Jahaan-Ara

Chapter 14: Thornager Haveli

"It opened slowly:
a figure came out into the twilight and stood on the step;
a man without a hat:
he stretched forth his hand as if to feel whether it rained.
Dusk as it was, I had recognised him--it was my master, Edward Fairfax Rochester, and no other.
His form was of the same strong and stalwart contour as ever:
his port was still erect, his heir was still raven black;
nor were his features altered or sunk:
not in one year's space, by any sorrow, could his athletic strength be quelled or his vigorous prime blighted."
-Jane Eyre

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"Do you want me to drop you off here?" Said the worried taxi driver. Peering through the side window, all he could see was a tunnel of trees and branches leading into a dark dreary forest. The forest wasn't a place for a young woman to venture off alone; and soon it would be dark.

This time Jahaan-Aara was confident where she was going. The forest wasn't intimidating; in fact, it led her towards the haveli. She snatched a fist full of notes, threw it to the taxi driver and jumped out. She crossed the narrow road and climbed on the hill making her way into the tunnel of trees. Holding down her hip satchel, Jahaan-Aara ducked and dived through the branches. Daring into the forest, a tree laid in her path a sign of the power of the storm. The seasons had been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering the tree more beautiful. Birdsong came in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as an improvised melody. It was here-she looked around-somewhere here, she first met Rohail Saab. His horse bolted and threw him off his back. Jahaan-Aara could picture that day like yesterday. The clouds shrouded the forest overhead, like the weather changed instantly entering the dark forest. She wasn't sure where she was headed, but from somewhere she knew she could see the turret of the haveli. Making haste through the forest, stamping on he writhed leaves, she passed the blueberry bushes where she spent a wonderful afternoon with Rohail Saab and Adila. It was a memory etched in her mind, like a perfect canvas.

By the time she noticed the slender turret on the side of the haveli, Jahaan-Aara was out of breath. The twenty-minute walk dwarfed into a 10-minute sprint. Her heart thudded madly against her ribs; a combination of her exertions and fear of what lay ahead. The closer she stepped, the harsher reality dawned on her.

Looking around at the rest of the haveli, the bedroom must have been where the fire started. The walls had long since crumbled and in their place stood thick beams of wood, blackened and charred from where the flames had licked at them. Nothing had escaped the fire; glass still littered the floor where the windows had broken.

With the west of the haveli undamaged, the charred east wing remains of the haveli stood in the pale afternoon light like a blackened skeleton. It had been so alive, so vibrant. Inside had been a place of love and security, a place with memories and warmth. Now the wind whistled through right into the twisted plastic and metal that had been furniture.

"Ya Allah!" Jahaan-Aara whispered a cry.

The odour of smoke and ash filled her mouth like the haveli was still on fire seeping into her nostrils and lungs. Grief struck her burning her heart like it'd caught fire. The magnificent haveli was a mere shadow of its former glorious self. How on earth had it come to this? The fire had been no accident, if Badr-un-Nisa returned, she could have started it?

It was pistol barking that snatched Jahaan-Aara's attention from the charred haveli. Tail wagging, tongue hanging, he was happy to see her. Jahaan-Aara kneeled beside him and stroked him. Her hand touched a raw section of his fur, it was like skin. When he turned, she noticed the left side of his fur was burned. She hissed, feeling his pain and feared for his master.