Ecstasy: A Montage of Poems and Short Stories - Suleman Nasir (top 100 novels .txt) 📗

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Ghulam Hussein Khuhro along with his wife Samina lived in a village, in vicinity of upper Kohistan. Farming was bequeathed to Ghulam Hussein by his ancestors. He labored in the fields throughout the year, and earned enough to fill bellies of his wife and his daughter Fatimah.

Fatimah was conceived in Samina’s womb after six years of marriage; her birth brought joy and felicity in their dull and monotonous lives. Everything Ghulam Hussein earned, he lavishly spent on Fatimah; he always brought new clothes, confectionaries and toys for his blue-eyed daughter. Ghulam Hussein decided to go against the grain by educating his daughter, as much as he could. As Fatimah turned five, he enrolled her in a local primary school. Owing to her lack of interest in studies, she could only make it to matriculation, after which, she thought it appropriate to remain home and help her mother with day to day chores.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and years; Fatimah had evolved into a young and ravishing girl of sixteen. Her parents marveled at her beauty. Her blue enchanting eyes were a wonder to behold. Every other day, Samina had to apologize to women who darkened their door, asking for Fatimah’s hand in marriage for their sons. But Ghulam Hussein and Samina did not want to have Fatimah married off so soon.

                             .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

“But Ammi Jan, I don’t want to go there, that place is not less than hell for me. I would die of boredom there”, Said Shahryar. 

 “Shut up Shahryar, I am disconcerted by your finicky behavior about everything. What kind of a man are you that you’ll let your mother travel alone” Rihana Begum feigned anger.   

“But Ammi Jan, I………..”, Shahryar tried to retort but Rihana Begum cut him off. 

“No ifs and no buts. It’s your cousin’s wedding for God’s sake, don’t be so much of an introvert. What your aunt will think if she noticed your absence there? It would be undoubtedly an unkind gesture. It is only a matter of two weeks.” said Rihana Begum. 

“Hmm, alright Ammi Jan, I’ll get the tickets by noon”, Shahryar relented. Arguing anymore appeared fruitless to him. 

 Rihana Begum lived with her son Shahryar in Karachi. She was reduced to a widow, when her husband succumbed his life to a heart attack. Being the only bread winner of family, she had to teach in a government school; she did not leave any stone unturned in catering to Shahryar’s needs and rendering him on his own feet. Because of his profound disposition, Shahryar opted law as his career.

Rihana’s sister Kulsoom lived in a hamlet near Upper Kohistan. Kulsoom’s daughter : Yasmin’s wedding was looming near, thought of which exhilarated Rihana Begum, for it had been seven years, since she had seen and embraced her sister kulsoom, her nieces and nephews.  

                        .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

Fatimah was sitting motionless, watching patterns of henna being sketched on her white palms. She couldn’t leash her excitement, after all, it was Yasmin’s wedding.  Yasmin and Fatimah harbored such a strong bond of friendship, that if it were to be illustrated, one would run short of words; Yasmin filled the void in Fatimah’s life, an abysmal void she had always felt because of not having any siblings. Yasmin was donned in yellow finery, with her shy gaze pinned on the floor.  Thought of Yasmin’s departure sent a shiver down Fatimah’s spine; even, imagining life without Yasmin was inconceivable for her. She could not bridle the flow of tears from her eyes. 

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

“Who is he?” Fatimah wondered, “Incessantly staring at me without a blink?”

 Fatimah too didn’t want to avert her gaze from him. He was ordinary, yet, appeared so extraordinary. She wanted to be consumed in his large dark eyes. What honorable noun does he bear? She was desperate to know.     

 

“Shahryar!” asked Kulsoom, “Should I serve dinner for you?”     

“No Khala Jan, thank you, I am not famished” replied Shahryar, shifting his gaze from Fatimah to his aunt Kulsoom.  

Shahryar; his name began to echo in Fatimah’s ears, and was inscribed on her heart. In that moment, everything else evaded her mind, only thing that remained, was his name: Shahryar.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

Shahryar had never had these feelings for anyone. Since the moment he laid his eyes upon Fatimah, everything else that surrounded him, appeared dull and colorless. His longing for Fatimah was burgeoning by leaps and bounds. The goddess of love had smiled upon him. 

He wanted to confess these bizarre feelings to her, but he was quite aware that in midst of all these people, talking to Fatimah was not executable.

Shahryar spent a week on pins and needles, dying to talk to Fatima; waiting anymore had become something more than his heart could stand. After mustering all the courage he possessed, he wrote something on the paper and assigned his little cousin Haseena to dispatch that piece of paper to Fatimah, secretly.   

 

As Fatimah procured that scrap of paper, she began to unwrap it, impatiently; she felt like all those ten years of schooling were for this moment, to decipher this fragment of paper, which read in Urdu:          

 “Meet me near the stream, tonight”.    

 Her heart skipped a beat.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

“I waited for so long. I had given hope of your arrival” said Shahryar.

Fatimah remained silent. Her shyness had put fetters on her lips.

 “Never have I ever set eyes upon such a gorgeous girl like you. Your eyes have wounded me and made me your slave” Shahryar said, without a pause. 

Fatimah blushed. Her mouth became dry out of nervousness. She felt like a fever had hit her. She had never had these feelings of immense elation; her heart pounding in her chest. After lingering for a few moments, she returned home, for she did not want to alarm anyone.

 They started turning up daily for their rendezvous at the same place, and bartered vows of love with each other.

 It was Shahryar’s last day at his aunt’s house.  Fatimah and Shahryar trysted at their ordained place with a heavy heart.  

“I don’t know how I will live, when you’re gone. Life would never be the same again” Fatimah spoke under her breath.  

“Splitting from you is an ordeal worse than death for me. Before I could ask for your hand in marriage, I wanted to ask for your approval in person. Would you want it to happen?” Shahryar asked, with traces of desperation in his voice. 

A shy smile was all Fatimah could give. A smile, that betrayed all of her feelings before Shahryar. Her shyness dwarfed the air of melancholy surrounding them 

“Say something, since the moment you have come here, you have hardly said anything” Said Shahryar.

“I don’t know what to say.” Fatimah replied.

She heard rustling in nearby bushes.  

 Before Shahryar could say anything, an offbeat shrill voice struck Fatimah’s ears.

“You Slut!”  Said the man standing in the front, followed by two other.

It was Ishaq Khuhro, her step-uncle. He was holding a rifle. One out of two other men was holding an axe and other one was unarmed. One of Ishaq’s men had spotted them; he alarmed Ishaq and ushered him here, where a love, as pure as untouched snow, as artless and innocent as a child’s heart, was sprouting between two souls. 

“You have besmirched and dishonored the name of Khuhro family. You are an unvirtuous woman, and you are well conversant with the repercussions of your uncouth deed. You would die here with this son of a bitch. He is an adulterer, just as you are”. Ishaq shouted furiously.    

“Uncle please, I beg of you, we are innocent. We did not commit any sin. I swear by Allah, I did not stain my virtue” Fatimah Fell in Ishaq’s feet and grabbed them. 

“Please Uncle, he did not even touch me, let him………….”  Before Fatimah could finish her sentence, man standing behind Ishaq swung his axe and struck Fatimah’s head with immense puissance, she thudded on the ground and after lingering in excruciating pain for a few moments, she breathed her last.

Ishaq pointed the muzzle of his gun towards Shahryar and shot abruptly; Bullet tunneling through his head silenced him for eternity. 

There, laid two star-crossed bodies side by side, soiled and dishonored, butchered in the vile and dubious name of Honor.

3. In The Name of Love

 

“Please Shahid, don’t make me do this; I can’t do this, it’s a grave sin. If my parents came to know about this they would murder me, please do not force me into this” Amina said imploringly.  

Shahid held Amina’s hand.

 “Amina! You know I love you, right? I shall marry you one day; it is just an expression of love, it won’t do us any harm. I promise I will keep it between us, No one will know about this.”

Shahid attempted to persuade her.  

 

“But Shahid, you know it is inappropriate, how you can expect me to indulge my……myself in an immoral deed of this sort?”

 Amina struggled to complete her sentence sentence.         

“I know you don’t love me. All this time you had said that you trust me, but you were lying, if you had trusted me you would have stopped me. I have loved you with all my heart and soul, and this is the reward I get in return.”

Shahid pretended anger.    

“You know I love you, and trust you with all the fibers of my being, but I don’t want to soil this relation we have, I just want to keep it impeccable and pure”

Amina said, pressing her hand on shahid’s.   

“It is fine. You can leave. I have errands to run; you too should better be going.”

 Shahid said, turning his face to other side.  

 Amina could read exasperation on his face. She loved him beyond words could yield the matter; she was head over heels for him. Just like earth, which perpetually revolves around sun, Shahid was the Center of her thoughts. Whenever Amina imagined of her future, it was Shahid’s face, which always manifested as her husband. She never negated Shahid for anything, out of her affection for him. History repeated itself and she relented before his luscious demand. 

 “Shahid” said Amina in a grim voice. 

 “What?” replied He. 

“You can do anything you want with me, I will not stop you, but promise me one thing, that you will always love me like this, never will you ever dent my trust and the faith I have in you.”

Amina was on the verge of crying.    

 “You are aware, that I love you with all my heart. You are the sky to my earth, the light to my darkness; you are the sole rose in the garden of my life”.

Shahid uttered in one breath, holding Amina’s hand.  

“Hmm, I know, Shahid” Amina muttered.  

A wicked smile drew on Shahid’s visage. Whatever he wanted all along, was soon going to transpire. Regardless of the poignant fact that Amina’s innocence was going to be demolished, he indulged in the festivals of flesh. The invisible Angel perching on his left shoulder began to write something.  

 

“You see, that wasn’t a big deal. Was It?” Shahid said, buttoning his shirt.

 Amina remained quiet, lying motionless. Her eyes anchored at a painting dangling on the wall which had Allah’s name on it. The thought