The Bed of Roses

5- "Operation Gulmarg Plan"

Rule 5-

Most of problems of the world stem from linguistic mistakes and simple misunderstanding. Don't ever take words at face value. When you step into the zone of love, language, as we know it becomes obsolete. That which cannot be put into words can only be grasped through silence.

14, August, 1947

"As from the fifteenth day of August, nineteen hundred and forty-seven, two independent Dominions shall be set up in India, to be known respectively as India and Pakistan."

Asghar's Voice boomed through the Room; Aazeen arranged clothes in the cupboards and he sat in the armchair, reading aloud the newspaper,

"Jinnah says in his first speech after Partition 'August 15 is the birthday of the independent and sovereign state of Pakistan. It marks the fulfilment of the destiny of the Muslim nation which made great sacrifices in the past few years to have its homeland.'"

Almost like a Co-incidence, a huge cry arose outside and the couple rushed towards the shrilling. Recently, there had been myriad bloodbaths and Aazeen preferred to stay inside, holding her tears when the loud wailing of cries would arise from the despondent souls of poor woman and children, upon loosing the ones they loved the most, merely because of the enmity between Muslims and Hindus, who refused to acknowledge partition. She would cling tighter onto the shawl; waiting for Asghar to return and coax her like Azar lala once did. No matter how much she tried to repudiate it, The love and protection she felt in Lala' arms couldn't be felt in any nook or cranny of the World. But at this moment, there was something that caused her feet to run to their own accord. It wasn't analogous to the screaming of a dying person murmuring his last wish, sending salutation to their loved ones or concluding their heirs. It was more like... An ecstatic one. Upon reaching the streets, her eyes widened and she momentarily froze. There ran a man with Mithai in in his arms, screaming on top of his lungs, "Pakistan Zindabad"

His face radiated under the gleaming sunlight and all previous fret Aazeen had about partition disappeared in thin air. With a joyous stride, the chubby man danced towards all those who crowded him, throwing the sweets in the air, screaming "Pakistan Zindabad" over and over. At a height barely five feet, his structure resembled a dwarf, a chubby, adorable one to be precise. His breath was irregular, cheeks red from all the workout of sprinting across the country and his smile painted a ray of sunshine all across Aazeen' world. The woman couldn't hold herself and ran towards him, clutching tightly on her veil; she too was from Waziristan and had been told about the Indo-Pak War by Azar Lala. Having someone feel her euphoria about Pakistan partitioning made her ecstatic and before she knew it, she to was helping the little man distribute the mithai. Asghar witnessed the entire scene unfold while crossing his arms over his chest and an adorable smirk plastered across his handsome face.

"Pleasure to meet you miss" Taking his hat of, he bowed slightly in respect "Omar' at your service"

Giggling, the woman asked him "Omar...I.."

"We are countryman, Miss. Do not hesitate"

"Where from Pakistan..do you belong?" By then the crowd had cleared away, carrying with them as much mithai possible and only the three remained.

"Bannu, Part of the NWFP, and where do you reside?"

Aazeen couldn't believe it, Bannu was her neighbour along Waziristan. Surely this man wasn't aware of her father's position... The woman was about to lie regarding her residence, but then Abdullah Khan' words rung in her ears

'Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters, cannot be trusted on big matters'

Deciding to go along the teachings of her exemplary father, she resorted to proclaiming truth,