by Sara Naveed
Muraad’s driver was waiting for Ahmar at the Allama Iqbal International Airport in Lahore. Everything had changed in the last three years; there were new roads, buildings, skyscrapers.
‘Lahore has become more beautiful,’ he thought.
Ahmar called his father as soon as he reached Zia’s house. He got out of the car and looked around. The bitter memories of that fateful day sent a shiver down his spine. The house hadn’t changed much; only its walls had aged a bit and the lawn seemed somewhat unkept.
Muraad came outside to receive him.
‘Glad to see you, son,’ Muraad said.
‘Me too, Dad,’ Ahmar murmured as they hugged.
‘Okay . . . are you ready to go inside?’ Muraad asked.
Ahmar nodded.
At first, Ahmar seemed a bit hesitant. Perhaps he was not ready to face her mother and other family members. Even though he knew she had not turned up for her father’s funeral, he still felt nervous. What if she came right then? His heart fluttered at the thought. In reality, he was dying to meet her, to listen to her voice. He remembered the roundness of her face, those slightly chubby, pink cheeks, tender lips, the delicate arch of her eyebrows and beautiful almond eyes. Though she had cheated on him and broken his heart, he still felt something for her. Ahmar had not been able to forget her. He still loved her. It was the only truth of his life.
He saw many familiar faces as he stepped into the living room. Zarish’s brothers, her mother and other family members stood huddled together in a corner. His face clouded over when he saw Haroon.
‘How could I forget about him? Why didn’t I think he would be here? If he is here then where is Zarish? Why has she not come?’ he thought.
‘They are probably married by now. Happily married. They might also have kids. Their own kids,’ he flinched at this thought. However, Ahmar had to face the truth. So he braced himself and stepped forward to meet people he knew.
He exchanged glances with Haroon but did not approach him.
Muraad asked him to pay his condolences to Zia’s wife, Zarina.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Munawwar,’ he greeted her amiably. She was sitting on a couch, surrounded by elderly women.
Zarina seemed shocked to see Ahmar. She first gasped and then tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘I am very sorry for your loss, Mrs Munawwar. May his soul rest in peace,’ Ahmar said.
‘Hmm. Thank you for coming,’ she murmured, looking down at her fragile hands.
There was an awkward silence as neither of them knew what more to say. Ahmar smiled weakly and then turned to walk away.
His eyes searched for Zarish but she did not come. Soon the funeral ended and the crowd dispersed.
‘Why did Haroon come alone? Why didn’t Zarish accompany him? Was she okay? Why didn’t she attend her own father’s funeral?’ he thought again on his way back home.
But there were others matters to be taken care of, and he forgot all about Zarish when he got a video call from Pari.
‘Hey, my little princess, I hope you’re not troubling your aunt too much,’ Ahmar said, waving his hand in front of the webcam.
‘No Daddy, I’m doing fine,’ Pari said as Samira caressed her hair.
‘She’s a sweetheart, Ahmar. Don’t worry, she’s fine here,’ Samira assured him.
‘Thanks,’ Ahmar whispered.
‘How’s Dad? Where is he? Let me talk to him.’
‘He’s sleeping.’
‘How did the funeral go? Did you . . .’ Samira hesitated a bit. ‘Did you meet her?’
Ahmar heaved a sigh and then shook his head.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Surprisingly, she wasn’t there. I couldn’t meet her,’ he said.
‘That’s pretty strange. Why would a daughter miss her father’s funeral?’ Samira asked.
‘I am wondering the same,’ Ahmar said distractedly.
The next day, Ahmar decided to pay Zarina another visit. His father had told him that Zia had wanted to talk to him before he died.
The house was still filled with friends and relatives. He found Zarina sitting with Haroon and his family. ‘Perhaps Zarish has come today,’ he wondered. He cleared his throat and went to greet them.
‘Hello, Mrs Munawwar. How are you?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said.
Haroon exchanged an uncomfortable glance with him.
‘Ahmar,’ Zarina suddenly said, looking at him.
‘Yes?’
‘Come with me. I need to talk to you.’ She rose from the couch and slowly walked towards one of the bedrooms. He blinked his eyes in confusion and then followed her.
It was an enormous room with off-white walls. It was sparsely furnished with a king-sized bed, two bedside tables and a large dressing table. Zarina took out a white envelope and gave it to Ahmar.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, taking the envelope from her.
‘Zia Sahib wanted to tell you something, but unfortunately he didn’t get the chance. He was waiting for you to return to Pakistan,’ she said.
He narrowed his brows.
‘Where is Zarish?’ he suddenly asked. He was getting restless now and had to know why she wasn’t here.
‘The letter will answer all your questions,’ she said and stepped on to the balcony. He looked around in confusion, a million questions on his lips.
‘Why would Zia Munawwar leave me a letter? What was so important that he waited for me to return to Pakistan? Why didn’t he contact me earlier? He could have called me or sent a letter,’ he thought, as he opened the envelope.
Dear Ahmar,
I don’t know where to begin. I am ashamed of what I have done to you and my own daughter. I am living the last days of my life miserably. I do not want to die with guilt in my heart. I was solely responsible for ruining your and Zarish’s life. I forced her to leave you. I threatened her with dire consequences. I told her that I would ruin your career, and get you fired from the university. On hearing this, she decided to back out.
I never wanted to hurt her feelings. I wanted happiness for my daughter and strongly believed she would not be happy with you. However, I was wrong, Ahmar. I was completely wrong about you.
When you left for the US, she left us too. She left her house and family. It has been three years since I have seen her face. We do not know her whereabouts. We have lost her, Ahmar. I have lived with this guilt long enough, don’t let me die with it too.
I request you to find my daughter and bring her home. I know only you can bring her back. This is my last wish. I want to see her once before I die.
If possible, please forgive me.
I am sorry, Ahmar. I am sorry for everything.
Regards,
Zia Munawwar
He had a look of utter shock on his face. He felt breathless and couldn’t feel his legs. He froze to the spot and the letter fell from his hand. Zarina noticed his reaction and came running in.
‘Where is Zarish?’ he asked her.
‘She left us, Ahmar. We do not know where she is now,’ she said, her voice breaking.
‘When did she leave exactly?’ he asked.
‘Right after you left. Right before the engagement ceremony,’ Zarina said.
Ahmar tightened his jaw muscles.
‘We looked everywhere but could not find her. We first thought both of you had eloped,’ she said.
‘So . . . she never married Haroon?’
‘No.’
He felt relieved for a moment. Zarish never married Haroon. She could not. She had proved her love for him but he had failed. Ahmar never understood the actual reason behind her decision. He had doubted her love. He had blamed her for nothing. It was now time to prove his love. He would bring her back. No matter where she was.
On his way out, he bumped into Haroon.
‘Hey,’ Haroon said, feeling a twinge of guilt.
‘Hello,’ Ahmar replied as both of them shook hands.
‘
How are you?’ Haroon asked hesitantly.
‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’
‘I’m good; living life on my own terms,’ Haroon said, smiling half-heartedly.
‘That’s good to know,’ Ahmar said.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. Please find her,’ Haroon said unexpectedly.
Ahmar was taken aback. Haroon was actually pleading for something.
‘I didn’t look for her . . . I just couldn’t. I got angry when she left me; I felt humiliated. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late.’
‘Do you have the slightest clue about her whereabouts?’ Ahmar asked.
Haroon shook his head.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll find her,’ Ahmar said, patting him on his shoulder.
He decided to visit the university first to check with his former colleagues and friends. A few of his students had joined as professors. Ahmar felt glad to see them in respectable positions.
He went to the ‘alumni department’ to get Saleha’s address and phone number. He knew he could get some clues from her. Zarish must have told someone before leaving and that someone could be Saleha.
The same day he visited Saleha’s place but met her mother instead. She told him that Saleha was married and now lived in Rawalpindi. He requested her mother to give him Saleha’s new address to which she agreed.
He came back home and told Muraad that he was leaving for Rawalpindi the next day with the driver.
He opened his suitcase to pack some stuff for the long journey ahead when his eyes were caught by a red umbrella tucked under the couch. He had a sudden flashback of the day he had proposed to her. It had been raining, and they had taken shelter under this very umbrella. He smiled as a tear rolled down his cheek.
‘I’ll bring you home, Zarish. That’s my promise,’ he said to himself.
The next morning, Ahmar left for Rawalpindi to meet Saleha. His driver was easily able to locate her house.
Since the front gate was open, he walked right in and rang the doorbell. To his luck, Saleha opened the door. She was shocked to see Ahmar standing in front of her.
‘Sir . . . Ahmar? Is that you?’ she gasped, looking at him from head to toe.
He nodded with a warm smile.
‘I don’t believe you’re here,’ she said, covering her mouth with her hands. ‘It’s . . . it’s so good to see you after such a long time,’ she said.
‘Same here,’ he replied.
‘Please, please. Come in.’ she said, letting him in.
‘How did you find my address?’ she asked.
‘I got it from your mother.’
‘You met her?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ he started. ‘Perhaps you have already guessed why I’m here.’
She hesitated a bit.
‘Please do not disappoint me,’ he said in a solemn voice.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Where is Zarish?’ he asked finally.
She looked at him with a horrified expression.
‘How would I know?’ she blurted out.
‘I know that you know something, Saleha. She must have told you before leaving.’
‘How can you be so sure of that?’ she asked, folding her arms.
‘Listen, Saleha, I am sure you know her father passed away yesterday,’ he said.
‘Yes . . . I know that.’
‘Good. I am sure you also understand that Zarish’s family needs her,’ he continued. ‘So, without wasting my time, please tell me where she is.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.’ She looked away. Ahmar sensed that something was wrong. He noticed how Saleha was not looking into his eyes while talking to him. Perhaps she was hiding something from him.
‘Please, Saleha. Tell me. I need to know. I want to help her.’
‘What did you say? You want to help her?’
He nodded.
‘Where were you when she left home? Where were you when she made this decision? You should not have left her. You should have tried to find out why she left you, why she took that decision,’ she said.
‘She left me with no damn choice! She did not give me a chance to explain! I tried to get in touch with her, wrote her so many emails but she never responded. She ignored me completely!’ he exclaimed.
‘How will you help her now?’ Saleha asked.
‘By bringing her back to her family, to where she belongs.’
‘Sir Ahmar . . . please . . . please do not make me do this,’ Saleha said, wiping the sweat off her brow.
‘Tell me where she is. Please.’
‘I cannot break my promise,’ she said.
‘What promise?’ he asked, surprised.
‘She asked me not to tell anyone about her whereabouts,’ Saleha confessed. ‘Even I don’t want her to live away from home. I want her to stay with her family but she doesn’t listen to me. Her family, Haroon, they all came to me once, but I did not tell them anything as she told me not to. I told her to go back but she does not listen to me. Maybe she will listen to you.’
‘I will not disappoint you, Saleha. I will bring your friend back,’ he promised.
‘She is running an orphanage in Mansehra,’ she told him.
‘What?’ He was stunned.
‘Yes. She regretted leaving you and decided to run away before the engagement ceremony,’ she said.
Ahmar looked at her fixedly.
‘She wanted to come back to you. She even went to your house to meet you, but you had already left.’
Ahmar didn’t know this.
‘The security guard told her that you had left with Amber. Zarish tried to contact Sir Muraad but his phone was not reachable. So she thought you married Amber.’
‘What? That’s not true! I didn’t marry her! I took her to Islamabad for her treatment,’ he said, getting impatient.
‘I don’t know, but this is what the guard told her,’ she said.
Ahmar ran his fingers through his hair.
‘Zarish was heartbroken after that. She did not go back home. She did not tell me where she was going, but promised to call back later.’
‘What’s the address of the orphanage?’ Ahmar asked her in a desperate tone.
‘Wait,’ she said and went to the adjoining room.
Ahmar smiled. He knew he would find her.
Ahmar left for Mansehra, a city located in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan, the same day.
He fished out the note Saleha had given him and read the address again:
Help Children Grow Foundation, Terha Road, Bherkund, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
Why did she go so far away from home? She could not even think of living poorly, then how did she manage all these years? The thought of her living in a strange city among strange people sent a shiver down Ahmar’s spine. ‘She must have changed a lot,’ he thought
It was around 2 p.m. when they reached Mansehra. The city was blessed with natural beauty along with cultural diversity that, once upon a time, attracted international tourists. Recent security issues had taken a toll on foreign tourists to Mansehra.
After asking several locals for directions, they managed to reach Bherkund village, the third largest in Mansehra. Ahmar spotted several private clinics and schools in Bherkund.
It was a typical rural scene: children ran around playing while their mothers called out for them; villagers drew water from the well; some men were away toiling in the fields while some sat around with a hookah.
He asked one of the villagers about the organization. The Pashto-speaking villager could not understand Ahmar’s Urdu. Ahmar could not make the villager understand as he did not know Pashto.
Thankfully his Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa-origin driver stepped in and inquired about the orphanage in their native Pashto. The villager responded by pointing at a red-brick building to their right. Ahmar walked towards the building. A signboard with the name of the organization indicate
d he had reached the right place.
Ahmar saw children of different ages, ranging from five to ten, running around happily. Some children sat on benches, reading storybooks. Since most of them spoke Pashto, he could not understand what they said as he strolled down the corridor. Children gawked at him with curious eyes and spoke in murmurs.
He came across an office where an elderly woman was sitting behind a desk. She was dressed in an Arabic-style gown and her head was covered with a scarf. He knocked on the door and stepped in.
She said something in Pashto, perhaps greeted him, but he did not understand.
‘Hello. I am sorry but I don’t understand Pashto,’ he said embarrassedly. The woman smiled in response.
‘It’s okay. I understand. My name is Maryam. I’m in charge of this orphanage,’ she said. ‘How can I help you, young man?’
‘I’m looking for someone,’ he said.
‘Who?’
‘Zarish.’
A frown creased her brows.
‘Zarish Munawwar?’ she asked.
He nodded in response. ‘Do you know her?’
‘Are you Ahmar Muraad?’ she asked.
This surprised him. ‘How does she know my name?’ he wondered.
‘Yes,’ he said instantly.
‘Oh my god. I can’t believe this. Ya Allah tera karam [Thank you, god, for being generous],’ she said.
‘Can you please tell me how you know me? Is she here? Is she all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, yes. She is here.’
He heaved a sigh of relief.
‘Can you please take me to her? I want to see her!’ he said.
‘Yes. Come with me, son,’ she said.
He followed her down the corridor. He did not know where she was taking him. With every step, his heartbeat grew faster.
‘How do you know me?’ he asked her.
‘She told me about you.’
‘Really? What did she tell you?’
‘You are the protagonist of all the fairy tales she makes up for the children,’ she said.
Ahmar was awestruck. ‘She still remembers me,’ he wondered.
‘She has told me everything about you,’ the woman added.