Love? A Disaster

♪ 32 (a): The L word disaster ♪

Pressing the doorbell, he stepped back and pushed his hands in his pockets. The guards at the front gate had let him in without any queries. He was sure, by then, his arrival would have been relayed inside as well, as per the norm.

He let his gaze linger around at the premises. No matter how many times he'd been here, the grandeur would always make him stagger, not much, but just a bit. Old money can't stay hidden between the layers. It had to reveal itself. The iron gates flanked by the security personnel, the lush gardens on both sides of the driveway, the ornamental plants and the pool.

“Zarrar, what a pleasant surprise!”

The voice came as soon as the door was opened. Sabah smiled at him with the same warmth he had, by then, became used to.

“Hello, Auntie.” He greeted as she ushered him inside. The opulence of Jahangirs’ lifestyle wasn't more shocking than their welcoming personas. All his time coming here, he had never been received by a household staff. It would always be a family member to welcome him in. He felt important.

“Have you been busy? I expected to see you more over the break.” She said as they entered the lounge.

“Just a bit, practice and sessions with Baba. We decided to make the most of the break.”

His delivery contained a sliver of haughtiness, but if Sabah did notice it, she let it slide. They were joined by Mrs. Irshad, who was already seated on one of the couches, enjoying her evening tea. Her reaction upon seeing Zarrar wasn't any different from Sabah’s. The ladies didn't insist that he join them, knowing full well it was not them he was here to meet in the first place.

“Go up. He's been holed up in his room all day.” Sabah informed him with a laugh.

Mrs. Irshad snorted. “That insolent brat. He told me at the breakfast table that it feels like a creative day today so I'm not allowed to disturb him, all the while hugging me.”

Her words were dipped with affection and a slight smile was on her lips. And suddenly, the chocolate chips in the cookies Sabah had given to Zarrar felt like pebbles to him, their taste acrid.

He wasted no time in getting up as he made his way toward the stairs. The upper floor of the house was as quiet as ever but then a distant guitar note broke the silence. He stood outside the door and pushed it slightly, not giving any heed to the etiquettes of knocking.

He was sitting on the couch, his guitar in his hand. He didn't look up as he tested another note on his fingers and then played the turn again. His brows were scrunched and eyes were focused. Zarrar was sure he hadn't even noticed he had company, fully immersed in his creative spell.

“Working hard, I see,” He commented.
Aahil turned toward him with a grin on his face. “As I always do. You're late by the way. Which part of ‘Get here ASAP’ tells you to take an hour?”

Zarrar made himself comfortable on the couch. “I was busy. Besides, you're the one behind schedule, not me. We were supposed to be done with this two weeks back.”

Aahil sighed, shaking his head. “Z, your schedule, not mine if we're talking facts here. Officially, we are right on track. The performance is in two weeks, plenty of time to work things out. I'm almost done with the melody. Do you want to listen?”

Zarrar’s eyes zeroed in on Aahil’s photo wall and the additions there. He got up. “In a bit.”

Aahil shrugged and went back to the instrument in his hand. Zarrar stopped close to the photos, examining them closely. “A good trip, I reckon.”