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

of her Lord watching her all along stabbed her heart like a sharp dagger. Her own body started to disgust her; tears started to trickle from her eyes. 

“I should better get home, before dusk descends” mumbled Amina

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

 

 “The number you are trying to reach is not answering, please try again later” Same frustrating robotic voice struck Amina’s ears for the seventh time.

Shahid was not answering.  Amina put her phone on the side table and made a failed attempt to sleep. Sleep was at far cry from her. She showered twice but she could not rid herself from the pangs of disgust; she felt her body smeared with a flagrant sin.

Amina’s phone notified for a text and she leapt towards it impatiently. Shahid’s name was on top of the screen. She didn’t waste a second to open her inbox; the message read: 

 “Do you remember, when I proposed you for the first time, you had harshly rejected it and insulted me. I have not forgotten that. In that moment, I made a resolve to make you repay for the embarrassment I had faced. Stupid girl, did you really think I shall fall in love with an arrogant and pompous fool like you? The sweet revenge I wanted to exact all along has been delivered.”

“Do not deign to contact me again, I have your pictures that you would not want to be uploaded on the internet, would you? It was an unforgettable time I had with you, but the play is over. Goodbye.” Another text message read.

Shahid’s texts dropped a bombshell on Amina. She was caught unaware. Her fragile heart sunk under the burden of unbearable sorrow. The serpent she had held so dear had bitten her eventually; Poison of his words pervaded throughout her. An incurable poison for which, she did not have an antidote.    

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

 

“For God’s Sake Amina, open up the door, what is wrong with you” Amina’s Mother uttered loudly after knocking the door so many times that she had lost count of. A grave silence welcomed her every single time. 

 “Move aside, Khadija. Let me break the lock” said Amina’s father. 

He kicked and hit the door with a crowbar. After a hitting spree, the door smashed open.  

 Startling sight that awaited her, made Khadija’s flesh creep. She uttered a hoarse cry and stopped dead in her tracks.  

Amina’s lifeless body was lying on the bed, with her left arm dangling to one side. Her face had turned pale; blood was leaving her body through her cut wrist, where a razor blade had forged a deep gulf. She had left this burdensome world, hours ago, leaving behind only an empty vessel, for her parents to mourn at.  

4. A Beauty Unseen

 

“Many congratulations, elder brother. From this day forth Ambareen is our daughter.” said Rafique and jubilantly hugged his brother.

“Indeed, dear brother, Indeed.” said Shafique, seized between the arms of his younger brother.

Scent of Gulab Jamuns, Jalebis, and other sweets wafted in the spacious lounge. Everyone was to be seen swapping sweets with each other out of joy. A few eyes welled up with tears of contentment, but there was smile on every pair of lips. It was a blissful and never to be forgotten day for both brothers.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

“I am very happy today, Aqila. No matter how many times I thank Allah, it will not suffice. Ambareen certainly is born under a lucky star to have been engaged to a courteous, well-educated, and a well-settled lad like Toufeeq. I always cherished the thought of being his uncle. Now, knowing that I am going to be his father-in-law, I can hardly put my feet on the ground.” Shafique said all in one breath.

"Hmmm” Aqila immersed in some deep thought uttered in reply.

“What is it, Aqila? What has stolen your attention?” Shafique inquired with concern.

“I am happy for Ambareen too, but what worries me is the thought of Anushe. She is our eldest child and we haven’t found a suitor for her yet. Other girls of her age have been married off and have borne children. Finding out that her younger sister will get married first will be a hard pill for her to swallow.” Aqila replied with a worried face.

Anushe holding a cup of tea for her father, was about to knock; hearing her parents having a talk about her interrupted her from doing so. She began to eavesdrop.

“Those women who had visited last month to see Anushe have not showed up again, and I am not surprised. Nowadays, everyone drools over the girls with light-hued, fair complexion; sometimes I wonder, Anushe not only has a dark tone but also a blackened fate. If this continued, she will remain a celibate forever.” Aqila said continuously. An air of regret appeared for a moment on her face, realizing that she had said too much.

“Aqila!” Shafique shouted ferociously and continued, “How can you allow such ignoble words to fall from your lips. She is your daughter, your flesh and blood.”

“What did I say wrong? I cannot bear the prying eyes and the taunting questions of the people anymore. It is always the same question; why isn’t Anushe married yet? What am I to say?” Aqila’s voice began to distort out of emotions.

Her mother’s words began to pierce Anushe’s heart like needles. She closed her eyes but failed to leash the tears that somehow managed to escape from beneath her closed eyelids.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

Anushe and Ambareen were the only begotten children of Malik Shafique. Malik Shafique had a clerical job and resided with his wife and two daughters in a rented house in Lahore. Anushe, a first born child, and Ambareen, the second born were poles apart from each other. They were at odds not only in looks but also in their way of behaving and ways of looking at things. Ambareen had been conferred with exceptional beauty. Her Fair, illuminated complexion and gorgeously sculpted face had always made her a cynosure of everyone’s attention. Anushe, on the other hand, did not possess any features to contribute to her exterior beauty. Aware of her plain and unattractive looks, she always remained encumbered under the weights of inferiority complex and lack of confidence. All her life she remained in the company of only one person: her own self. She always coveted the stunning looks of her sister, and being endowed with such beauty for once was her pipedream. She always wondered that how her life had been if she were as beautiful as Ambareen; she craved for attention that always fell in the lap of her younger sister, but shunned her. But she never let her wish morph into jealousy, for she loved Ambareen more than anything; even more than her own life.

After graduating from the University, she joined a Kindergarten school. It was more than a vocation for her. It was an edifice of consolation.  Being ensnared between giggling and playful children invariably whisked her away to a new world; a world of peace and happiness.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

Ambareen had hardly given her graduation exam when her uncle and aunt came knocking on her door to ask for her hand in marriage for their son Toufeeq, Ambareen’s first cousin, who had recently been hired as a junior manager in a private bank. Shafique and Aqila had no tangible reasons to not consider Toufeeq, for he fulfilled the criteria of being a prolific son-in-law from every aspect.  After Ambareen’s affirmation, the proposal was accepted in a flash.

Since then, Daydreaming about Toufeeq had become Ambareen’s favorite hobbyhorse.

“Where do you think Toufeeq will take me for honeymoon?” Ambareen Asked for Anushe’s opinion with an excited smile, “I would prefer Nathia Gali or the valleys of Naran and Kaghan. I always wanted to go there.” She continued.

“Cross the bridge while you are at it, my child. You are asking me as if Toufeeq has exchanged with me his views regarding his honeymoon.” Anushe replied, while being bent on the sewing machine.

Anushe’s center of attention at the moment was Nida, her 4 year old student. Her birthday was just around the corner. She was busy sewing the seams of her frock that she had been working on for a week. It was her birthday present.  This was the sort of love Anushe had harbored for her students. She zealously spent every moment with them, celebrated their birthdays, and when one of them was to fall ill, she would plunge into a state of agitation. Her students saw her as their ‘ma’am Anushe’; to her, they were her own body and soul.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

Ambareen’s wedding was just a month away. Anushe had been brooding over taking a month’s leave from the school to assist her mother with the work that had piled up.

She slowly knocked the door to Abrar’s office.

Abrar Siddique was the founder of ‘Little Angels Kindergarten School’. His 3 year old son Zain was in the care of Anushe. Abrar was a widower; Zain’s mother had passed away knuckling under the labor pains.

Abrar immediately accepted Anushe’s request.

As she was about to get up from the chair, she heard her name being called.

“Anushe!” said Abrar.

It was quite out of the ordinary. Abrar had never called her by her name. As she laid her eyes on Abrar’s face, he manifested as an entirely different person. Abrar had always maintained a veil of seriousness and solemnity on his face. This Abrar sitting before her had a tender and sensitive bearing on display.

“I wanted to let something off my chest for quite some time but I couldn’t muster up the courage” said Abrar.

Anushe was at loss for words. She continued listening without uttering a word.

“Since Zain’s mother has passed away, I never felt the need to remarry. I have remained confident that I shall foster Zain on my own. But when…..I……I…..don’t know……I…don’t know how to….say this but…” Abrar, who had been staring Anushe in the eyes shifted his gaze on the table. Sweat began to ooze on his brow.

“I have had feelings for you for quite some time but I never thought it appropriate to bring them to light.  All I wanted to say is that I want to ask your parents for your hand in marriage, if you don’t have any reservations with me being already married. I couldn’t help but notice how Zain gets along with you, and how you treat him as your own child; this has emboldened me to take this step.”

Anushe’s heart began to race in her chest. She felt like she was hallucinating. It all appeared unreal and dreamed up. All her life she had been a quarry to pangs of inferiority owing to her plain-looking face. She made herself believe that anyone in his right mind will not be attracted to her. Despite all the tenderness, kindliness, she exuded, she had always been judged on the premise of her looks. Abrar, like a skillful artisan, saw a diamond in the rough. What a fortuitous stroke of fate to have brought this unexpected day, she contemplated. 

As she gathered her senses, she heard Abrar saying:

“If you decline my