The rain pelted down heavily, constantly making her trip as she ran from the men, who were after her. She ran as fast as she can, her hand tightly clasping her dark shawl, that was covering her as much as it could. The pain in her ankle intensified as it met with a dustbin that was now lying at the middle of the rood, the contents littered around it.
She could hear their yells as they got closer to her, their voice still reaching her over the harsh rain. Cursing them she turned her head seeing the dead end.
Can this get any worse?
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath looking around with her hazy eyes, the rain restricting her sight to any weapon possible. Seeing a broken earthen pot and the smelly dustbin, she contemplated, what to pick to save herself.
Taking the earthen pot she threw it at the man, who had tried to make her unconscious, making the blood ooze out from his head and with seconds he went limp on the slippery road. The others came to his aid, making it easy for her to escape. Holding a large piece of the broken pot, she silently moved to the direction from where the goons came, her dark essemble helping her to blend in the dark alley.
" Itni jaldi nahi. ", a man said, who had seen her escaping the scene. Her right hand moved, ready to give a tight blow to the man standing behind her. Suddenly her grip on the object in her hand loosened, making it fall into pieces on the ground underneath them. And then her shawl clad form fell in the hands of the man who has pressed the pressure point on her neck. (Not so soon)
Hauling her up in his arms he asked his men to bring the car there, adjusting her tall body not wanting to touch her inappropriately. She looked taller than the girls he had seen before.
Laying her in the backseat, he drove to the man who was awaiting their arrival.
...
Her eyes fluttered, her body damp as a lady entered the room she was laying in for god knows how many hours. She could feel an inch in the back of her neck. The lady placed the clothes on the chair and opened the door of a room which can also be a washroom.
Throwing her shawl at the floor she marched in the washroom and looked at her damp form, The clothes sticking to her, her black hair matted on her back, dark eyes glancing at her appearance in the mirror.
Yeh kameene mere haathon marenge. (These bastards will die.)
Shrugging on the new clothes and wrapping the georgette stole around her, she opened the door with a bang, nearly throwing it off its hinges.
Taking two stairs at a time, she got down to the main hall, her semi dried hair flowing behind her, as she came to the foot of the staircase.
" Kaun lekar aaya hai mujhe yaha?", she shouted, her voice reaching every corner of the Malik Mansion. The young adults rushed down hearing it, while the ladies came out hearing the loud voice. The men were entering the door when they heard her. (Who brought me here?)
" Mein lekar aaya hun tumhe yaha. ", a man said, his voice not as loud as her, but enough to stop the whisperings going around in the mansion. (I have brought you here.)
" Ho kon tum mujhe yaha lane wale? " .(Who are you to bring me here?)
" Tumhara hone wala shohar. " (Your Future Husband.)
" Kiski ijazat se? Mein tumse koi shadi waadi nahi kr rahi hun". ( By whose permission? I am not marrying you.)
" Yeh kya tamasha laga rakha hai? ", a thundering voice stopped their bickering. There stood Nafeesa Malik, the eldest woman of the family in her glory, her green eyes narrowed as she looked between her grandson and the lady standing in multi-coloured salwar kameez. (What is this spectacle? )
" Kuch nahi daadi jaan. ", the man said, moving across the room to the old lady standing in front of golden-brown door.( Nothing Grandma.)
" Ese kese kuch nahi, dekhe mujhe yaha agava krke laya gaya hai. ", she moved forward towards the old lady, who was now glaring at her grandson. (How come nothing like this, I have been brought here, abducted.)
" Yeh ladki sach bol rahi hai? "( Is the girl telling the truth? )
" Ji daadi jaan. ", he lowered his head. ( Yes Grandma.)
" Kyu? ", the sound of her hand slapping on the wooden table beside her echoed in the hall. ( Why? )
" Biwi bnana chahata hun ise mein apni. " ( I want to make her my wife.)
" Agava kyu kiya? Izzatdaar tareeke se hath mangne jate iska. ", his grandmother was looking at him with disappointment. ( Why kidnapped her? You should have gone to respectfully ask for a hand)
Noor Shah was looking between the grandson - grandmother duo with a new light in her eyes. Silently cheering grandma, who was speaking the right words and taking her side instead of her grandson's.
" Kyunki Shah Sahab ki beti hai yeh. ", Asher said leaving his grandmother a look. ( Because she is the daughter of Shah Sahab.)
" Haan toh fir theek kiya. ", Daadi jaan retreated back to her room with her cane. (Yes, you did it right then.)
What the actual hell !!
" Aur haan Nikaah kal hoga, Naima iske liye ek khoobsurat sa joda le aana. ", Saying the final words, she shut the door at their faces. ( And yes, Nikkah will be tomorrow, Naima bring the girl a beautiful dress.)
Double hell !!
Noor sat down at the last step of the stairs. While Naima just wanted to dance. She was not able to believe her son has agreed to get married.
And here I thought Daadi jaan was on my side.
Her eyes darted around the place, when all the females have left to the kitchen, whispering to themselves and the men have left except him. Her brain trying to formulate a plan.
" Don't even think about it. ", a voice said from behind her.
" Tum use apni biwi bnana chahte ho jise apne hone wale shohar ka naam hi nhi maloom hai? "(You want to make me your wife who doesn't even know the name of her future husband?)
" Asher Junaid Malik ", he said and walked out of the room leaving a blinking Noor Shah behind.
...
