Paradise, Lost - II

If you haven't read Part I, click here. 

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“Bhaijaan!”

She had run like the wind that fateful day, trying to follow the jeep that unexpectedly turned a corner, never to return. It was then that she felt Gulaabo’s cold hands on her shoulder. She had stayed with her, taking care of the old cripple through rain and shine.

She noticed now, a strapping young jawaan with wavy black hair, eyeing her keenly from the harbor. The army could not have posted him here… Why would he be alone and with no visible ammunition? He must have come for her. Third day, she counted in her head, flattered deeply. The sun shone a clear reflection of her petite body in the water - rosy cheeks and an ample bosom. She was the prettiest girl out on the shikaras and reminded repeatedly by the leers of the stragglers that always seemed to hang around.  Something about him struck her as different. She stared right back. A friendly wink. Soon, he came right over, startling her as he did so. “D..do you want to go on a ride?”, she stuttered.

“With you? I would go right now, jaan.” There was that wink again.

Colour rising steadily in her cheeks, she looked down as she said shyly, “No, Ismail will take you. Let me show you…”

“Will you come? Let’s chat. Namaste… I’m Mohan. You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen…”

Miriam could have sworn she had never been so excited in her life. Is this what love felt like? Would he marry her and live with her in their own shikara?

For a month, Mohan came everyday, standing at the exact same spot near Gulaabo’s pots, waiting for Miriam to appear. She took him out for shikara rides alone, sneaking off when the men were busy. He was her jawaan. He must be in love with me, she thought. He listened intently to all her stories about Gulaabo (for she had little else to talk about, from her small life). She hardly left the little room with the photo of her son and the pots. The pain of the war had left Gulaabo quite the senile old woman, Miriam noted with a sigh. She told him how Gulaabo had taken in Ismail and the others after Ahmad’s death to take care of the business. She wondered if she would someday own a shikara.

One day it struck her that Mohan might know where Younis had gone. “They took him away on a jeep and he never returned… Where did they take him, Mohan? Do your people know?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I wasn’t here when that happened… Let it be, Miriam. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

He was wise and brave. He must be right, she thought. Mohan was here, he would take care of her now.

If Gulaabo was observing Miriam, she did not betray any emotion. Miriam was apprehensive but she hoped in her heart that Gulaabo would be happy if she married Mohan, because even though he was from the Fauj, they were in love and he was a good person – not a malicious armyman, like Qadir, Gulaabo’s shikara handler had warned her.

Ismail made his displeasure clear everytime he came face to face with the jawaan and would not let him step on the boats while he was around.

Noticing Mohan approaching one morning as Miriam waved him over, Qadir whispered to her: “Don’t trust him… Ismail’s patience is waning. He will kill you if he finds out you let him get on the boat!”

But Miriam was a stubborn child and a girl in love… “He will never hurt me, Qadir bhai! I believe he is different. You will see… Ismail is wrong. WRONG!”

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Read Part III here.