She broke into soft sobs, and he asked, feeling uneasy, "Ro kyu rahi ho jaan?"
(Why are you crying, love?)
"Why do you even ask?" she replied, her voice laced with frustration. "Aapko thodi fark padta hai mere rone ya na rone se…"
(It doesn’t really matter to you if I cry or not…)
He fell silent for a second, letting her words sink in. “Mere alawa kisi ko fark nhi padta hai.” He paused, then asked, “Accha ye bataao, yaad aai meri?”
(No one cares more than I do.—Tell me, did you miss me?)
She wiped her tears and replied, “Yaad aane ke liye kisi insaan ko bhoolna bhi padta hai.”
("To miss someone, you first have to forget them first").
He chuckled, playful as ever. “Accha, meri pyaari begum.", She hummed softly, then sank onto the floor, leaning back against the wall.
(Alright, my dear wife.)
"Mai aapse gussa hun.",Her voice held a note of defiance.
(I'm angry with you.)
“Ek baar aajaaun, har tareeqe se mana lunga."His response was immediate,his voice little seductive.
(Just wait till I come back; I’ll make it up to you in every way possible.)
She fell silent again, and he waited for her to speak.
"Kuch bhi karenge?", she finally asked.
(Will you really do anything?)
"Jo tum kahogi, meri jaan.", he promised, and she swallowed hard.
(Anything you ask, my love)
"Aap mujhe 'jaan' na bulaien.",Her voice dropped to a whisper.
(Please don’t call me 'jaan'.)
"Kyu bhai?", he laughed, amused.
(Why?)
"Bass, aise hi…",she murmured, making him smile.
(Just like that…)
"Jab tum meri jaan ho tho jaan na kahun tho kya kahun, jaane-e-raza?",he asked, and she went quiet again.
(When you are my life, what else should I call you, my beloved?)
“Accha ye bataao, padhai kaisi chal rahi hai?”,he asked casually, and she closed her eyes in frustration.
(Anyway, how is your studying going?)
“Sab thik hai bass", she replied curtly, then asked, “Aap kab aayenge?”
(Everything's fine—When will you come?")
“Kyu mai aa bhi jaaun tho tum thodi mere ghar me aakar baithogi…”, he teased.
(Why? Even if I come, it’s not like you’d stay in my home…)
“Baith gai tho?”,she shot back defiantly, and after a pause, he replied.
(What if I do?)
"Tho baithne ke kaabil nhi rakhunga.", he replied, his voice deepening, leaving her blinking in confusion.
(Then I won’t let you sit properly for long.)
"Kya matlab?",she asked, and he laughed.
(What do you mean?)
"Kuch nhi begum. Yaha par kuch masle hone ki wajah se saare transportations band kar diye gaye hai, aur wo 5 din baad tak inshaallah phirse shuru ho jaayenge. Jaise hi haalaat sahi honge, mai aaunga." He informed her, then added, “Yaad se mehndi lagwa lena aur imtehaan acche se dena.”
( Nothing, dear Wife. Due to some issues, all transportations are suspended here, and they’ll resume in three days, inshaallah. I’ll come as soon as things settle down—Don’t forget to apply mehndi and do well on your exams.)
She sat there, numb, as reality sank in. Five more days, and her exams were tomorrow.
"Aap bohut bure hai",she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance, and he laughed, only making her angrier.
(You’re very Bad.)
"Sach me mai bohut bura hun, par aapko chhod kar sabke liye." he flirted, coaxing a small smile out of her.
(I’m really very Bad, but only for everyone else, not for you.)
"Accha suno",he said, and she switched the handset to her other ear.
(Alright, listen.)
"Kamre me jaao, side table ke sabse neeche wale daraz me chabhiyan hai almaari ki. Tijori me paise hai, jitne chahiye utne nikaal lo."
(Go to the room; there’s a key in the bottom drawer of the side table for the wardrobe. There’s money in the locker—take as much as you need.)
Halima blinked in confusion. "Mai aapke paise kyu lun?"
(Why would I take your money?)
"Kyuki mera sab kuch tumhara hai, paise bhi. Ab mujhse nahi logi tho kisse logi?"
(Because everything I have is yours, even the money. Who else will you take it from if not me?)
“Daddu dete hai paise mujhe.” She replied with pride.
(Daddu gives me money.)
"Ab se daddu se nahi mujhse maangogi, kitne bhi paise chahiye tumhe.",His tone was firm, almost authoritative.
(From now on, you’ll ask me, not Daddu, for any amount you need.)
"Kitne hai?",she asked, and he smiled at her innocent curiosity.
(How much is there?)
"Yahi kuch lakh."
(Just a few lakhs.)
Her eyes widened as her hands trembled. "Mai nahi jaa rahi ab aapke kamre me."
(I’m not going into your room now!)
“Wo humara kamra hai, Halima.”, he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.
(That’s our room, Halima.)
“Thik hai, sao le leti hun.”, she replied, making him laugh.
(Fine, I’ll just take a hundred.)
"Meri jaan, hazaar hazaar ki note hai, paanch hazaar nikaal lena, tumhara shohar gareeb nahi hai.", he declared proudly.
(My love, they’re thousand-rupee notes. Take five thousand; your husband is not poor.)
A male voice called him in the background, and he sighed. “Mai nahi le rahi itne paise, sabko lagega mai chori-dakaiti kar ke aayi hun.”, she muttered, her mind racing at the thought of anyone finding out about the money.
(I’m not taking that much; everyone will think I’ve robbed someone!)
“paanch din jab tak mai nahi aata, tum dahi batashe, kulche kabaab, gol gappe, tikki, halwa paratha ye sab sirf dekhti reh jaogi. Soch lo.”,he said knowing this trick will definitely work.
(Until I return in five days, you’ll just keep staring at all those snacks like dahi batashe, kulche kabab, gol gappe, tikki, halwa paratha. Think it over.)
The thought of those delicacies made her lick her lips. “Sachme le lun?”
(Are you sure I should take it?)
“Jii, jaan.”, he said, finally bidding her goodbye with a promise to bring lots of gifts from Delhi.
(Yes, my love.)
After he hung up, she sat there, holding the handset, missing his voice and his presence, yet somehow feeling lighter than before. Her mood had lifted.
She made her way to the room, her hands trembling as she opened the door. Her eyes fell on the bed, then the dressing table, and a small smile tugged on her lips as memories flooded back—how he’d slipped anklets onto her feet, how she had hugged him.
Walking in slowly, she lay on the bed, clutching a pillow tightly as she remembered his touch on her ear and cheek. She hugged the pillow, burying her face into it, inhaling his lingering scent.
"Halima, tu pagal ho gai hai sach me,", she thought, shaking her head. She knew well enough that she was falling, deeply and helplessly, for him. This was all new and exciting for her, but…
(Halima, you’ve truly gone crazy.)
There’s a vast difference between falling in love and enduring the pain and sorrow that comes with it, and then actually nurturing the precious bond of Love.
This was only the beginning of her journey in love; there were many turns still to come, many roads filled with fire and thorns yet to cross. Life was just beginning, and there was a long road ahead.
Is life easy? No, and love is even more difficult than Life. She had only taken her first step toward that captivity–The QAID, where being entrapped would mean living and dying slowly, day by day. In this journey, she would no longer be the same person that she is now. She would forget how to laugh, and eventually, even how to cry. And just as she started this journey on her own, she would have to find its end by herself.
She walked toward the almirah, taking the keys from where he had left them, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it. Her eyes fell on her dresses, delicate and unworn, still draped in pristine folds, each one waiting to be chosen, to be worn with pride. She realized she had never even given herself a chance to wear them, not once.
Smiling softly, she pulled out an intricately embroidered red dress, laying it carefully on the bed. Then, returning to the almirah, she unlocked the small locker inside. Her eyes widened as the bundles of money came into view, stacked neatly and untouched. Her gaze landed on a small box nestled beside the stacks, and her heart skipped—she recognized it instantly. With a gleeful smile, she opened it to find her golden bangles, the ones Raza had given her on their wedding night.
They were hers.
A mischievous grin spread across her face as she slipped four bangles onto her wrists—two on her left and two on her right—thinking to herself how she’d pair them with her glass bangles properly once she reached home.
Returning the box to its exact place, she took one single thousand-rupee note and securely locked the almirah. She then picked up her dress and made her way out. After stopping to chat with Rafia for a while, she finally mentioned that she’d be heading home.
Rafia offered to have Ahmed drop her off since he was heading toward the city anyway. Halima agreed, and soon Ahmed was driving her back home.
NEXT DAY
Halima was the first woman in the entire village to continue her education after marriage. She despised the looks of hatred and jealousy that followed her everywhere. In those days, it was rare for women, especially in a conservative Muslim community, to pursue higher education; typically, only men received that privilege. However, a select few Muslim girls from affluent families were allowed to study, and Halima was one of them. She still recalled the harsh gossip when her friend Rafia started college—how people taunted her about growing too old for marriage.
Exiting the exam hall, she spotted Rahim and Bakhto waiting for her outside. Rahim was there to drive the car, while Bakhto was sent along to ensure Halima wasn’t alone with a na-mehram (non-relative male). In that moment, Halima felt a pang of longing, missing the idea of having a brother. If she had a brother, she wouldn’t have to rely on servants and take up their time for her needs.
As they walked toward the car, her eyes landed on a row of food stalls, and her excitement sparked. She coaxed Bakhto and Rahim into joining her for a quick meal, indulging in halwa paratha and even savoring dahi batashe.
"Bibi… Itna na khao! Ye sab nahi toh pet kharab ho jaayega. Aapko kal bhi imtehaan dene aana hai," Bakhto said, warning her not to overeat since she had exams the next day.
(Ma’am, don’t eat so much! Otherwise, your stomach will get upset, and you have to come for exams tomorrow as well.)
Halima hesitated for a moment, then asked a vendor to pack some kulche kabab before heading back to the car. As she was about to get in, she noticed Lajjo approaching, her eyes red and brimming with tears.
“Kya hua, Laaj?” she asked softly, wrapping her arms around her friend, but Lajjo just shook her head, unwilling to share the reason for her sorrow.
(What happened, Laaj?)
“Mujhe ghar ke raaste tak chod degi?” Lajjo requested, and Halima immediately opened the car door, gesturing for her to come inside.
(Can you drop me off on the way to my house?)
All the way, Halima gently tried to coax the truth out of Lajjo, but she remained silent. When they finally reached Lajjo’s village, she stepped out of the car. After a pause, she looked back at Halima.
“Halima, kya mai tere ghar reh sakti hun kuch waqt ke liye? Maa ne kaha hai tujhse poochne ke liye,” she asked, her voice hesitant. Halima, stunned by the unexpected request, nodded without hesitation, telling her to come as soon as she could, before bidding her goodbye.
(Halima, can I stay at your place for a while? My mother told me to ask you.)
Halima's parents had never had any issues with Lajjo; she was a sweet, innocent girl who had helped Halima countless times. Most importantly, she was the only one who truly understood and cared for Halima without any concern for her wealth.
Halima walked into her room, exhausted, and collapsed onto the bed. After a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep, too tired to change clothes or eat anything, especially since she was still full from earlier.
Her slumber was interrupted when Shanno called out, letting her know that her friend had arrived.
Lajjo was sitting quietly on the bed, and Halima took a moment to study her. Lajjo’s usual liveliness seemed muted, a shadow over her features.
Halima offered her some food, silently grateful that everything on the table was vegetarian. However, Lajjo only picked at some rice before pushing the plate away.
To lift her spirits, Halima suggested they study together for tomorrow’s exam under the shade of a tree. They settled outside, and after two hours of reviewing notes, Halima felt Lajjo’s gaze on her. She looked up, concerned.
“Kya hua, Laaj?” she asked softly, and without warning, Lajjo wrapped her arms around Halima, trembling.
(What happened,Laaj?)
Halima gently stroked her back until she calmed down. Then, wiping her tears and sitting upright, Lajjo finally began to speak, revealing the cause of her distress.
“Bade Thakur ne kaha hai ki wo mujhse shaadi karna chahte hai,” she whispered, and Halima’s eyes widened in disbelief.
(The elder Thakur said he wants to marry me.)
“Laajjo, wo toh kam se kam saanth ya paisath ke honge,” Halima exclaimed, shocked at the thought of Thakur, who had to be at least sixty or sixty-five. Lajjo nodded, confirming her fears.
(Lajjo, he must be at least sixty or sixty-five.)
Lajjo took a deep breath and continued. “Wo uss din mai gayi thi haveli aur unka kamra saaf kar rahi thi. Kisi ne mujhe bathroom ke andar band kar diya tha. Phir maine ek aurat ki cheekhne ki aur chillane ki awaaz suni….” Her voice trailed off as she recounted the terrifying experience, her voice barely a whisper.
(That day, I went to the mansion and was cleaning his room. Someone locked me inside the bathroom, and then… I heard a woman’s screams, her cries for help…)
[ Warning ⚠️ : Mature content Ahead, Forced Intemicy ]
FLASHBACK
Lajjo sat in front of the locked bathroom door, hoping someone would eventually come looking for her. Her heart raced, and as the minutes stretched on, she noticed a small hole in the door. She leaned in, peeking out into the room, ready to call for help if anyone passed by.
But her hope shattered when she saw Thakur enter, a young woman trailing behind him. Lajjo’s pulse quickened as Thakur closed the door, his hands roving over the woman. Panic swelled within her as she watched, terrified but unable to look away.
Suddenly, Thakur slapped the woman, who tried to pull away from his grasp. His furious voice echoed through the room, “Tujhe mai batata hun, mere bete ke kamre me gai thi! Tujhe maine kya kaha tha, uske kamre ke paas bhi mat jaana! Mai dikhta hun ab tujhe mard kya hota hai. Mai tujhe budha lagta hun? Aaj tu dekhegi meri mardaangi!”
(“I’ll teach you a lesson! You dared to enter my son’s room? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from it? Now I’ll show you what a man truly is. You think I’m too old? Today, you’ll see my manhood!”)
With that, he yanked away the woman’s saree drape, gripping her hair and forcing her onto the bed. Lajjo’s breath hitched. She knew what was about to happen but felt paralyzed, her body trembling as she silently witnessed the horror.
“Jaane do, Thakur saahab, ab nahi karungi aisa, aapke bete ne bulaya tha mujhe,” the woman pleaded, her voice desperate as she begged for mercy.But her words only earned her another slap.
(Let me go, sir, I won’t do it again. It was your son who called me.)
“Mera beta neech ko chhue tak nahi! Jab mere bete ko nahi dekhna tha, toh tu mujhe hi toh santushti deti thi,” he spat, ripping her blouse before Removing his own clothes and trusting his manhood inside her and violating her without hesitation.
(My son wouldn’t even look at a lowly girl like you! And now that he didn’t want you, you come to me to satisfy you.)
Lajjo squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of Thakur’s vile actions, but she couldn’t block out the sounds—the woman’s cries, her broken pleas, and Thakur’s mocking insults.
In the dimness of the haveli, Lajjo’s world seemed to blur as she sat motionless, unable to move or speak. Somehow, she drifted into an exhausted, troubled sleep.
The next thing she knew, the door was flung open, and she tumbled onto the bathroom floor. She opened her eyes, only to find Thakur standing above her, a twisted smile on his face.
In a strange haze, she found herself in the grand hall, her mother on her knees, pleading with Thakur to spare her child.
“Mujhe ye chhori pasand aa gayi hai. Ab ye haveli ki hai. Do hafte baad, jab mera chhota beta aayega, toh main isse biyah karunga. Thakurain banegi ye haveli ki,” he declared with a smirk sealing Lajjo’s fate.
(“I’ve taken a liking to this girl. Now she belongs to this mansion. In two weeks, when my younger son returns, I’ll marry her, and she will become the lady of this haveli.”)
He looked at the same woman who was with him in the room and Lajjo sat there confused looking at that Young 30 to 35 year old woman glaring at her.
Since that moment, Lajjo’s mother had been desperately trying to find a way out. The only solution she’d managed to find was to send Lajjo to Halima’s house, knowing that no one would ever suspect her hiding at the Chaudharys’. In the meantime, she would do everything possible to secure a permanent escape for her daughter.
Flashback Ends
Halima sat there, gripped by terror as she thought about Lajjo and what might become of her. The memory of Lajjo’s story replayed in her mind—the woman's cries, her desperate screams, and the horror of what Thakur had done. Is this what men are capable of doing to women? she thought with a shudder.
Her thoughts drifted to the time Raza's hands had roamed over her body, and a chill ran through her. What if he ever did that to her? She quickly shook her head, dismissing the thought."Nahi, mera Raza aisa nahi kar sakte hai", she told herself firmly. She loved him, and in her heart, she believed he loved her too.
(No, my Raza could never do such a thing),
But he had never actually said the words: I love you.
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