Hooriya

" This is my daughter. Hooriya. She takes care of the entire household."

Abbaji says with pride shining in his eyes, I have never seen my own father being this proud of me ever. Thank you Allah miyan for giving me him.

I bow slightly in respect, "Salaam! Please take some tea."

"Wassalam! Mashallah. Beti khoobsurat hai Khan sahab. Politics mein utariye, naye chehre ki zaroorat hai Vijayapet ko." There was something sinister in the way he spoke that. As if there is a hidden meaning behind his words. Also the way he was raking me up, it was making me uncomfortable.

Abbaji gestures me to go inside, I nod discreetly. I hand the plate to Rakeena and rush towards the kitchen. Once I have reached there, I place a hand in my chest. My heart was racing in fear when I saw his disgusting smirk.

The rest of the time, I remained in the kitchen hoping I would not have another encounter like that. I am definitely not interested in politics. Why would he suggest something so absurd? Even if Abbaji asks me, I will deny. I don't know the first thing about politics.

By the time all guests leave, it is midnight. I make sure all the workers have reached servant quarters and lock the windows myself walking towards my room, Asad's room. Since he left, I have occupied his room.

Asad. The forbidden topic of my heart. It has been a month, I haven't heard anything about him from the workers or even Abbaji. It's like he doesn't even exist, if it wasn't for Saroj chachi I would think I married a ghost. I have been told he was a jolly kid growing up. His mother's demise changed him for good, even though Abbaji didn't marry again the lack of motherhood groomed him into the arrogant, cold man that he is today. He has always been reserved and the only person who he would open up to was Fahad. Something tells me he has turned more cold and aggressive in the past month.

I lay down on the cold bed, with his face swirling between my eyes. The first time I laid eyes on him, was when I was given our wedding album. He has the looks of Adonis, his sculpted body adding to his cold aura. He is what you call a dream guy. That every other girl dreams of in her blissful sleep and the one that vanishes when reality comes to life.

I needed no help in memorising his perfect face, I don't think anyone could forget a face like that. Too bad he is my enemy.

Next morning.

" Rakeena, place the container of tasbeeh towards the left corner. It will be reserved only for the kids performing Ayat-e-kalima."

"Theek bahurani. Hojayega."

Just then Abbaji walks in, looking over the preparations. He nods approvingly, " You have done a good job beta. Please make sure all people have their lunch before leaving. I am sure the recitation will finish by then."

I nod, "Abbaji, the ladies section will also be distributed with tasbeeh. I think it will help if the willing ladies also participate."

He takes a few minutes, then nods.

Few minutes later, the moulvi sahab that has been invited for Fahad's chaliswan arrived with a few other holy men. He begins making few prayers for Fahad when I hear a chilly, cold voice I can remember all talk well.

"Assalamu alykum" His gruff tone sends a shiver down my spine. All eyes stop and unconsciously focus on the masterpiece before them. He is in a white T-shirt and denims. Something so simple yet elegant enough to sieze the attention of a room filled with 500 people.

Abbaji nods at him asking him to join in the seat beside him. Asad's gaze is focussed solely on his father, taking in his lost weight, the wrinkles on his face and the exhausted look which brightened up the moment his son entered. An invisible exchange took place between the father son duo. I could feel his composure slipping, all the pain that Abbaji has been trying to forget comes full force the moment his son places a hand on his shoulder.

People gasp as two most powerful men of their territory hug each other like thirsty men stranded on a deserted island. The collision is so powerful in momentum as well as emotions that I can't help the tears streaming down my face. It is heartbreaking, absolutely gut-wrenching to see the man that I have come to adore like a father breakdown in public. And the man that Allah has destined me to, without ever holding a single conversation with him, I can feel his pain transmitting into my veins, flowing like contaminated blood promising to tear me apart.

My heart feels heavy, with a guilt lining every tear that rolls down my eyes, for a sin I haven't committed yet it feels like I am responsible for the agony that they are facing. As I see the lost look in my husband's eyes, as if he is a three year old kid lost in an amusement park and the broken face of my father-in-law holding evidence of pain beyond the understanding of the universe, I pledge to myself to restore what people fondly call the 'Khatarnak Khans' back to their glory.

I will bring back the charm of the Khan haveli that has been lost and I will bring back the light in my husband's eyes. And that is Hooriya Asad Khan's promise.

The people have already witnessed more than they were supposed to, so I gesture Abbaji's right hand man, Saif to continue with the recitation. And soon the gobstruck moulvis resume their work. Abbaji separates from his son and turns towards the recitation but doesn't remove his protective hold from around his son's shoulder as if he is afraid he would lose him too.

Two hours later, the recitation finishes and I see Asad getting up from his position, he walks towards the first floor where our room is. I don't think he knows I am living there. I am too afraid to go in front of him, so I send a maid to his room with ginger tea just the way Saroj chachi told me he likes it.

Saroj Chachi is busy serving the people, making sure everything is available to the ladies along with other workers.

Few minutes later, we hear a crashing noise from above. God, what happened to him? Before Abbaji gets up, I gesture him to continue.

'I will see what happened' I mouth to him walking upstairs with a thudding heart.

I walk to the room I have been occupying for a month now, watching Asad breathing heavily. He broke the vase that was on the side table. What got him so furious?

My eyes widen as I see all my clothes scattered on the floor. The door to the closet is open and I cower in fear as I look at the murderous expression on his face. The corner of his eyes has grown red, his face contorted into a grimace and his fists clenched. He resembles a bull right out of the trap. He hastily pulls a hand in his pocket retrieving a shiny metallic thing.

The next moment he is crouching on the ground, with a flick of his finger I see my clothes erupt into flames and gasp. It was a lighter in his hand.

He looks up when I gasp, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion when he looks at me. So he doesn't even know who I am? I rush towards my clothes trying to save what is left but my hands get slightly burnt.

He comes ahead to pull me away from the flames, probably because he didn't want another death in his own room. When he grabs my hand, the world fades away. I feel myself trembling at the touch, my face heating up even in such a situation. The only thing I can hear is blood rushing to my head. I turn around to look at him, his eyes widen in realisation when he sees the ring in my finger. It is a khandani ring passed down to every Khan daughter in law.

He jerks himself away from me, as if disgusted with himself for even touching me, it sends a burning sensation through out my body. By now, the fire has come down because all the clothes have turned into ash. He walks towards the door immediately, not before his dismissing comment, "I shouldn't see any trace of the filth that you are the next time I step into my room."

For some reason, it breaks my heart further.