On his way out, he found Ditto chatting with a maid.
"Tell Ma I'm going out to the lands and will see her at eight," he instructed the maid, who had turned away upon seeing the young nawab.
Caught off guard, she whispered, "Yes, sahib-ji," and scurried away.
Ditto joined his master's brisk walk toward the garage, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. Noticing it, Shair gave him a friendly slap on the back. "It hasn't been twenty-four hours since you got home, and you're already back to your antics with the ladies!"
Pulled from his reverie, Ditto replied, "Wo ji, sahib-ji, I'm not as fortunate as you. I should seize any attention I can get."
Shair laughed at his loyal servant and confidant, feeling a pang of sympathy. The English ladies had found it difficult to resist the handsome nawab's charms, not to mention his elegant and lavish lifestyle. Shair had revelled in their attention, while Ditto could only watch from the sidelines.
"Did you tell them to have Rani ready for me?" Shair asked.
"Wo ji, absolutely. I told them last night you'd be seeing her bright and early." Ditto beamed with pride at having anticipated his master's wishes.
Shair sped his sky-blue 1953 Buick Skylark toward Kot Bahadur Khan. Stylish for its time, he thought, making a mental note to acquire some new cars soon.
***
Rani's coat gleamed as she stood tall, swishing flies away from her back outside the stable gate. As soon as Shair stepped out of his car, she whinnied and pawed the air with her forelegs. Shair laughed. "Yes, yes, I know. I missed you too!" He hurried to her side and patted her as she whinnied again, trying to rest her head on his shoulder.
"Let's go, my Rani." Shair placed a foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle in one fluid motion. He guided her to the pebbled path and then urged her into a gallop. Horse and rider sped across the fields, over the watercourse, passing one village after another, marking the boundaries of the Bahadur lands. A group of barefoot children playing nearby ran after him, laughing, shouting, and panting, unable to keep pace. Men dozing under trees turned to watch the commotion while women hid their faces behind their colourful chunnies. As he rode, the vast expanse of his family's land stretching out before him, Shair felt a familiar sense of responsibility settle upon his shoulders. It was a legacy, a duty, and a future he could not escape.
***
Abidah Chaudhary loved the way her mother had decorated their house—the warmth, the comfort, and the age-old furniture inherited from her grandmother. Made by artisans of Chiniot, it boasted layers of hand-carved motifs. Abidah often stared at the carvings, trying to find all the facets of the complex designs. She often thought about the patience and passion required to create such detailed and unique pieces of art and culture. It was a connection to her heritage, a tangible link to the past. The mirror, framed with an intricate mesh of rose bushes, was one such piece. She always admired the frame more than her own reflection, but not today. Donning miniature gold jhumkas, she swung back her plait. Much like the women in her family, she regularly wore kajal, but today it made her almond eyes shine brighter. And the orange silk shalwar-kameez complemented her wheatish complexion just the slightest bit more. She adjusted her dupatta with a familiar flick, a gesture she'd unconsciously adopted from her mother, and her heart-shaped face beamed as she reminisced about her first encounter with Shair.
The air hung heavy with the tart, green scent of unripe mangoes, a tempting aroma drifting from the age-old trees lining the driveway. Distracted by their allure, Abidah bumped into him just beside the entrance to his house. He's real, she thought, her heart giving a nervous flutter. Her heart skipped a beat at her first glimpse of the boy with green eyes. He offered a polite smile to her and her parents, but his gorgeous green eyes remained respectfully glued to her parents, barely registering Abidah's presence.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Salam uncle. Salam aunty." Shair glanced briefly at the car full of boys waiting for him on the porch nearby.
"Sorry, uncle, I'm getting late for practice." He waited only long enough for her father to pat him on the shoulder before he sprinted towards the car.
Abidah, her cheeks burning, fidgeted with the hem of her frock, hoping that Shair would notice her. But he was gone in a flash. Cricket practice, she thought with a sigh. How handsome he looked in his crisp white uniform. With no other children in that gigantic, unfamiliar house, Abidah felt painfully self-conscious. All she could think about were her skinny legs, wishing, wishing she'd worn a shalwar-kameez instead of the frilly frock. 'He would have noticed me then,' she mused.
Inside the drawing room, large gold chandeliers sparkled, their light dancing across the Bohemian crystal pieces, making them gleam like captured rainbows. The heavy blue velvet curtains, rich and regal, framed a scene that felt like stepping into a dream. From the glass showcase, the Meissen porcelain parrots seemed to watch her, their painted eyes following her every move. Overwhelmed by the grandeur, Abidah couldn't contain her curiosity. "Whose house is this, Ma?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Why do they live in such an old house? And…don't they have any children?" A flicker of hope, quickly suppressed, crossed her mind. Maybe he has siblings…
"This haveli belongs to an old friend of your father's, baita," her mother replied, her attention focused on smoothing Abidah's ponytail. She seemed oblivious to the flush creeping up Abidah's cheeks. "And no, baita, there are no children here, other than Shair, whom we met outside."
A nervous giggle bubbled inside Abidah as she hurried toward the drawing room. It had been years since she'd last seen Shair, but her girlish crush had only grown. She'd replayed their brief encounter countless times in her mind, each imagined scenario ending with him noticing her, really noticing her. Today, the odds felt in her favour. No longer the thin, awkward girl in a frock, she was a young lady worthy of his attention.