𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐅𝐄𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃

CHAPTER ➊➑ • Sardar Slut Khan • Part : 3

September 4, 1947
Palankhet Refugee camp
Lahore Province

11:00 P.M.

The night deepened expanding it's black angel wings, hugging the stars as the mother of the new born. The refugee camp had fallen into deep silence, as he exhaled the smoke into the thin air. That night of 1947, was going to be the deciding night of Sardar and Nandani's unnamed relationship. That night was going to change everything for both stubborn lovers. With a written document, stamped with legal santity, it was hard for either of them to escape. Sardar Khan had it all on papers; a proposal hard to be denied. Afterall he was the ultimate suitor of love.. the love which was always denied to him. The love that was forbidden, had conquered his very being. Those who knew Sardar Khan, knew for a fact that he was untamable. People close to him knew that Nandani's obsession run through his veins. Loving Nandani was just one of his characters.

"Agar wo nahi maani toh.." Parthav managed to ask.
(What if she didn't agree)

"Woh maanegi... Hum koi dusra raaste chorenge hi nahi uske saame." Sardar Khan declared, there was an evil smirk on his face. That face, wasn't of Sardar Khan's, he was someone else, obsessed and possessed lacking sanity. This scared Parthav.
(She will have to agree. I will not leave any other way)

"Zabardasti karenge.." Parthav mustered the courage to ask again.
(Will you force)

"Agar karni pade toh karenge... Iss baar jaane nahi denge." Sardar Khan replied looking at the written document.
(If i have to force I will, but i will not let her go)

"I think you made this contract to stop her... Bade Khan ko dhundhne ke liye nahi." Parthav reasoned, looking at the white printed papers.
( Not to search Bade Saheb)

Sardar Khan arched his eyebrows and looked at him, further taking a few steps towards Parthav he held his Brown Bandi Coat, and pulled Parthav towards him. "Mere liye Nandani, sahi galat, ye kagaz ,iss gaddi aur Khan Khandan se upar hai. Barso purani galti phirse nahi karunga. Woh mere paas wapas aayi hai.. woh mere liye wapas aayi hai...woh meri hai." The words uttered by this lover was dipped with obsession. His love was wearing the crown of selfish desires that demanded claim; egotistical rights on her. His love had failed her once, it was going to fail her again.
(For me Nandani is above good and bad, this paper, this title, Khan Dynasty. I will not repeat my year old mistake again. She has returned to me. She has returned for me. She is mine)

Parthav stood there helplessly, looking at his love lorn Khan, blinded by the notion of love that was non existent; Khan Murtasim paced towards the refugee camp room allocated to Nandani, with printed papers in one hand and sheaffers fountain pen in another he sauntered like a surrendered wounded warrior in an enemy land, with the last hope of survival.

••••••••••••••••••••

Bazaar Women Gathering
Palankhet Refugee camp
Lahore Province

11:30 P.M.

The women of Bazaar were allocated a separate camp of residences. There was a border, a division in the divided land. The partition in the aristocratic society of Lahore was evident in the refugee camp. The privileged and the underprivileged shared the same land; but there was a line. A line that divided them. They weren't the customary women , the Feudal Lords would take home to, but the ones they enrapture in those lonely nights. Bazaar was the dark filthy part of every aristocratic man in Lahore. The 1940s Lahore wasn't what Allama Mohammad Iqbal wrote in his poems... The poems that had ignited the fearlessness of a free spirited Lahore, a teenage Nandani's dreamy Lahore. Those were mere words of pleasure as the reality was a painful sight.