Meerab Murtasim Khan.
The name was two heavy for her to digest in the beginning. She hated to be associated with the Khans. But the truth was she indeed was a Khan. She had all the qualities of the Khan family.
Honest
Arrogant
Crazy
Attitude
And love.
But this love wasn't for a person. She didn't love. She chased that emotion, and Meerab had always chased for the feeling. Not the person. She accepted it, uncaring from what place or person she received it from.
A man who was willing to give up his life for her, that meant a lot to her. Something closer to her definition of love. Rohail claimed that, but Murtasim did that. He had saved her once, twice, actually. One from the accident and before that from herself.
He didn't have to marry her. He had all the power. He could have said no, but he didn't. That's why maybe she agreed to Maa Begum's plea and decided to help Murtasim out of his predicament. Out of the situation.
Wearing the shades and black kurti, Meerab got ready, wearing her jeans instead of the shalwar. A form of rebelliousness. Now she had the power. This was her final favour on Murtasim Khan.
As the village got closer, Meerab looked out of the window, feeling the fresh air hit her. She could breathe now. It was the feeling of being freed finally. And Meerab loved it.
She had wanted to explore the fields before. Now, most of it was hers. As she got closer to the Malik mansion, she saw a car tailing behind her. They were trying to surround her. But Meerab drove straight to the mansion and saw the beautiful exterior. Her steps were packed with motive, and as she entered the mansion, her eyes went to the man sitting on the throne.
"Meerab... How are you?" Malik Zubair asked as he eyed her. Her eyes were resolute as she asked the question, "Where is Murtasim?"
He shrugged, "Mujhe kaise pata," he said, looking around and asking her, "Madam aapki family kya mujhse love karti hai?"
"Kya?" She asked, irritated by his repulsive tone, "Haan love. Sab mere ishq mai mad hojate hai aur yaha kheechey chaaley aatey hain. Pehle meri pyaari Maryam, phir woh Khan aur ab aap".
"Matlab Murtasim hai yaha," she said as she walked closer, looking him in the eyes. He nodded but didn't reply.
"Zinda haina?" This made him burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard he fell on the floor, he quickly got up and tried to speak in between fits of his laughter, "Ek baar maarne ki koshish ki thi usse, saala bach gaya tha. Ab woh khud yaha hai toh ..."
Meerab felt the anger in her burst. There it was again. That stupid love, she knew Murtasim didn't deserve to die in spite of the innexcusable crime he committed. She wanted to kill him, so she walked closer. His guard was down, so Meerab took the chance and punched him, and then the gun was pointed at his head.
"Kaha hai Murtasim?" She barked out now, tapping his forehead with the gun.
"Jawab do," she screamed in anger, Malik Zubair raised his hands in surrender, "Aii Murtasim ko bulao dekh kya rahey ho.
A man ran from his spot upstairs, and Malik Zubair commented, "Murtasim ki female version hai aap toh."
"Shut up."
She saw him climbing down the stairs. His shoulders hunched the proud look in his eyes gone. His face was swollen. His clothes were old, and it looked as if he was sleep deprived.
"How dare you!" Meerab couldn't control herself she pulled the trigger, and Malik Zubair got shot in his arm. He screamed in agony as his people tried to come closer to him, "Don't move, iss baar goli haath par lagi hai agli baar bachega nahi."
She hated this man more than anything. He had destroyed Maryam's life, stole away their lands, and brought her husband into such a state.
"All you guns, I want them in my car." Murtasim took one from a small boy and stood beside Meerab.
"You want to go to the hospital, right?" She asked Malik Zubair nodded, "You can't go unless you give the lands back to us. "
"NEVER".
Meerab shrugged, "Then take your land with you to hell because you aren't going to survive for long.
Ten minutes passed, and he was about to pass out when he called for his servant, "Zameen... ke kagzaat lau".
The man ran and brought it, Meerab read through it, "Great now, Mr Zubair, I would need a sign.
She gave him a pen, he was groaning in pen and he signed it. Meerab thanked him like a lawyer and exited the room as Murtasim trailed behind her.
As the tense standoff between Meerab, Murtasim, and Malik Zubair reached its climax, a sudden shift in the atmosphere ensued. The men, once poised to follow Zubair's commands, stood hesitantly, their allegiance faltering in the face of their leader's malevolence.
The men, once poised to follow Zubair's commands, stood hesitantly, their allegiance faltering in the face of their leader's malevolence.It was Farukh, Zubair's right-hand man, who broke the silence, his voice carrying a weight of conviction and revelation.
"Stop!" Farukh's booming voice echoed through the hall, commanding attention. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Zubair, a simmering anger etched on his face. "It's time you knew the truth."The sudden declaration left Zubair and his entourage in stunned silence.
Farukh continued, his voice unwavering as he recounted instances of Murtasim's selfless acts that had gone unnoticed by most, acts that had directly impacted the lives of these men."He saved our lives countless times," Farukh declared, his words carrying an undeniable sincerity. "Remember the day when the farm was on fire? It was Murtasim who risked his own life to pull us out. And when Salman needed money for his daughter's surgery, it was Murtasim who sold his ring to provide him the funds".
The men exchanged looks of realization, memories resurfacing of instances where Murtasim had extended a helping hand, often without seeking recognition or reward."He didn't have to," Farukh continued, his tone somber. "He didn't have to go out of his way, but he did. All while facing Zubair's wrath for defying his authority to help us."
A wave of understanding swept through the group, eyes meeting in silent acknowledgment of Murtasim's unsung sacrifices."He stood up for us when no one else would," another man chimed in, the sentiment echoed by murmurs of agreement rippling through the group.The revelations unveiled a side of Murtasim unknown to most-a man who, despite his own turmoil, had selflessly aided those around him, often at great personal risk.
The veil of animosity and fear that had clouded their perception of Murtasim began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound respect for his character."We owe him," Farukh concluded, his words ringing with sincerity.
"We won't follow you this time, Zubair. We owe this much to Murtasim."The collective sentiment of gratitude and acknowledgment for Murtasim's sacrifices solidified their resolve. The men, once bound by fear and loyalty to Zubair, now chose a different path-one guided by gratitude and a debt owed to a man who had gone above and beyond for their well-being.
Their refusal to heed Zubair's commands was no longer just a rebellion against tyranny; it was a tribute to Murtasim's unwavering kindness and sacrifice-an act of honoring a debt of gratitude owed to a man who had selflessly stood by them in their darkest hours.
