Atonement

Broken

I recently rewatched the last episode of Tere Bin and was in need of therapy. My therapy, as you know if you read my endless OS when TB was at its worst, is to write. I started ranting, thinking about Meerasim and the failings of the last episode. I kept on thinking about them so much that I wondered what Murtasim was thinking and what Meerab was thinking. And this just came out.. for the Meerasim we met in the last episode felt so broken to me that a bandaid with a love confession and smut would be too superficial to address their deep wounds. This is my attempt to figure out where their heads are..

....................

It felt different. He honestly felt like he was watching the scene from a distance. There was a dream like quality to the scene. It was surreal. Like the dreams he used to have when she was gone.

The hyper realistic ones. The ones where she came back and he could see the tears clinging to her lashes and the tiny wrinkle on her kameez. He could hear his own heart thumping but he just woke up to.. nothing.

It honestly felt like those dreams. Which is why Murtasim couldn't bear to close his eyes. He was staring at the bed. Incessantly. Barely breathing.

Lying there was his wife, his Meerab. She had forgiven him,wiped his tears and teased him.

Murtasim pe sirf Meerab ki marzi chaligi

She had returned. He had given up hope but she had returned. At the nick of time. Ya Khudaya, he shuddered to think what would have happened if she returned a day later. He didn't want to think that. All he wanted to focus on was she had returned but there was clearly something very different about his Meerab.

She was quieter, more subdued and somehow restrained. His Meerab.. Restrained. She seemed calmer now; almost saint like in patience. She hadn't questioned anything. Not a single question or accusation crossed her lips even though she had entered the hall to see him about to marry Haya.

It was wrenching his heart. The guilt was killing him. Once again he had inadvertently pained her.

All she had said was for their daughter.

Yeh Murtasim ki beti hai

His eyes shifted to the tiny being; his daughter squirming slightly beside her mother who was fast asleep. The tiny dark eyes squinted painfully under the bright overhead lights and Murtasim  immediately leapt to shut them off. When he turned back the ball of energy had lost the battle with her pale translucent eyelids and slipped into a silent sleep.

The feudal lord  stood five paces away from ghadi Ki janasheen awkward and unsure. Finally his fragile baby was home and for a moment the reality of his daughter was replaced with the glittering triumph he'd always pictured. He had imagined this moment ever since he had fallen for Meerab. A series of firsts all in his imagination and their first born had a starring role. Everyone, including himself, assumed it would be to the most glorious moment with his family and hers excitably counting down the months.

The dream fell away and reality returned letting bitterness creep up on him. There she finally was – Murtasim and Meerab's  legacy – something sweet and small and utterly perfect. Something so beautiful that even all rugged up she was still smaller than Baba's forearm.

If they'd brought her home from the hospital together, their first outing as a family with them both fussing over blankets and hats on that cold February morning, then maybe he wouldn't feel so disconnected. Maybe he'd know what he was meant to do now. Instead he had not been there. He hadn't even know she existed. Meerab had chosen for someone else to be by her side, a group of strangers and it was testament to how broken they were, he couldn't even fault her for it.