The Fallen Widow

10. The City

The sounds of the bustling city heightened Malaikah's senses. Standing in the street, she closed her eyes inhaling polluted oil fuelled air, the burning smell of kebabs being skewered on street fire. The persistent beeps of cars, trucks and buses. The voices, the yells, the conversation swirled around her, it was good to back in the city. After arguing with her mother over the past two days, finally she was given leave to visit the city and go shopping albeit under the tight security of Wajahat Ali. The rush of the city quickened her heartbeat. Everyone was busy. They had somewhere to go. Something to do. People to see. It was a fantastic life where you felt needed. The city made her feel alive.

Wajahat Ali opened the door of the chic women's boutique. With a pistol on his hip, he doffed his head at the guards to keep watch as he ushered  Malaikah into the busy boutique. Malaikah bit her lip to hold her smile glancing at the smart ladies traipsing through the rails to find their perfect suit. Elegantly dressed shop assistants showcased the latest trends, the discounts and pointed the customers to the fitting room. It was like yesterday she went shopping with her husband, hand in hand, waiting for his smile, for his decision when she pressed a newly printed Lawn suit against her body.
"No. That's to light." Qasim shook his head.
He had good taste. He knew what complimented her figure. New clothes for him made her feel like a new woman.
'Oh Qasim. How I miss you!' She sighed.
Wajahat Ali turned the sign on the door to 'close'. It was prohibited for any new customer to enter the boutique. He'd locked them in with his guards on the outside. He stood like a security guard in front of the door with his hands on in front of him and eyes pinned on Malaikah like her father ordered.
Seven years previous, she ran away from home disgracing the family with her tactics. The boy had no class, no status and was simply the grandson of their driver. He inflicted the noble household with sheer shame and the household had not recovered. After a long seven years, Wajahat Ali tracked her down and returned her to Jahanpur kicking and screaming. What happened on that day, he kept a secret. No one needed to know apart from Dilawar-Baksh Qureshi.  Malaikah was allowed to returned back but not forgiven. Her punishment was to spend her life in Jahanpur alone. She was forbidden to step outside Jahanpur without heavy security.

"Asslamalikum madam. What can we do for you today?" The young shop assistant smiled at Malaikah as she brushed her fingers along the suits.

The shop assistant was quick to display the new modern and expensive suits off the hook. Observing Malaikah's her gold rings, gold bracelets and her body guard blocking the door, she felt that the woman was from a prestigious house hold and money was no object.

"What colours do you like?" Asked the shop assistant.

A cloud of sadness settled on her. Colour drained from her life since she left Qasim behind. To this day she wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. Did her father order his guards to murder Qasim? She donned black suits to symbolize her mourning. Who would she dress for? What was the point of looking pretty? She recalled the first time she met Qasim. It was raining and she ducked for cover under her hand running to the SUV that was parked in the courtyard. She jumped into the back of the car drying her face from the downpour. When she looked up and saw a set of honey brown almond shaped eyes looking at her through the rear view mirror. That wasn't sixty five year old Gulam Nabi, their loyal driver. His frame was slimmer, with jet black curly hair. Who was he? Malaikah flicked her hair back and straightened her back.
"Who are you? What are you looking at? Haven't you seen a girl before?"
The earthy scent of the earth lingered in the car breaching the silence.
"I'm Gulam Nabi's younger version. You've stepped back into time, Choudhrani Sahiba."
His high, cheeky voice annoyed her. How dare he show her disrespect?
"Do you have any idea where you are?" She snapped. "And who you are sitting with?
"In a car with a beautiful woman. Where else would I want to be?"
 Malaikah's jaw dropped in surprise. She was taken aback by his daring response.
He shifted his body around and faced her revealing his clean shaved chin and a sharp nose. It was the first time ever she'd encountered someone  disregarding her authority.
"Can I ask you something Choudhrani Sahiba?"
 Malaikah was aghast. She shook her head unable to speak.
"I live and study in the city. I'm here cos my Nana is ill, so my ammi told me to drive some fancy Choudhrani to the city. I was expecting some over dressed, haughty old woman but you....wow." He gasped.
"What was the question?" Her tone grew frustrated.
"Oh yeah!" He scratched his curly mop of hair. "There was no question. Where are we going?" He turned and turned on the engine.
"To the city to see my brother."
"Fantastic." He bounced on his seat with joy driving out of the courtyard. "We have a three hour journey ahead of us together and I'm looking forward to it."
Malaikah was surprised by his frankness. Since birth she was surrounded by maids and staff who formally addressed her and showed respect. But this boy this boy cast aside formalities and spoke like they'd been friends forever.
Qasim showed her the piled of CD's. "I wasn't sure of who I was driving or your music taste, so I bought classics. Noor Jahan, Qawalis of King Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and modern English songs of Justin Timberlake." He reached behind and threw the CD's in her lap.
"On the way I will take you to this ramshackle chai stop. They make the most delicious chai that you will lick your fingers. Not that you do lick your fingers, you probally have staff or maids that lick your fingers for you. No. that sounds odd." He stammered.
 Malaikah smiled. "Do you have a stop button?"
"Me?" He looked into the rear view mirror and laughed. "My nana said my mouth will be the death of me. He ordered me to keep my mouth closed today and play Nasheeds like a good boy. But you know me now-" He winked through the rear view mirror.
The car bobbed up and down on the uneven roads and through the potholes. Qasim filled the silence with his words chewing through time and talking over the music.
"So, this this whole Choudhary stuff. How does it work? No doubt Jahanpur is beautiful, does your father own it all? Do you have a like a job you do? I bet he doesn't. You all live like Queen Elizabeth and you're like Princess Diana. Oh no, not Diana. She fell in love with an Arab and then died. We can't have that happening to you." He continued nervously.
"Do you ever stop to listen for the answers?"
Qasim chuckled shaking his head. "Answers are overrated, Choudhrani Sahiba. Anyway let me tell you about my Nano when he caught a cold-"
The next four weeks, Qasim was  allocated her driver. He'd taken her to all of the bustling and busy shopping centres in the city. They spent time in the favourites eateries and restaurants tasting traditional Halwa and gol gappe with chilli chickpeas and sour tamarind flavoured sauce  that dribbled down her chin. Qasim was full of energy, extroverted personality and made friends wherever he went.  She learned he was studying engineering to please his parents but he had a love of creating models, small cars, airplanes, and created a small village. He was trapped in a profession that his parents desired. Soon, they were slurping raspberry syrup flavoured snow cones on the road side whilst watching the sun set. Malaikah fell fast and deeply in love with Qasim. He was from another world. A forbidden world. She desired to follow him wherever he took her. She ran away from Jahanpur and made a family with him for seven years. However, the dark day that she feared arrived when Wajahat Ali located her and dragged her back to Jahanpur. Seven months later, she had no means of contacting him. Qasim paid heavily for loving her. 

Standing in the boutique, she was here for Meh'r-Bano. After her mother reprimanded her with a slap,  Malaikah summoned Meh'r-Bano into her room.

"I employed you so you would help me with my children. You would educate them. But you are making it difficult for me and my children." Malaikah complained at Meh'r-Bano who bowed her head and twisted the end of her dupatta.
"I'm sorry." Meh'r-Bano mumbled. "It was just a second-"
"I don't want to hear it!"  Malaikah cut her midsentence. She threw her hands in the air.
"Just look at you. No one would believe you work in the haveli dressed like that." She condemned her ill-fitting brown linen suit.
Meh'r-Bano's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I'm sorry if my clothes offend you."
"The guards have a uniform. They dress in clean, pressed clothes every day. The maids dress better than you. You are educated-a teacher. But look-"
Meh'r-Bano was speechless. These were the clothes that her husband bought for her. "Maybe it would be best if I leave the haveli for good." Meh'r-Bano replied.
"No. I don't want you to go. My children have shown improvement in their behaviour since you started."  Malaikah pressed inching closer to her. "I need you to stay, but you must improve your appearance. If you don't fit in, my mother will find any excuse to get rid of you."
Meh'r-Bano finally lifted her chin and looked at Malaikah. The crease lines spread across her forehead.
"I will do my best." Meh'r-Bano said.
Malaikah sighed with relief. "I will buy the uniform you must wear when you come to the haveli. You need to look smart."
"Whatever you request, Choudhrani ji."
"Keep my children away from my parents. When they see my children they-" Malaikah paused. She took a deep breath and stepped away from Meh'r-Bano.
"Just keep them away."

Wajahat Ali's mobile trilled snatching Maliakah's attention from her thoughts. She looked at him, but he turned and answered his call.
"Where is he?" Said Wajahat Ali. "Keep an eye on him. Follow him." He mumbled concealing the conversation.
"An illegal fight?" Wajahat Ali smoothed down his manly bristly moustache. "What did I say? You can take a Choudhary out of Jahanpur but you can't take Jahanpur out of a Choudhary." He lightly cackled.
"I will visit in two days. Don't lose them."

Malaikah piled the chosen suits on the counter. Wrapped in secure packaging the shop assistant clicked on the cash register with delight calculating the price. Wajahat Ali swiped the credit card and paid the large sum with ease.

"Thank you very much for your custom madam. Please do come again." Said the shop assistant placing the receipt in the bag.
A weight of sadness burdened her. She was leaving the shop, the city and returning to quiet Jahanpur and watching the days turn into nights. Wajahat Ali carried the bag and followed i Malaikah. The shop assistant winked at her colleague.
"Rich people, deep pockets."

Malaikah stood in the streets unable to return to the SUV. She loathed the idea of returning to Jahanpur. It was a terrain of loneliness. The road to Jahanpur suffocated her. If she could, she'd run for miles until her feet bled. But how could she leave her children behind? They would always be cast out as Qasim Nahal's dirty lowly blood. The children bore the father's name, status, they did not belong to the elite Choudhary clan and she would never leave them with her brutal parents.
"I want to get the kids some food." She asked Wajhat Ali.
"Nazim has got some burgers and fries. We know they love them."
She sighed yet again struggling to find a reason to stay in the city. Wajahat Ali opened the car door for her. She looked at the bags loaded on the seats. There was her reason to return, Meh'r-Bano. The thoughts of dressing Meh'r-Bano in modern and fitting attire beguiled her. How would she look? Or better still, how would her mother react?