With the morning sun illuminating the surroundings, rays of light cascaded onto the walls of the haveli. The guard stationed outside the imposing doors of the haveli noticed a newspaper lying on the ground. He promptly retrieved it and handed it over to the maid, Bushra Bibi, instructing her to take it inside for the master.
After entering the grand main hall, Bushra Bibi walked briskly towards the table and placed the newspaper carefully upon it. Then, she proceeded to make her way to the spacious kitchen to begin preparing breakfast.
Ascending the spiral staircase that graced the haveli's interior, one would reach the first floor where the master bedroom was situated. The opulent room exuded an air of grandeur, partially illuminated by soft, subdued lighting. At its center stood an impressive mahogany king size bed, commanding attention in the midst of the room's lavish decor.
One of the four walls of the room was covered with long flour length black curtains. Another wall had racks filled with old British decoration pieces. One wall was plain cream coloured with a door leading to the walk-in closet.
As the blaring alarm pierced the serenity of the room, Musa's amber orbs snapped open with an air of intensity. His dark brown eyes, sharp and penetrating, held a quiet but fierce determination. The chiseled features of his face exuded a sense of raw strength and resilience, accentuated by a well-defined jawline and a subtle hint of stubble. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his smooth, olive-toned skin, evidence of his disciplined dedication to physical fitness.
As he slowly rose from his slumber, his broad shoulders stretched, commanding attention and respect. His presence demanded authority, as if he were born to lead with an unwavering confidence. Tousled locks of dark brown hair framed his face, adding a touch of allure and mystery to his commanding presence.
Draped in black sheets, his physique was both intimidating and awe-inspiring.
He frowned as his closed eyes opened slowly, and with a groggy expression, Musa reluctantly rose from the bed, Rubbing his hand vigorously across his face, he struggled to shake off the lingering drowsiness, determined to face the day ahead.
He made his way to the attached bathroom, the path lit by the soft glow of morning sunlight streaming through the windows. As he stepped into the refreshing embrace of the water, he allowed the droplets to wash away any remnants of sleep, invigorating his senses and sharpening his focus.
Once he emerged from the bathroom, his attire had transformed. Musa was now clad in a crisp, white kurta.
Descending the grand spiral staircase, each step echoing his determined stride, Musa entered the main hall, purpose radiating from his every move. He took a seat at the dining table, poised and composed, ready to delve into the morning's activities. However, before he could reach for the daily newspaper, his phone abruptly interrupted the calm ambiance of the room, its shrill ring demanding his attention.
He picked up the phone, furrowing his brows as he saw his grandfather's name flashing on the screen. "What does his grandfather need so early in the morning?" he wondered, his curiosity piqued. As he prepared to answer the call, Saqib, rushed into the main hall, his face marked with clear signs of panic.
'Kheryat saqib itni subeh subeh?'
(Everything alright saqib? You are here this early)
Saqib looked like he had run a marathon while coming here. He was hyperventilating. He took deep breaths to calm himself and said.
'Sarkar... sarkar apny aaj k akhbar dekha?'
(Sir...sir have you seen todays newspaper)
Musa knew he was not going to like the upcoming events. He shook his head negatively. Not knowing how to break the horrendous news to his master, Saqib came forward picking up the newspaper he opened the front page and gave the newspaper to musa.
Musa saw the front page and became shocked. He was expecting a bad news but this was beyond his imagination. He felt anger rush through his veins.
Just then his phone rang again looking at the caller ID, he picked up to talk to his grandfather.
'Ye kia mazak hai musa tmsy mje ye umeed ni thi.'
(What is this Musa, i was expecting better from you)
Musa tried to keep his anger at bay and replied calmly.
'Dada jaan asa kch ni ha...'
(Grandfather its not what it looks like)
'Tou phr kesa h musa? Inteha pasand log or media is sb ki sakht muzamat kr raha hai mje to smjh ni are tmhe public place me ye sb krny ki kia zaroorat thi'
(Then what is it musa? The conservatives and the media are strictly condemning your behaviour. What was the need of doing it in public space)
Musa closed his eye and took deep breaths to calm his anger his grandfather was doubting him.
'Dadajaan aap fikr na krei me hal krta hu is msle ko'
(Grandfather dont worry I'll solve this problem)
'You better solve it musa.Pata nahi kon larki hai. Tm is msly ko jaldi solve kro election pe iska koe bura asr ni prna chahiye'
(Dont know who the girl is. Solve this problem as soon as possible it should not effect the elections)
Musa let out a hum as he hung up the phone, his mind preoccupied with the newspaper in front of him. Clenching his fist, he observed the newspaper, the front page of which contained pictures from last night, causing a surge of frustration to rise within him. In one image, he appeared to look at the girl with tenderness, while in another, it seemed as though he was leaning down to kiss her.
ASTAGFIRULLAH
he muttered quietly under his breath, feeling a wave of anger wash over him. The media had already labeled him as a "dala" (manwhore), falsely accusing him of engaging in relationships with teenagers.
He had no clue who clicked those pictures, but he was surely not going to leave the culprit.
Calming himself he decided to ask saqib about the current situation.
'Sarkar abi to halaat bigre ni hai,abi to subah k wqt hai,social media pe pictures raat me hi viral hna shuru hgyi thi logo ny tankeed krna shuru kr di ha agr jld hi hmny kch na kia to halaat r bigar skty hn.'
(Sir the situation is under control for now. Its still early in the morning, the picture started circulating on social last night, people are criticising all this, if we dont do anything to control the situation soon, then the situation will become worse)
He took a deep breath, his mind racing with the thoughts of a suitable solution.An idea stuck his mind like a bolt of lightning and he hurriedly picked up his phone dialling that racoon aka VC's number.
The racoon sleepily answered the call, his voice filled with groggy exhaustion. Musa asked him to send the cctv footage of the parking lot from last night. The racoon stuttered dashing his hopes, telling him that the cameras of the parking lot had not been working for a month. Musa closed his eyes in anger listening to that he hung up the call.
There was only one way to sort this predicament and Musa sighed tiredly at the mere thought of doing it.
Firming his resolve he got up and moved out of the haveli followed by saqib.
YOU ARE READING
DIRTY POLITICS
Romance'Kia kregy aap' (What will you do?) 'Wahi jo har shohar apni biwi k sath krta hai' (What every husband does to his wife) Musa Abaan Shah had a singular ambition - to ascend to the position of prime minister and uphold his grandfather's esteemed...
