spotted more bloodied knuckles on her son than she had witnessed during her husband's era. She, like the others, was under the impression that Zubair was the instigator, that he was the one to attack and offend, while Murtasim was always just defending. But the records Anwar had brought in painted a different picture.