SHAH VILLA
MORNING
9:35 AM
"Zain bhai! Agar agle tees second mein tumhari ye laash is bed se nahi uthi, toh kasam se aaj tumhara ye phone seedhe balcony se niche hoga!"
Half-asleep, Zain felt someone standing over his head like a torment. He opened one eye to see his younger sister, Aliza Shah, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips and an expression fierce enough to devour him alive.
"Aliza... yaar, tum subah subah itni high voltage kyun ho jati ho? Sone de na," Zain mumbled, burying his face into the pillow.
"Sone de? Suraj tumhare sar par aa chuka hai aur tum abhi tak is kambal mein kisi kachway ki tarah ghuse hue ho!" Aliza snapped as she yanked his blanket away.
"Tum kitni bad-tameez ho gayi ho Aliza, kam se kam apne bade bhai ka toh lihaz karo. Aur ye 'tum' keh kar baat karna kab band karogi? Bada hoo izzar kiya kar meri dayan."
"Lihaz uska kiya jata hai jo thoda bada lage, tum toh 29 saal ke ghode hokar bhi mujhe mere bachpan ka wo khilauna lag rahe ho jise bas utha kar baahar phenkne ka dil karta hai," Aliza stepped back from the bed and glared at him. "Munmy niche nashte par tumhara intezar kar rahi hain. Agar tum abhi niche nahi dikhe, toh wo apna purana belan wala formula istemal karengi... aur tum jaante ho unka nishana kitna pakka hai."
Zain let out a deep sigh and sat up on the bed. After Aliza left, he gathered some courage and headed toward the bathroom to get ready. This morning was different from the rest-today was an important day at Shah Villa.
When Zain came downstairs, ready, he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. The hall was filled with piles of new dresses and scattered toys, likely brought to be distributed at an orphanage.
But Zain's gaze stopped at the table in the hall. A beautiful cake was placed there, with pink icing that read: "Happy 18th Birthday, Sahar Baby."
Eighteen years... Sahar would have turned eighteen today.
Zain's eyes grew slightly moist. The cake was there, but the little doll who was supposed to cut it was nowhere to be seen. He took a deep breath and muttered softly with a faint smile, "Alisha toh dayan hai poori, boss kaash tum yahan hoti."
"Zain..."
A heavy voice made him turn around. Samad Shah was standing there.
"Zain, ye sab dresses aur toys gaari mein rakhwao aur Orphanage jaake bacho mein baant aao," Samad Shah said, looking at the cake. "Aaj hamari gudiya ka birthday hai, aur wo jahan bhi hai, zaroor muskura rahi hogi."
A while later, as soon as he reached the orphanage, the noise of children and their happiness lightened Zain's heavy heart a little. He was talking to an old volunteer there and handing out dresses to the children when suddenly his gaze stopped at a girl standing near the entrance.
She stood there, smiling as she watched the children. A ray of sunlight fell on her face, and Zain was momentarily speechless.
"Sana... " Zain asked softly without taking his eyes off the girl. "Wo door jo safed suit mein 'angel' bani khadi hai, wo kaun hai?"
Sana turned and looked, then glanced back at Zain with a mischievous smile. "Kyun? Aapko bada maza aa raha hai use dekh kar?"
"Arre nahi yaar, main toh bas general knowledge ke liye puch raha hoon. Pata hona chahiye na ke orphanage mein kaun kaun aata jata hai," Zain quickly put on a serious face.
"General knowledge ke liye Google hai Zain bhai, ye ladki nahi," she said, shaking a bag of dresses. "Aur waise bhi, wo aapki reach se bohot bahar hai. Usse baat karne ka matlab hai apni izzat ka khud hi janaza nikalna."
"Itni dangerous hai kya?" Zain asked in surprise. "Dekhne mein toh bechari bilkul masoom lag rahi hai."
"wo kisi se fuzool baat nahi karti, khas taur par tum jaise 'namuno' se." she replied.
Zain adjusted his messy hair slightly. "Namuna? Main? Tumne shayad mirror nahi dekha aaj, pehle khud to Dekho kaisi lag rahi ho chashmish. Khair, naam toh bata do, kam se kam dua mein yaad rakhunga."
"Naam batane ke paise lagte hain aur dua tumhari qabool honi nahi," she said, turning away. "Chalo, ye baki ke khilaune andar rakho aur zyada Romeo banne ki koshish mat karo warna wahan se jo thappad ayega na, uska nishaan agli birthday tak rahega!"
When Zain returned to Shah Villa from the orphanage, the atmosphere of the house felt slightly changed. As soon as he entered the hall, he heard the voices of Soniya Bua and Zaryab Phupha-both of whom were always looking for opportunities to stir trouble.
Soniya Bua sat on the sofa, adjusting the pallu of her new designer suit, while Zaryab Phupha leaned back in his chair as if he managed all the household affairs.
"Samad Bhai, Mahad Bhai... mujhe toh samajh nahi aata ke aap logo ne ye kya naya silsila shuru kar diya hai?" Soniya Bua said with a raised nose. "Jo chala gaya, wo chala gaya. Ab har saal ye yateem-khano mein khairat baantna aur wo cake... kya ye sab zaroori hai? Mare huon ke janmdin nahi manaye jate, ye deen aur duniya dono ke khilaf hai."
Mahad Shah, already burdened with grief for his daughter, felt his face turn red with anger. He clenched his fists and looked at Soniya Bua.
"Soniya! Tum meri behen ho isliye ab tak tumhara lihaz kar raha hoon," Mahad's voice thundered. "Lekin meri beti mere liye zinda hai. Wo hamari yaadon mein hai, hamari duayon mein hai. Tumhe agar ye sab dikhawa lagta hai toh mat aaya karo aaj ke din yahan!"
Zaryab Phupha adjusted his glasses and jumped in, "Dekho Mahad, gussa hone ki baat nahi hai. Soniya sahi toh keh rahi hai. Ye sab karne se kya Sahar wapas aa jayegi? Log baatein banate hain ke Shah Villa mein ab bhi ek purani yaad ko pakad kar baithay hain. Ye sab band hona chahiye."
Samad Shah took a deep, cold breath. He placed a hand on Mahad's shoulder and then looked at Soniya and Zaryab with a tired tone:
"Theek hai... agar aap logo ko itni hi takleef hai, toh ye is saal aakhri baar tha. Agle saal se hum ghar mein koi cake nahi rakhenge aur na hi ye sab hoga."
Mahad looked at his elder brother in shock and pain, while Soniya Bua and Zaryab Phupha smiled victoriously. Little did they know that they weren't just ending a tradition, but also extinguishing the last hope of that house.
Upstairs, there was a silent room-Mahad Shah's room. A young man, around 28-29 years old, stood there-Saad Shah. Anger and old pain were clearly visible on his face. He looked at a photo frame on the wall, where an 8-year-old Saad stood smiling with his father Mahad and mother Sara Shah-a symbol of a once-happy family.
Then his gaze shifted to another smaller frame placed beside it. It held the picture of a five-month-old baby girl.
The moment he saw the photo, Saad's jaw clenched. In anger, he picked up the frame and glared at the innocent child with hatred.
"Tum... sirf tumhari wajah se hua hai ye sab! Meri zindagi barbad kar di tumne. Tumhari wajah se meri Maa mujhe hamesha ke liye chhod kar chali gayi... Papa aaj tak depression mein rehte hain toh sirf tumhari wajah se!"
His anger rose so much that he pulled his hand back to throw the frame against the wall when a stern voice came from the door:
"Saad! Ye kya bakwas kar rahe ho?"
Tanya (Saad's aunt) rushed inside and grabbed his hand, stopping him. "Hosh mein aao! Wo tumhari behen hai, uska koi qasoor nahi hai is sab mein."
"Wo meri behen nahi hai!" Saad jerked his hand away, breathing heavily. "Behen hoti toh ghar barbad na karti. Isne meri sari khushiyan cheen li hain."
Tanya looked into his eyes, her tone now softer yet firm. "Saad, wo masoom thi. Ek paanch mahine ka bacha bhala kisi ka bura kaise kar sakta hai? Jo hua wo kismat thi, us bechari ne kuch nahi kiya."
Saad fell silent, but his hatred didn't fade. He slammed the frame back onto the table and walked out of the room without saying a word. Tanya remained standing there, her gaze fixed on little Sahar's photo, where the baby still smiled innocently, unaware of everything.
What was the secret of that day? What had happened on that morning eighteen years ago that turned every smile in Shah Villa into sorrow?
Why did every tongue in Shah Villa still stop at just one name... Sahar?
To be Continued
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