Sunday, December 26, 2010

Chapter no. 4: Wali Daad (II)

Mobile was ringing continuously for minutes. After stirring the spoon into the saucepan, she slowed down the fire of stove and then came into her room almost running. The number was Maryam’s. She attended the call with a little surprise.

“I am ringing for a long time, where were you buried?” She smiled after hearing the tone of Maryam full of irritation.

“Was in Kitchen. What calamity has been come on you? You could call at night.”

“Stop your rubbish and tell me that why you are not coming to office for a week?”

“Deadlines of few assignments are so close. These days I just sit in library after the class. Am not doing job and just internship and now my project is also going to be finish, that’s why thought to take leave for few days, but why are you asking?” She was back in Kitchen while talking to her.

“Thought to take update from the lady and to see that she is just the Journalist by name or she is having some knowledge of the recent events.”

“What do you mean?” Qandeel didn’t understand her words.

“Hmmmmm…….means you don’t know anything in real.”

“What event you are talking about? Talk in clear words, Maryam. Stop asking riddles.”

“What to tell…..when you don’t know anything. I can’t tell you everything on the phone, it’s impossible.”

“Then…..” Qandeel squeezed her lips.

“Do one thing. Bring any evening newspaper and see the details in it, then I will talk to you.”

“Evening newspaper….” She surprised.

“Yes, you have heard it correctly. I am talking about the evening newspaper.”

“But if the news is so important then it would have been published in any morning newspaper and telecasted in the news bulletin of your channel.”

“And this is the most surprising and notable thing. Neither a popular nor a less popular morning newspaper has covered it. People from your newspaper and from my channel are even avoiding covering this news due to some great political pressure.”

“And those loud and high slogans of freedom of journalism……… where did they vanish?”

“Personal benefits sometimes become more important than professional duties here, Qandeel. You are new in the field and I am experiencing this for last one and a half year. Well, but bring the evening newspaper and read the whole details about the farmer who is sitting on a hunger-strike in front of the press club for last two days. If possible then come to office tomorrow, we will discuss it there in detail, Khuda Hafiz.”

She was confused even after she had put the phone; kept thinking about things Maryam had told her. Food was cooked. She ceased the stove and came outside the kitchen.

Opening the door, she looked outside into the street that perhaps any kid would be there and she could send him to bring the newspaper from the newspaper shop in the neighboring street, but the street was empty. It was now the time of dusk and all kids had gone to their homes. For a while she stood at the door thinking, and then came into the street. After keeping her stole on her head, she closed the door and just fastened its bolt then started walking in a fast pace. At the corner of the neighboring street, Chacha Smaail had a small newspaper shop. She picked two or three different newspapers of that evening and handed over the money to Chacha Smaail which she was holding in her hand; didn’t feel the need to calculate the amount and standing there she started reading the newspaper. At the peak of suspense, she was used to show this carelessness; felt this somewhat later when people around her started to look her with odd looks. This was not a place where she could read the newspaper like this.

She collected all newspapers and just then Chacha Smaail gave her rest of the money. She came back with the same fast pace. Reaching into the street she looked, Baaba was ahead of her.

He had stopped reaching at the door and before he could turn, Qandeel reached near him.

“I just went to the shop of Chacha Smaail to take newspaper.” She said while unfastening the bolt.

Both of them came inside one by one.

Qandeel read all newspapers in detail at home. The cruelty that was happened with Wali Daad and in reply the steps he had taken to get his land back; she not only tried to know each and every detail of the case but even discussed it with Yousuf Mairaj. He also heard the story of Wali Daad with a great interest and kept telling her about his views.

“I will talk to Asghar Sahib about it tomorrow. Being a very experienced and brave journalist, how can he make this act of senselessness? If even we can not feel this cruel act happening with the weakened people then we don’t have rite to claim about our courage and fearlessness.” While collecting the newspapers before going into her room, she at last said.

Yousuf Mairaj just shook his head positively.

She had sent an SMS to Maryam that she will go to office with her next morning.

The next morning Maryam came. Yousuf Mairaj already had gone to the college, so Qandeel locked the door and they went for the office.

Their offices were on the press club road. The Press club was situated on their way, at the distance of two buildings from it there was the newspaper building where Qandeel had her internship these days and in the same lane after two three streets there was the office where Maryam was doing job. On that road all around there were buildings of different newspapers and T.V. channels.

Outside the Press club, there was not much crowd at the time. Opposite to the road there was an unoccupied plot where family of Wali Daad had temporary residence.

Qandeel looked, he was a bit old man; thin and slim, dark faced, the man was sleeping at the moment. Exactly next to him, there was a middle age woman who was giving him a little air with the help of a hand-fan. Two kids were also there who were having their temporary beds at a distance. Near the feet of Wali Daad, there was a boy sitting probably of an age of sixteen, was having his breakfast by dipping the pieces of stale chapatti into tea.

“Whole day he sits at the pavement opposite to the Press club with his family and sleeps here at night. If somebody tries to help him financially then refuses clearly and says that I am not a beggar, always earn with my own hand and even now will earn myself but only when my land will be given back to me, otherwise will die here.” Maryam was giving her the details.

“And administration of press club…..” Qandeel gazed her with a questioning sight.

“They are trying to convince him to keep protesting but end this hunger-strike, even then Wali Daad is not agreed to hear any advice like that.”

“And where are the human rights organizations…… every second day they keep talking about the new issues then why is the ground empty in favor of Wali Daad?”

“There are two reasons. First is that perhaps the case of Wali Daad is weak. Nadir Siddiqui has forged in a fully right way otherwise everyone has enough brain to understand that the date of loan returning in the agreement can never be kept before the date of cutting of crop. And the second reason is the same political pressure.”

“Nadir Siddiqui is not strong enough politically then how has he created so much pressure at all these places?”

Both of them were standing at the pavement opposite to the press club.

“He himself could be or not strong enough but his father had very good relations with the most influential families of the country and the same relations are working here. Sahir Choudhary, Hashim Laghari, Sikander Shaikh all are using their resources to help Nadir Siddiqui.” Qandeel had her sight on the temporary residents of the plot and ears were with Maryam.

“And the most important reason is that Laashari family is directly poking into the issue and you are well aware with the political power of Aadil Laashari. Whether the Laashari family is in government or out of government, none of the political party without having its support can make a single decision. Mamoon of Nadir, Qasim Ahmed was the class fellow of Qaiser Laashari in the college. Nadir would probably get the ticket of Aadil Laashari’s party in the next elections from Nawab Shah. So, Aadil Laashari will not stop helping Nadir Siddiqui and his family, while many of his own benefits are connected to Nadir and Habib Siddiqui.” Qandeel was trying to understand the situation slowly and gradually.

“Which benefits…… can you explain or…… no perhaps I can guess. You are indicating about Soomro family right? Aadil Laashari was defeated completely during last election in Nawab Shah and that’s why they have started to associate with different feudal families of Nawab Shah so they can give a full blow to Soomro family in next elections.”

“You are moving too fast, Qandeel. I must say you are intelligent. Well but now we have to use our brains to think that how we can bring this injustice happened with Wali Daad in front, and so human rights organizations could also feel their responsibility and people from every walk of life could gather at one platform for helping Wali Daad.”

“I have also thought about few things for this, which I will try today. You should also talk to people in your office, to get a solution and yes if your whole staff altogether demands from your C.O to cover this incident then finally he will have to withdraw.” Maryam started thinking about it.

“Your words seem to affect, Qandeel. I will also try it today, but right now the problem is something else, Qandeel.”

“What?” She gazed Maryam.

“Hunger-strike can be life threatening for Wali Daad. He is very weak physically; you would have an idea by looking him. Age is also more than fifty but due to overload of work he looks too old. This movement will take several days to be active and the fragile body of Wali Daad would not be able to resist this hunger-strike for so many days, Qandeel.” She had a full belief on Maryam.

“Let’s try so he could end this hunger-strike.”

“He is very stubborn, self-made, inflexible and tough man, Qandeel. When speaks then makes everyone to stop, whereas he himself has never been to school. But even then we will try.”

They were talking each other by looking there.

The son of Wali Daad was looking them. Maryam called him; he came to them. Perhaps he would have met with Maryam earlier because Qandeel had looked an expression of familiarity for Maryam in his eyes. Maryam had called his name as Ali Daad. She could not be at back and specially people younger than herself; she was used to take few minutes to be frank with them. In few minutes, she was asking certain questions from Ali Daad which were in her mind since night. He was a thin and slim guy with dark complexion like his father but his forehead was broad and brown shiny eyes were proving him intelligent. He got his Matriculation and after that had started working on lands along with his father. And now here in this situation, like the right hand of his father he was showing courage. This was surprising and joyful for Qandeel.

Both of them moved for their offices then.

Fortunately, Qandeel met Ghani at the main gate of the building. He was the most active journalist of the newspaper. During last few years, much reporting he had done for this newspaper, none of the other reporters had. Qandeel was one of the admirers of him; was so brave and fearless; never was worried for anything; age was twenty eight; was a man with healthy physique.

They came at third floor talking. Wali Daad was just the topic of their conversation when they were moving in the corridor. Ghani provided her the details of the internal environment in the case of Wali Daad. Chief Editor Asghar Sahib was a good friend of Qaiser Laashari. Despite of his sincerity with his profession, he was supposed to be faithful in friendship. He had announced clearly that none of the news about Wali Daad can be sent in their press, that’s why for the first time Ghani also felt his hands tied. After looking at intentions of Qandeel, Ghani also prohibited her to talk to Asghar Sahib in any case. For him, this was just waste of time.

Qandeel was surprised; Laashari family had very long hands.

Even then she felt some good after talking to Ghani; at least there were people who wanted to help Wali Daad.

They entered the hall and came to the cabin of Ghani walking. Ahead of the cabin there was the table of Khalida; Qandeel used to sit there.

Ghani took out the keys from his pocket then started unlocking the door.

“Listen Qandeel, you have all qualities of a professional journalist and professional journalist does not lose courage when a way is blocked. Many more ways come in front if only he knows how to use his abilities and his art appropriately. I am disappointed from Asghar Sahib but trying to report the incident for any other newspaper as a free lancer. You should also think that how as a journalist you can help Wali Daad. I am sure when you will think, you will find another way.” She smiled.

Ghani with a smile, full of hopes, entered his cabin.

She came at her table and started working but her thoughts were revolving around one point.

In office everywhere Wali Daad was the hot topic. Oral analysis, comments, everybody was showing his views but yes they all knew that they can not write anything and this was the only irritating thing for Qandeel. She in her life had not given herself in the hands of helplessness nor could she do now. She in her soft body had kept courage like warriors. The fire to do anything for the truth, whenever had started to burn her internally, her nerves initiated to scorch so badly and only then she could feel that fire of Love has so much power in it. The power of this fire which could give her a courage with which she could stand against the whole world alone. Yes, this was only the fire of the Love which had always made her like a reflection of a restless soul among the people.

This was the Love which she got as a heritage from Saima Yousuf and Yousuf Mairaj. The Love of God, Love of His Prophet (S.A.W), Love of her Nation and Love of Pakistan; the only country which was formed in the name of Kalimah Tayyaba; the Kalimah having secret of the biggest reality of the Universe hidden in its few words; it was the secret of Love.

Then how could it possible that she loved Allah, loved His Prophet (S.A.W), but have not loved Pakistan, have not loved her Nation; it was surely not possible.

Love was totally complete in its each aspect for her; so, she loved Pakistan, she loved every grain of sand of it; she loved every single person living on this earth and perhaps it was true that by penetrating the Love inside her in so many forms, it was not possible for her to hate a single man on the earth. She loved every human being of this world.

And this was the fire of that Love which never made her hope to let die, never made her courage to let lose; which had made her every moment so fearless and brave and made her to do those things which could not be expected from a man even in normal conditions.

Her nerves started aching while thinking.

The hall was almost empty during the lunch time. She had downed her head on the table when Maryam came.

Both of them came out of the hall walking and now moving downstairs.

Qandeel was silent unusually. Maryam knew, when she kept thinking then had become silent like this perhaps therefore she herself kept talking; kept telling her that even in her office many people want to cover this incident but C.O has strictly prohibited this. She kept hearing silently. When Maryam turned towards cafeteria after they reached ground floor, she was stopped.

“What happened?” Maryam surprised.

“You go, Maryam. I am tired, will go home now.” Her tone was completely flat.

“Alright, go home. Perhaps you need a little rest right now.” Maryam said while observing her expressions.

She came out of the building and started walking on the pavement. She was moving towards press club. She didn’t know why she was going there but she didn’t want to think anything that moment.

Exactly in front opposite of the road of the press club on the pavement, he was sitting on a piece of cloth with his family. The sun was right above his head and even the shade of the Banyan tree besides him could not work for this hot sunlight.

She herself was feeling the burning of the sunlight but she knew it was not possible for her to have idea about the pain of Wali Daad; he was on hunger-strike. He had not eaten for two days and surely he was a man physically very weak. His dark complexion had become darker in that sunlight. Qandeel came near to him walking and now she could see his features very clearly.

His eyes were also brown like Ali Daad but the shinning was nowhere. There were dark circles around his eyes and the cheek-bone was very prominently could be seen. The lip of the upper side was darker and thick as compare to the lower lip. Hairs were all white; he had no attraction with him at all.

There were also some people of media but all of them were not attentive towards Wali Daad; not a chance better than this could be provided to Qandeel. She came near the pavement and stopped.

Wali Daad moved his head up and looked her.

“Can I talk to you for few minutes, Wali Daad?” She asked smiling.

Wali Daad gazed her for a moment then shaking his head he again bent his head down.

She sat on the same piece of cloth at a distance to Wali Daad. Ali Daad was not there; perhaps had gone somewhere.

The piece of cloth and the pavement beneath it was extremely hot. Qandeel was feeling difficulty to sit on so hot and scorching land despite of fact that Wali Daad was sitting on the same land somewhat near to her. His rest of the family was now sitting at a distance to the pavement in the shade, but perhaps he was now used to this burning; had sat motionless at his place.

For few minutes Qandeel could not understand what to say, and then she called his name. Wali Daad looked her turning his head.

“Can’t you end your hunger-strike?” He got a poisonous smile on his face.

“Daughter, don’t you have anything except this to say to me. Whoever comes just says the same thing; doesn’t say anything else.” His tone had a grace. Qandeel felt a strange attraction in it.

“Then tell me, what should we speak about?” She was now looking him with a great interest.

Wali Daad moved his head up and looked the sky. “The sunlight is so shiny and the day is so bright today. The Sun seems to be very kind to land.” She was just surprised.

He was not speaking Urdu very clearly, words of Sindhi were included. Qandeel could understand Sindhi but could not speak it.

“Yes, but this sunlight is very hot also, one which burns, one which scorches.” She tried to start argue willingly; wanted to hear the words of an illiterate but educated person.

“This is the proof of the Love of the Beautiful God, daughter. If this burning will be absent in the sunlight then how the blood flows in veins will get the Life? This is the evil thing in man, never pays thanks to Allah on His blessings but complains about very little pain that he gets from Him.” She was now hearing the sayings of the old man without blinking her eyes. “But Wali Daad is not like that, daughter. Wali Daad never complains to his God because Wali Daad knows that the Beautiful God loves man so much. Even if he gives pain then it is also for a great peace; never let injustice to happen. People say that Wali Daad has lost his land and nobody helps Wali Daad but Wali Daad doesn’t say it, he says that the Beautiful God will surely do justice. God will let his land free from the cruel ones. Wali Daad has not sat here on a man’s trust, Wali Daad is just sitting here on trust of God and he knows God just has light, the great light.” The illiterate villager was certainly able enough that if had given lecture in a University then could beat the great professors.

For a long time she kept sitting on that hot pavement talking to him; had tried to bring this chat towards hunger-strike but Wali Daad was continuously changing the topic; was not letting her to come towards the real issue.

During this Ali Daad came and gave a glass of water to Wali Daad. Wali Daad took few sips then returned the glass to him. Ali Daad was smiled to see Qandeel there; perhaps enjoying to see hitting her head to his stubborn and inflexible father.

Qandeel had a satisfaction; at least he was taking water. Leaving the place she had decided to try one more time at least. Speaking a little to Ali Daad she went to home.

This was a very unique experience of her life. Meeting a man who had no relationship with her, even then during few minutes meeting Qandeel had felt like she had a very strong relationship with Wali Daad.

She kept thinking about him even in home; courage to do something for him was intensified.

Yousuf Mairaj had gone for a lecture that day; he came very late at night and was also tired so Qandeel had not talked to him about this matter.

When she came in her room at night, she knew that to struggle for sleep is worthless. In a mental state like this she would never be able to sleep, so closing the door she came at writing table.

She could be able to normalize this strange state of her heart and mind only this way; could be able to transform her restlessness into peace only this way.

She opened the letter-pad and picked the pen. Words were ready perhaps, flew in a text form.

“I am standing outside the press club and thinking that how tough would be the old villager sitting opposite of the road in scorching sunlight who is combating war for his self alone, without eating anything. Neither he complains to anyone for the cruel act done with him nor he shouts or cries to attract people.

Now I am moving ahead and think to say something to him…… but what? This is difficult to decide. Now I am sitting besides him; he is speaking and I am just listening.”

She kept writing, pen was not ready to stop.

“His face has uncountable wrinkles each of which tells a unique story of courage and bravery. The glimpse of the twinkling lamp in his dull eyes is the sign that he will never let his hope to die. The satisfaction that shines on his dark complexioned face indicates that he will not declare any pain any difficulty as his defeat. He will fight till the last breath because perhaps the ordinary illiterate villager in the case of faith and trust has beaten all of us. On a difficult pathway we fall by walking two steps, shiver due to tiredness, but he is standing firmly on a way full of thorns and decided to move ahead. The old Wali Daad who has complete belief on God, is waiting for His justice.”

Further more she described the whole incident in the same form of words and then while she was ending the manuscript, had become emotional.

“Whether all writers refuse to mark your story; whether all T.V. channels close their eyes from your side. Whether the protectors of the law hear or not your silent calls Wali Daad, just remember that this land loves you so much. Whether you are successful or not, this Nation will never leave your side. You are not alone, I am with you, and every person of the Nation is with you.”

She put the pen aside and read the manuscript. Then on reading second time she made certain changes. When she read third time, felt that now there is no space of correction in it.

After putting the internal struggle on paper, she was now feeling a strange peace.

The manuscript had now become a complete column. A thought came suddenly in her mind which made her very excited for a while.

The next day she was anxiously waiting for Ghani. He was out for reporting a case.

She had drowned herself in her project files and was working very keenly but in few intervals was having checks towards Ghani’s cabin.

She was getting messages from Rohail and Seema since morning. They wanted to talk to her for get together, but as she was not taking interest in anything that moment therefore replied them to see all matters themselves and just to inform her about everything. She also got a call from Rohail but could not talk to him in details; mentally she had forgotten everything related to University. In any case, she had told Rohail that she is busy due to her internship these days.

Ghani had come and was now in his cabin. She also came towards his cabin after a while. Ghani smiled to see her.

“You have come to take updates from me?” She shook her head positively.

“Some of my friends are reporting for ‘News and News’ and ‘Subah-e-Nau’. Siddique Sahib is the founder and the chief editor of both the newspapers. I have talked to him about this case and he is agreed. InshAllah tomorrow morning both of these newspapers will have details of this whole incident in their headlines. I was having some work for that since morning.” Qandeel had a strange satisfaction to hear it. These both newspapers were also well established daily papers. So at last the call of Wali Daad was going to be heard far and wide.

Qandeel moved his right hand; there was the manuscript of the column in her hand. Ghani looked her surprisingly.

“What’s it?” He had taken manuscript from her hand.

“An article; I have written last night. I can’t do anything else for Wali Daad till now.” Ghani was now moving her eyes on manuscript.

“Sit down.” He marked towards the chair and kept reading the article.

She sat silently.

Ghani looked her after he finished the reading.

“You have once again surprised me, Qandeel. You have an art to impress others not only with your deep words and thoughts but with your pen also. If a person doesn’t know anything about Wali Daad and if he reads this article even then he will feel for Wali Daad what me and you are feeling for him right now.” She kept looking him seriously who was really very happy.

“Pretty girl, why are you silent? Smile, whatever you have done for Wali Daad, nobody could do. What else more than this you want to do for him?” She smiled but was thinking that what specialty is in the article which she could not see and Ghani saw it.

“I will make it to publish in the editorial of any newspaper tomorrow morning in any condition, whether for this I have to ruin rest of my day. Just don’t worry now and go to your work. I am going to start now.” She could not answer Ghani.

First hour…….second hour and now…………third hour had been passed. She had again started her work after lunch but Ghani was not back. She was now a little worried.

“Don’t know where Ghani would be ruining his time, to publish my column.” She was grasped with strange thoughts but exactly that moment the door of the hall opened and Ghani came inside along with Asghar Sahib talking to him. They were arguing in real, sometimes the voice of Asghar Sahib had raised and sometimes the excited tone of Ghani was audible to everyone.

All of the people in hall were now attentive towards them.

Qandeel stood unwillingly. Manuscript of her column was in the hand of Ghani.

Her heart started beating so fast.

“Ghani, you are bringing you and me in difficulties. This is not as simple as you are thinking it is.” They were exactly in the middle of the hall and everyone was hearing them.

“Sir, I don’t know about easy or difficult and even I don’t want to know. I just know one thing that you can stop me to report for your newspaper, not for other newspapers. I am bound not to report the news of Wali Daad for your newspaper not for other newspapers.”

“Then you will yourself be responsible for the outcome, Ghani and remember if it came on me then I will not take a moment to disown you on behalf of my newspaper.”

“I am agreed sir with my heart and soul. Even if you do this then neither you will hear any complain nor will find any drop in your respect from my side.”

“You are not understanding the issue, Ghani.” He was irritated, “Being linked to my newspaper, if you will do reporting for any other newspaper then do you know what evil effect it will have on the reputation of my newspaper. My good-will that is made with the efforts of many years will be ruined in dust and I can’t bear it you know that.” A poisonous smile appeared on Ghani’s face. He was a journalist and knew that how to keep hand on the aching nerve of his boss.

“This decision is now yours, sir that you value your good-will, your respect and grace or yours so called friendships and benefits attached with them. If you want then you are free to terminate me before tomorrow morning to save your good-will, I will be having no objection but there is another way to save your good-will, sir….” He stopped just for a moment.

“And which is that you should prefer your duty on your relationships, your friendships. Be honest with your profession, in this way not only your good-will will be enhanced but you will also find yourself high in the court of your heart, sir. Decision is now in your hands.” For a while there was graveyard like silence in the hall. Asghar sahib was thinking silently then suddenly he remembered something. He took the manuscript from Ghani’s hand and moved towards Qandeel.

“You wrote this article, Qandeel?” The centre of his questioning eyes and the attention of rest of the people in hall was she now. She shook her head positively.

“I am impressed with your writing style, but perhaps you don’t know that this matter is dangerous and you don’t have idea how risky it is.”

She smiled. A fire was enhancing her courage internally.

“Whether I have or not the idea of the critical situation of this case but probably you would have it sir, and therefore I am feeling sad to say that you are not making a good example for inexperienced and new journalists like me. Despite of enhancing our guts you are diminishing it. By telling us about the danger and the risk of the result you are trying to decrease our courage.” The expression of Asghar Sahib was so odd; he could never expect an answer like this from a student of final year who was having internship in his newspaper.

Qandeel knew that Ghani had burnt the iron; she just had to strike it.

“I thought that you will support me morally; will publish my column into the editorial of your newspaper; will become my shield in any case. For a journalist who writes the truth, his editor is like a shield for him who supports him in any case but I was wrong sir, and I am embarrassed for my misunderstanding, sir. I will not say to you to publish my column in the editorial of your newspaper but then you don’t have any rite to try to prevent me from my decision by telling me about the risk and danger. I don’t care about the result because God, who has given strength to my pen, will become shield for me and my pen, sir. I am inexperienced sir but well aware with the responsibilities of my duty.”

She stopped. Once again a grave silence was everywhere in the hall.

She could not have any idea from the expressions of Asghar Sahib that what he was thinking. She was now observing other people.

Ghani who was standing at back was smiling and giving an appreciation with his eyes. Nasir Sahib, Salim Sahib, Haroon, Qutub Sahib, Kainaat, Ayub and Khalida; she looked each face one by one. Everyone had hopes in their eyes.

Asghar Sahib turned back without saying anything and moved towards the door. Everyone with silence and some disappointment was looking him. Reaching at the door he returned and viewed the hall then he looked Ghani.

“You will be reporting, Ghani but not for any other newspaper, for my newspaper. Prepare the cover story and send it to me immediately and yes I am sending this column for composing so it could be included in the editorial tomorrow morning.” Waving the manuscript he said and then went outside the hall.

A wave of joy was surged in the hall. Faces were shining. She hugged Khalida involuntarily; everyone was congratulating her and Ghani.

Ghani also said much about this success. Everything was so suddenly happened and happened in a right manner, she could not believe.

A strange happiness grasped her. Her heart wished to run outside the building and to dance by raising both hands in the air. She wished to dance, to show her Love for Almighty God of the Universe, this unique method to show her love for Him was also invented by her.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Chapter no. 4: Wali Daad (I)

The whole week had been passed. He wanted to leave for Karachi today in any case; already had told Naana Saaiyen last night; started his packing since morning. He was thinking to leave before day-break. Packing was completed and he was now having final check on his luggage when he got a message from Naana Saaiyen.

“Sahib has asked you to stay till lunch. Some of his important guests are coming from Khuzdaar due to an important matter. Sahib will also arrive till lunch and he wants you to be there.” Karim, the old servant of Naana Saaiyen had gone after informing him about the instructions.

A very unpleasant wave surged in his whole body. Ilaaf always got very angry whenever these sudden and uninvited guests had ruined his plans.

So, unwillingly he had to stay, in a very odd look he took his guitar and came downstairs besides the swimming pool. While coming towards pool he had ordered Karim to load his luggage onto the car; decided to leave immediately after lunch no matter what Naana Saaiyen would say.

He sat on the easy chair near the shade and looked the stagnant water of the pool.

His life was also stagnant like that water. He, who was fond of adventures, wanted a variation and change at every step in life, wanted to explore the jungles and deserts in search of something was living this motionless and stagnant life for last few months.

He was continuously thinking for last few months, trying to understand that what does he want to do in life? What’s that by doing which his thirst of doing something unknown could be satisfied? If he is searching something then what’s that? Why his seeking was still worthless? Exploration of which secret is always making him restless? What strange desire was inside him to whom he was not aware and could not know?

He felt a head-ache while thinking.

He was not interested in politics and felt that he would not be able to come into politics for next several years. For him, in Pakistan the same things were everywhere; Politics, feudal ship, business and…..perhaps lavishness also. After so many years, on returning Pakistan he had thought that may be certain things would have been changed, but it was not the case. Everything was the same, which made him pathetic but even then, without any reason, in last few months at least he had an idea that whatever he is desiring, it is here, somewhere on this land. What it is and where it is, he was still not known.

He took the guitar and with soft hands touched the strings.

“Talab kya hai, talab kya hai?

(What desire is, what desire is?)” A voice from his heart came out.

He really wanted to know that what really desire is, but he could never know. If he knew something then it was just that he had a desire for something and this desire had made him unpredictable. He could not do anything regularly or continuously.

“Talab kya hai, talab kya hai

(What desire is, what desire is?)

Is ki her Saans men balaa hai

(There is a monster in its each breathe)”

He kept repeating these two lines, was not getting any further words on that tune.

After few minutes, Karim informed him that guests have been arrived and along with Mujahid Baloch are waiting for him in the drawing room.

He handed over the guitar to Karim with the instruction to keep it in the car with the luggage, he himself moved towards the drawing room.

Along with Naana Saaiyen, there were three men. One middle-aged man while rests of the two guys were young probably few years older than Ilaaf.

Ilaaf after shaking hands with them sat, Mujahid Baloch introduced them one by one to Ilaaf.

All three of them were from same family. The middle-aged man named Qasim Ahmed and both of the young men were his nephews, who came from Nawab Shah to Quetta just to meet Ilaaf. Ilaaf was surprised, they could meet Ilaaf in Karachi then what made them to come here, but this surprise was vanished after few minutes and he could now understand the reason.

“I had talked to your Daada Saaiyen. He asked me to meet you and told about your presence in Quetta that’s why I called both of them from Nawab Shah.”

“Then perhaps there is something special otherwise they could meet me in Karachi, they didn’t have need to come Quetta.” His straight forward reaction sometimes had made others feeling embarrass. “Please tell me the reason in short, so it will not waste my time and I will be able to understand the matter very well.” He replied Qasim Ahmed very seriously.

“What could happen, son? Both of my nephews are grown by age but their wisdom is just in their ankles. Around Nawab Shah, my sister’s husband having several hundred acre land, after Father’s death both of them look after those lands. Hundreds of farmers and cultivators work on these lands and one of those farmers is, whose ancestors were also our cultivators. They were our farmers and were very faithful but their son……turned out to be very unfaithful.” Qasim Ahmed stopped to take breath for a moment but it was enough for Ilaaf.

“I think I would like to hear the rest of the story from you.” Ilaaf said while looking both of them. Qasim Ahmed opened his mouth to say something but Mujahid Baloch with his hand asked him to remain silent.

For few moments, both of them said nothing then one of them started saying.

“I am Nadir. I look after the most of the land affairs. Few years ago, that farmer somehow managed to collect some money and bought few canal lands in the neighboring village, keeping us uninformed. None of our farmers or cultivators has ever done anything without taking our permission, therefore when we got to know, we tortured him and his son and asked for the documents of land but he was so hard and tough, did not handover us the documents. Moreover, he also got the favor of a land lord of the neighboring village; therefore we could not pressurize him more. He left working on our lands and migrated to the neighboring village along with his family. There he started to cultivate his own land. Betraying us a cultivator would live a happy life; our ego can never bear it. For many generations, his family was serving us and now he started to dream to stand with us, this could not be resistible for us.” Ilaaf had squeezed his lips and was hearing him with expression less face.

“Then…..what happened?” He was hiding his every expression.

“Due to the favor of the land lord, we could not do anything for several years, but we were burning with the fire of revenge.” His tone had prideful poison. Every person sitting there except Ilaaf was aware from the taste of that poison.

“Two years ago, that land lord died. We had very good relations with his son and also he was not in the favor of the farmer, therefore we got the chance to take our revenge. One night we inflamed his crops in the field and his whole crop was burnt, but after looking the conditions and events the poor farmer had considered it as an accident.” Nadir had a disgust and insult in his tone. Habib sitting next to him and Qasim Ahmed were also smiling.

“He even got to starve having no food at all and also he needed the money to cultivate the new crop. We being very carefully, showed sympathy for him and offered a loan to him. Apparently kept the terms and conditions so soft for him but internally, we made a web around him.” With every moment passing, he was admitting his each crime but there was no one to grasp him in the hands of law.

“He accepted to take the loan, cultivated his crop and mortgage pledged his land to us. His son was a bit literate so after the agreement was signed; we made certain changes in the documents and changed the last date of returning loan along with certain terms. After his crop was cut, when he came to return the amount of the loan then we showed him the documents according to which the date of returning loan had been passed and his land was legally ours now. He requested us a lot, cried, begged but we didn’t give his land back. Then we reminded him his status and position and with love advised him not to be stubborn and to accept back our slavery. The farmers and cultivators are just born for slavery, even then how could he think that he can be freed from this slavery.” Just for a moment, the face of Ilaaf went red but then he normalized himself.

“I have asked you to speak shortly Nadir, better it is that you finish as soon as possible.” He didn’t want to hear this rubbish anymore.

“He went to the inspector, then district Police Station but our name was enough everywhere. His complain was not assisted anywhere. None of the inspectors registered his report. Not only this, but we warned him and gave the threats that we will murder his son. Our idea was that after some time, he will be silent and withdraw himself from the land, but he will take a step like this, we certainly didn’t have any idea. If had then we must had done some precautionary measures.” He stopped for a moment.

“That’s why I am saying that their brain are in ankles. These inferior people do not think with their mind, they think with their heart and when come on stubbornness then harm not only themselves but others. You people should have done something for this before. Made a blunder…..” Ilaaf interrupted Qasim Ahmed.

“I am talking with Nadir, better him to finish.” His tone had seriousness.

Qasim Ahmed had unpleasant expression on his face. He was an old friend of Qaiser Laashari, could not expect for this behavior from Ilaaf. He had heard about the arrogance and rudeness of Ilaaf but had seen first time.

“What did he do?” Ilaaf was again looking towards Nadir.

“Within one night he had run to Karachi and for last two days staged a sit down strike outside the press club. If he would have been here, we would have settled him but now the situation is very complicated. He is on hunger-strike for two days, says that until and unless government helps him or Supreme court takes notice of it, he will remain on hunger-strike and if nobody helped him then will die there but would get his land back in any condition. Till now media has not covered this news due to the political pressure of some influential Political families but if it continues for few more days then Supreme Court will take notice of it and our each and every effort will go in vain.”

“Then, what has to do now?” Ilaaf asked.

“Your's Daada Saaiyen and few other political friends with their influence are trying to cease the issue, but instead of wasting time it is better to solve this matter as soon as possible. We will talk to him in Karachi and will try to solve the matter in a peaceful manner by offering him some money.”

“What do you want from me?” Ilaaf was trying to reach at a result.

“Just when we will go to press club in order to talk to him, we want you to go with us. There will be one or two other political personalities as well. He will have an idea from this that he can not resist in front of our power and therefore perhaps he would be agreed to have a peaceful treaty.”

Ilaaf had taken a breath. Now he understood the whole issue. Baaba Saaiyen had been to London for a week. In his absence this duty was put onto him by Daada Saaiyen.

“It’s not necessary that he agrees. A man with so strong nerves and who is fighting for his war alone, it is never easy to delocalize him from his decision.” Qasim Ahmed had not liked his comment.

“This is their problem Ilaaf, you just have to go with them. Whatever will be the result, they will face it themselves.” Mujahid Baloch for the first time gave his opinion in the whole case.

“Alright, I have no objection. I am leaving for Karachi after lunch. When you people reach Karachi then contact with me. I will go with you.” He could not say anything else in order to get rid of it right now.

“Right now we are going to Khuzdaar along with Mamoon, will reach Karachi in a day or so.” Nadir had explained.

Ilaaf remained silent during lunch. Talking to these corrupt land lords unnecessarily, he considered it as his disgust. It was true that he was tied with a system where people whether corrupt or not, are considered as corrupt, but event then he had never considered himself as a part of this system. He was used to look onto life with his sight and to analyze with his own principles. He had no concern that people having delusions about him. Until and unless he would have chosen a direction or a way for his life, he didn’t want to prove this delusion wrong. Personally he never liked the cruelty and injustice but without any reason by interrupting in others’ matters and by disagreeing with others, he didn’t want to make his life miserable. He believed that he could never changed this system alone which has been settled for centuries, he even didn’t have the need to do. He had not taken the responsibility to mend the world.

He wanted not to meet them again after reaching Karachi otherwise, unwillingly he would have to be a part of this cruelty and he didn’t want to.

Taking last sip of water, he wished in his heart for them not to contact him in Karachi, but he had not the idea that few wishes are being rejected even before they are made. One who desires, should be ready to face a new test every minute on the way of desire.

All of them came into porch together.

“I will contact you after arriving Karachi.” Nadir said while shaking hands with him.

“Alright.” He moved towards his car then returned back towards Nadir.

“What is the name of that farmer?” He asked this question unintentionally.

“I forgot to tell his name. You will be asking probably in the case of media coverage.” Nadir smiled. Ilaaf shook his head unwillingly.

“Wali Daad is his name.”

“Wali Daad.” Ilaaf repeated thinking something then taking long steps moved towards the car.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Chapter no. 3: The Story (III)

“Our soul is very beautiful, pious and pure but we want to make it ugly, tainted and impure, that’s why we treat it in a manner step brothers of Yousuf(A.S) treated him.” Keeping her head on Yousuf Mairaj’s chest, she was hearing him silently.

“By considering it as an enemy of ours we throw it in the well, or sell at a very cheap price in a market of Egypt and neglect the full reality that what is the importance of this soul in our life. It has to face difficulties just because of us; sometimes in a detention of an undone sin it has to suffer for many years.” He had taken her in his arms like a kind Mother.

“It’s just our Heart that curses us for losing our Yousuf. We suppress its voice but it’s not always easy. In life, sometimes a moment comes while walking we are stricken and get down, can not restore ourselves, just then the feeling of missing something inside-out holds its roots very deeply. And so, our heart reminds us by screaming loudly that unconsciously, we have disguised our own selves”. Never a word affected her so much, like what was affecting her now.

“Telling lies, cheating people, being dishonest, being resentful and jealous, being captured in the cage of lust and hunger and so by selling our soul at the hands of greed, no one is harmed, no one except us. Our self and our heart start to be rusted. Impurities like selfishness and senselessness make our character hollow and we……in the struggle to move ahead of all in the race of life leave behind our reality, our self. When being stricken get down then are supposed to look back, supposed to return towards our truth, supposed to take out our Yousuf from the well, supposed to free him from the prison and give him the crown. Then we understand that how much we have travelled but the whole journey was a deception, a ruse.” Qandeel looked him; his face was so calm and peaceful.

“To search and find our Yousuf, is very important in life if anyone understands. The process of transformation from a man to a human is not easy, Qandeel. There will be wolves standing on each single step and ready to tear apart your Yousuf. At every place, filths wrapped with lust and greed will be interested to buy your Yousuf. Protect your Yousuf, never lose him no matter what will happen”. She shook her head as usual.

“Ok, you must go and sleep now. It’s very late and you have to go to University in the morning”. She sat up then started looking him.

“Baba, can I sleep here, with you tonight”. She asked like an innocent kid.

He smiled, knew that since her childhood whenever she dreams, fears to sleep alone for next few days.

“Why not? My beautiful daughter.” She again gave herself into his soft arms. This time she closed her eyes, wanted to take a peaceful sleep while keeping her head on his chest.

“Well, then sing something before sleeping”. He demanded smiling.

“What will you listen?” She replied with closed eyes.

“Anything…..or sing that poem of Zain Bhikha that you sing often”. He kissed her hairs.

She smiled.

“When he was thrown in the well,

Or locked in the dungeon,

Betrayed by his own flesh and blood,

Convicted of what he did not,

Handsome Yousuf sighed, Allah is enough for me.” After so many days, she was feeling a peace while singing these words.

“Taken in as a slave,

Made to work night and day,

Resisting all temptation, Allah is enough for me.

Handsome Yousuf sighed, Allah is enough for me.”

She wanted to sing more but sleep was ready to grasp her. Don’t know either it was the magic of Yousuf Mairaj’s presence or these words had a remarkable effect that after few moments she was asleep peacefully.

She very few times was succeeded to get a peaceful sleep like this and that was a same day. Waking up in the morning, she got the idea that how a sleep like this refreshes a tired man.

She woke up slightly late. Baba had prepared the breakfast. She was getting late for University. After having breakfast, she was taking sips of tea in a hurry when got a call from Sami on cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Plunking Jamons from the tree.” She replied in a teased manner, “Getting ready for University, what else I could have to do right now.” Holding cell with one hand she was searching something in the bag with the other hand.

Yousuf Mairaj was smiling to look her.

“Perhaps, you are getting late.” He laughed on her disturbance, “Ok, go to University. I just called to inform you that I will come in the evening so please be at home. Rest of the things will discuss later on, Khuda Hafiz.”

She kept the cell phone and looked Yousuf Mairaj. He was laughing.

“Now, why are you laughing, Baba?” She was getting late from the class of Professor Aftab; was really worried.

“Am not laughing, am feeling happy by looking my daughter restoring her original attitude”. This time she laughed too.

Only ten minutes were remaining for the end of the class of Professor Aftab when she arrived. Entering from the backdoor, she seated herself at the back benches. As usual, lecture was not good enough for her to understand, she got the attendance this was enough for her. She had looked Seema, Humaira and Ameen sitting in the front row. As soon as Professor Aftab went outside the class, she stood and started collecting her belongings so could reach all of them, but hats off to Dr. Kamal who immediately entered in the class, perhaps was waiting for Professor Aftab to go out. She was again seated, keeping her face in an odd look. She now had to take his whole boring lecture alone. Like a routine he was reading from his notes and she like other class fellows, was writing into note book. After fifteen minutes, noise of backdoor sliding made her to feel that there is someone else who is also late.

She moved her head up and took a long satisfactory breath. The one who came was Rohail who was always late in the class.

Rohail also looked her, he came and sat besides her smiling.

“So, you are also late, today?” while looking in front, he said in a slightly critic way.

“What, Why can not I be late? Do you only have this duty to be late?” he laughed a little on her reply.

Both of them were looking Dr. Kamal and talking in a sluggish manner.

“How are you now? Yesterday everybody was worried for you.”

“I was fine. Was tired a little bit so stayed at home for rest.” Dr. Kamal always had a deep sight on back benchers.

“So good that you came, I and Seema are finalizing the get together program but I wanted to discuss it with you first.”

“This is the favorite hobby of you, Seema and Amin.” She laughed so quietly.

“Yes…it is, but this is the last get together of final year and we want to make it memorable. We have now a very little time, after University we all will make our own way and perhaps then to meet a single one will take several years”.

“Yeah, you are right. How much time has been passed so quickly, feels it was just yesterday we joined University. Little funny things, studying together, teasing each other and then helping, copying the lectures from Humaira’s note book and in the end having ratta (learning by heart) and clearing all exams, everything will become a memory after three months.” She was feeling sad while saying the ending words.

“Now tell me, when you are going to get rid of this monster of internship. This is the only resistance in our each plan.”

“Am trying to submit my project in a month or so, but even then make a plan, I will manage it. Just don’t keep it this month. Keep it next month, I will be there InshAllah.”

“Ok fine, I will talk to Seema after class.”

Both of them were now just running their hands silently because the direction of Dr. Kamal’s fretful eyes was towards them.

After class, they kept completing their assignments sitting in library, during this time Rohail, Seema and Amin finalized the plan for get together. Most of the students of the class were included in this get together and hence they needed time, also they had idea about the busy schedule of Qandeel, so due to these reasons third week of the next month was decided.

“Oh God, It’s one o’clock. I didn’t feel during work.” Qandeel looked the clock and had stood, started collecting her books.

“You don’t have to go to the News building today, then why are you in hurry?” Humaira asked.

“I have some work at home and Sami will also come in the evening.” She had said but then felt odd at her own words.

Meaningful sights of every person on the table were on her now.

“Then say it clearly that you have to do preparations for Sami’s welcome at home.” Amin always wanted to pull her leg.

Her face became red; was not ready for this attack that’s why smiled in a bizarre manner. “Never stop your rubbish otherwise you will become ill, Amin.” All of them laughed on her answer.

“And you know I don’t want to become ill…..Ashiq(Lover) Iqbal.”

“Amin….you kid….” Qandeel pulled his ear very badly and started laughing.

“Ok friend….leave my ear.” He murmured like a kid.

Qandeel left his ear, “Rohail, if you are also going then drop me at my home.” Qandeel looked Rohail who was packing his laptop into the bag.

“Sure, Madam. It will be an honor for me.” His tone was flourishing, “I can not believe that you are the same Qandeel, who just one year ago had not accepted my single offer. I kept saying everyday that Qandeel your home is on my way, I will drop you and you daily had refused being very inflexible.”

“Come on, Rohail. At that time you were not a good friend of mine.” She smiled.

“It means that if one wants to give a ride to Miss Qandeel, he needs to be a good friend of her first.”


“That’s why I am saying that this will be an honor for me. At least in a way you considered me as a good friend.”

She could not control her laugh as usual.

“Ok, now let’s go. You have also got habit to talk rubbish due to having company of Amin.” Both of them collected their belongings and went out of the library.

She had her lunch after reaching home, and then she rested for a while. After offering Zauhar prayer, she sat in veranda by resting her back with the pillar.

For a while the words of Hamza Shahid and the blurred images of that dream had again grasped her mind.

She had a belief on dreams, since her childhood she was used to tell him every dream. Yousuf Mairaj most of the time, had interpreted these dreams for her according to situation and condition and sometimes it proved true, in a way her trust grew stronger and after that when she became the student of Kamran Ali, this trust transformed into faith. Kamran Ali had always said to her, “Whatever perception a person does have about dreams, he gets the similar interpretation of his dreams. Those who call dreams as “Al-Roya” they are always able to learn something from their dreams while those who consider dreams as “Al-Ehlaam” they spend their lives like an illusion and never gain trust on a single way of their lives”.

She kept thinking then her head started aching, so she came inside and got herself busy into routine work.

Sami came at seven o’clock in the evening; she was in the kitchen that moment. Yousuf Mairaj opened the door and both of them sat in the courtyard and started talking.

Dinner was ready; she called both of them inside.

There was a very light chat on dinner. Yousuf Mairaj never liked discussions at the dining table. She kept telling Sami about her routine and asking about his.

They were engaged for five years but still their attitudes had a very little similarity. This engagement was not one-sided, Qandeel also liked Sami however more effort was from the other side.

He loved Qandeel so much since childhood, although Phuppo disliked and tried to prevent him for regularly meeting Qandeel but he kept coming here in order to remind her that he loves her so much. And this was happening for many years even when Qandeel was in college, his routine was not changed.

This was the only reason due to which Qandeel despite of knowing many unlikable habits of Phuppo, when came to know about the proposal of Sami, could not refuse.

But then after their engagement, during last five years she had got an idea that after marriage, she will have to compromise with many unfamiliar habits not only of Phuppo but also of Sami. There was not only the difference between attitudes but a huge gap like earth and sky and which she felt so strongly in these five years. The reason for this feeling was actually that she got a mental and spiritual growth gradually. At first Yousuf Mairaj and then Kamran Ali played a great role for this growth.

But even with all these differences of opinion, she was still very determined by heart to have this relationship as much as she wanted five years ago. Like Yousuf Mairaj, she had gotten a very soft and kind nature.

“Well, we don’t get everything in life we like to get; have to compromise somewhere at least.” Every time after the departure of Sami, she used to satisfy herself by saying these words and always got herself satisfied. She always had a complete trust on her fate.

“Whatever happens; happens for good, even sometimes the long term effects of many painful and unbearable events come in a way that human intellect simply surprises.” She used to learn each and every word of Yousuf Mairaj sometimes like a parrot and then used it where found the need. The biggest advantage that she had being the daughter of Yousuf Mairaj and at which she could feel herself proud, was that she used to live in today. She always tried to be with her present, past was a moment of learning for her and future was unknown so she was careless for that. This was the secret of her satisfaction and contentment which always made her unusual among the people. She could never be unhappy and this was her major power.

After dinner, they were having tea in courtyard.

“This time you visited after a long time, Sami.” Yousuf Mairaj remembered what he had forgotten initially to ask.

“Yes Mamun (Uncle)…… actually there are some jobs announced for England and USA, I decided to apply, so I was busy, you know that the process of documentation is so tiring and time consuming.” Qandeel had put her cup of tea on the table and looked Sami.

“Oh yes, I remember……. I had talked to Aapa and she told me but I forgot.”

“I am going to Islamabad day after tomorrow; have an interview for the same reason.” He looked Qandeel. She was silent and serious.

She was not feeling good; suddenly the environment was become so suffocated.

“Qandeel, why are you quiet? Say something, at least show your opinion.” Sami said anxiously.

“What should I say?” She stopped for a moment and looked into his eyes, “You know I can’t tell lies neither I have skills to be diplomatic, so by saying truth I don’t want to diminish your happiness.”

“My happiness belongs to you, Qandeel and I want you to be straight forward.”

Yousuf Mairaj was quiet; both of them were used to talk easily in front of him.

“You know the reality very well, Sami. I can never like it for you to do a job outside Pakistan.”

“But I have just applied, hundreds of people apply; not necessary that I would be selected, you are worried for no reason, Qandeel.”

“I am not worried for no reason, Sami. You are not trying and consuming your time and efforts in spare. Your selection is difficult not impossible, won’t you give your availability if selected? Will it be possible for you to refuse an offer then?”

“No.” He could not say anything else.

“You will go. Certainly, you won’t want to lose that chance and me….what will I do?” She was asking questions.

“It’s very clear, Qandeel. I will take you with me after marriage.” He was answering in a weakened tone.

“While you know I can’t leave Pakistan.”

“Yes I know, Qandeel but only for few years. If I get a good job there just for few years, I would be able to start my own business after coming back Pakistan. I will never go abroad forever.”

“Few years.” The color of her face was changed, “Perhaps I can spend few weeks or months outside Pakistan but not few years, Sami.” Sami squeezed his lips. “The most precious years of my life in which I can give my whole energies to Pakistan; it is never possible for me to spend those years outside Pakistan. I will manage to live a non-lavish life here with a satisfaction that my all abilities are being utilized for Pakistan.”

Sami could not agree with her.

“You are saying like that only you have been carried out the whole burden of Pakistan, like Pakistan just needs your energies.” She just looked his face.

“I could never expect a thing like this from you, Sami. You say that you understand me but the reality is that despite of knowing everything, you could never understand me.” The color of her eyes and face was totally different now.

Yousuf Mairaj kept looking her without blinking his eyes.

“Even if Pakistan doesn’t need my energies, if it doesn’t need me even then I need Pakistan. I am not separate from Pakistan, I am also Pakistan. How can one live without his self? Even if I am supposed to go outside Pakistan, my soul will be left here.” Her tone was so unusual, Yousuf Mairaj felt it.

“You could never know, Sami that what is Pakistan for me?” Pearls started shining in her eyes.

Sami bent down his head, hearing her as usual.

Pakistan beats in my chest as heart; flows in my veins as blood. When I inhale, the air that penetrates inside always has fragrance of Pakistan, where there won’t be present this fragrance how would I breathe? If my heart will be left here then you will never find me as Qandeel who you have now. Everything will be changed, Sami; freshness of my face, shining of my eyes, flourishing of my laughter everything. Whatever I am, I am due to Pakistan.” She hid her face in her hands perhaps wanted to absorb few tears that had been shed on her cheeks.

“I am sorry, Qandeel. I know, I understand even then gave you pain. I should have not whatever I said.” Sami kept his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok.” She sat straight and now was trying to normalize herself.

“I think I must go now. We will talk about it at some good time.” He had stood, “And remember Qandeel, I will never take any decision at my own by making you uncomfortable.”

“I think we don’t need to discuss this matter anymore, Sami. You have to decide everything at your own. I will never be a hindrance neither I want to be, just understand that I will never forbid you to leave Pakistan but I will never leave Pakistan.” She followed him.

“You are scaring me, Qandeel.” He smiled.

“You don’t need to be scared, Sami. I know how to be faithful with my relationships. I have made a relationship with you and I will be faithful till my last breath. You don’t need to be worry; if ever this relationship is broken then this step will be taken from your side not mine.” A strange impression appeared on his face.

“Don’t speak foolish things, Qandeel.” He reproached her then came towards Yousuf Mairaj, shook hands with him and moved towards the door.

Qandeel closed the door and now was going inside when Yousuf Mairaj called her.

“Qandeel, come here. I have to talk to you.”

She came towards him.

“You never said to me what you just said few minutes ago to Sami.” She smiled.

“I never felt that it is needed, Baba. Do I need to tell you that what is Pakistan for me?”

“Not at all. I understand everything but felt so good to hear this today. I got a strange happiness Qandeel which I never had before.” His smile was flourishing, “I feel like I have passed the most difficult exam of the world.”

In the light of bulb set in courtyard, Qandeel looked. Love was whirling in his eyes.

“I have fulfilled the responsibility that Saima had put onto me. I have made you what Saima wanted to. I am proud of you, Qandeel.” Light was emitting from his face.

“I am proud of you too, Baba.” She kissed his both hands.