Murtasim had believed life had been unfair when he had his passion for photography snatched away from him for responsibilities he never wanted. But he accepted it. Fate, he called it. He had thought that was the most pain he'd ever feel and that th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Murtasim had believed fate was cruel when he had his passion for photography snatched away from him for responsibilities he never wanted.
But he accepted it.
Fate, he called it.
Cruel, cruel fate.
He thought that was the most pain he'd ever feel. But boy was he wrong. For fate had decided it would be cruel to him once again.
****
As Murtasim walked out of the panchayat meeting, he immediately snapped out of work mode, returning to his usual sulking mood as his face fell and his shoulders dropped. The stiff shoulders of his neatly ironed double breasted blazer did nothing to conceal his slumped posture as he walked to his car, his mind blank.
Bakhtu waited outside for his maalik to drive him home but Murtasim wasn't looking forward to it. That was how it had been for the past 7 months since Meerab left. Without any explanation, without any last words. Just one night of fierce passion shared between them and then she was gone, disappearing into thin air, nowhere to be found almost as if she never existed.
But she was real and she was his and will always be his and he firmly believed that. His Meerab. Murtasim ki Meerab. She would return one day he always told himself. That was the hope he clung to desperately like a struggling fish out of water, like a dying man gasping for air.
When she left, she took his spark with him. The spark that made him not Murtasim Khan but just Murtasim. Her Murtasim. Meerab ka Murtasim. He not only lost the shine in his eyes, he lost interest in life. He felt as if he had no purpose, no reason to live. He was a walking, talking, breathing man on the outside. But on the inside he was dead. He was empty. His soul was lost. Meerab had taken it with her when she left.
The last time he felt this empty inside was when he voiced his wish to become an international wildlife photographer in front of his parents and they had cruelly denied him the pleasure, his sick father and stressed mother guilt tripping him into giving up his dreams for the gaddi he was born to inherit.
He had somehow managed to fill that void by trying to have an optimistic outlook on life and convince himself that a feudal lord was who he was born to be. So he vowed to be the best one there ever was. That was the rise of Khan Murtasim Khan. The ruler, the protecter of his lands and his people. Their saviour and their hope. He was almost the equivalent of a God to his people.
Now he felt that void again. But this time it was different. It felt like uncharted territory which he had unintentionally trespassed into. It had felt that way for the past 7 months. A deep never ending chasm in the centre of his chest that only his Meerab could fill.
