Ishq

Chapter 29

Mahjabeen was waiting for Murtasim when the doorbell rang. She slowly walked to the door and opened it to find her neighbor standing there, a warm smile on her face.

“Salam beta, mai akele bore ho rahi thi, socha tumse baat kar loon,” the woman said cheerfully.

Mahjabeen smiled and welcomed her inside. The woman, dressed in a netted saree adorned with flowers, looked elegant as always.

“Aapki saree toh bohot pyaari hai,” Mahjabeen exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration.

The woman’s smile grew brighter. “Mujhe toh ek nayi saree mili hai, tumhe laakar dedu?”

Mahjabeen’s face lit up with excitement. “Haan, bilkul!”

The woman glanced at Mahjabeen’s attire and raised an eyebrow. “Beta, nayi nayi shaadi hui hai, thoda sajo sawro na.”

Mahjabeen tugged gently at the ends of her simple saree, her fingers playing with the fabric. “Asal mai aunty, hum gareeb hain... Mere paas pehenne ke liye kapde nahi hain aur mere shauhar ke paas paise nahi... Magar hum dono bohot khush hain,” she said, her tone soft but full of warmth.

The woman’s eyes softened as she placed a hand on Mahjabeen’s. “Allah khair karey tum dono ko. Tum logon ne bhaag kar shaadi ki thi kya?”

Mahjabeen shook her head, her smile a little shy. “Ji nahi, humari toh zabardasti nikkah karwa diya tha, phir hum bhaag gaye,” she said, her voice sweet but with a trace of mischief.

The woman looked at her, surprised but amused. “Tumhara shauhar kaisa hai?”

Mahjabeen paused for a moment, her eyes twinkling as she thought of Murtasim. “Woh... woh toh kaafi... kya kehte hain usse?”

“Kya?” the woman asked, intrigued.

“Smart!” Mahjabeen beamed, “Haan, woh kaafi smart hai... Mere jaise nahi hai... Bawle.”

The woman chuckled, her voice warm. “Bawli ke liye ghar chhod diya usne, mohabbat karta hoga tumse. Kitna waqt hua shaadi ko?”

Mahjabeen smiled fondly, “Ek saal hone ko hai.”

The woman took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Allah tum dono ko hamesha khush rakhe,” she said softly, her words full of affection.

Mahjabeen smiled back, her heart light and full of contentment.

___

Murtasim was reluctant at first…

But he thought of their little house. Winter was approaching, and Mahjabeen needed the warm clothes more than he needed a cycle. She hated the cold—it made her restless, her hands fumbling over the blankets, her voice echoing in the small space as she repeated, "Thand... thand… thand…" in a rhythm he had grown used to.

He couldn't spend precariously now. Saving was more important.

“Ye waali bhi acchi nahi lagi kya?”

The old man asked. Rahim Shah owned a tea stall. That’s where Murtasim had spotted the cycle and enquired about it. The old man had been delighted and taken him to see it.

But he couldn’t afford it.

“Aapki cycle acchi hai, Chacha... bas mai aaj paise nahi de paunga. Aapka waqt zaya karne ke liye maaf chahta hoon,” Murtasim said, dragging his worn bag along the dirt path.

The old man sighed. “Koi masla hai kya?”

Murtasim blinked. He didn’t know who to speak to about his worries—least of all a stranger.