by Pankaj Dubey
‘He’s right,’ added Fiza. She had been listening to the two men speak, not barging in till she had felt the need.
‘But you can’t stop her,’ Rishi pointed out with exceeding patience. ‘We all have to make our own mistakes and learn from them.’
Mullah looked up at the young lad sitting in front of him and thought, What a sane head he has on his shoulders. Zeenat, my baby, needs someone like him. But he stamped out the idea the second it sprouted. No more. He had muddied his hands enough with that Ali. She was too headstrong to seek his opinion on matters of the heart. But then, wasn’t this issue too coming from the same place? Just maybe, this fellow was right? He should tell her. Yes, tell her.
‘But Rishi, he doesn’t even know what she’s asking for,’ Fiza pitched in again.
‘You surely know something, sir?’ Rishi looked incredulous when Fiza insisted Mullah actually had no information. ‘It’s never like that.’
That was leading. But Mullah chose to ignore it.
‘What we know won’t help her—it’s of no use,’ contended Mullah’s begum.
‘Then we should let her find that out for herself, shouldn’t we?’
Rishi’s stint as agony uncle was coming in handy now. And it was grating on Mullah’s nerves. How dare this twenty-something twit sit and mouth wisdom to him like some enlightened sage! Mullah had conquered the world, and this two-bit idiot was telling him about how to manage his hyper daughter! He would throw him out of his house right now. Not just this one, even 104. That would show him his place.
‘Sir, she won’t leave you and go.’ Rishi had just fired his last shot, addressing exactly the point Mullah was hedging around. And that took him completely by surprise. ‘What … what did you just say?’ cried out Mullah.
Fiza was so surprised that she lost her poise. ‘She said that? She actually said that to you?’
Rishi nodded. These two were shit scared of losing her. He had been right. That’s what was stopping them from revealing to Zeenat details of her biological parentage. She had screamed, cried, stomped her still-recovering foot and created one hell of a scene. But Mullah and his begum had turned to stone. As long as she didn’t know who they were, she had no options to choose from. And would have to remain their princess.
But the logical and cautious side to Mullah still saw shades of grey. ‘What if Zeenat has a change of heart?’
‘Yes, she does that all the time,’ Fiza said, knowing what her husband was fearing.
‘She might,’ agreed Rishi, ‘but that’s a risk you have to take.’
The elders were not so sure about this idea now. Rishi shrugged and got up.
Alongside his Zeenat-mad heart, Mullah had a sharp and agile mind too. It spoke to him now. You lose what you keep by force. He stopped Rishi and said, ‘I’ll do as you say.’
Fiza was amazed by this volte-face, but she kept quiet, believing in Mullah’s intelligence, as always.
A month later …
Rishi was at Mullah’s door again, but this time with Zeenat. The two were bidding goodbye before flying off to India. That’s where her biological family lived. Mullah had given them the sketchy details he had.
I’ll miss you, Mullah wanted to say, but could not. She knew he would. The words seemed unnecessary. But tears were not as easy to hold back as words, and some plopped down, much to Mullah’s annoyance. Fiza hugged her daughter tight and made her promise that she would take good care of herself. Both did not quiz her about her return. It was a pact the couple had made to themselves last night.
Zeenat was as bouncy as ever. Her leg had healed completely and there was a shine in her eyes as she was going to revisit her past and explore her future too. It ached her to leave Mullah, but it had to be done. So she made the farewell short. Both said nothing to each other. Just a quick hug.
She was already picking up her bags when Rishi stepped up to shake Mullah’s hand. ‘You think she’ll be back?’ He couldn’t help but ask the young guy. Fiza looked up at her husband. Mullah did not catch her eye. Quizzing the boy was not barred in their pact.
‘Of course she will,’ confirmed Rishi, melting at the sadness he saw in the old man’s eyes and voice.
‘You don’t know why she’s going, do you?’ began Rishi.
‘To meet them,’ replied the old man, looking pale as death and totally confused .
‘Yes. But there’s more. Zeenie being Zeenie can’t stand someone else deciding for her.’
Mullah could not follow where all this was leading to.
‘Giving birth to her had been their choice. Now she wants to exercise hers—by rejecting them.’
Fiza’s mouth opened to form a big O. Mullah almost lost his balance.
Rishi smiled. ‘Yes, that’s what she’s set out to do. But don’t tell her I told you.’
A week later, at the Taj Mahal …
‘Slightly to the left, Zeenie … yeah, that’s fine …’
Click.
‘What a great shot that was! I got it all … the Taj … and the river … and these …’
‘I’ll click a picture of you both together, sahib. Just for Rs 100.’
Rishi ignored him.
‘Please, memsahib, try one at the monument of love! It’s not good to click pictures single-single.’
Zeenie pulled Rishi over then and signalled the photographer to go ahead. While Rishi smiled stupidly at the camera, Zeenat had eyes only for him.
His last promise too was gone, broken and forgotten.
THE BEGINNING
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This collection published 2017
Copyright © Pankaj Dubey 2017
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket images © Neelima P Aryan
ISBN: 978-0-143-42450-5
This digital edition published in 2018.
e-ISBN: 978-9-386-81590-3
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.