Sisterhood

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“Checkmate!”

Faiza shrieked with joy and threw her hands up in the air.

“Don’t jump so much… You will break my cot… behave according to your age, ok?”

“Moreover, I hate this game”  

Rukhsaar replied in a miffed tone as she collected the ivory and black colour pieces from the chessboard and carefully kept them back in the carved wooden set.

“I understand your pain Rukki…you were unable to save your king…. And you want me to believe that you hate the game we have been playing for ages?… as they say… grapes are sour!” Faiza held the cushion to her stomach and laughed hard.

This was the third time Faiza beat Rukhsaar in the game in a single day. The usually calm Rukhsaar was losing patience now. Her eyebrows remained knitted on her milky fair wrinkled skin. Her spectacle had slid at the top of her pointy little nose which was getting crimson by the minute. She knew she won’t find peace until she gives a befitting reply.

“Huh…couldn’t manage a single king for herself in her whole life and look at her excitement over saving the superficial one!” Rukhsaar said, tucking a wisp of her henna-coloured hair at the back of her ear.

“As they say… lucky in chess, unlucky in love…” she added and felt a sense of relief upon giving an apt answer.

Faiza glared at her sister for a while behind her round gold rimmed spectacles.

“I am pretty sure this saying doesn’t go with the game of chess. It’s for the game of cards. Chess is all about intelligence dearie and a win is not a mere fluke”, she said tapping her forehead with the index finger.

Rukhsaar kept quiet and tidied the chess board before keeping it away in the drawer. She knew she lagged in bookish intelligence. Rukhsaar couldn’t complete schooling but she never regretted it much as studies was never her forte. That was always Faiza’s domain. She loved to read and had a huge collection of books. She had even set up a library of sorts for herself over the years. That was her only possession in life. She owned no jewellery or expensive things of her own as did other women of her age. 

“And about the ‘superficial’ king part…  I have had a good share of real kings in my life… that’s another story that all of them proved useless to me… but my love story was mind blowing!… Can you deny it, Rukki?” Faiza pointed a finger at her and charged.

“Do you mean that chocolate boy Abdul?” Rukhsaar asked with a straight face.

Faiza nodded her head in affirmation. A shy smile slipped from her lips.

“You were crazy then and crazy even now Aapa… fell for that driver’s son!” Rukhsaar said, rolling her eyes and arranging the cushions on the sofa.

“Why not? Show me another man who is blessed with that sharp nose, chiselled chin, buttery complexion and black enigmatic eyes? Ever noticed those lovely curls of jet-black hair which used to fall on his forehead?” Faiza sighed like a smitten eighteen-year-old.

“Those ‘exotic’ features were just meant to be seen and enjoyed, Aapa… those hands were not the ones to hold and run away from home!” Rukhsaar said curtly.

“The world can never understand… what I felt for him was pure love and I had the guts to try to make it a reality!”  Faiza defended herself.

“And where did those guts take you Aapa?”

Faiza went silent. She sighed instead of answering and walked towards the open window and stood there watching the Gul mohar tree loaded with red flowers swaying in the light breeze.

Rukhsaar felt that her playful revenge for her loss in the game had gone a little too far. She adjusted her cream-coloured cotton dupatta over her head and went to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove to boil water for tea.

She opened the fridge and took out the sheer khurma she had prepared the previous night and served it in two porcelain bowls.

“Do you know after school, me and my friends used to watch Abdul from behind the gate where he used to wait near the car for Abbu. He was a sight to behold in his spotless white uniform and wavy hair. We wanted to just gobble him up if we had a chance!”, Rukhsaar winked at Faiza and handed her the bowl. Faiza’s face brightened up instantly when she whiffed the sweet fragrance of sheer khurma.

“What! I knew you were one chuppa rustam“, Faiza rolled her eyes as she put a spoonful in her mouth.

Rukhsaar giggled. She always knew how to handle her sister’s nerves.

“But I always feel guilty of my actions” Faiza somehow switched back to the melancholy mood.

“Why guilty Aapa? … it’s sad that nothing worked out for you… I for one know that both the times your love was genuine…situations went negative”

“Yes, I know… the first time I thought I could ditch the world… but I failed and the second time the world conspired to ditch me and they succeeded!” Faiza said with a wry smile.

“Hameed miyan was no good for you… leaving one’s lawfully wedded wife for another woman can never be right… don’t justify other’s evil deeds and blame yourself Aapa”

Faiza gazed at the window. The red flowers of the Gulmohar bathed in the sunlight looked magnificent.

“I dream at times… what my life would have been if Abbu hadn’t caught us and I had successfully eloped with Abdul…”

“Five kids, a meagre income, a chawl for a home and a baldy for a husband”, Rukhsaar answered nonchalantly while crushing ginger and cardamom in mortar and pestle.

“Sorry what?” Faiza looked confused.

“Yeah… that would have been your life if you had married Abdul…”

Faiza raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Do you remember when I went to attend a marriage function last year in my village home?… saw him there…  who would have imagined I would meet my Abbu’s absconding driver in that remote village… small world it is… I saw him after decades but recognized him in an instant… staring at him day after day as a teenager helped, I guess…your ‘Abdul the hunk’ has now become ‘Abdul the bald chacha’!” Rukhsaar laughed at her own joke.

But Faiza looked excited. Her big eyes bulged out with enthusiasm.

“Is it? You really saw him?” 

“Yes… didn’t tell you… what if your old and suppressed fire of love gets rekindled for the baldy”, Rukhsaar laughed again and handed her the cup of tea.

“Don’t speak like that about him… what do you expect of a man in his sixties? I’m also no ‘hoor pari’ anymore!” Faiza snapped and made a face.

“Oho! … look at her…Someone’s heart still aches at sixty!”

“That’s called true love my dear little sister!” Faiza hit her chest lightly on the left side with her fist and gave a lovelorn expression.

Both the sisters laughed heartily together sipping their aromatic teas.

“I don’t feel guilty about myself Rukki…  I feel guilty for you” Faiza said in a subdued tone.

“My actions scared Abbu and he married you off at such a young age!… He didn’t even let you finish your schooling… and the groom he got for you was twenty years older!… no good match came your way since you were the sister of a runaway girl… my actions spoiled your life Rukki… I can never forgive myself for that…”, Faiza’s eyes got misty.

This time it was Rukhsaar’s turn to go silent. After a while she spoke.

“Aapa, you chased true love but didn’t get it”

“I never talk much about it, but I was served love on a platter… a lot of it…”

“Meer Sahab was much older than me… but his love for me was unconditional…”

“I was so young when I came to this house… but never felt like a stranger here… he treated me so delicately… just like a little kid… he called me ‘Noor’… the light of his life”, Rukhsaar smiled, reminiscing about the past.

“He gave me this life, this house, my sweet step children who treat me very well even after he is long gone…. and my own lovely kids”

“So, you should feel great Aapa… none of this could have happened without the blessings of my runaway elder sister!”

They both smiled in unison.

“I know Meer Sahab was a wonderful soul… but sometimes I have doubts about how you felt about your whole life…the kind of person you were… beautiful, elegant, gentle and intelligent…you deserved a lot more”

“Oh, look who is going gaga over her sister! I should record it. It’s rare!” Rukhsaar chuckled.

Faiza kept the empty cup on the centre table and said,

“The truth is the truth whether I say it often or not… after Abbu and Ammi left, I was lonely like never before… that time it was you and Meer Sahab who came to my rescue and offered a space for me to stay with you all…”

“And rest as they say is history…”

“All are gone… the elders have gone to the heavenly abode and the children have settled in their own lives. In the end only two sisters remained”

“It’s all the almighty’s plan. Just imagine, forty years back who would have thought this?”

“But we don’t need anybody else when we have each other, right Rukki?”

Faiza held Rukhsaar’s hand in hers and said in a tone loaded with emotions. 

“Indumati…” Rukhsaar gave an instant reply.

“Sorry what?” Faiza looked puzzled again.

“Arey, our maid Indu… who else? I can’t imagine a single day without her. It gives me anxiety just to think about managing this house alone. I don’t know why she is late today. She helps me like no one else. She is the sister I never had. Do you remember when was the last time you had put a foot inside the kitchen Aapa?”

Faiza’s face fell.

“You were always one *@#/& …. I don’t go to the kitchen because you have hijacked that territory. Moreover, my life has so much more to offer than kitchen duties…”, Faiza pinched hard the same hand which she was holding lovingly just a while ago.

“Ouch!”, Rukhsaar laughed aloud.

“Enough sentimental talks today… Can you switch on the television Aapa? It’s time for my favourite serial… Dulhan main tere dil ki”, Rukhsaar sat up on the sofa, wore her spectacles and made herself comfortable.

“When will your taste change, Rukki…? Faiza switched on the television with a distasteful face.

“You don’t know anything about it Aapa… Vihaan had met with an accident and had gone missing… this broke the heart of his beloved wife Pooja… all say that he is no more but Pooja believes that one day he will surely come back… but he didn’t for three long years…but now she is engaged to Aryan… and some mysterious things are happening which prove that Vihaan is still alive!… so much suspense… Come watch with me…”, Rukhsaar patted the seat next to her on the sofa and said with childlike excitement.

“All nonsense… no thanks, I have better things to do…”, Faiza pulled out a fat book from the bookcase next to the wall, took a chair near the window and sat with it.

Soon, Rukhsaar was totally immersed in the drama unfolding before her eyes on the television. She watched it with utmost concentration, her mouth slightly ajar.

Faiza stole glances and watched it in between reading her book.

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Faiza woke up early in the morning and sat near the window with the same book in her hand. The morning was very still. Not a single leaf was moving in the Gulmohar tree.

After reading a few pages, she felt impatient. Usually, Rukhsaar would be there with a steaming cup of black tea by now. But she was nowhere to be seen. Faiza mostly stayed on the ground floor because of her joint pain. She decided to wait a few more minutes before going to her first-floor bedroom to check on her. That is when her mobile phone rang.

“Why are you calling me on the phone Rukhsaar? What happened?” 

“Aapa can you call the ambulance? I’m not feeling well”, her voice sounded weak.

“Oh my God… wait I am coming upstairs…”, Faiza got up from her chair.

“No! Don’t come…  I am running a high fever…I think it is the virus…”

Faiza froze on her way but tried to dismiss any bad thoughts.

“You might have caught a cold…nothing else…wait I will try to make a kadha for you…”

“Aapa don’t even try any such thing… just call the ambulance, will you?” Rukhsaar pleaded.

“Okay”, Faiza cut the call and dialled for an ambulance as her heart started thumping wildly in her chest.

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“One month, two weeks and five days”, Faiza counted as she looked at the calendar and sighed.

It was already 3 o’clock. She went to the kitchen and reluctantly heated up the leftover khichdi she had cooked last night. Kitchen was what she had termed as ‘Rukhsaar’s zone’. Faiza was more of an outdoor person. The confinement of the home never suited her. After Hameed left her, she was heartbroken and nobody in the family supported her except Rukhsaar.  But she shaped her life again by studying further. She started as a school teacher and eventually retired as the principal of the same school. It was a rare feat to achieve in those days. She had struggled in the kitchen for the short span of time that she was married. But after that never. She was never interested in domesticity. Rukhsaar always cooked and she was the best at it. 

Cooking became a necessity again after so many years for Faiza. But she tried to keep it as brief as possible. 

“Why did she have to come to work when she had all the symptoms of the virus attack? Doesn’t she watch the news these days? It’s all over the television what precautions need to be taken. But why will Indumati madam watch that? All she is interested in are those film songs. She will freeze while moping like a statue and gape at them!” 

Faiza cursed her maid Indu while washing the utensils and kept on babbling to herself. Indumati was at her home recovering from the virus.

“My poor Rukki… never ever stepped out of the house but still contracted the virus sitting at home from Indu”, 

Faiza’s voice trembled as she talked to herself.

Faiza dumped some khichdi in a plate and added a dollop of ghee and a generous amount of lime pickle made by Rukhsaar on it. The khichdi was stale so she had to tweak it to make it taste better. She inhaled deeply the aroma of the ghee and pickle and her eyes filled with tears. 

“How can I live if everything smells and feels like you Rukki?”

She kept the plate aside and cried for a while. Next, she made a phone call to the hospital which went unanswered. In the last call, they had informed that Rukhsaar was stable but nothing much could be said about her condition right now. They had told they would let her know if there was any new development. 

The usually bubbly Faiza had aged much in the past one month. A deep dark circle had formed under her eyes and her face looked swollen.

Suddenly her eyes fell on the chess box. It was coated with a thin layer of dust which glinted in the rays of sun falling into it from the open window. She took a duster and began wiping it.

“I wonder why you… why not me? I’m the old one, the ugly one and the useless one… the virus should have caught me… See how I ruined your beautiful house which you had maintained so well single-handedly… Your children are going crazy without you… They keep calling me every day to know about you… Nobody wants me or cares for me… If I die nobody will mourn… Maybe just you…”

“It should have been me… it should have been me…”, 

Faiza kept mumbling to herself. Her food went cold again as she continued dusting all the items in the house one by one.

Everyday followed the same pattern. The days began with breezy mornings which slowly turned into sunlit afternoons and ended in dark nights. In between Faiza would try to do a few chores, cook, eat and sleep. At times she would spread the chess board and play, imagining Rukhsaar on the other side. She was never able to read or do any activities which used to interest her earlier. Most of the time she lay down on her bed and watched the fan whirring slowly on the ceiling with tears rolling down her eyes and damping her pillows. Her health was deteriorating day by day and she was diminishing like dying embers but she was not bothered. The only thing she did religiously was to pray for Rukhsaar day and night. She even read namaz five times a day without fail which she never bothered to do in her old days even after much persuasion from her family. 

But everybody who knew her was praying for her too. 

One morning Faiza had a dream. She dreamt of Abdul in his old glory. He was standing in a green meadow and waving his hand and saying bye to her with his windswept hair. Faiza tried to wave back at him when she saw Hamid walking by. He gave her a piercing look with his kohl lined eyes and turned his back on her and left. She turned her gaze and saw Ammi and Abbu sitting on the porch of their old house and talking to each other. When they saw Faiza, her Abbu gave her a stern look and Ammi’s eyes filled with tears but she looked away. Before she could talk to them, they disappeared. Faiza found herself all alone in the meadow. Her lips trembled and tears threatened to burst out from her eyes. Suddenly she felt a pat on her back. Young Rukhsaar stood there and smiled at her. She looked ever so beautiful with her milky white skin, pink rose petal lips and midnight black eyes. A bright halo around her head made her look like an angel. Faiza gazed at her beauty. Rukhsaar opened her mouth to say something when there was a loud ring. 

Faiza got up with a start. Her mobile phone was ringing furiously with its shrill tone. She felt her head would burst. She quickly grabbed it and she started sweating in an instant when she saw the number of Rukhsaar’s hospital flashing on the screen.

“Hello…”, said Faiza with her heart beating in her throat.

“Am I talking to the relative of Rukhsaar Bano, Bed number 201?”

“Yes… I am her sister…”, Faiza’s voice almost choked with anticipation of what she was about to hear.

“Wait one second”, the nurse replied quickly.

More than one second passed. Faiza counted each of them at her fingertips.

“Aapa…”, said a weak voice.

“Yes, my Rukki… how are you?… Are you feeling better? Faiza asked while crying non-stop.

“Doctor says I am ok although very weak… hopefully I will be discharged soon…”

“Oh, my sister… you can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear this!” Faiza was smiling while crying.

“All these days only one thing was bothering me Aapa… I didn’t want to die without knowing… I tried asking the doctors and nurses here but nobody knew…”

Faiza’s eyes welled up with a fresh set of tears.

“I know Rukki… The way your thoughts were tearing me up from within, the same way you were worried about me, right? … and you thought maybe the doctors or nurses knew if I got infected too and got admitted… don’t worry my sister nothing happened to me… I may have become a little fragile since you were not there to take care of me and the mental tension that I was going through… but I am absolutely….”

“Oh no Aapa… I wanted to know about Pooja” Rukhsaar interrupted Faiza’s flow of emotions.

Faiza was stuck dumb for a while. Then she spoke.

“Who is Pooja?”

“Vihaan’s wife…”

“Who Vimaan?”

“Arey not Vimaan…Vihaan… She is also Aryan’s fiancée…”

“Whose fiancé?”

“Aapa, it will break my heart if you say that you never saw Dulhan main tere dil ki after I got admitted to the hospital!”  

Faiza could clearly hear Rukhsaar’s sobs. She got worried in an instant and changed her tone.

“Oh, that stupid serial of your… Vihaan came back but all were shocked to see that he had lost his memory and had married again… but Pooja is sure that his new wife is not a woman…but a snake… Icchadhari naagin…” Faiza blurted out the whole update in one breath.

“Hmm…so someone was watching it…  it’s so interesting! I am dying to come home and watch it!” Rukhsaar’s voice rose.

“Yes, the nonsense in your favourite serial has reached its peak… come home soon… we will watch it together…and I know you are pulling my leg…”

“You know me so well Aapa!” 

Both sisters laughed together wholeheartedly after a long time.

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Glossary

Aapa – Elder sister

Abbu – Father

Ammi – Mother

Arey – A sound of surprise or disbelief

Chacha – Uncle

Chuppa Rustam – A proverb meaning a smart person who doesn’t appear so

Dulhan Main Tere Dil Ki – Name of a soap opera meaning ‘Bride of your heart’

Ichhadhari Naagin – A snake who can disguise as a human according to folk lore

Kadha – A concoction of herbs boiled in water to cure illness

Khichdi – Rice and lentil porridge

Miyan – Mister

Namaz – Prayer in Islam

Sahab – Mister

Sheer Khurma – A vermicelli pudding made with sugar and nuts