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Rated: 13+ · Book · Relationship · #873924
Two Muslim girls, childhood friends, must pay a price to remain friends as adults.
#300635 added August 2, 2004 at 9:01am
Restrictions: None
Chapter IV
Chapter IV



Later that week, the two friends were studying at Munira's house when Zaheer came home from Panchgani. He was fourteen, brash, handsome, and just beginning to sport a thin moustache. His voice had cracked up already, and no sooner had he asked Munira to give him a glass of water, than Laila began to laugh aloud.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Zaheer, reddening behind the ears.

"No, nothing, just like that," replied Laila, not willing to tell Zaheer that it was his awfully cracked voice that had made her guffaw so ungraciously.

Zaheer, however, was not one to let Laila get away like this. He dropped his overnight bag, removed his shoes forcibly with the laces still tied, and came rushing at Laila. He pointed a finger mockingly at Laila, and then screamed jovially, "You have to tell me why you laughed!"

Munira gently pushed away her older brother, saying, "Bhaijaan, now go and freshen up while I lay something on the dining table for you to eat."

Zaheer playfully pulled Laila's hair and then obediently went inside into his own room.

After preparing a snack for Zaheer, Munira and Laila went back to reading. Mufazzal came in at his usual time, and greeted Laila.

"Abbujaan, salaams to you. How are you?" enquired Munira.

"I am fine, thank you," replied Mufazzal. He turned to Laila and asked her, "and how are you and your parents?"

"Salaams to you, Mufazzalchachu," said Laila, adding, "Zaheer Bhaijaan is also here!"

As if waiting for a cue from the wings, Zaheer came in at that precise moment, and went up to his father to pay his respects.

"May Allah bestow his choicest blessings on you, my son." So saying, Mufazzal laid his hand upon Zaheer's head and gently tousled the latter's hair.

Zaheer asked thoughtfully about how the business was going; Mufazzal appreciated his son's concern and told him work was going well, but they could talk about business later. He was more
interested in how his son was doing. "How are your studies?" he asked.

"Fine, Dad! Inshallah, God willing, when I go back, I shall be chosen head-boy for the High School!" replied Zaheer.

Upon hearing this, Munira hurried to her brother and took his hand in hers and pumped it up and down. "That is great, bhaijaan!" she said with as much excitement as she could convey in those few words.

"Thank you, Munni," said Zaheer, as he looked
sidelong at Laila, who was also eyeing him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Munira did not miss the exchange either, and gently prodded Zaheer with her little finger in his flank.

"Come on bhaijaan, now off with you!" she said to Zaheer, winking at him meaningfully.

"Munni, I am going to kill you one of these days," muttered Zaheer under his breath, as he winked back.

Laila smiled at Munira and asked,"What did he just say?" "Er... nothing!" said Munira. She averted Laila's question.

Laila held Munira by the waist and turned her around so they were facing each other. She saw Munira's bemused expression and blushed.

"You don't think I have a crush for Zaheer, do you?" she asked, putting on a brave face.

Munira laughed back at Laila and said with a falsetto voice, "A crush for Zaheer!" She changed her voice to her own. " Yes, by Allah, I do think so indeed, Laila!"

The two friends sparred joyfully as Munira finished heating the chicken makhani and the roomali-rotis (wafer-thin Indian bread made from refined flour, and made to resemble a large handkerchief, or roomal), and served these on a plate. She brought the plate to the dining table and set it along with other needed accessories. She poured water into a crystal glass, and then laid out yoghurt, vegetable salad and baked green-peas with chutney.

Zaheer came in first, followed shortly by Mufazzal, who was now dressed in a white kurta and pajamas. Munira and Laila went off to the wash-basin to wash their hands and presently joined the men for dinner.

Everyone ate in respectful silence in deference to the elder among them, but immediately after dinner, the girls ran off to the balcony to share gossip, while Zaheer went back to the bed room to relax.

Mufazzal cleared away the table, and had just sat down in the sofa-chair when the telephone rang.
The tone of the ring indicated long-distance. Very few people staying outside Afzalpur had anything to do with the Latifis, so it was with some concern that Mufazzal lifted the receiver.

"Hello?" he said tentatively.

"Hello, is that the Latifi residence?" asked a feminine voice.

"Yes, and who is this please?" returned Mufazzal.

"My name is Anuradha Jaiswal, and I am Zaheer's class-eight teacher, Sir. Could I take a little of your time?"

"Yes, please, you may ... is there something wrong?" asked Mufazzal.

"Well, yes and no ... actually, I do not know if there is any cause for concern, but ..."

Mufazzal cleared his throat, and spoke into the telephone. "But what, miss ... er ... Jaiswal?"

"You see, your son Zaheer is one of our most brilliant students, and we were really hoping to select him Head Boy for our school, but in light of the facts that we have uncovered today, I am a little worried, and the School Management would like to see you soon at your convenience."

"See me? But why?"

"It would be improper on my part to disclose anything over the telephone, Mr. Latifi, and I think it right that you come personally and see for yourself the reason for our anxiety."

All kinds of uncharitable thoughts came to Mufazzal's mind as he struggled to converse in a calm voice with Miss Jaiswal. He had half a mind to immediately summon Zaheer to the phone and have it out with him just then, but he bit his tongue and controlled himself.

His silence stretched without his noticing until the voice at the other end impinged on his thoughts.

"Are you listening, Mr. Latifi?" He swallowed a lump in his throat and answered in the affirmative.

" Yes, I am here, Miss Jaiswal. Now when can I come?" he enquired.

"At your convenience, but preferably within a week," she replied.

"All right, I shall be there within the next three days."

"All right then, Mr. Latifi, we shall await your arrival," replied the teacher as she put down the phone.

Mufazzal continued holding the receiver long after the line went dead. The clock struck eight just then, awakening him from his reverie.

Mufazzal was still pacing the room when Munira and Laila emerged from the balcony. Laila paid respects to Mufazzal and took her leave. Munira went to the door to say her good-byes, and then came back to the living room. She immediately realised that something was wrong, so she mustered up her courage to ask her father what it was that was bothering him. Mufazzal said non-committally, "No, it's nothing, beti, go and get the Qur^an."

The duo sat for their reading of the Holy Book. Zaheer came in once to look at them , but as he was not involved in this activity, he retired back to the bed room.


*****


The very next day, Mufazzal Latifi booked a train journey to Wai, the nearest point to Panchgani for the following day.

When Munira and Zaheer asked him where he was bound, he just said, "On business," and went off.

(End of Chapter IV)
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