War of Hearts

Fresh Air | تازہ ہوا

"You did wonderful today," Baji exclaimed as she ushered Faryal into the car. They had just returned from a rich Chaudhary's wedding where Faryal had been the main event. As she sat in the car feeling the emptiness that she did after every performance, Baji counted the bills before stuffing them in the bag.

Faryal didn't speak as she rested her head against the mirror as Shabnam, one of the other dancers who had accompanied them, took the front seat. It was a darker night, no star in the sky evident. Summer was starting to end on a high note, and Faryal was ready for the rain to come.

She shivered slightly in her fancy costume, the thin dupatta provided no warmth.

They were halfway to the kotha when the car began making a weird noise and the driver parked it to the side. They stopped at a more deserted road and Faryal looked around. "What's happened?"

"The engine is smoking," The driver said as he propped the hood up.

"Oh lord," Baji got out, growing as she stood with the driver.

Shabnam rolled the windows up as they both looked outside. "And to think we could at least get a better car with all the money."

Shabnam was a bit older than Faryal but had been at the kotha for less time than she had. Faryal wasn't necessarily friends with the girls, they were more of acquaintances. Nor did she focus on the girls who came in and went to the brothel. Because one day one of the girls was there and the next day she was gone. So she saw no point in making friends.

Baji opened the door. "Unfortunately, the car won't be taking us anywhere."

"Where will we get a rickshaw at this time of the night?" Shabnam asked.

Just then, headlights flashed from behind them, signaling that a car was approaching. Baji stepped forward, waving a hand and Faryal internally shook her head at the behavior. What if they were robbers? What if they had just run her over?

Apparently, Baji wasn't concerned about such things as she got the white car to stop.

"Adab, janab," (Hello, sir). She spoke and Faryal peeked through the mirror to watch her talk. The driver was hidden in the shadows.

"What is this behavior?" The man's voice was faint. "I could have run you over, woman."

"Great apologies, sarkar," Baji said sweetly. "But due to unfortunate circumstances, our car has broken down and my daughters aren't feeling well."

"And?" The man seemed disinterested and impatient.

"Would you be kind enough to drop us to our home?"

"What's happening?" Shabnam asked... As curiosity got the best of her, she stepped outside in her flashy clothes, the other car's headlights illuminating her.

"That is your daughter?" The man seemed surprised now. "Is it a home you're going to or a brothel?"

"It is a home for us, sarkar," Baji said and the man snorted.

Faryal felt a type of anger begin in her veins and without a second thought, she yanked her door open, peeking her head out. "Baji," She called loudly. "Wapis ajaein mil jayega rickshaw." (Come back, we'll find a rickshaw). She spoke coldly, her eyes narrowed at the mysterious driver.

Baji sighed, pushing her dupatta away as she turned away. The car started and began to slowly creep up to her. The door was still open, Faryal continued to stare at the drive as he passed next to her and ahead. Suddenly though, she watched as it came to a halt once more. One hand lifted out, the window and gave a gesture to come.