Maqsad-E-Wajood (3)
One wants to avenge a bestfriend.
One wants to avenge a brother.
And you? How far will you go for love revenge.
Yaad Hai
Word Count : 5.6k
Mahgul couldn’t wait anymore. She had to leave for Balochistan the next afternoon and Bahad was already pestering her, asking her to leave today itself if whatever work she was here for was done. Unfortunately, it was far from done.
Stepping inside the fairly crowded Old Irani Cafe, she headed straight to the counter. The man there was popping masala peanuts in his mouth while doing some calculations. She tapped the table to gain his attention, and called out. “Salaam miyan!” The man threw a negligent glance at her and continued pressing the buttons on the calculator over his glasses.
“Boliye ji, kya chahiye? Chai, kheema pav, mutton korma, chicken korma, anda ghotala-” “Uzair Baloch ka number.” The man paused and turned to stare at her in quiet suspicion. His eyes narrowed behind the glasses, and he asked her again. “Kyaa?” With a click of her tongue, Mahgul repeated, louder and clearer this time. “Aapke paas Uzair Baloch ka number hoga?”
The man looked like he was doing a thousand calculations about her in the back of his mind. Was this woman truly asking him for the number of Uzair Baloch? He had seen that man on television less than a month ago, beheading his rival’s head and kicking it around like a football. It was brutal and merciless. He wouldn’t wish a death like that upon his worst enemy. And this woman in front of him, was asking him for the contact of the very same man. He leaned forward and gave her a concerned look. “Beta, tum acche ghar ki ladki lagti ho. Tumhe kyu uska number chahiye?” Mahgul took that as a clear ‘no’. She should not have expected a popular tea shop and bakery that rounded the corner of Hazrat Mohani road to somehow have the contact of Lyari’s gangster, even if he was somewhat influential. She moved towards the telephone that was placed on the table, and pulled out a small pocket-sized callbook from her bag.
“Ispe ek call ka kitna lagega?”
The man looked confused now and a little offended at her ignorance towards his question.
“Do rupaiiya!” She slid two silver coins on the desk, and flipped a few pages of the callbook. Holding the handset to her ear with the help of her raised shoulder, she copied and dialled the number. The callbook belonged to Bahad. After incessant begging, she had finally managed to convince him to give it to her. He did not have Uzair Baloch’s number, but he had scribbled down the Baloch haveli’s common telephone number on his visit there once. That would have to do.
She closed her eyes and prayed for someone, anyone, to pick up the call on the other end. In a second, her prayers were answered. The call connected with a short beep, and she heard a young boy’s voice. “Kaun?” She assumed it to be Faizal Baloch, so she held the handset closer to her ear and asked politely. “Kya humari baat Uzair Miyan se ho sakti hai?”
In response to her request, she heard a muffled yell as the boy called out to his uncle. “Chaachu! Ammi, chaachu ke liye phone hai!”
A few minutes after a prolonged silence, Mahgul heard a gruff voice speaking into the phone, and she straightened up at its sound, turning her complete attention to the conversation.
“Kaun?”
“Ji, main Mahgul Baloch. Kal Haveli aayi thi, aapse milne. Hume kal dupeheri Balochistan ke liye nikalna hai.”
Uzair did not require the reminder that had accompanied her identity. He remembered her and her name well. Mahgul took a short pause to ensure that he was listening to her, and lowered her voice to a whisper in order to shield the crux of the conversation from prying ears.
“Hum sirf itna kehna chahte the, agar aap uss SP ke khilaaf koi kadam utha rahe hai, toh hum bhi aapka saath denge. Aur agar uske liye hume Lyari mein rehna zaroori hai, toh phir humein Daa- Shirani Sahab ko manaane mein aapki madad lagegi.”
Uzair heard the conviction in her voice. He noticed how she had not asked him if he wanted her help, but instead just declared that she was going to be a part of it. His revenge. He was half-tempted to ask her what contribution she could make to it. Instead, he just gave her a fair warning. “Aainda ghar ke phone par call mat karna.”
Mahgul had been waiting for a substantial response, and she was sincerely hoping that the man on the other end of the call would have used the previous night to think and take a firm decision, preferably in her favour. She was taken aback by his instruction to not dial on the home telephone again. She questioned herself if she had accidentally overstepped a boundary. But before she could respond with anything, the speaker crackled with Uzair’s voice. “Aap Bilal Hotel mein thehri hai, na?” “Ji, haan. Lekin aap ne-” A soft click interrupted her words and then the line went silent. Mahgul stared at the handset in her hand with disbelief. Had he just hung up on her? She dialled the number again and pressed the handset to her ear. The phone rang, and she waited. From the counter, the man watched her and remarked with a drawl. “Iske do rupaiye aur lagenge, Madam!” Mahgul rolled her eyes, losing patience rather quickly because no one was picking up her call. She was certain this was done on purpose. Pressing the handset down with an unnecessary force, she fished out two coins from her purse and slid them on the table, before leaving the Cafe, with a bitter murmur. “Do rupaiye mein kaunsa inka nuksaan hone wala hai!”
At the hour of dawn, Uzair Baloch found himself in his jeep, parked outside Bilal Hotel. Four in the morning was an awful time to meet someone, especially a woman. But he couldn’t possibly have left the haveli in broad daylight without having to answer a thousand questions of Hamza and the boys. Moreover, he was certain that even if he had answered those questions, they wouldn’t have agreed with him on this.
Uzair had thought of this. At least, he thought that he had thought of this. He did not have any expectations from this girl. But when everyone was discouraging him from taking his rightful revenge because it did not suit their selfish political agenda, he realized he wouldn’t mind this one girl who shared the same vision with him, even if for a different reason. A lie. He would, in fact, appreciate it very much.
Rubbing an exasperated hand on his face, he swung the door open of his jeep and stepped out into the chilly morning air. He had made an Herculean effort to keep his hands off the bottle of whiskey and the cocaine since this morning. As a result, he was already feeling sick to his stomach and craving either of his vices.
He entered the lobby of the hotel while wondering why Shirani Sahab’s relatives were being made to stay in such a shabby place. They could have easily managed a finer lodge in the more uptown side of Karachi.
Behind the counter, a teenage boy stood up straight the moment he walked in. Uzair leaned against the table, and took a good look around at the spiral staircase that descended from four or five floors above. “Assalamwalaikum!” The boy stood frozen, staring up at him with wide eyes, as if he had seen a ghost. Uzair stared back at him in confusion, and cleared his throat. “Yahan… Mahgul naam se koi rehta hai? Baloch hain!” Uzair simply watched, expecting an answer while the boy looked at him for another second and then went sprinting away inside a room behind, partitioned with a dull stained curtain. Uzair now stood in the empty lobby by himself, awkwardly looking around for some hint of what had just happened.
He heard the sound of whispers coming from inside the room. He waited some more, and a man hurried out of that room. Even he froze for a moment at the sight of Uzair, but maybe it was just because he had arrived at an odd timing, Uzair assumed.
“Janaab, yahan koi…Mahgul thehri hain?” The man scratched his forehead and tried to remember. A second later, he shook his head in denial. “Nahi, yahan toh iss naam se koi nahi aaya, par phir bhi ek baar register mein dekhta hoon.” He pulled out a heavy and worn out register with green checkered pages, and scanned through the list of names of the day. Uzair himself tried to peek in and find ‘Mahgul’ scribbled on any of the lines. A moment later, he added. “Baloch hain!”
The man looked up at him, puzzled. Everyone not only in Karachi, but in entire Pakistan, was well aware that Uzair was a Baloch. Uzair blinked plainly, and pointed at the register. “Jo yahan aayi hai, woh Baloch hain! Balochistan se aayi hai!” Uzair remembered that Mahgul had told him the name of this very hotel the day before yesterday. He had also ensured it this morning on the call. And fortunately, there was only one Bilal Hotel in the entire Karachi. He tapped the edge of the table irritably, his patience beginning to run thin.
“Mahgul toh nahi, par…Bahad Baloch naam se ek entry hain!”
Uzair knew Bahad. Mahgul hadn’t mentioned that Bahad had accompanied her here, but he should have known better. Shirani Sahab definitely would not have allowed her to step into this corrupt land alone. “Ji,” Uzair nodded. “Unhe bula sakte hain?” “Abhi?!” The man glanced at the small clock on his table. 4:17 am. But this was Uzair Baloch. From what he had seen on the news channel, he knew that the gangster did not require a gun to take lives. He nodded immediately with an effusive smile, already heading towards the stairs. “Abhi bulaata hun! Usme kaunsi badi baat hai, sahab!”
The first knock had been inaudible. The second knock was louder and the door vibrated against its hinges. Bahad jolted awake in alarm and Mahgul followed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. They glanced at the watch on the wall, and shared a look of worry. Who could show up at their door at this hour?
Bahad stood up from where he had slept on the floor, throwing off the blanket. He gave Mahgul a reassuring nod, and headed towards the door with a held breath. For a moment, he suspected it could be the police raid. But this was not that kind of a shady lodge.
A knock sounded against the door again, making both of them flinch. Bahad unlocked the door, and opened it partially. Just enough for him to peek out. It was the owner of the hotel. “Aapse milne Uzair Baloch aaye hain!” What..?
Uzair Baloch.
At four in the morning.
“Unhone aapko bulaya hai. Neeche aajaiyega!” The man turned away and disappeared down the spiral staircase. Bahad’s head snapped back to Mahgul, who was still sitting upright on the cot, as he chained the door and locked it. “Ye kya hua, Mahgul? Tune unko humaare aane ki khabar di thi?” Mahgul was still processing the fact that after disappointing her with a disconnected call and no clear affirmation, Uzair Baloch had shown up at the doorstep of their hotel. At four in the morning. She got down from the cot, her feet coming in contact with the cold floor and pulled on her dupatta. “Main kuch puch raha hun! ”,Bahad watched as she simply ignored his question. Rubbing her eyes once again, she walked around Bahad and unlocked the door. “Chalo jaldi!” Bahad scowled at her rushing order but followed her regardless after locking the door. As they climbed down the stairs, Bahad hurried to match Mahgul’s pace and asked again. “Unko tumne bulaaya hai-” “Sshhh!”, Mahgul snapped at him with a frown. “Subah subah kitna bolte ho!”
Uzair heard the pair of footsteps and straightened up. In the interval when the owner had gone upstairs to call them, he had gone back to his jeep and had popped a painkiller. His headache was worsening rapidly, but he knew it was coming. After all, he had been drinking heavily on a daily basis since Rehman Bhai’s demise, only to come to a sudden stop today.
Bahad and Mahgul appeared together in front of him. “Assalamwailakum, Uzair Bhai!” Bahad was the first to greet him, while Mahgul simply stared at him discerningly. For a long moment, the three of them just exchanged awkward glances amongst themselves and the owner standing at the corner. Uzair had to raise a brow at the man, and only then he realized the unsaid demand for privacy.
After the man had disappeared behind the curtain, Uzair turned to both of them. “Kya hua, Uzair Bhai? Agar koi baat karni thi toh hume haveli bula lete! Aapne yahan aane ki takleef kyun li?”, asked Bahad.
Uzair looked at him and then at Mahgul, who was standing silently behind him. Did Bahaad not know? “Nahi, woh- kuch baatein haveli mein nahi ho sakti.”
Uzair was confused as he spoke. He did not understand why Bahad was acting so clueless. Unless, he was actually clueless. Uzair glanced back at Mahgul, and since his correspondence had only occurred with her yet, he decided to talk to her itself. “Inn mohtarma se kuch baat karni thi.” Bahad’s brows furrowed in suspicion as he looked between him and Mahgul. Uzair tilted his head, and asked him rhetorically. “Ijazat hai, toh inke saath thoda bahaar jaye? Bas kuch kaam ki baat hai.” He knew Bahad wasn’t going to deny him. He had merely asked out of formality and propriety, and also to indirectly ask Mahgul’s permission. Bahad, who was still looking comically confused, nodded. Mahgul gave a curt nod to him, and then gestured to Uzair to lead while she fell into step behind him. While both of them left the lobby, Bahad continued to stare at the now empty doorway, as he murmured to no one but himself. “Ye kya hua?”
Uzair stepped out of the hotel, and Mahgul followed suit. Almost immediately, he crossed his arms and turned to her. “Bahaar chalengi aap?”
She blinked once. Twice. And then, she looked around them as if pointing out the obvious. They were already standing outside. What did he mean by that? Uzair understood at once that she had misunderstood him. He raised his brows towards the jeep, and repeated. “Gaadi mein, thoda aur bahaar chalengi..?”
Mahgul was uncertain at first. A ride in his jeep at dawn? It was not that she overtly doubted his intentions towards her, but men like him rarely did anything without a reason. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around what could be the reason behind his offer. She had nothing on her, but she believed that if they took unusually longer to return, Bahad would come searching for her.
With a soft sigh, she gave him a nod.
Within moments, they settled into the jeep. Uzair, in the driving seat. And Mahgul, he believed, for the sake of modesty and respectability, climbed into the backseat. He did not mind it, and chose not to speak of it either.
“Iski khabar Shirani Sahab ko mat dena…” Uzair glanced back at her with a raised brow. He had not even started the jeep, and she already had questions for him. In his mind, this was supposed to be the other way around. “Kya?” “Humne kaha, iss ke baare mein Shirani Sahab se agar aap kuch naa kaho toh behtar hoga..” What? Had Shirani Sahab himself not sent her and Bahad here? Maybe, Shirani Sahab had only told Mahgul his message, so Bahad’s unawareness could be justified. But if he was not to tell Shirani Sahab about this, did it mean- “Aapko unhone nahi bheja?”
Mahgul looked guilty. Not completely, but still guilty as she shook her head in denial. Oh. So, she had come here on her own then. From Balochistan all the way to Lyari. Uzair looked ahead and started the jeep, pulling the gear shifter. His gaze flicked to her through the rearview mirror, as he drove away from the hotel. Some moments passed in silence. “Woh jaante hain?”
Mahgul, who was staring out of the window at the passing shops with closed shutters, looked at him. He was waiting for an answer, but she simply lowered her gaze. Her silence was answer enough. Uzair’s grip tightened on the steering wheel and he let out a heavy sigh. Great. So, Shirani Sahab wasn’t even aware that their…relative was here in Lyari, making visits to the Baloch haveli and vowing to take revenge from an awarded coward of a SP.
Well, he should have asked her about it earlier that day, when she had met him for the first time. Suddenly, Uzair felt like Bahad was the only sensible one amongst the three of them. Ignorance is, indeed, bliss.
But, Uzair wondered why she was determined to take this revenge. Clearly determined enough to lie and put herself at risk. Unfortunately, this was not the first attack on the Baloch people. There had been hundreds before this. Sometimes, there had been a fitting revenge as well, planned in a hush and executed perfectly. The other times, the community had to relive an old wound until it became old enough to be counted as past, or worse, old enough because there had been another fresh case of brutality against them.
Why was this young girl so passionate about this particular revenge?
“Aap iss badle ke liye itni betaab kyun hai?”, he asked without tearing his eyes off the road.
Mahgul hadn’t expected that question from him. She had given him the statistics and the intel of the barbarity. Five boys. Karachi Medical College. Abducted. Killed. She wasn’t prepared to tell him why it mattered to her. In the last three days, she had tried her best to avoid thinking of Shehzaad. But it would have been easier if she hadn’t come across those letters. Now, every single time she thought of Shehzaad, her mind went back to his body and then settled on those letters. Her blood boiled at the thought of everyone who had ruined Shehzaad’s life, the hefty cost he had to pay for his dreams.
Her fists clenched in her lap, as she swallowed and began. “Un paanch ladko mein se ek…dost tha humaara, Shehzaad. Shirani Sahab ka pota.” Uzair remembered the boy. He remembered Rehman Bhai had made his admission in Medical college possible, and the boy hadn’t stopped grinning after the news was broken to him. His heart faltered for a second, because Shehzaad hadn’t deserved such a painful death. Neither had the four boys with him.
“Hum bachpan se saath hua karte the. Toh woh mera sabse kareebi dost tha…”, Mahgul continued. “Rehman Bhai ne hi uska dakhila karvaya tha college mein. Shehzaad ka sapna tha, usse doctor banke, sabki madad karni thi. Usse laga tha, agar woh padh likh jayega, toh phir ye Pakistan aur uski awaam use apna legi!”
A bitter chuckle escaped Mahgul’s lips at how stupid Shehzaad’s hope sounded in this moment. Her heart ached, as she realized, this was the first time she was telling someone about Shehzaad after his death. Henceforth, talking about Shehzaad and his dreams would happen in the past tense. She couldn’t speak anymore or else, she was afraid she’d cry.
On the other hand, Uzair had stilled at the sound of Rehman Bhai’s name. It had been a long time since he had heard it from someone else, other than Ulfat Bhabhi. The gang and everyone else in Lyari avoided mentioning Rehman Bhai as if he could just be forgotten so easily. As if he never existed.
He felt a growing sense of pity for Shehzaad. He had noble dreams, and if people with such noble intentions were getting mercilessly killed, then people like him and Arshad Pappu, and the SP deserved worse than hell.
He glanced back at her through the mirror again. And oh- was she about to cry? Uzair, with all due respect to her feelings, hoped that she wouldn’t. He had no idea on how to console a crying person, much less a crying woman. He decided that silence would be a better comfort. For both of them.
His eyes lifted to the mirror occasionally, as he thought of how he had the reason now. She cared for Shehzaad enough to want this revenge badly. He was not sure if she wanted it as bad as him. He was not sure anybody could want it that way. For that desire to take stem so intensely, one would have to have someone like Rehman Bhai. Someone to look up to, someone to be devoted to. Someone to love so deeply, that it meant far beyond the four lettered word. The thought came to him slowly, like the lock clicking into place. What if…Mahgul loved Shehzaad too? Ofcourse, differently than the love he felt for his brother. There could be a fair possibility that she wasn’t telling him the entire thing. He was, after all, a stranger.
It must be true, right? Her loving Shehzaad made more sense to her desire for revenge, and how she had teared up. Could people feel that for friends? He’d never know because he never truly had friends. Rehman Bhai had made him sit once, and had told him. In power and politics, there were no friends. Only enemies.
“Ulfat Aapi kaisi hai?” Mahgul was the first one to speak again after some time.
Uzair looked back at her for a second, and muttered. “Theek hain.” “Faizal miyan?”
Uzair turned around the corner of the road from where the night market began, and gave her a reassuring nod. Theek hai, he meant. A child could only ever be okay or completely numb after losing his father and realizing it. He knew it first-hand.
“Aap…theek hain?”
The question came immediately. Rhythmically. Like a planned one. Uzair was expecting that the questionnaire would end after asking about Faizal. Nobody really asked him that question, ever or even after Rehman Bhai’s demise. He gulped, and searched for an affirmative word. What was he supposed to say? He was okay, drunk out of his mind and drugged to madness, but of course he was okay. Instead, he gave her a similar reassuring nod before turning off the engine. “Aap yahaan rukiye. Aap hi ke liye ek cheez leni hai!”
Mahgul went on a complete alert when he turned off the engine in the middle of a road. In the middle of nowhere, to her. She leaned forward because he had already gotten out of the driver’s seat before she could react. “Rukiye! Aap kahaan jaa rahe hain?! Aur kya cheez leni hai?”
Uzair paused at her alarmed voice, and stared at her for a second. God, he was just going to the software and electronics shop on the side of the road. He ducked his head under the roof of the jeep, and pointed at the shop. “Wahaan, uss dukaan mein jaa rahe hain! Phone lene ke liye.”
Mahgul checked the shop he was pointing at and wondered why the shop was open at four in the morning. “Jaa sakte hain?” She looked back at him, and nodded hesitantly. A phone. For her. Why would she need a phone?
Uzair walked around the jeep, towards the shop. This was Karachi’s night market and it started from here, all the way till the end of the road. He could easily get a small Nokia phone here. As he stepped onto the footpath, the woman in the shop scrambled to get up.
He was used to this. People hurried and rushed at the sight of him and his men. They always looked a little too eager to serve them. Except, this time. He approached the shop, and watched as the woman reached up and pulled the shutter down on him in a flash.
He stopped.
What had just happened..?
He was sure that the shop that looked closed off now was open a moment ago. The lady had pulled the shutter down after seeing him. They were avoiding him. He suddenly realized why that could have happened. Hamza had been blabbering something about people calling him a monster, a devil for what he had done to Arshad Pappu. It had been broadcasted on TV too. All he had done was avenged his brother, and now he was the Shaitaan himself.
He glanced back at the jeep. Magul had seen everything from the window. He stood there for another short second which felt embarrassingly long and stomped his way back to the jeep. Inside the jeep, Mahgul watched him quietly and then peeked at the shop in the distance.
Uzair started the engine again, believing he could definitely find some other shop on the way. But then he was interrupted by a hesitant Mahgul. “Hum khareedke laaye?”
He turned to her and stared blankly. Had she not seen what had happened? The woman had closed the shop on their face. “Hum dekh ke aa sakte hain, lekin…humaare paas paise nahi hai.” Uzair huffed in disbelief. And because he did not have the patience to deny her or explain his denial after the embarrassment he had faced, he searched the pockets of his salwar and pulled out a large bundle of cash, holding it out to her. Mahgul’s lips parted in silence. She couldn’t determine if he was handing her the money in anger, or in genuine permission. Regardless, she slowly took it from him and opened the door of the jeep before jumping out.
Uzair watched her as she walked towards the shop. He kept watching because if she had seen his embarrassment, he deserved a spectacle too. Mahgul knocked on the shutter and the bang echoed off the rusted steel. For a few moments, nothing happened.
Mahgul had expected it. So, she knocked the shutter gently again. “Ji? Aapne dukaan band kar di hai? Hume ek mobile mil sakta toh…” Uzair waited and watched. Suddenly, the shutter bounced once before being lifted up entirely. The woman was speaking with Mahgul, showing her different models of mobile phones. Something settled between his ribs as he realized reluctantly.
The shop had closed on his face, not theirs. Another thought found its way to him. Even distant shopkeepers in the night market of Karachi were afraid or disgusted by him. And then there was this woman, who had stubbornly come to him for assistance and was sitting in his jeep now. He wondered if she had any idea of what he had done. If she did not know, then her unaffected behaviour made sense. However, if she knew and still acted oblivious, he did not know what to think of that.
Soon, Mahgul walked back towards the jeep with a box and the extra cash in her hand. This time though, she stopped outside and asked from the window.
“Aage baith jayein?” Uzair simply nodded and reached over to open the door for her. He wouldn’t have minded if she had sat in the passenger seat before too. She got in awkwardly and handed the box and the cash to him. He opened the box, but noticed how she had bought the cheapest model one could find.
He switched the keypad phone on and with a few clicks of the buttons, he had saved his number in the contact list. Only his number. But that would be enough, he presumed. He gave her the phone and she looked at it nervously before actually taking it. “Iss mein humaara number hai. Agar zaroorat pade, ya phir kuch baat karni ho toh, issi se call laganaa.” She turned the small phone over in her palm and clicked a button. The screen lit up and she raised her brows at it. “Uss din jaise kisi telephone se ghar pe call mat lagana.” She glanced at him, and nodded sheepishly. “Ji, shukriya!”
The jeep drove through the night market until it was on the Karachi Highway. The breeze entered the jeep through the window, and Mahgul stared out at the endless dark sky.
“Aap…yahaan rehna chahti hain, ya phir se Balochistan jaane waali hai?”
She responded without tearing her gaze away from the starry sky. “Nahi, yahin rehna hai.”
A pause. “Hume uss SP ki barbaadi apne aankhon se dekhni hai. Toh hum Lyaari mein rehna pasand karenge.”
Uzair thought of it. Keeping her in Lyari in these tense political conditions could be harmful. If any Pathan got to know of their stay, they wouldn’t be spared. The only safe place for her to live was the Baloch haveli. There was no way he could allow her to stay at the haveli without bringing her into the notice of Ulfat Bhabhi and others.
After a lot more thinking, he spoke.
“Aap humaare yahaan Baloch haveli mein theher sakti hain. Hum Shirani Sahab se baat karlenge-”, he spared her a long glance.
“Hum yaane ki aap aur hum. Dono. Aur, Bahad chahe toh woh bhi ruk sakta hain. Waise, hume nahi lagta usse bhi kuch bataya gaya hain.” Mahgul crossed her arms and bit her lip at his taunt. But she was thankful that she could live under the safety of the Baloch haveli. Although, it might put her into a questionable position.
“Shukriya. Par Bahad ko jaane ki jaldi hai. Woh shayad kal hi chala jayega toh phir-” “Hum kal subah ya phir dupeheri aapko lene aa jayenge, ya phir kisi ko toh bhej denge.” Mahgul nodded in satisfaction, and turned towards the window again. He felt that it was almost a childlike wonder. Even Faizal fought with everyone to sit in the window seat and stare just so he could stare at the scenery outside.
“Magar, dhyaan rahe. Aapko haveli mein sambhalke rehna hoga! Kisi ko humaare iraado ki khabar nahi lagni chahiye!”
The silence settled between them expectedly. They rounded the Highway one more time, before diverging at the local roads. Uzair cleared his throat and asked, just for the sake of it. Maybe, even to test her.
“Kya kar sakti hain aap SP ko maarne ke liye?”
“Kuch bhi.” Mahgul replied readily.
“Hum har cheez ki baazi lagane ko taiyaar hai. Sivaay apni jaan ke. Uss SP ko marte hue dekhne ke liye humaara zinda rehna zaroori hai.”
Uzair scoffed under his breath at her larger than life promises. With such words, she was only proving his judgement of her more and more correct. All bark and no bite.
Mahgul had heard the scoff. She knew what it meant. Her brows arched in a solemn manner.
“Hum bachpan se asla barood ke beech rahe hai. Ussi ke saath bade hue hai. Toh uski acchi maloomiyat bhi rakhte hain. Sniper, AK, kaunsi bandook ka nishana kitne door tar ho sakta hai. Sab jaante hain hum. Aapko yakin nahi hota, toh phir aapki pasandeeda bandook bataiye!”
Uzair had known that every child from Balochistan, was to some extent, aware about weapons. That didn’t mean every child was qualified for a secret assassination of a police officer.
He thought for a moment when she urged him to tell her his favourite gun. He could tell her about the pistol he used daily, but even a layman from Lyari could identify its range, which wasn't much.
“Heckler Koch ki PDW.”
Mahgul narrowed her eyes and tried to remember something. Almost immediately, she asked.
“Uski range 200 meter hai na? Aur 30 mm ki goli lagti hain.”
Uzair would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised. Or impressed. Knowing the guns was one thing, remembering details about every gun was another. She seemed to have a very sharp memory in this matter.
He did not praise her, just allowed her a curt nod focused on driving ahead.
As the jeep slowed near Bilal Hotel, Uzair asked some obligatory questions about how Balochistan was holding up. If they required some help, or if there had been any trouble as of late.
The answers were good, no and no.
When Mahgul got down from the jeep with the new mobile phone clutched in her fist, she turned to him and murmured, with a tilt of her head.
“Shukriya. Khuda haafiz.”
Uzair wished her goodbye and added.
“Kamre tak pohochne ke baad ek message daal dena. Aata hai na?”
Mahgul nodded. She knew how to operate a mobile phone, at least for the basic purposes. Before turning around and leaving, she paused.
“Waise…humaari pehle bhi baat hui hai. Bachpan mein.”
Uzair blinked at her. He believed he was meeting this woman and speaking to her for the first time. There were many children in Balochistan. It was possible that she had seen him on one of his visits, but he had no memory of her.
His shoulders lifted in a quiet shrug while a frown curved on his lips. Mahgul smiled politely and shook her head.
“Koi baat nahi. Aapko shayad yaad nahi hoga.”
But just as she said that, some memories resurfaced in his mind. He remembered entertaining a trio of children when he was not older than fifteen himself.
He looked at her and tried to match her face with one of that little girl in his mind. Yes, that could be her. And if she was certain that they had talked, that must be her.
She had already turned her back to him, but he still called out.
“Nahi! Yaad hai. Bas…dhyaan mein nahi tha.”
[Author's Note: First of all, if you read this chapter even after it took SUCH a long time, I am really grateful to youu! Hopefully, Chapter 4 will come sooner. Also, take a shot everytime someone in this chapter goes "what...?"!
This is based on the character of Uzair Baloch from Dhurandhar and not the real person. In this story, Uzair is neither sent to Dubai, nor is he arrested there. I hope you enjoyed reading it! Do tell me if you think there is any scope for improvement. Thank you!]
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