❝ Mere piya gaye rangun

Kiya hai vahan se telephone

Tumhari yaad satati hai
Tumhari yaad satati hai
Jiya me aag lagati hai ❞ 

-Patang 1949

Jaipur, Rajasthan

January, 1956

Dearest Anahita,

I have exciting news for you, my dear friend. Our wait is finally over. In shaa Allah, I am returning on tenth. I know you would be joyful and trust me, I am counting the days as well. Oh! I can't wait to talk to you again, listen to your voice and just be around you. There has been no day, strangely, when I haven't felt your presence, especially during the early winter mornings. You seem like a breath of fresh, pleasant morning breeze caressing my face. Through your letters, your voice whispers into my ears, making these letters so addictive. Court and work can be difficult and rough. When I feel down, I read your letters. And often imagine you standing next to me, mouthing these words of encouragement to me. Holding my hand gently, assuring that you are with me.

Anahita, I miss you terribly. I didn't except to be affected by the distance. But like they say- distance makes the heart grow fonder. Coming to that, there is something important that I need to share with you. I can't write in the letters though my fingers itch badly to do so, but I want to see your face when I tell you that.

And what about this man you were hinting about? Your parents are fixing your alliance? Are you planning to marry him?

Oh, I am sorry if got personal with these questions. You can talk about it once I am there. And maybe, after I say what I am holding, you might change your plans?

Yours,

Asif

Anahita kept re-reading the latest letter several times. The first line, the way he addressed her as "Dearest Anahita", just made her feel hopeful.

Anahita flipped on her stomach, leaned her chin against her bed and admired his handwritten letter in Urdu. What was the was planning to confess?- She felt jitters at the thought of it.

Suddenly, Dhani burst in, huffing as she ran up the fleet of stairs. She looked at her friend and was about to pass her a glass when Dhani interrupted her.

"There is a telephone for you. It's him."

"What?" Anahita jolted up on the bed, accidentally throwing away the letter.

"Hurry, before someone else picks up the telephone." Dhani urged her. Anahita almost tripped over her dupatta, then ditched it as she rushed out of her room. The landline in her room was out of service for a month now.

Iravati was alerted by the violent jingling of anklets resonating in the haveli. She looked up and watched her enthusiastic daughter hastening down the stairs. Before she could call her, Anahita whooshed like a wild wind into the living room.

As Anahita dashed into the room, she noticed Leela approaching the landline. She sped her legs at lightning speed and grabbed the receiver before her stepmother could. They shared a stony stare before Leela stepped back.

Anahita's resentment for her father and her stepmother increased since she found out that Leela was pregnant again with a son, but tragically miscarried. But that didn't melt her heart towards them. Anyway, Leela was pregnant again. Iravati wasn't much bothered because even if her husband had distanced himself from her, at least he wasn't keeping mistresses anymore, of whom Anahita only recently found out.

Anahita pushed away the bitter memories and clenched the wooden and golden oversized receiver against her ear.

"Hello!" She gasped breathlessly.

"Anahita! I am sorry, I couldn't call you ever in this one year. But you are the first person I called the moment I got a chance."

Anahita bit her smile, - "Is this how you speak to a friend after a year?" She was still breathless to a point that her chest hurt.

There was pin-drop silence, and Anahita wondered if the line got disconnected. She checked the receiver, even smacked it, and then once again pressed it against her ear.

"Hello!" She said in a small voice.

Asif let out a breath and Anahita gripped the receiver. She kept quiet, but was sure he could hear her rapid breathing.

"It feels like the first rain of monsoon. I wish. I wish I could keep hearing your voice. It feels more matured than before."

Anahita sniffled her giggle, - "Are you flirting with me?" Her heart skipped a beat as his chuckle rang in her ear.

"Do you like it?"

She lowered her head, biting her lower lip, her index finger playing with the wire of the telephone.

"Well?"

Anahita closed her eyes tightly and gently nodded, - "No!" she replied instead, then she slammed the phone. Letting out the breath, she buried her face into her palms. Then, the playful smile dropped upon realizing that he might have taken her seriously and might not call her again.

Oh No!

❝ Meri bhukh pyas bhi

Kho gayi gham ke mareGham ke mare

Tum bin sajan

Janvari farvari 

Ban gaye mayi aur june

Tumhari yaad satati haiJiya me aag lagati hai ❞

Few days passed, and there was no contact from Asif. Anahita began to sulk. At times, she would re-read his letters, those she had been stacking ever since they began exchanging letters.

"You shouldn't have said that. He thought you were serious." Dhani said, sounding disappointed. Though Anahita hasn't told her about her conflicted feelings, her friend sensed something was brewing.

Anahita sighed, playing with the flicking flame of a candle resting on the bedside table.

Dhani placed her hand at the edge of the bed and pulled herself from the floor.

"Tomorrow is Nausheen Malkin's marriage. You haven't picked out anything to wear."

"I don't want to go." Anahita blew the candle out and straightened against the bedpost. What did Asif think of himself? He claims to be her friend yet couldn't understand that she was pulling his leg.

Dhani tip-toed towards the gramophone and checked through the records. Though she could barely read, she could recognize from the label which song to play. Anahita kept staring front at the cupboard, keeping her chin on her knee.

❝O o o o mujhe kisi se pyaar ho gaya

O o o o mujhe kisi se pyaar ho gaya

Pyaar ho gaya dil beqaraar

Ho gaya beqaraar ho gaya ❞

- Barsaat (1949)

Anahita straightened like a stick; her eyes widened. She turned around and found Dhani clasping her mouth tightly as she tried best to stop her laughter. Her face reddened.

❝Dard chaha thaa hamne chhipana

Khul gaya phir bhi dil kaa fasana❞

"Shut the music." Anahita growled, throwing a cushion at her friend's face. Dhani's laughter escaped her mouth as she moved her hands to cover her face.

❝Jo chhipana maine chaha
Aankho ne kah diyaa
Aankho ne kah diyaa
Aur jo maine kahanaa chaha
Dil mein hi rah gaya ❞

"I will kill you, Dhani." Anahita climbed down the bed. She followed Dhani around the room, as the latter tried to escape her wrath. In the process of running and catching, Anahita kept throwing pillows, dupattas at her.

❝Aankho aankho mein kar ke ishaare

Kisane dil se kahaa hum tumhaare

Haay ye kyaa kiyaa o salone piya

Moraa dhadake jiyaa ❞

Dhani tripped over a fallen pillow, she fell first and Anahita over her. Iravati walked in and gasped at the sight. Two women on each other, giggling and while their dupattas were nowhere near them, hair spilling out of their braids.

"What the hell is happening here?" She was aghast.

Anahita and Dhani abruptly stopped laughing. They looked up and scurried to stand. Anahita stood up first and pulled Dhani next to her. Iravati eyed them from bottom to top and back again, - "You girls should stop sticking too much with each other." She then gestured Dhani to leave. She nodded, bowed a little, and galloped out of the room.

"Anahita, your friend is getting married. What are you plans?" Iravati's voice was cold as usual when things weren't going her way.

"What plans?" Anahita sighed, draping her dupatta over her shoulder. She walked up to the mirror and began to adjust her hair.

"You are eighteen now. Stop being childish. Anyway, I am talking about Daamodar Chauhan. I told you about him, remember."

Anahita listened to her mother as she untied her hair, and began braiding it.

"He is the new hot-shot architect and has top connections. He has taken up work projects for many elites. Few successful projects are already in his bag."

Anahita scrunched her nose, - "He is ten years my elder. I won't marry that oldie."

Iravati drew in a sharp breath, her nostrils flared and her eyes widened, - "Better than that Manyata's son, who is a widower. Listen, your stepmother is stepping up the ladder and slowly spreading her influence among my lady friends' circle. She has begun influencing them that you are fixed with Manyata's son, and if she manages to instil this thought in them, you will be left with no option but to marry him, and he is older than Daamodar."

Anahita rolled her eyes, - "So what? That doesn't mean I will marry any random person. Besides,"- She tossed her braided hair behind her and turned to face her mother, - "Leela is a village belle while you are educated and more classy than her. Why are you are fearing her."

"When a husband favours a wife, the others have to fear them." Iravati responded bluntly.

Anahita was amazed at the casual indifference. Women like Iravati had accepted the fact that their husbands can keep mistresses, visit pleasure girls, also marry many times. Though few women were boldly taking lovers besides their husbands, gambling, drinking and smoking, still two wrongs don't make a right. Anyway, she was relieved remembering Asif's words about the government criminalizing polygamy.

After her mother's relentless persuasion, exasperated Anahita agreed to meet the man. She didn't like how her mother was optimistic, as these Chauhans were keen to make Anahita their bahu.

oooo, what does Asif want to share? Any guesses. 

And, these Chauhans they want to make Anahita their bahu, will they be successful? I wonder how the guy, Daamodar is? 

*Jaldi aa jao, Asif-ji*

What are your thoughts, my sweeties? Drop your comments, pretty please

And don't forget to vote, my lovelies. Stay Tuned for the next update. *Lots of Love* *Hugs and Kisses* 

PS: I m planning an update tommorrow, as well. It's Friday, schedule will be tight but if things go according to plan, I will be successful in posting another chapter. 

*psst: the awaited ones*