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The next time when Zahra opened her eyes, it was morning... bright and sunny. It was difficult adjusting her eyes to the piercing light coming through the windows but she managed it with time. She felt weak, her breaths were ragged, she sweat profusely and it seemed like she'd run a marathon, the way she was aching all over, especially below the knees.
Her head was splitting with an acute ache of its own, and felt as if a ton of bricks had been deposited onto it. Groaning aloud, she tried to sit up in bed, startling awake the girl who slept quietly in the armchair beside the bed, her head lying uncomfortably near her friend's pillow. Zahra was amazed that she couldn't even move without help.
"What is it, Zee?! Oh... you're awake, I see," Rajani commented softly, leaning forward to arrange her pillows in a more comfortable position. "How are you feeling today? You look really pale," she observed sadly. After she had roved her eyes repeatedly around the whole place, Zahra realized she was in her own room. "I don't know how I feel. Not so well, I think," she replied, her voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. Her friend checked her forehead and was shocked to find it burning.
"You're burning hot!" she remarked. "Yeah, I felt as much." Her eyes seemed to droop shut of their own accord. "What... are you gonna faint on me again?" a voice recalled her back to the present world, and she immediately opened her eyes wide. "No, Raj, I won't. It's just that I can't seem to be able to keep these darned eyes open." And saying thus, she shut them once again.
"Because you haven't got much energy left in you. When was it that you ate last time?" she asked accusingly. "Yesterday morning, I think," Zahra answered, pondering over her activities of the last forty-eight hours. "Are you kidding me!?! You seriously need to eat, girl, or it could prove fatal to your life." "Yes, I think I do need to eat something. But please don't worry yourself, okay. Just... bring me some groceries and I'll prepare myself a meal, I promise." "If you can leave the bed, that is," Rajani commented sarcastically. "No, leave the cooking to me." But when she saw Zahra displeased with the idea, she reasoned, "Let me make something for you this once, and you can prepare all your meals by yourself afterwards." And begrudgingly, Zahra agreed.
After a while, she had settled on the bed with a stack of buttered toasts and a steaming cup of cocoa. Exhorting her friend to eat something, she threatened to cut all ties with her if she didn't take a bite herself. "Do you think me so selfish, Raj that I wouldn't take care of you in return?" she asked. And in spite of her hateful nickname, Rajani found it a tad endearing, and she softened instantaneously.
She was a girl of good bodily structure, a bit haughty at times, but mostly less talkative and more to Zahra's liking. She was one die-hard fan of Bollywood movies, but had crossed her heart and pleaded allegiance to Sri Lankan Cricket Team, adoring them till the end of time itself. But most of all, she was a good friend, who did not hesitate to accept favors in return to her kindheartedness.
"No, that's not it. I've had quite a lot of cookies already," she confessed in a small voice. "It doesn't matter. Come, share my food with me. It will help you regain some of your color, at least." "Oh, fickle! Mine wouldn't even show. Yours certainly would, though." But in the end, the two wolfed down the food with matching eagerness.
Still not able to find her strength, Zahra again took to her bed after she'd had her fill. She looked unusually pale on the outside and felt unusually weak on the inside. This would not do anymore! She removed the covers off her body and attempted to stand up, without support. A wave of vertigo hit her and she quickly grabbed the bedpost to prevent herself from falling. Letting go of the idea for the time being, she slumped down onto the bed disappointedly. She was annoyed for being so weak; for dragging people into predicaments she couldn't get out of, herself! Wiping the angry tears from her eyes, she snuggled into the covers once again.
"How did you manage to bring me here?" Zahra asked her friend thoughtfully when she came back into the room once again. "Don't get alarmed if I tell you, but I... kind of half carried and half dragged you here. It wasn't so bad as you might think it." "You carried me here?!" she asked faintly, horror evident in her eyes. "Nu-uh. Half carried, I said. There's a difference," Rajani replied, attempting to smile but only managing to grin lopsidedly. "You must be so tired, Rajani. I mean, I'm not really very light, compared to you." "Yeah, I was tired. But I'm fine now."
"You don't look fine to me," Zahra observed, keenly eyeing the girl. She turned her head to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. "You have bags under your eyes, and it looks like you haven't slept much." "I guess I was a little scared. After I'd safely got you into your room, and you'd calmed down, everything seemed so eerie that it was difficult for me to sleep. Things rattled me a little, I think. So, I helped myself to some of the cookies you had in a container in the kitchen," Rajani admitted sheepishly. "Food helps me relax and feel sleepy." "It's alright," Zahra replied smiling, but her mind had caught something and her thoughts simply stuck to it. "You said after I'd calmed down? Was I saying something in my dazed state?"
"Well, not really. You were pretty incoherent at first, but then you started shouting for your mom and dad. I tried to calm you down but you didn't seem to hear me. It was really spooky." "I'm sorry I scared you. Did I say anything else?"
"Tell me, how much do you remember of last night?" Rajani answered her friend's query with a question of her own. "I remember everything until the gunshot and then being handed into somebody's arms. I just knew that everything was over though, before I fainted. Why?" Zahra asked innocently. "Nothing. It was just something that the Officer said to me afterwards." "What did he say?" the girl demanded, her tone surprisingly stern this time.
"It was nothing of importance, really," Rajani replied cautiously, casually waving her hand in the air. "He was only telling me that he'd got an anonymous call informing him of our being in danger ten minutes before he arrived, that's all. Must've been some passerby." "Oh!" was all the girl could answer. "Are you sure I didn't say anything else?" "You were asking someone why they weren't coming, if I remember right. Most probably, it was a he. But I only thought it was your father you were referring to. Though, when I told you that I had come, you cuddled me so tightly I couldn't move or breathe for a full five minutes."
Hearing that, Zahra blushed profusely. She smacked her friend's arm for exaggerating the tale so much. But she did recall cuddling someone and she distinctly remembered she didn't have her dad or any of her friends on her mind at all that time! Was that even normal? She must be going crazy.
The day passed in a somewhat similar way as the morning had gone by; though at the very first opportunity, Zahra sent Rajani back to see to her own affairs. It wasn't that she minded her company, but she didn't want to keep her long and fag herself; taking the burden of nursing her throughout the period of her wasting health. As the morning turned to noon, Zahra found herself being visited by the Chief Superintendent of Police, Mr. Steve Dalton himself.
He was as old, broad and serious as he looked in pictures. But his robust frame was very much shaken by the information that the gang had known Zahra's name. "Seems like they research their victims in detail beforehand, a peculiar set they are," he observed to the girl in his grave booming voice. "They go to a lot of pain for spreading terror randomly in the city, it seems. I'd be much mistaken if they didn't already know where you lived." The man did not like the way things were taking shape, but he told her not to worry and promised her to find and catch the perpetrators as soon as possible.
Should she tell him about the incident with Laura? She'd have to tell him about her mark then. They may even subject her to examinations. She'd become a poster-girl, a guinea pig of the investigation at the hands of the Police Department. The media would not hesitate to blow it out of proportion; it could make the gang irate too, who knows they might even come back at her with much more vigor.
The investigators would ask for her life history, how and where she lived before coming to Clydesville, if she had ever experienced any strange event in her life; in short, she'll become a thing of interest for the whole public. Besides, she didn't know why they wanted her, herself!
The police might even drag her guardians into it, make a toy of her identity and she didn't want to diverge all the incidents connected with her life ever since she'd come into her baneful existence some twenty-three years previously, at any cost. Some were sacred to her memory that she didn't want to share with everyone. Besides, the idea of her being ill-omened was just that... an idea. There couldn't possibly be anything in it!
'You'd be provided protection,' her mind reasoned with her, but she didn't want to lay her life-story open to the whole country at the cost of that. Clearly, the cons outweighed the pros of such a step. And she decided against telling the man about her mark. She only reiterated the fact that the gang could be after someone specific, but it was impossible to find that out.
None of the girls abducted earlier had been able to describe the situation before they'd been taken away, due to the drugs introduced into their systems that forced them to forget, much to the Police Force's frustration. Zahra requested the Police Chief to not let out this simple detail, that they'd known her name, to the media. The man promised to keep it a secret and soon bade her good-bye after asking her a few more questions and wishing her well.
By the end of the meeting, she was exhausted. A few more visitors came to see her in the course of the afternoon, but she couldn't treat and welcome any of them as she'd have liked to do. Nevertheless, sleep took over her in the next few hours and she was finally left alone in peace.
Zahra was a little better in the evening, her fever had gone down considerably and the paleness had reduced too. Feeling a bit spirited, she ventured out into the balcony to let the cool evening breeze caress her face, tending to her plants as she took in the sight of bustling streets down below.
She was astonished to see a horde of reporters setting their instruments near the entrance doors of her old apartment building. Had they come for her? Surely the news of the attack must be all over the news now. The possibility of being mobbed with questions and conjectures scared her a little and she backed off of the railing as quickly and inconspicuously as she could.
They hadn't noticed her yet. And quickly settling herself onto a chair near her geraniums, she found herself browsing the 'Trapeze Daily' app for the latest news. And sure enough, a picture that rattled her heart substantially, greeted her horrified eyes. She was right there on the front page, they'd printed a file photo of her with a caption reading: 'The latest target, in a series of abductions led by the 'Blue Gang'. Zahra Fatimah was able to be rescued, unlike many others, when a vigilant citizen promptly informed the Police before the abductors could capture her and take flight.'
'One member was killed in action and one arrested, while two fled the scene,' the article read. 'The vehicle used by the gang to abduct young girls, a small Chevrolet van with tinted glasses, has been seized by the Police. The relatively new vehicle, on examination, has been reported to have been registered in the Capital city itself more than a year ago, under an alias of one, Max Reed. On investigation, the Police Department has been led to find no one of that name living in the entire city, or even the whole country.'
'The men were all dressed in blue overalls, as communicated by our reporters on the scene, probably in an attempt to pass as delivery guys. A blue mask covered their faces, preventing them from seeing their features. The man killed in action was of obscured origins, no individual has come forward in relation to the knowledge of his identity, as yet.'
'The one captured has been identified as Elijah Hawser, a construction worker employed with the 'Reid & Holland Builders Ltd.' where, after interrogation, he is known to have been laboring at, only six months since. The workers at one of the construction sites where he'd worked before getting arrested, describe him as a lazy, crafty fellow, useful to no one, having a knack for gambling and throwing his wages on drinks. They maintain that they had no idea as to what kind of a life he lead after quitting the site at sundown. The interrogations are still on in that quarter.'
'Zahra Fatimah is a young girl, like most of the victims, working as an Assistant HR Manager at the local bank of 'Walworth & Co.' The girl was called into the Headquarters of the bank along with a young team of professionals from the sub-continent less than twelve months ago.'
'She was out shopping with her friend two blocks away from her residence at Aurora that fateful night when the incident occurred. She was just turning into the street that led to the street nearest to her apartment when the gang accosted her and her friend. According to the statement given by her friend, Rajani, they tried to force them into the van.'
'Naturally, being unarmed and outnumbered, the girls shouted for help but none came, since the streets had long since been deserted. The two men had only succeeded in tallying their numbers and taking the toll to 45, when the police arrived on the scene. Zahra Fatimah was not available to shed light on the matter. If she presents her statement in the court, the arrested member could be charged to rigorous imprisonment of up to five years on the basis of the offences of abduction and molestation levelled against him.'
Zahra knew she would be called for giving a statement very soon. How she would face the press and the publicity, she had no idea. It made her shudder, the very idea that someone might be watching her, ready to pounce on her and take revenge at the earliest possible opportunity. But she couldn't hide in this place forever, she'd have to come out eventually. It wasn't a happy thought, and made her nerves quiver in spite of herself. What was she supposed to do? Wasn't there a manual somewhere that could tell her how to deal with these things?
It seemed that everyone had deserted her, just when she needed them the most. Her mom and dad, Avi... even Dave Walworth. She didn't know if they knew about her condition or not. It pricked her eyes, realizing she couldn't take shelter in her father's arms anymore, or even soak her mom's dupatta with bucketful tears.
It pained her to not be able to pour it all out into Avi's ears and get consolation in the fact that she'd sympathize with her as well as she could. And... it wrung her heart that this time, a certain dashing, blue-eyed, tuxedoed man was not there to save her, instead. She'd have felt safer in his arms than with an army of Officers in blue, sheltering her from all sides, with their guns tucked and ready in their holsters.
But all those things shouldn't matter to her. It was her Lord who could protect her; in fact, he was the only one who had the power to protect her. These people... they were only there as hands, real and in flesh. Because apparently, this world believed and worked on substantiations, on material proofs that could be perceived and taken account of. But she had done wrong to place her trusts and beliefs on them; she was only human after all, living in a material world that couldn't deal with anything other-worldly. And she'd acted just like a citizen of the world would do.
But she wasn't supposed to, not after what she'd been taught almost all her life. To place her trust in Allaah (SWT) was like rendering oneself free of all burdens, because no matter what, he'll get you out of any complexity you were in. Some battles would ensue, some scars would be gotten, but that is all Fate; if it's written there, it's meant to happen and it will. There's no use resisting it. And like an obedient creature, she submitted all of her worries and misgivings to her Lord. It took her some time, but she finally felt free.
That night, Michael Walworth came to see her at her apartment, for the first time. She deemed it necessary to not be anywhere near the bed when he came inside her room, it would break so many rules in the 'Etiquettes Rulebook for Professionals'! Rajani was still helping her get on with her tasks a little, and she'd taken it upon herself to receive her visitors.
Thankfully, she was given some time to prepare herself to meet him. Zahra sat back comfortably in one of her armchairs, draping a large sheet over her complete frame, and setting another chair for her chief facing her, leaving a comfortable distance between the two. She occupied herself with a book and kept her eyes glued to it until he came inside the room. And even after lots of premeditations and preparing her frame of mind for this scene, she visibly started on seeing him inside her room and instantly got up to greet him.
"No, no... no! Don't trouble yourself to get up, please keep sitting," he quickly entreated to her, and crossed the room to where she sat. "Please sir, forgive my manners. Do take a seat," Zahra urged the man, pointing to the only other chair that furnished the room. He obeyed and sat on it, observing her keenly for one whole minute, at the end of which he remarked, "I see you haven't recovered from the shock yet. You're still quite pale and sickly."
"I've recovered a lot from how I was, sir. How are things at the Bank?" "Same as you left them. You've only been absent from it one day, Ms. Fatimah! What could happen in the span of one workday?" he asked her, much incredulous at her sense of time.
"In my world, sir, a lot can happen within a few hours; a day from dawn to dusk, then, is too old a time." "I won't be taking much of your time, Miss," he informed her, his voice a little colder than before. "So, don't trouble yourself to go to extreme lengths of hospitality, as people usually do. I hate ceremonies and conventionality."
His behavior irked Zahra, but she didn't say a thing. They sat in silence for a few minutes, while the old man took in his surroundings. "How do you intend to go on?" he asked her, at length. "I mean, returning to the Organization is out of the question; at least, for the time being." The words hung in the air like baneful clouds, as she took her time to let his words sink in. "I am not so weak as I look, sir; I'll be fine before the week ends."
"That's quite an optimistic talk, but pretty unrealistic, if you ask me. You may get better, but there's no chance that I'll allow you to return. It's very dangerous, what with all that has happened." "Please don't tell anyone about my leave, though," Zahra pleaded, her voice faltering. What was she going to do, holed up here? Haunt herself with the memories of the day? "Yeah, sure," he replied, as if answering her thoughts.
"Is there any chance I can avoid giving the statement, sir?" the girl thoughtfully asked, after a while. "Are you scared they'll attempt it again?" There was a pause as she formed her answer. "That, and this thing that I have to being recognized publicly." "You've been already recognized publicly." "But there'll be a complete media coverage this time. I don't want that."
"Do you want me to give a statement on your behalf?" Mr. Walworth asked. "If you'll be so kind as to do that, sir, I'll be forever grateful." "I think your friend next door is better equipped to do that. She is an eye-witness and also a sharer of the catastrophe. Anyway, you can mail it to me, and I'll think about it."
"Is there anything else you need to ask of me? Any service I can do for you?" Mr. Walworth asked her pointedly as he got up to leave. She had an idea what, or precisely whom, he was alluding to; but, she wasn't ready to give that egotistic fellow the satisfaction of knowing she was missing him just yet. "No, sir, there isn't anything else. You've already done so much for me." "Never mind that." Thankfully, he didn't push the subject. If he wondered about things, he didn't let it show.
"And a piece of advice," he spoke to conclude, "Take care of your health, and don't try to venture out again after dark, be it alone or in company." And saying thus, he moved out of the room, saying a small goodbye after turning his back. She heard her doors close not-so-swiftly, afterwards. What was this man's problem?
******
Zahra's temperature soared once again that night. To herself, she seemed perfectly fine, but her body didn't agree with her state of mind. She'd pushed herself to believe she was okay, and she believed it almost too sacredly, but biology doesn't work on beliefs, externalities affect it too.
The weather took a turn for the worst and it was pouring mercilessly well after noon the next day. It was a great dampener to her spirits. She had cherished the idea of drawing in the pure night air unfounded in her balcony and figure out her tattered life, but the whole night had been wasted on waiting those torrential downpours to abate.
The night had been unbearably warm, but she felt freezing from the fever. No position provided comfort. Eventually, she got up and gulped down one of the medicines with a glass of water Rajani had left by her bedside table the last time she came to check on her. Her head hurt from all the thinking she was doing; she couldn't help her apprehensions about the days to come.
There was a kind of static that didn't feel right. At one point, she felt like she'd heard someone coughing from the adjacent room. All her nerves had been on edge that time. She'd shouted herself hoarse for the person to show themselves but no one came forward.
Sometime in the night, wind had started blowing wilder than usual, her windows had swept open and the curtains kept billowing to and fro. Zahra didn't have the energy or the heart to close them shut so she steadily kept gazing at it apprehensively, as if waiting for someone to pop in. Finally, the medicine started to affect her cells, she grew lethargic from the effort of being on perpetual watchfulness, and with her teeth chattering she went back to sleep.
She awoke more times than she cared to count. Sometimes, it was her own voice, calling out to someone that awoke her; and at other times, her brain conjured up scenarios too horrifying to make it impossible for her to stay asleep. More than once, she found her eyes leaking with tears when she got up. When had she become so weak? Was she going crazy?? She was growing tired of this cycle. She couldn't help but plead to her Lord to end this agony.
And then, she had an idea. She didn't know if it would work, but she simply had to try. Putting all of her weight onto the bedpost, she helped herself up. A jolt of cold went up her spine from where her feet had touched the floor, but she willed herself to stand up. Finding the cold unbearable, she quickly searched out her slippers and put them on. Taking out a few things that she'd need in the operation from her desk drawer, the girl made her way to the bathroom.
Flicking on the inadequate lightbulb, she tried to inspect herself in the mirror, squinting through her eyes that she'd rubbed sore while crying. A ghastly image greeted her eyes. She looked paler than ever, she had large shadows under her eyes and her hair looked like she hadn't run a comb through it for months.
She kept gazing at herself, turning a few shades red with anger; first had come the shock, second was self-pity which was quickly chased away by anger itself. Anger for those who'd led her to this state. And she grew more determined than ever... to end it all.
Zahra exposed her waist to the light, feverishly rubbing on the mark with water again and again to somehow wash it off. But she knew better, it wouldn't go away so easily. Detergent and bleach were no better either, it was her skin and not a cloth after all. Acetone came to mind. No, it was stupid how she was thinking of the weirdest possible solutions ever. No! It would need much more than all of that. And she willed herself to bear the pain.
After resetting her frame of mind to stand the experiment she was going to try upon herself, she picked up the sparkly knife from the washstand. Slowly inching it towards the large darkened area covering a large portion of her right waist, she lightly pinched the knife onto the area until bright-red blood oozed out of it. She was planning to slice open her skin and remove the upper layer of it that carried the mark. Little did she know it wasn't skin deep.
We can't separate ourselves from who we are, for all our life. It shows. It shows in the littlest things we do, even when we put up a façade. Deep down, we know it will eventually come out into the open and we do all we can to resist it... resist ourselves from being us.
But we fail to understand that our individuality will never leave us, even if we move mountains to detach ourselves from it. Weakest are the people who are ashamed of who they are. But when adversity presents itself, a person is ready to do anything, take any step, and end anywhere.
Zahra was trying her might to stop herself from showing who she really was. A stupid thing to do, really. But in her situation, it looked like the best possible solution, either she achieved anything by it or not; at least, she wouldn't have to call herself on not trying. By the time she'd cut open half the length of her mark, her eyes had become bleary and beyond sight with pain.
A large puddle of blood had collected on the tiled floor below and her nerves were giving out way faster than she'd expected them to. She was sensitive to the complications it could turn into, but her mind was in a delirious frenzy and each time her knife removed a blackened part from her waist, she felt like going for more.
Suddenly, her hand pressed on the knife with more force than necessary, and she felt her insides recoil from the pain they'd received from the stab. Instantly, she let go of the tool and pressed her hands on the area to stay the flow of blood that had begun to gush out from the wound; simultaneously leaning on the washbasin for support, to prevent herself from fainting with dizziness the pain was pushing her into.
At last, her weakness from not eating anything for ten hours straight, and her scant hours of rest got to her. And before she could get to the safety of her bed, her legs gave out from under her from exhaustion and she fell on the floor, near the foot of the bed and lost consciousness.
******
India.
When the man reached the rickety hut, it was nearing noon. He looked out of place in his expensive outfit and shiny boots, but he didn't care a mite for that. It only worked to his advantage; his appearance would increase his authority among such lowly people as these. They'd be afraid of what he could be capable of, and it served his purpose best.
It was a dinghy locality at the far edge of the town where none cared to step foot, with similar huts, made of brick walls on one side and surrounded by bamboos and tarpaulin on the rest, situated haphazardly here and there. Thatches of hay and some coarser constituent made up the most part of the roofs. Those who were a little lucky, got to have a good roof made of burnt bricks. The streets were kutcha and unkempt with garbage lying open on the roadsides, from which man and animal browsed alike.
Stray dogs and children played around their huts, one's appearance uncannily similar to the other; their faces blackened with grime and their clothes shabby beyond recognition. The man roused attention for a good few minutes, but when the children settled that he was to be no 'entertainer', they went back to their games. And the more curious ones who lingered longer were at once sent back to their business with a sharp command from the man.
He had come a long way and did not mean to go away empty-handed. He had to do this, to avenge the wrong that girl had done him and his family. And believing rather than knowing he'd come to the right man, he hastened his steps to get to his door and rapped it ceaselessly and with such force that the whole house threatened to crumble to pieces right in front of his eyes. It was a mediocre house, but in need of much repair, though it carried the advantage of a wooded roof, unlike any other in its vicinity.
"Alright! Alright! I'm coming. Don't rap it so hard that I'm unable to come out before it falls on my head," a man shouted from within, expecting it to be one of the neighbors on the other side. There was a noise of scraping of things and shuffling of feet, and opening of many locks from the inside until the door opened and a bald patch appeared from the darkness. He was several feet shorter than the visitor and had to tilt his head up to know the identity of his guest. He gave a visible start when he finally saw who it was outside his door.
"Sahib, aap?!" (Master, you?!) he whispered to the man, shocked beyond his senses. He had an old haggard face, but cunning as a fox's. His small, beady black eyes glinted in barely suppressed fright when he beheld the man with all his senses regained. He was not so unkempt as the others were, but he retained some amount of their wretchedness.
"Aur kaun?" (Who else?) "Pehchaan gaye mujhe?" (Recognized me?) the man at the door asked with some authority. "Kyun nahi, sahib. Hum to aapko hazaron mein bhi pehchaan lenge." (Why not, sahib. I'd recognize you even among thousands). He hesitated for a moment but eventually called him in. The duo, as unequal in rank and look as they were, were already drawing too much attention towards themselves.
The short man presented his esteemed visitor with all he thought fit enough to be put before him, making him only sneer at the food contemptuously. "I'll be grateful to know what brought you here, sahib," he asked in a small voice in his native language, after he'd cleared away everything, afraid to incur his wrath upon himself by being too straightforward.
"Have you seen Arif or Zareena ever since long?" instead of beating about the bush, the man directly came to the point. "No sahib, never. I thought I'd seen them once at the Delhi Airport, but I'm not very sure. I was on duty for Madam Zulaikha, you see."
"Ah, that woman! What has become of her, do you know?" the visitor asked, recalling old times. A slight reddish tint covered the entirety of the short man's face as he stood silent for a few minutes, moving his eyes rapidly here and there to think of an answer. "The poor old madam died of typhoid six months ago, sahib."
There was such pain and sympathy in his voice for the woman that his rich master would've believed him if he hadn't known better. Of course, he knew the woman was dead and how, or he'd have applied to her for the information he needed. But he kept his mouth shut and didn't call him out on his lie. He wanted information from him, and in such circumstances, it was useless threatening the runt.
"Do you know; the couple have disappeared...," the man paused for effect, trying to gauge out the old servant's reaction. He showed none. Cunning devil! "I was in contact with them, but they are nowhere to be found now." And this way, the visitor laid ground for further queries.
This was nothing new to the short man though, as he had been the means of bringing their disappearance. While the man figured they'd run away, he very well knew how matters stood with them. He longed to hear of the consequences of the sudden revelation of their hiding place, and in the hope of hearing more, he kept quiet.
But the man was no fool; he knew very well what the little runt was trying to hide in his conniving brain. He observed him with astute eyes, now noting how his face changed expressions obscurely as he tried to settle on one as neutral and innocent enough to fool his unwelcome guest.
They kept silent for a few moments as the man figured how to weasel out the information and yet not scare him into keeping his mouth shut. It put the little man in an awkward position and to avoid scrutiny, he dived further inside the house, hoping to avoid speaking to him altogether.
He was just about to exit the house from the other side, when the rich man came up to him from behind and grabbed his collar roughly. "Trying to give me the slip, are you?" he asked the man, shaking him vigorously. "I was only going to get you clean water to drink, sahib." "Oh, enough with the lies now!" He was steadily growing irritated with the man.
He'd discerned the matter to take hardly more than a few good minutes, but it was turning into a half-hour and he had yet to get out the information from him. It left him no choice but to put it to the no-gooder directly. "You know what became of them, don't you?" It was more of a statement than a question. A horrified expression came upon his face. "I swear, sahib, I have no idea where they've got to! Ever since Madam Zulaikha died, I haven't been able to find them anywhere."
"Lies! All lies!!" the man ejaculated with fervor, bashing the servant's head into the nearby wall. As a result, the house rattled considerably and both the men were left to cower in fear. For a minute, the two stood there in mutual fear of the house tumbling over them. But the small man was the first to recover; he had the advantage of knowing the house like the back of his hands. He knew it wouldn't come down so easily.
"You are in contact with the ones who've taken them away... with their boss, aren't you?" "I only saw him once, and even then he was in shadows." "Now you're talking. What did you tell him?" "Only that the girl was no longer in the country." "And when was that?" "Shortly after ZulâMadam Zulaikha died."
"Let me clear your memory for you. You met him again, this time to inform him of the whereabouts of Arif and his wife, did you not?" "No, sahib. He provided me with a way to contact him without seeing him again." And saying thus, he abruptly shut his mouth. "Why have you stopped? Go on. How do you send him word?"
"If I revealed the process, would the Master pay me what I ask of him?" seeing himself at advantage, the cunning imp struck a bargain. The master grunted in response. "Knew this was coming. Well, how much do you want?" "Only 10,000 rupees, sahib." "I have five. Take the rest later," the man answered, taking out ten 500 rupee notes and handing them to the greedy man who took them readily.
"I will come for my money, I promise you that." And insinuating thus, he took out a yellowing paper from the depths of the room they were standing in. A few words were written on it with a wiry handwriting. It was an address of a long abandoned post-office not very far from the colony.
"Whenever I have an information to give, I meet this man in the woods nearby. He knows Hindi and is able to translate and write it for me in angrezi (English). He then puts the letter at the address mentioned, and it is carried away by another one of his men." All of this seemed really long-winded to the man, and he resolved to put the letter on his own this time.
"What kind of paper does he write on? Is it the same kind as this?" he asked for details, so as to not arouse suspicion at the other end. "Yes, sahib, it is the same kind. Wait, I will bring you more of these," he gestured to the yellowing paper in the man's hand.
Finally, an hour later, he had the key to reach the ultimate man, who would take delight in finishing off the girl for good. And conscious of the powerful position his one word will put him in, he went off, at peace that he was soon to be avenged. And to speak nothing of what he could get out from the man himself, in bargain to the information he sought so sacredly many years since!
******
When Zahra woke up this time, she was not in her room, and definitely not in her bed. The room she was in, had a garishly blue color to its walls and it smelled so disgustingly of disinfectants that she had to scrunch her nose and breathe from her mouth, in order to control the urge to puke.
Leaning in to look at her clothes, she realized she was not in the dress she'd worn some time ago; instead, she was in a loose, pale blue gown with only short slits for sleeves. She had no idea what time of the day it was, if it was day or night, or even if the date had changed at all. One thing was sure: her injuries had landed her in hospital.
She must've lost a lot of blood, for she felt very weak. She felt extremely thirsty and tried to verbalize her need... in vain! She couldn't manage a coherent word out of her mouth. And mustering her strengths with great effort, she shouted, "Water!" immediately rousing someone asleep in a nearby chair. "What?! Who...?" Rajani woke with a start, too heavily asleep to realize what the girl had shouted for.
"Oh! It's you!" was all Zahra was able to say, noticing her friend there with her. "Thank God, you came round. What do you want?" she asked her, getting up to come near the bed. "Water, please." The girl poured out the contents of a jug sitting on a nearby table and brought it to her.
"Can you sit up?" she asked her a little coldly. Zahra eyed the girl curiously but refrained from making any remark about her loathing tone. "Yes, I think I can. Don't worry, I'll be fine on my own." "Don't you ever try to give me that crap! Get it?!" Rajani snapped angrily. "What did you think? You'll kill yourself and everything will automatically be fine and dandy?!"
For a minute, pin-drop silence reigned in the ward after the little outburst. Her friend deemed it best not give any explanation of her deed. Her head hurt her immensely and she thought it wise not to flare her up further.
But it seemed the girl was not in the mood to stop her rant anytime soon. "Do you have any idea what a horrible condition I found you in? You were on the floor and there was so much blood around, I thought someone had finally got his hands on you and murdered you," she went on saying, shuddering uncontrollably at the memory. Zahra actually felt a shiver pass through her spine at the word 'murder'. "I hope no one has to see such a ghastly sight in their lifetime."
"You've only had a lucky escape, Zahra. The doctor told me the knife had not reached your vitals but the wound could have turned septic if not taken care of, at the right time. Thank God, I had a spare key to your apartment!" She wanted to say so much more but held her tongue, seeing her condition and taking pity on her.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked her, now in a much softer tone than before. "No, I'm good... thanks." "Please don't attempt such a thing again, okay?" Rajani asked her friend for reassurance, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I won't... I promise." And putting on a feathery kiss on the girl's forehead, she slipped out as Zahra went into another deep sleep.
"Do you know, there are tons of reporters outside, waiting to have a word with you," Rajani informed her when Zahra woke up the next time. She opened her eyes wide in response but couldn't say a thing. "They think it was a murder attempt. Even I thought so too when I found you out, so I'd called the Police. And word got round to these people real quick. They won't trouble you though."
The girl didn't put in a word of her own and kept listening to her friend. The sedatives were not so active in her system anymore, but the lasts of them were inducing her into sluggish movements of body and mind. She felt better listening to her friend talk, it was a breath of familiarity and it brought her more into the present.
After a while, feel returned to her stomach and limbs and she groaned out loud. "Ugh! Why does my leg feel so heavy?" Zahra asked, annoyed. She was shocked to find the lower part of her left foot covered in bandages. "Did I hurt my leg too?" She grimaced with pain.
"Yeah, you sprained your ankle when you fell," Rajani answered, wishing to end her misery in some way. "Shall I call the doctor?" "If he must come," was the short reply. "He gave you a lengthy checkup. But he said he'd come again. So, I think I'd better send for him now."
When the doctor came moments later, Zahra was pronounced fine and healing quicker than the doctor had anticipated. He didn't discharge her promptly but gave her the green light to go home at the end of the week. He wanted to see how she was faring psychologically also.
After waiting for long, the reporters had been finally made to know there was nothing here that could be news-worthy and they'd cleared off the scene, disappointed. Jennifer showed up at the hospital a day later, armed with good food of all kinds. "Just thought of checking on you," she told the girl, smiling warmly. "I couldn't come to see you after the... attack, you know."
"The boss told me you were in the hospital, just this morning. What happened?" "I simply cut myself a little too deep with the razor. Nothing serious," Zahra answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as ever. "It must be hell of a cut if it landed you in the hospital," Jennifer remarked simply and fell silent.
She'd guessed things weren't very well with the girl and she looked like on the verge of a breakdown, but she didn't say so to her. She only imparted this knowledge to Rajani, and went away carrying the resolve of coming to see her more often, in her heart.
Mr. Walworth came to see her once too, for he'd been told of it by the Police Department. He appeared angrier with her than he'd been the last time. It seemed out of context to Zahra but she took his well-founded anger quite quietly. The Police Department was watching her case closely and had formed connection with her most recent contacts. Laura was informed too. She immediately called her and they had a long talk about all that had happened.
Laura was very much scared for her old friend and kept blaming herself for all that had come to pass. "Don't talk nonsense, L!" Zahra chided her. "You very well know it was not your fault and I won't hear you beating yourself up about it!" The girl informed Zahra of her plans, for everything had been settled with her aunt and she was going back home very soon.
"I can't tell you when, I'm so darn scared that man will hear me. It's stupid, I know, but I can't help it. I feel like he's always watching me," she told her. Tears sprung to her eyes when Zahra heard her say that. "Me too, L; I feel that too. It isn't stupid. And I'm so sorry for being the cause of it, even if I don't know what it's all about... yet."
And in that moment, they felt connected with each other, even with a thousand miles between them, their afflictions were so similar. "Don't be sorry, Zee. It had to happen. Maybe something good will come off it." "Maybe; I don't know," she responded, sighing. "I'll text you my number when I get there, okay." "Yeah, okay." "Take care," Laura said her last words from the other side and Zahra laughed dryly. "I'll try."
"Why did you try to kill yourself, Zahra?" Rajani asked her friend one day, while they were still at the hospital. "I-I wasn't trying to kill myself, I swear." "What were you doing then?" she asked again. Zahra fell silent as she debated in her mind on telling her friend about her dark mark. She decided she could take her into confidence.
"Have you seen my wound?" "No, I haven't. should I?" "Yeah." "Okay," Rajani replied quietly. She lifted Zahra's gown and just when it came near her waist, the now stiched black smear, almost the size of a table-tennis ball was revealed, and the girl stifled a gasp.
"What is that?!" she asked astonished, not touching her skin in fear of hurting her. "It's my birthmark. And those people we encountered that day... they're after a girl with a mark on her right waist. Just like mine."
"Oh my God!" was all Rajani could manage, as she stood stupefied.
-------AUTHOR'S NOTE---------
Things look bleak for Zahra, don't they? I really pray that nobody has to hate their selves as she does.
Tell me what you thought about the chapter... And yeah, don't forget to vote n shareit around :)
~Amenah.