Fanaa (Part 4)

The excited chatter of children and the noise of pots and pans being shifted around filled the air. An endless stream of relatives milled in and out of the house. The noonday sun beat upon the women of the house as they sang and danced in the courtyard with great gusto. 

Noor was exhausted. She had been on her toes for the previous day, helping the servants move the family's belongings into the house. She had managed to convince a very reluctant Atif into coming with them to Anantnag. He had surprisingly yielded without much coaxing or cajoling and had even lended a hand with the unpacking. She wondered what had gotten into him. She had even contemplated asking him about Megha, but in the end her common sense had prevailed; and she had decided to let sleeping dogs lie. Maybe that kafir is finally off his mind, she thought. Heaving a sigh of relief, she paused work for a short break, convinced that her brother had finally started to see some sense. Now the engagement ceremony will go smoothly, she told herself. Preparation for Atif's engagement were underway, with the house bustling with relatives from both sides. Noor wondered where her brother was.

"Salaam aleikum, Noor aapa, is it you?", a soft voice said from above, breaking her reverie. A petite girl of about seventeen, clad in a lavender headscarf and an offwhite burqa looked on. She had an unnaturally fair complexion, fairer for most girls in the region. The girl's disarmingly beautiful features struck Noor at once.

"Yes, that is me, but aapki tareef? I'm sorry, I haven't seen you before."

"Aapajan, my name is Aalia. Khala must have mentioned....", the girl shyly broke off, suddenly very conscious of herself. 

"Oh, it's you, is it?" cried Noor, in a flash of realisation. "Ghulam Rasool's daughter, am I right? Mashallah, come here, what a chaand ka tukda you are", she said, telling the girl to come closer so she could have a better look at her. "My brother is truly blessed, I say.  How are you, child? You should not be running around like this," she gently admonished, "there are other people to take care of things. What is it that you want?"

"Nothing aapajan, khala wants you to look at some new shawl pieces that have come in. She's asked you to come the main room when you are done with your work."

"Tell her I'll be with her in some time. You run along now, and get some rest. You have a long week ahead of you, don't you?" Noor chuckled. Aalia nodded and went away, smiling to herself all the while. Looking at her receding figure, Noor thought, there's no way Atif will want to even look at any other woman after setting eyes on this one. What a catch, she mused.

__________________

Back in her room, Aalia lay on her bed, still smiling to herself. Suddenly she buried her face in her hands, her head spinning with thoughts of her husband-to-be. She had not even seen him yet.

Atif and Aalia. According to her, there couldn't be a more perfect combination.

______________

In the adjoining room, Atif sat, stone faced, feeling ashamed for agreeing to this engagement in the first place. Memories of the night gone by played havoc in his head; taking his mind off anything else. Megha's tear stained face, full of fear and hope, flashed before him again and again. He yearned to see her, to take her in his arms and tell her that they would be together soon. He just had to wait for the right moment, he told himself. To break it to the families; and break off the engagement. He was sure they would understand. And they were the groom's side after all, he could pull this off. He had heard his sisters waxing eloquent about the girl's beauty, she would easily find another suitor in the blink of an eye. Then he would board the nearest bus to Srinagar and go to Megha. For ever. Inshallah, they would have a life together at last.

Out in the courtyard, the singing and dancing was well underway. Smiling at the playful lyrics of the song the women were singing, he instinctively thought of Megha and looked up, out of the window. Memories they had once shared came  flooding back and he felt a sense of helplessness take over him. Suddenly he heard a girl's laughter. Surrounded by a gaggle of her friends, was a girl of the utmost beauty, clad in an offwhite burqa, dancing to the music. A thick swathe of dark brown hair cascaded down her back. Atif was reminded of Megha for a minute.

Just then one of her friends pointed at Atif and screamed excitedly, "Look, Aalia, it's him!" She turned to see who it  was; and went a deep red in the face. She smiled shyly and then scurried away, followed by the other girls. Even Atif could not suppress a smile listening to their giggling.

Like a stroke of sheer genius, a thought struck him. He decided to leave the families out of this and tell the girl everything. He was sure Aalia would understand, that Allah must have blessed her with an equally beautiful mind, that she would have the courage to help him make this work. That way, no one need know anything and she would not be blamed too.

At the evening namaz that day, two people prayed the hardest. Aalia, for Atif to be hers.

Atif, for Aalia to have the courage to face what was about to come her way.

Fanaa (Part 1)

This is the first instalment of Fanaa, a love story I'm writing, set in the backdrop of Kashmir. This is my maiden attempt at story writing, so any kind of criticism/feedback is always welcome.
Here's the link to Part 2.
Now read on :)
______________
__
She woke each day at dawn to the pealing of dozens of bells, to the smell of night-queen still pervading the chilly morning air. Her tiny house overlooked the magnificent stone temple perched on the opposite hillock that could be reached only by climbing a thousand steps. And then the air would be rent with the rumble of a hundred voices, sonorously chanting the Gayatri mantra. The chanting cleared her mind and reassured her that Lord Shankaracharya would someday bring peace to her Valley.

And then, without fail, a single thought so intense would occupy her, that all other thoughts were driven away. She heard him speaking to her through the chanting…and just as the first rays of the Sun crept over the sky and flushed out all vestiges of the night, she felt her heart soar and keel over simultaneously.

Haunting, lyrical and evocative, his voice was enough to make her drop all that she was doing and listen. When it echoed across the lake, it filled her with happiness.

Yet another day. Yet another landmine. Yet another……

Yet another day in a land devoid of peace.

Yet another day of carrying a secret….

 _________

The azaan filled him with peace. Listening to the sacred words of the kalimah drifting over the placid lake to his houseboat reassured him that peace would reign over the Valley soon. As he bowed his head for the morning namaz, he thought he saw her face when he closed his eyes; her huge kohl-lined almond eyes, her laugh like a gurgling stream. A slow smile spread on his lips. But an admonishing glare from his father compelled him into assuming a more appropriate expression.

But Atif was distracted already. He could not seem to erase her memories from his mind.

Everything about her was alluring…the way she stooped to draw water from the river; the serenity of her expression when she closed her eyes and stopped to listen to the azaan from the mosque everyday; the tinkling of her bangles whenever she moved her hands.

The way she smiled whenever she caught sight of him. It was enough to break his heart.

He remembered the day when his uncles smuggled a radio into the house and adjusted the frequency to AIR.  That day, he was barely in his senses as he sang ghazals with gusto while ferrying passengers and tourists up and down the Nigeen. The brightly clad tourists paid him extra fare that day; and business had been good ever since Atif started his impromptu performances.

The mountains had never before been so appealing to him.

hoshwaalon ko khabar kya

bekhudi kya cheez hai?

what do the sane

know of insanity?

But only he knew why that was so.

ishq kijiye phir samjhiye

zindagi kya cheez hai

they, who have not loved

will never know of life

Flowers were blooming in the Valley again.

Live. Laugh. Love. Dream. #IHMMumbai

You never know how precious something is

till you have to say goodbye

I don't know how but this journey has come to an end

in the blink of an eye

when I walk through these gates

.....I know I'm home.

Memories abound and still live on

among the pages of incomplete journals

in watery coffee and bread omelettes

in "poisonous" crepe suzettes

they still haunt the FO & HK labs

the mess and the bakery and kitchens

the tapri and the irani

in the graceful swirl of a saree pallo

and the euphoria of finally being employed

they live on in shards of glass and discarded newspaper,

in a haze creeping through the senses:

remnants of memorable nights;

in inside jokes and piles of notes

and unsharpened knives

...under the staid black and white 

there will always exist a technicolor life

new friendships forged

and a whole new treasure trove of memories made

through endless conversations and good times

I don't remember where it all begun

its truly incredible;

the way ducklings metamorphose into swans 

headstrong, beautiful, confident

poised to spread their wings and fly

but a small part of us will still revel in nonsense

in the happiness of pure gobbledegook

after all; this is a part of who we are;

children at heart

Whiffs of smoke combined with the tang of salty sea air

brings me back to life

and when I walk in through these gates

my heart burgeons with nostalgia

with happiness and pride

.....I'm home.

Journey Home

The familiar old path I've traversed

so many times, feels so new today

with each moment of it so

precious, what with all the laughter

and happiness lighting up every corner.

Lights twinkle against the dusky

evening like a scattered bag of

jewels. Peace takes over me and

my heart soars like a bird...

and as I watch you sleep; to the

strains of a sitar resounding in my

ears, its such a sight, with the wind

whipping through my hair and the

smell of the earth around me. This isn't

a dream but I don't care; since my

heartbeat has become one with the 

silence; and it makes me want to

stay here with you forever....

Fanaa (Part 3)

Here are the links to Part 2 and Part 4. Read on  :)
____________


The moon was still in the sky. Cloaked in darkness, a peaceful silence ensued over the Nigeen. The only sound that could be heard was the intermittent chirruping of the nightjars in the distance. Unknown to the world, a figure slipped though the shadows shrouded in black. It glanced nervously here and there; an ember-like fire burning in its heart all the while.

_________

At the east bank, Atif waited. He repented at his foolhardiness the previous night…Allah jaane what would have happened had anyone from her mohalla seen him; he would have had to pay with it for his life. The memory of the moment itself sent shivers down his spine. But now; he realized he had indirectly asked Megha to stake her life by asking her to meet him like this, by the lake. He knew what she would have to think of forfeiting by venturing out into the night.

Atif peered at the sky. He could see a faint glimmer of sunlight in the sky, indicating that it was soon about to be dawn; and contemplated abandoning the thought and heading home. But there was a slight iota of hope in him that she would come; if she loved him, she would be there. He had noticed the gleam in her eyes whenever they locked eyes for the briefest of moments.  “Allah maula,” he prayed, “listen to my prayer for once!”

And then, as if by some divine intervention, a clear mellifluous voice like windchimes rang  out: “Salaam aleikum!”

Atif froze.

It was Megha, standing in front of him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He could see relief intermingling with fear on her face…and all of his own worries seemed to melt away. She came closer to him and asked, “Why did you call me here like this?”

“Megha, I…”,

“Is it true? Is it true that you are leaving me and going to Anantnag?”

She had the same expression on her face; the one when Noor broke the news about his nikaahto her. The very same empty eyes and shattered hopes.

Atif, in barely more than a whisper, said, “No, my joonam”, using the old Persian term of endearment, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be with you always”, taking her hands firmly in his. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You promise?”

“Yes, my dear, with all my heart. Ever since I have known you, life has been like a ghazal for me…soothing, touching, heartrending. I will never leave you and go, anywhere.”

A smile broke onto Megha’s face like the sky softening after a thunderstorm. And then she did something very unexpected: she buried herself into his outstretched arms, and felt all the barriers melt away.

She did not care that he was Muslim and that she was Hindu. That they lived in Srinagar, the very heart of Kashmir; that this was the fundamental difference between them. All she knew was that she had never felt safer anywhere else at the moment.; that she was In the arms of a kafir.

The very people that her family so despised.

____________

The first rays of sunlight soon crept up over the sky, revealing a new day, with new hopes and dreams. The stark sunlight of reality hit Megha long after she had realized what she had done. She had given herself away to a stranger. And it was too late to look back now.

In the distance, Jagjit Singh’s deep soulful voice filled the cold morning air:

Ishq kijiye phir samjhiye

zindagi kya cheez hai

You will only know of life

if you have been in love…