Free Revolt by Qaisra Shahraz

I really can’t fathom? Not from you simple folks. You can imagine what will happen once Master Haider finds out. You’d better reach him!’
    His eyes swept over their stricken faces; he could almost hear the flutter of their timid heartbeats, and he relented, feeling sorry for them, but then reminded himself that it was their responsibility to guide their wayward son. They had let everyone down.
    The potter’s hands were shaking as he bolted the front door. His wife was rubbing her two calloused palms together in a traditional gesture to demonstrate outrage.
    ‘What has our son done?’ she croaked in disbelief.
    ‘
Education
, Rahmat Bibi – giving people foolish illusions! Making them fly high in fairy lands.
Spend more money on him,
you said,’ the potter jeered. ‘Well, this is the result! Now deal with it.’
    *
    Ali was fixing the broken leg of the veranda
charpoy
when the shrill ringing tone of his mobile phone made him drop his hammer. It was Mistress Laila.
    ‘Where are you, Mistress? We’re worried sick …’ Ali stammered, maintaining his code of respect in addressing her, although he wanted to deliver spades full of anger over the phone. She abruptly vanquished him with her brazen anouncement.
    ‘I’ve married Jubail! Please inform my parents – ask them to forgive me.’
    ‘Mistress Laila …’ he croaked but the line was already dead. Laila was in no mood for angry lectures from a
mere
servant.
    Ali slid onto the nearby chair, brushing his moist palm over his flushed face. His Adam’s apple was energetically bobbing up and down.
    ‘Mad Laila! What have you done?’ he mourned aloud, frightening the two black crows hopping on Begum’s linen
kurtha
on her washing line.
    He remained slumped for a long time on his old chair, under the shade of the veranda, not knowing what to do. How could he keep this bombshell buried inside him?
    ‘Allah Pak, please help them!’ He fervently prayed that the potter’s lot had fled. For there would be no corner for them to hide in the village from the master’s wrath!
    Shame scorched his face. No child did this sort of thing! To disobey was one thing; to marry in secret was another, and to such an unsuitable man simply unthinkable!
    His heart bled for his Master Sahib. A proud man and admired by all; used to holding his head high up in his village community. How would he ever recover from this catastrophe?
    ‘Oh, God! No!’ Ali cried. Laila’s prospective in-laws were due to arrive that very night. ‘Shameless girl! Laila, if you were my daughter, I’d have strangled you by now!’
    ‘But she’s not the only one to blame!’ the inner voice mocked. His idiotic Begum had played a pivotal role in this family’s destruction. It looked as if they, too, would be fleeing with the potter’s family; two faithful servants had turned into traitors.
    *
    Ali peeped from behind the
minar
tree in the open ground.When the Jeep had disappeared over the horizon, he dashed into the
hevali
. Face flushed, he wandered around the building looking for Begum. To his dismay, he eventually found her in Mistress Gulbahar’s room where two keen pairs of eyes assessed his face. Their intuition immediately alerted them that he had some terrible news to impart about Laila.
    Hovering awkwardly near the door, Ali shuffled his feet, studiously avoiding eye contact with them. Begum leaned back against the bed post, afraid of falling in a heap on the floor from her panting heart if her husband didn’t speak up soon.
    ‘Begum, can I see you for a moment?’ he ventured to ask.
    ‘Ali, whatever you have come to say to Begum, please say it in front of me – that is if it’s to do with my daughter?’ Gulbahar coolly chided.
    Ali desperately sought escape. ‘It’s our portable bed … I want to show it to Begum for one minute, if you could excuse her, Mistress?’
    ‘Ali, you’ve never lied before!’ Gulbahar stiffly mocked.
    Ali turned and bowed his head against the wooden