CHAPTER 6 - FATEFUL ENCOUNTERS

Ahmed's weekly visits to his home got severely cut down with the passing days. His promotion meant his responsibilities grew double fold, and he was expected to deliver more than before. So instead of packing his bags and heading for a taxi on Friday evenings, he spent extra time on his computer and returned to his house late. On a few days, he managed to pack his lunch; on other days, he resorted to canteen food, which was much better than his unsalted chapatis and bland chutneys. His landlady offered him meals a few days, and on those days, Ahmed feasted as if he had never eaten before. She would send him a small tiffin box packed with flavoured rice and steamy chicken gravy, often paired with raita and rasam. 

Knowing that his landlady practised his faith, he never questioned her about the meat being halal or otherwise. On days like these, Ahmed misses Aliza a lot and heads straight to the phone booth to hear her voice. It's been three weeks since he had visited her, and it already felt like years. Ahmed couldn't take this separation lightly. But he also wanted to do this for their future. He would soon be able to afford a bigger house, marry his sister off and would be able to provide for his kids in the future. They could get a better education and health care if he bore all this for a few more days.

Ahmed recalled his last visit home when Aliza looked like she had lost weight and was pale. His parents, on the contrary, were doing well, and his sister had been ranting nonstop about her new friend. He couldn't forget the night they spent together after their separation and how she had dug her face into his chest for a little longer because she knew he would be gone the following day. He remembered the film of tears glistening in her eyes and longed to hold her in his arms and wipe off her tears. 

'Just a few more days, Ahmed. You can do this, Insha Allah.' Ahmed told himself.

His phone call lasted forty minutes, and Aliza had spoken only for ten minutes. Rest were his parents filling his ears with stories and gossip. He got back home promptly, and while routinely checking with his landlady’s house as he did every day to ensure her safety while returning, he found something new, something strange. The windows of the first-floor room were open, and loud music played in the background. He did not recognise the lyrics and the music, but he definitely knew it was foreign. 

Just as he headed back to his room, he heard someone calling for him.

'Hey you, what are you doing inside my compound?' Ahmed did not realise it was directed against him at first, and only when the image of a young girl coming downstairs repeated her question he did. He noticed her petite figure and how she did not cover her head like his landlady.

He looked sideways and behind him to ensure there wasn't anyone else.

'I am talking to you. What are you doing in my compound at this time?'

'I live here.' Ahmed pointed towards his house, which left her confused. She turned behind and was expecting her mother to come out and give her an explanation, and that happened precisely in the next 15 seconds.

'I am sorry Mr. Ahmed. This is my daughter Cyra. She worked in Delhi and had to quit her job, unfortunately. She has come back home and is yet to find a new job. She isn't aware that I have rented out that portion.'

'Cyra, meet Mr. Ahmed, our new tenant. He came looking for a flat a few months ago, and he looked like a decent man. So I decided to rent it out to him.'

'But ma. It bothers me that you didn't discuss it with me. It was supposed to be my stockroom for my business.'

'But Cyra, your business hasn't even started yet. Until last week, you were still working in Delhi; meanwhile, this flat was decaying. So I thought, why not make some use of it.' 

Ahmed couldn't help but notice the similarity in both the women in front of him. They looked like one and the same, only the tones in which they spoke varied. Cyra sighed and apologised to Ahmed for being rude, and both bid good night and walked to their rooms. 

To be continued…

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