Sahir Arzoo FF | Love, law, inter alia | Chapter 20: Pg 91 [COMPLETE] - Page 13

Originally posted by: raaz19

Thank you 😛 so much for liking my comments and taking the time to write back... I really enjoyed reading the fact that you enjoyed my comment and it was nice to see that.I have picked up on the essence of the story and the journey of your characters... let me just say with such meaningfull chapters each time it was quite nice to be able to connect the actions of both sahir and arzoo... All your comments have put a smile on my 😳

You are right that faith is the ultimate healer and thanks so much for the small spoiler of sahir leaving at the time of prayer... wonder what he felt? you always leave use with such sweet mysteries...

Also I am glad you enjoyed reading the comparison between your chapters, I just wanted all the other readers to feel what you were trying to express through the tittle of each of your chapters...as all of them always help me see the story from other angels so effortlessly also...

As to your question regarding the title of the ff. ... let me just say that "law, love and inter alia " is a beautiful title to the start of your saaz journey as I believe that the real essence of your story it's not the main title but the subtitles that you have used so far... Please don't change it...

For me the title shows me the meaning of a journey filed with companionship, A journey of self discovery and ultimately receiving redemption in the deepest from which is love... This will be the real closure to there battle as when they both seek pleasure and security in each others company can they final call there story a case we'll closed...😉

And as the last word that you have used the word " inter alia" says it so beautifully, as ultimately the most important thing for both is to be the true person that they want to be and be the person that each of them would want to love and cherish till the end... the reward of being souls mates of being each others humdards ...

Being able to cracking the code of live and building a case upon the foundation of live through the tangled web of marriage... A marriage based upon love... I don't know about others but being able to feel what another's pain without telling them is a a great skill to have and utimatly in your story both are getting to reward of being able to be each others friends and how they reach and solve each others pain well that is a mystery that we will wait for your to enlightened us with...

looking forward to the next update till then...happy writing... I am sure it we will be in for a treat...

Ps: I am happy to hear you enjoy reading long reviews ; )

😳 raz

Originally posted by: nanor

simply superb
loved it.

Chapter 7

On a balance of probabilities

Sahir leaned back against the wall contentedly as the sound of Arzoo's laughter rang in the air. It was the very same light and clear tinkle of a laugh that had once grated on his nerves, and now caused everything around him to be infused with a warm happy glow. How things had changed!

"Did the manager buy these?" she asked the concierge who had handed her the new set of clothes upon his instructions.

Oh, if only... But no, that stupid manager could not have been trusted to follow simple guidelines, seeing as his past record showed that he fancied himself as a designer of some sort.

Sahir had decided that it was a task that could be delegated to nobody, and had himself trudged to a nearby mall that morning, and entered that dreaded lair of oversmart salesgirls who had taken it upon themselves to advise him on what his "wife" would like. He had hurriedly corrected them of course, but his statement that he was shopping for his colleague had been met with suppressed smiles and highly unconvinced nods. He had been fervently impatient to get out of there, but there were so many options of colours and (exactly identical) fabrics and foreign-sounding names that had most probably been made up by the salesgirls just so that they could exchange barely muffled giggles at his obvious discomfort. He doubted that even Arzoo would know what a turndown collar was, but how did that matter, as long as she could wear it, which was the whole point of clothes anyway!

"I believe it was Mr Chaudhary himself," the concierge replied, and was met with fresh peals of laughter.

Sahir's lips curled into an unavoidable smile as he returned to his room quietly.

The kalaam recited by the Baba at the dargah on the previous day came back to him. He had been walking to his hotel room to offer the evening namaaz, when something had made him stop in his tracks and look back in the direction from where the call for prayer was coming. The memory had come to his mind in a flash - there was a dargah nearby that he had seen when they were driving from the airport to the hotel.

Without giving it any thought, which in itself was highly uncharacteristic, he had taken a rickshaw to the dargah. After having offered his prayers at the mosque, he was sitting hunched up in the courtyard, lost in the dark abyss of his thoughts, when the Baba had silently come up to him and said, "hik dum sajjan, lakh dum vairee, hik de maare, marde hoo... hik dum picche janam gavaiyya, chor bane ghar ghar de hoo."

He had looked up, confused, to find an old man bent over him with piercing eyes that crinkled with a most serene smile. The Baba had proceeded to explain,

"It's a kalaam by Sultan Bahu. There is a moment in life that is your friend, it is just one moment. And in comparison, there are millions of other moments that are your foes. That one moment is so powerful that it will defeat all the foes. But if you miss that one moment, you have wasted your life, and drift like a thief from house to house."

"I don't understand," Sahir had confessed.

"You cannot see the light if you are too scared to open your eyes. Darkness is comforting, but it is after all a lie, for it is nothing but the absence of light. And light cannot be belied."

A long pause had followed, punctuated by the rhythmic chants of mann qunto maula by the qawaali singers, which were getting more and more rapid and frenzied, as they neared the crescendo, and yet, at the same time, more and more tranquil, trance-like, merging with an indescribable form of cosmic peace. Sahir had felt as though the pieces of the puzzle were slowly finding each other as he began to understand what the Baba was probably getting at. It made no sense at all, and it also made all the sense in the world. It was the reason why he had hated her, perhaps. In light of her goodness, the hollowness of his jaded self gained an acute poignancy that was too difficult to face.

"You will know what to do now," the Baba had said softly as he began to leave.

"But -" Sahir had stood up quickly, "I don't. I really don't know what to do. This girl - she is so different from me. I want to be of comfort, but I have no idea how... I don't... for some reason, I don't want her to go away. And, and... suddenly, I feel uncertain about everything that I thought I was so sure about. My way of thinking, of acting, of being - suddenly, everything seems to have been put to test. Everything about me seems so wrong. But how can I undo what has been done? And how can I just become a different person when this is who I am? Any change will be superficial and short-lived then, won't it?"

Sahir's voice had trailed off uncertainly. It had been a long speech, especially for him. The Baba had looked completely unsurprised, as he had intoned, "Parh parh alam fazal ho gaya, kadi apne aap nu parhaya ye naee... Ja ja warrda mandir maseetey, kadi mann apnay wich warya ye naee. It means, he who has read and read and become a scholar, never learnt to read himself, he entered many a religious place but never entered his own heart."

Sahir had smiled at the aptness of the kalaam, but sadly so. Introspection could not be an option. There were many things that he wished he did not have to remember, ever.

The Baba seemed to have read his thoughts as he continued, "It's not forgetfulness that you seek, it's forgiveness. Don't be so hard on yourself. As for helping this person, who says you need to change who you are? All that is required is that you stop holding yourself back. You will understand what you need to do, you will find the answers. But it is not reason and intellect that will get you there."

And with that, the Baba had walked away, and had soon merged with the jostling throngs of devotees.

The Baba at the dargah was right. Reason and intellect were not the answer. He would have to trust his intuition, just as Arzoo would have. And his intuition told him that even in her pain, Arzoo would not let go of her pride and stubbornness. He had sensed it even when she had thrown him that angry glare when he had enquired about the scars, that she would not take too kindly at being treated like a weak person... And quite rightly so, for her strong sense of self-sufficiency and independence had to be one of her most admirable qualities. Anything even vaguely resembling pity was the farthest away from what Arzoo needed at that point. Somehow, inexplicably, even though he was an awkward blubbering idiot when it came to emotional intelligence, he felt he knew that much at least.

And it was just as well, for he would not have been able to pull off the lovable prince charming act without gagging anyway. Although he knew he could never hurt another person intentionally, without having to torture himself, until amends had been made, he was not exactly amongst those who would go out of their way to be overly endearing. Curbing his judgmental nature and tactless sarcasm, especially, was near to impossible.

He surmised that, on a balance of probabilities, he was more likely good than bad, and could in no way be compared to Arzoo, who seemed to have made it her life's mission to please everyone, and happened to be good, beyond all reasonable doubt. And without warning, the image of those scars on her back came back to him. He remembered how, when he had gone to her room with a plate of food, her eyes had been red, swollen and haunted. Why her?

Just then, the alarm on his phone rang - a welcome respite from his harrowing thoughts. It was one of the reminders he had set. Ten minutes to the conference. It would have been his cue to start gathering his papers, but as it happened, he had yet to get dressed.

When he made it to the hotel reception, exactly one minute before the agreed time, Arzoo was already there, waiting. She was wearing the suit he had bought and for some reason, although it was clearly only a logical thing for her to do, given her clothes situation, he almost beamed at the sight of her. It was like a tiny sign that he was worthy of forgiveness and acceptance after all.

"Good morning Sahir Sir," she said brightly. He could sense that she had forced an air of cheerfulness in her voice and smile, and that she was not quite alright yet but was back to feigning normalcy.

"Morning," he replied in his usual gruff tone, forgetting to display that smile that he had carefully rehearsed earlier, and they began to walk towards the conference hall.

"Sir, about the clothes that you sent, thank -"

"You don't have to thank me," he quickly interrupted, slightly embarrassed.

"Right," she said, her lips twitching with a hint of mischief, "I just wanted to tell you, they are a size too big."

"Well, if you had had dinner last night instead of dieting, they would have fit you just fine," he quipped.

"I did eat," she replied softly, "What you brought... It was nice of you."

Sahir made a noncommittal sound, not sure of what to say. What could he have said? You're welcome? It sounded so pompous, like he had done her a favour or something. I'm glad you ate? What was he, her father? Oh, so you like pasta? Sounded about alright, didn't it? It meant nothing at all and it would just sound really stupid.

"And are you dieting, Sir?" she chirped, breaking the silence, before he could figure out what to say.

"Wh-what?" Sahir stuttered, nonplussed.

"Did you eat last night? You didn't, right? I have my spies too, you know."

She was looking at him intently, her eyes seeming to penetrate into his, almost as though she was able to read his unsaid words, to gain access to the feelings that even he could not quite decipher. He had noticed, weeks ago, that she had striking features, but she had never seemed more beautiful than she did in that moment. He felt drawn towards her in a way that he had never felt before.

"I wasn't hungry," he replied curtly, averting his eyes away from hers with much difficulty, hoping that she would change the subject fast.

"Hm, true, you do need to watch your weight," she said, breathlessly as she stifled a laugh.

He stared at her, more shocked than angry, but she cowered under his glare, and he could sense that tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes, as she said, "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to - I'm really sorry... honestly."

"Well, if you were stick-thin yourself," he smiled, "I would not have felt that I needed to buy you plus size clothes now, would I?"

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came out. He chuckled softly, and she gazed at him speechlessly for a few seconds, almost in wonder, before flashing the brightest of smiles, hesitant at first, then more heartfelt.

Her initial surprise was understandable, of course. Sahir Azeem Chaudhary was not exactly the joking type. Or was he? To be honest, he was not sure what type he was anymore. The only thing he knew was that seeing Arzoo smile and laugh seemed to momentarily lighten that toxic burden that he constantly lugged around with him. If she could be happy, no matter what the reason was for her happiness, all would be well.

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Chapter 8: Page 24