Jahaan-Ara

Chapter 3- The Mu'ezzin

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The more I knew of the inmates of Moor House,

the better I liked them. In a few days
I had so far recovered my health
that I could sit up all day,
and walk out sometimes.
I liked to read what they liked to read:
what they enjoyed, delighted me;
what they approved,
I reverenced.They loved their sequestered home.   

Jane Eyre. 

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An amplified voice boomed through the dark skies of Karimabad. It was strong, powerful but in its strength there was an imploring to 'rush to success' and 'prayer is better than sleep'. The melodious voice powerful with authority woke sleeping souls of Karimabad. The voice seeped into Jahaan-Aara's languid body and stirred her soul to wake. Jahaan-aara rubbed her eyes, her mind confused of where she lay. She clenched her eyes shut tight allowing the call to prayer to transcend through her soul and take her to a spiritual realm of wakefulness. She could listen to the mu'ezzin all day. It was spiritually uplifting like the Imaam was announcing it from the depths of his heart and crying to the residents to come to the masjid and start the day in prostration to their creator for success.

After prayer, dawn sent shimmering rays over the rooftops of Karimabad bestowing a golden path from between the majestic mountains to the horizon. Jahaan-Aara blinked languidly towards the sun that brought her a day she was never promised, yet pleased to see. She opened her eyes allowing the moment sink in; soothe her core to where the nascent rays touched her skin. This meant a new beginning was possible and possibilities meant hope. Dawn stretched with a musical silence, the soul hearing the melody that the ears could not. A new day had come, new possibilities, a fresh page yet to be written with strangers that took her in.

Jahaan-Aara liberated her spreading it around her shoulders. Standing on the terrace she believed no one was looking at her. The dew lingered on the rooftops with a moist cold wetness in the air. The mountains of Neelam Valley surrounded the city like a reminder of their ancient ancestors watching over the modern and bustling city. For Jahaan-Aara they were stark and glorious, stark reminders of Rohail Saab. Somewhere, he was there in between the majestic mountains in Thornager haveli.
"Stay happy." She sighed with a longing entwined in her tone. "Where ever you are, my love, be happy Rohail Saab." She missed saying his name. It was like meeting a long lost friend.

The slapping of footsteps on the concrete staircase promoted Jahaan-Aara to drape her shawl over her head and conceal her long auburn locks. Shumayla and her daughter Haziqa hurried up the staircase eager to meet the new guest. Behind them trailed the younger child 10 year old Haider Ali.

"Asslamalikum." Shumayla's smile spread to her eyes. "How did you sleep?"

Jahaan-Aara's muscles relaxed on the foam mattress after the hot shower massaged her. She slept like a log.

"This is my youngest." Shumayla ran her hand across his black hair with pride. Haider Ali extended his hand grinning from ear to ear.

"Asslamikum (greetings) didi (big sister)." He greeted in a chirpy voice. The boy was young but large for his age. Like Saif, he pressed a pair of black spectacles on the bridge nose and had curly brown hair. "I wanted to see you last night, but bhaiya (brother) didn't let me. He said I had to finish my homework and then. This morning-"

"Would you let her talk?" Shumayla giggled wrapping her arm around his neck and pressing his head to her hip.

"He talks too much." Haziqa scolded. "Most of the time it's nonsense."