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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."
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Jahaan-Aara feasted her eyes on the squabbling brother and sister, Like the dawn, they bought sunshine to her life. Haziqa's tittering with her brother, Shumayla scolding them; it was a perfect bond of a family.
Over breakfast Jahaan-Aara realised she was constantly staring at their playful behaviour over.
"Bhaiya goes to the masjid at fajr time. He recites the azzaan (call to prayer)-" Haziqa chomped her way through her parantha (ghee flatbread).
"Was that his voice?" Jahaan-Aara interjected. "This morning, was it Saif Bhai who recited the azaan (call to prayer)?"
"Yes!" Haziqa chewed. "Did you hear it?"
"It was beautiful." Jahaan-Aara smiled.
"Then he leads the prayer and teaches the boys until lunch time. Then he comes back at lunch. Then he does the shopping and goes back at four and doesn't come back until after Isha." Haziqa explained minute by minute detail of her brother's daytime routine as Hadier Ali slurped his milk through a straw.
"Would you stop playing with that PSP?" Shumayla scolded Hadier Ali who was obsessed with the hand held console. Jahaan-Aara watched as Shumayla cut pieces of fried egg and shovelled them into her son's mouth as he was engaged with the game.
"Bhaiya doesn't let him play on the PSP." Haziqa continued with the commentary. "He says that wastes his time and she should be preparing for school."
"He's memorised the entire surah Al Baqara." Shumayala praised her son and kissed his forehead for memorising a chapter of the quran. "Saif teaches him day and night. One day my Haider Ali will also become a hafiz, InshaAllah."
"Once he stops playing those stupid computer games." Haziqa elbowed him. "Do you know my older bhaiya who lives in England, he is very rich has a big house and that. He came and gave him the games and Bhaiya argued with him and said that computers are bad for children and he shouldn't play games-"
"Are you going to talk all day?" Shumayla scolded. "The bus will be here in a moment."
"Let me explain to didi. "Anyway, where was I?"
"Your England Bhaiya?" Jahaan-Aara replied.
"Oh yes-" She paused and her brows furrowed. "I forgot what I was going to say." She scratched her head. "Oh ammi! You always do that."
"I'm ready for school." Hadier Ali scoffed with his mouth full spitting out pieces.
"Uh!" Haziqa leaned back. "That's disgusting. It's everywhere."
The school bus beeped and Haziqa smoothed her blue and white uniform and tightened the ribbon in her pigtails. Together, brother and sister made their way to the gate when Haider Ali stopped.
"Didi-"
"Yes?" Jahaan-Aara stopped by the gate.
"Will you be here when I come?"
Jahaan-Aara's heart melted when she thought how much he cared.
"I want to show you how to play the game. You'll love it." His eyes were wide, rounded with excitement.
"I'd love that." She smiled thankful he was thinking of her.
"Hurry fastso!" Haziqa pulled his arm out of the gate.
Standing in the courtyard, Jahaan-Aara's heart swelled with fondness for the siblings. They were loud, confident and full of life. They made her feel part of the family. It was wonderful.
In the courtyard, Jahaan-Aara admired the line plotted plants. The leaves were large smooth and the plant long and tall. In the far corner she recognised a familiar bush growing. She stepped closer and noticed it was a wild blackberries bush. A few raw green blackberries hung from the branches. Jahaan-Aara stepped away like it was poison. Suddenly she heard Adila's giggles holding out her lap ready to catch the blackberries. Above she heard a call,
'Noorie!' He called out.
Jahaan-Aara looked up watching the fresh blackberries shower upon her as the branches shook. Happiness spread in her life and joy swelled her heart. Soon she would marry the man she loved and become a part of the family.
