Then Again

Chapter 21 - Sikander

I was elated, beyond the boundaries restricted to the stars. I wanted to sing and dance, rejoice at the hand fate had dealt me. I wanted to run barefoot out into the streets screaming to the oblivious world –look here... I've brought heaven home.

I stood watching as Sahar met with each of the staff members of the house. She looked regal in the way she shook her head listening attentively to each of them. The cook and Mrs Farrukhi were extra delighted from finally meeting Sahar. It had been years since they last saw her, she was but a child then, frolicking about my father's estate asking the cook to whip her up some chikki, or brittle, a wintersweet treat where roasted nuts or sesame seeds are crystallized in caramel. I saw the pride in Mrs Farrukhi's eyes, she yearned to hug Sahar in the way that aunties do. But I had advised the entire house staff to not disclose this information. It was better for Sahar that she remembered on her own. It also gave me enough time to conclude what kind of woman she had become.

The groundskeeper had taken Sahar to give a tour of the kitchen garden along with a shift tour of the entire ground. I watched them while reclining on a pillar in the veranda. It was still time before dusk set in, Mrs Farrukhi stood next to me as I watched over Sahar. It was funny hearing the woman that practically raised me calling me sir, but she was in on the rouse, only reluctantly.

"Would it not be better beta, if you just told her?", Mrs Farrukhi asked solemnly. She always called me beta, I was a son to her for as long as I remember. She had no children of her own so being my governess from such a young age helped her cope with the pain.

"Em-hmm", I turned to look at her with one of my mischievous glances, "you know we can't do that, tsk-tsk". I wagged a finger in front of her and she swatted it away. Mrs Farrukhi looked like she was going to whack my hands with a ruler that way she used to do when I would make a fuss during lessons.

"Is it because of her...", she pointed to her head, "problem?".

"Yes, that among other things", I turned my focus back to Sahar. She was in the rose garden now laughing at some silly thing the groundskeeper may be saying to her. Most likely he was telling her all the names he gave the roses that bloomed even with winter looming so close. It would be a bit cliché but my mind kept thinking of how much more beautiful she was among the roses. The colour on her cheeks, from being so long in the cool fresh air, was bright and pink, the shade crawling to the tip of her nose.

"I've never meddled in your schemes Sikander beta, I do trust you without a doubt", Mrs Farrukhi's voice was reluctant. I felt it with the way she pronounced every syllable as she spoke. "But I'm afraid that much of your past will cloud that precise judgment of yours", as she spoke we saw Sahar wave at us. Both of us plastering a smile on our face and waving back without giving a hint of the tension brewing between us.

"You know very well how much I value your judgement. But I would strictly advise against bringing up buried bodies", I turned to Mrs Farrukhi, making sure she understood the authority in my tone.

"That's the problem Sikander, they aren't buried", she looked me up and down. Mrs Farrukhi was right none of my past was buried, it was walking around like a ticking time bomb, loaded with enough C4 to blow up all of Islamabad.

I was about to reply but Sahar was walking up with the groundskeeper holding a basket filled to the brim with vegetables and fruit. She looked overjoyed carrying her goods and held it out for us to see.

"I can't believe how much stuff you have growing here!", she put the basket down and eyed both Mrs Farrukhi and I, "Is everything okay? You both look tense."

"All's well that ends well, eh?", I took the basket from her and put my arm around her shoulder to guide her back in the house. Looking back towards Mrs Farrukhi, I instructed her to get everything ready for this evening.