Tarruf

Born to the landlord of a suburb of the capital of the erstwhile state of Hyderabad. I couldn’t enjoy the company of my father for long; he passed away when I was just thirteen. After his passing away my mother left me in the care of my sister’s husband who was a high ranking official in the government. My sister took good care of me, she was a compassionate and God fearing lady who was fond of poetry and in her company I learnt to admire poetry.

While everyone around was bothered about the shift in the political scenario I was more concerned about my new muse, the daughter of a landlord from Alwal. It was just a week since I had first seen her, and that one glance of her’s had cast a spell on me, I had never felt anything like this before and the only thing that kept ringing in my ears was Bahadur Shah Zafar’s sher,

“le gaya cheen ke kaun aaj tera sabr o qarar, Beqarari tujhe aye dil kabhi  aise toh na thi “

“Who is it that has spirited your peace and calm, O heart you never were perturbed as you are today”

I hadn’t shared this with my friends; the atmosphere was too disturbed for a romantic story is what I thought. Her father had come to my boss Ghulam Mohammed asking for help on some legal matters and Ghulam Mohammed sahib had forwarded the case to me. It was my job to settle his issues with our department. The jagirdar then invited me over to his place to look at all the files and sort them out. I reached at his place early the next morning on my new bike which I had bought from a police auction; it was my pleasure and joy. I always looked for a time to take it out on a spin and the sound of a 500cc Sunbeam with shining chrome roaring was just divine. I was received by the jagirdar’s son himself, a well cultured young boy who must’ve been a few years younger to me. He showed me to his father’s study where all the necessary files were piled for my examination. It was noon before I realized it was more work than I thought it would be. Pulling myself up from the chair I stretched myself and said to my young host,

“Nawab sahib do you mind if I have a smoke in the garden outside”

My young host obliged and showed me through the hall which led to the lawn, as we were half-way through the hall we heard a loud scream and although not very sure what to do I followed my host who ran towards a room on the other side of the hall. When we entered I saw a young girl scared to death standing on a bed screaming frantically.

“Aapa ! What’s wrong, what happened?” asked my host still panting, and out of breath.

Pointing towards the beautifully crafted Victorian style credenza she shrieked,

“A lizard, a lizard in my room, behind that credenza “

I swiftly moved towards the piece of furniture without even seeking acknowledgement of any sort from my host. I could see a very ugly looking reptile the size of a house mouse, hanging by the wall. pointing at the ugly reptile I pushed the button on my gupti and in a flash the lizard was hanging dead at the tip of the blade. With the dead animal hanging on one end I walked towards the window opened it and jerked my blade throwing the dead reptile out. I then pushed the blade back turning it into my walking stick again.

Turning around I saw the open window had let a fresh breeze in, and as the curtain flaps to the blowing wind so did the girl’s hair brush her face. She was such a pretty thing to look at. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I stayed that way for an eternity.

“pari paikar nigar e sarv khad, laal rukhsar,

Sarapa aafat e dil bood shab jaaye ke man boodam”

Nymph like form tall like a cypress and cheeks as though petals;

From head to toe she played havoc with my heart ruthlessly.

As though Ameer Khusro’s sher had been personified, she stood there looking terrified and even in that moment of her horror she looked nothing less than a hoorie from heaven. She was tall with a slender physique, a well chiseled nose, big beautiful black eyes adorned her long face, and her long tresses flowing in the breeze was a sight that I could never forget.

 She got a hold of herself quickly when she realized I was an outsider and covered her head with her dupatta, I lowered my gaze hastily and hesitantly but that glance was enough. Cupid had already struck me.

By this time there were about half a dozen servants and maids in that room already, this chivalrous act of mine was well received by my hosts and they thanked me. It happened so quickly that it was just my reflexes at work, thinking over it now. I probably wouldn’t have even run after my host had the scream not been so loud and the voice so scared. For the rest of the day there was nothing on my head other than her pretty face, no matter how hard I tried to work on the assigned job. In the evening I excused myself and left taking away the files I thought were necessary.