Chapter 8: Closest are the Furthest
It was around midday when Afra had her hands on the file. Bakht had sent it to the office, directly as instructed. With more binders packed in her bag and arms, she headed towards Haveli where Rabail planned to have her office for the day.
Stepping out of the car, the warm sun caused sweat to form on her fair forehead. Some stand from her high ponytail stuck. Her light chestnut hair glistened in the sunlight. She paced with her hands filled with documents, papers, invites, and whatnot. She sighed, her arms going numb from the pressure of the files, sensing the hustle and bustle of Khanum's life. Being her Personal Secretary was taxing enough for Afra; imagine being Rabail herself. She would be damned if she didn’t go bonkers.
There were tough days, nevertheless, both loved their jobs. Rabail served the people while Afra assisted her. The sisterly bond was not confined to the four walls of the Haveli only.
Picking up her pace, she strolled through the familiar interiors. Nodding her head to the greetings of helpers, smiling at a few. Her mind was listing down the order of the things to be reported as she entered the private wings. The Haveli had two wings- the private one for the family members and the central wing which housed balls, parties, and public parlors for welcoming the guests.
“Salam, Chote Sahib” she heard as she walked past the attached balcony. Cocking her head, her mind mulled ‘Ifran?’
Veering off her course, she entered the balcony through the opened brass patio doors. A golden mirror tray with a pair of cups and a saucer was placed on the tea table. The helper was attentively filling a cup with tea for his Huzuur. Ifran placed himself on a chair adjacent to the table. His smoldering honey chocolate eyes were shaded, and his hair was tousled as if he was running his rough hands through the strands. His light tanned skin kissed the inviting rays as he leaned back and stretched his long-toned legs to their full length. His inky beard glistened and hid his razor-sharp jawline. The top few buttons on his shirt were undone, giving the man a casual appearance, while the rolled-up sleeves of his baby blue shirt revealed his angular forearms and pounding veins.
“Salam, Choti Begum Sahiba” hearing the helper, Ifran tilted his head towards the door. Seeing Afra, he passed her a smile which she returned.
“Hey Afra.” he motioned her to come and take a seat on the abandoned chair across from him. The helper, without a sound, excused himself, with a bowed head. Shaking her head negative, she replied “Can’t, Ifran. Duty calls.” Motioning to her occupied arms, she passed him an apologetic smile.
“You need to wait a bit. Rabe has gone off to the orphanage a few minutes back.” Ifran informed her.
"Everything alright?" Her mind went searching for any possible appointment or event regarding the orphanage. None could be found and she would hardly miss anything regarding Rabail’s schedule. Moreover, if it was about the orphanage she would not miss a word of it, for that place was from where her Abbu had picked her from after the Khans took over the authority.
Yes, Afra Maham Khan was not blood-related to any of the Khans. Yet, their bond was one shared with love and soul. The amount of fondness shown on her never allowed her to think of herself as someone just brought to this Haveli as a frail three-year-old child who could count the number of meals she had with her tiny fingers.
You are a Khan, always was and always will be.
They repeatedly said it to her and she was proud of the fact that they were the ones whom she could call her own. She had no recollection or idea of her blood relations, neither did she ever think of them. Her family was the Khans, the Haveli, and Aadhilabad.
Sensing her tense posture, Ifran waved his hands in the air "Nothing to worry about, Afra. There were some minute paper works which Rabe had to sign immediately to start the renovations."
Nodding her head as she took in the answer, Afra stood still in her earlier place as she let her mind slow down from the previous overdrive. Chuckling to himself, he poured another cup and called out to the human statue to take a seat.
Scoffing off as she saw his teasing smile, Afra took a seat. The light scent of chamomile eased her stormy mind and anatomy. Looking around the vast outstretched pond decorated with hints of waterlilies, put up a smile on her face. Taking a sip, she thought ‘Now this is life’.
Both of them were silent, eyes stilled on the calm water body, ears perked up to hear the buzzing grasshoppers, hands wrapped on their cups, and harmony on their faces. They took whatever little time they had to bask in nature's splendor; for all they knew, work and responsibilities were knocking on their doors.
“You are still at home?” Afra broke the silence first.
“Have a flight in three hours. Heading off to London for the upcoming venture.”
“How’s work?”
Passing a tired smile to her, “Same old.”
“Too tough for Mr. I-won-the-best-businessman-of-the-year-award?” She passed a smirk to the man.
An unrestrained throaty laugh escaped through his soft pink lips, “You know that’s a mouthful of a nickname” Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to sip on her tea. They did not call each other by nicknames, strangely. They called each other by their first names and that was it.
Everyone in the household had an epithet, courtesy of Rabail, of course. Ifran being called Iffy, Afra as Maham; then Dadi Jaan sometimes teased as Malika-e-Jaan since the infamous tale reached the diligent ears of the mischievous teenage Rabail. Her inflexible Dada Jaan climbed over her Bahar-e-Husn Dadi Jaan’s balcony, on a Chaand Raat with a Ghazal book in his hand. 'Love knows no compulsions!' She used to cry out loud, along with her partner, with a hand placed where her heart was, eyes throwing out cupid bows, lips embracing unrestrained glee, causing her Dadi Jaan to turn all shades of red. Ismail Chacha for now had a stationary nickname after his retirement. General Sahib. And there were two others, no longer mentioned, yet never forgotten.
“So how is it at your end?” This time he threw the question.
“Same old.” They both quietly took their last sips of the tea. The ambiance was relaxing. The warm sun, light breeze, a beautiful scene, and a partner for a chat.
“You know if things get hard, you can come to rant.” Eyeing the clear sky through his shade he offered Afra. “You don’t have to beat yourself; even I hope Rabe stops pushing herself to the edges as well. At times it's too damn frustrating to see her so caught up with things, forgetting to take a step back and breathe..”
“I feel you. I also hope Aapi doesn’t burn out. Her responsibilities and work are taxing as it is, and then it almost feels as if she is being -” she paused to rake her mind for that right word. Her fingers were tapping on the table, in a rhythm. A habit whenever her mind was fixated.
“ Ruthless towards herself” Completing her sentence as he spoke in a gravelly calm voice.
“First thing before coming to rant is to be truthful about your rants. Spill what the heck pops up in your head.” Tilting his head, he eyed the woman. He knew he spoke out of the blue by stating a so-called rule but he knew her. She would even hold herself while ranting. God, so frustratingly saint-y she was!
“You know I have no reason to lie to you.” She passed a coy smile like a child caught before stealing some cavity-causing candy from the top shelf jar by her ‘not-a-doctor’ mom.
“Lie.” he wiper-yelled towards her as his eyes accusingly sent out daggers to the laughing mess of a woman. Clearing his throat, his voice turned serious as he continued,
“We all have fears, Afra. We hide them. Yet, at times, we confuse that with courage.”
“So you hid something as well?” she spun the bottle to him.
“Don’t we all?” Neither a concrete answer nor a question to the other. What he said was true. They hid things deep inside them in a chest. Why? Because we are too terrified to see what would unfold, perhaps a fear of losing what little they have now.
“Did things clear out with Bakht?” Treading lightly, he inquired about the looming situation.
“Not yet. Aapi is currently looking into it. She wants to be completely reassured of what is going on.”
Nodding, he answered, “Completely understandable after all.”
They never broached that. Nor did they ignore it. They simply spoke whenever one was comfortable with it. Everyone was affected, some steeled themselves, while others crumbled. Even so, together they passed through the dark times.
“You know Aapi leans on you a lot.”
Letting out that beaming tug of lips, “You too. She trusts you too.”
Checking the time on his watch, he prepared himself to leave. Standing up to his full length, he glanced over Afra. She tilted her head to see the man. He cast an intimidating look at the onlookers, yet the masked smile gave out a little warmth.
"You could wait for a while. Aapi will be here in a few minutes," she offered. If Rabail knew he felt without a goodbye, she would keep mumbling, till the world ended, 'His work is much more important than saying a simple goodbye to Rabe.'
Would surely have to pick up Sameer from the office as well. Otherwise, he will throw a tantrum of being abandoned like a puppy.” Rolling his eyes at the antics of his dramatic best friend and Director of his company.
Holding back a snicker at the sight of the frowning man, Afra wished him a safe journey and a smile. He smiled back and bid her farewell.
Turning to his heels, he went out of the balcony. The heels of his leather created a rhythm on the marbles. His head buzzed with a voice, soft and alluring that ruffled his feathers, in a good way. Her clear laughter was like the jingling pazeb hugging her elegant and circular ankles, twinkling orbs that put asteroids to shame, curls bouncing as she moved, blinding smiles metaphors the peeking sun after an eclipse. Maybe there were a thousand oceans in between them, yet if given a chance he would cross them. In a heartbeat.
The flame that burns ever so bright
Spreads more smoke than delight
In the gloom, my eyes thinly sing
Psalms of awakening.
Glossary:
Chote Sahib: A polite title used for addressing men. Usually used for those who are younger compared to the other males in the family.
Huzuur: Master. Used more often when addressing someone of higher level, indicating respect
Choti Begum Sahiba: A polite title used for addressing females. Usually used for those who are younger compared to the other females in the family.
Malika-e-Jaan: Empress of heart
Bahar-e-Husn: Spring of Beauty
Pazeb: Anklet
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone