A modern Pakistani adaptation of the classic Jane-Eyre.
YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ THE ORIGINAL TO APPRECIATE MY VERSION. THIS IS A STANDALONE BOOK.
Blurb:
As an orphaned child, Jahaan-Aara is first cruelly abused by her aunt, then cast out and sent...
I discerned in the course of the morning that Thornfield Hall was a changed place: no longer silent as a church, it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door, or a clang of the bell; steps, too, often traversed the hall, and new voices spoke in different keys below; a rill from the outer world
was flowing through it; it had a master: for my part, I liked it better.
Jayne Eyre
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The return of Master Rohail Saab sent a chill through Thornager Haveli freezing the atmosphere solid. Gone were the days of lacklustre work, lazy routines and dusty tables. Thoona and Juffu scrubbed, polished, washed and cooked without a squeak to Bibi Firdousi's satisfaction. Gul Bahar Khan returned to the Mughal Haveli showing his presence now that his master was back.
Jahaan-Aara saw little of Rohail Saab to her relief. Her day consisted of teaching Adila her structured and regimented time table and in the evening once Adila slept she engaged in surplus prayer.
What surprised Jahaan-Aara was Rohail filled the day with his tenants of his properties and land and evening entertaining friends and guests and had little to no time for Adila.
"Bibi Ji, when can Adila see her father? She has grown very irascible since his arrival. I am at my wits end!" Jahaan-Aara expressed her frustration whilst Bibi Firdousi hung the table cloths outside to dry as another group of guests would arrive this evening.
"Adila will see her father when he asks for her." Bibi Firdousi shook the cloth as tiny droplets of water shot into her face.
"What kind of father has no time for his daughter? She longs to be with him." Jahaan-Aara walked to face Bibi Firdousi her brow raised in fury.
"Jahaan-Aara-" Bibi Firdousi adapted a stern and firm tone looking her in the eyes. "I am an employee of Rohail Saab. He orders me around, not the other way round. I have no authority over him." Her tone frustrated, she lifted the basket and walked inside in a huff.
Jahaan-Aara pressed her hand to her sweaty forehead. It was Tuesday and she had no energy to play cricket with Adila after a difficult English class.
Later that afternoon when Jahaan-Aara could no longer contain the energetic child, Jahaan-Aara and Adila played cricket on the grounds. The bushes around the lawn were tall, overgrown, with spiky hedges and shrubbery. On the other side of the hedge Jahaan-Aara could hear Gul Bahar Khan and Rohail Saab muttering as the breeze bought their muted voices across the field.
"Now Adila, remember when I throw the ball remember to look at it and hit!" Jahaan-Aara instructed.
Whilst Adila hopelessly attempted to hit the ball, Jahaan-Aara was oblivious to Rohail Saab's wondering eye watching the game.
Jahaan-Aara took the bat and decided to show Adila how to hit the ball. Bending to the right, Jahaan-Aara tightened her grasp on the bat watching Adila as she ran towards her and threw the tennis ball up in the air. Jaahan-Aara held the bat with vigour hit the ball up into the air.
