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Jaida entered the room; Muna and Tipu had already woken up. On seeing him, they stretched lazily and sat up. Muna pulled out a ball of hashish from under his pillow and began emptying tobacco from a cigarette.
"Move Ibn's wife and children somewhere else," Jaida said as he sat down beside them.
"Where to?" Muna asked.
"You figure out what place is suitable," Jaida replied. "The police mustn't find out."
"Should we vacate some place?" Tipu asked.
"Listen," Jaida thought for a moment before answering, "how about House Number Three? The police already know about the other two dens. Clear out the third."
"Yes," Muna said, taking a puff from the hash-filled cigarette. "That place is good too. And Ustad, no one goes there for gambling anyway—everyone prefers the other dens."
"Hire taxis for a thousand rupees," Jaida said, taking the cigarette from Muna's hand.
"But late at night… and it goes without saying, Ibn's daughter or wife—"
"You think I'm careless, Ustad?" Tipu said seriously.
"And another thing?" Jaida exhaled the smoke, handed the cigarette to Tipu, and asked, "Which educated, trustworthy boy do we have?"
"They're all educated," Tipu answered.
"Trustworthy? That one," Muna spoke up. "What's his name… oh yes, the one who pocketed eight hundred that day."
"Who? Ghausia?"
"Yes, him."
"Put him in charge of their family's care," Jaida said. "And keep him only on that duty."
"That's wrong," Tipu objected. "This isn't a boy's job. If you care about the girl, don't send a lad there." He thought for a moment, then added, "I'll take care of it myself. Just tell me what needs to be done."
"Yes, Ustad, otherwise the boy will be wasted," Muna said, snatching the cigarette from Tipu's hand and finishing it in a single drag.
"And listen," Jaida continued, "enroll Ibn's children in school. They've got money. As for finances, I'll handle that myself." He stood up and added, "Ibn's case file is in the police station. Tell him to pay two or four hundred and get it quashed. If they ask about Ibn, just say you know nothing."
As Jaida was about to leave, he stopped. "And tell all the lads not to wander outside our area. The other day Basheera complained that one of our boys snatched a two-hundred-rupee catch in his territory. This isn't right. If a catch slips, let it go. Don't step into another's territory—just inform their Ustad. Pick pockets, don't ruin your honor. Don't make me bow my head before others."
He was still speaking when Naz's servant boy entered the room carrying a tray of breakfast. Naz had sent it; otherwise they were free from such routines. They looked at the mismatched cups and the toast, and instead of being pleased, they turned serious.
"What's this?" Muna asked Jaida.
"Your breakfast," Jaida said. "Naz sent it."
Muna and Tipu exchanged meaningful glances. Then, as if reluctantly obeying their Ustad, they reached for the tray. Jaida left the room.
Jaida returned after sunset. He was in a hurry.
"How much money do you need?" he asked.
Naz, sitting lost in thought on her chair, was startled by his voice. "Oh, you're back. Money? As much as you can give."
Jaida pulled a bundle of fives and tens from his trouser pocket and tossed it carelessly before her.
"Whose house have you ruined now?" Naz asked.
"This isn't stolen money," Jaida said seriously as he walked toward the door. "It's honest earnings."
"Honest earnings?" Naz laughed. "And what about what's in your pocket?"
"What's there to explain?" Jaida grew sterner. "I won it in a flash game." He headed for the door, paused, and asked, "I'm leaving… do you need anything else?"
"Just come yourself," Naz said with a playful smile.
"I'm not something useful," Jaida replied.
"Then send me a couple of useful men."
"What for?"
"Don't ask." Naz chuckled. "And don't worry, I won't run away. I just want to order some furniture."
The lines on Jaida's forehead deepened. He glanced at Naz and left. That night he didn't return. Nor the next morning. Naz had made a list of household items the night before. In the morning, two of Jaida's men arrived. Naz handed them the list, gave them instructions, and passed along the money. Then, with her servant boy, she unlocked the adjoining room that had never been opened before. Inside were a few broken cots, the whole room draped in cobwebs. Together, they cleaned both rooms thoroughly, even brushing down the ceiling and walls.
By early nightfall, Jaida came back, with Muna and Tipu alongside. They went into their rooms; they too were gone all day. When Jaida entered his own room, he froze. His eyes widened as he stared at it. Naz stood smiling. She looked like someone who had just been pulled out from under a heap of rubble. She had only just finished cleaning and decorating.
Jaida looked at his room as though he had stepped into the wrong house. It had not been whitewashed, nor had the doors been painted. Naz hadn't furnished it with sofas, carpets, or silk curtains. No fragrance of perfume lingered. The only revolution was that the cobwebs were gone, the walls dusted, the doors washed.
One more change: Jaida's centuries-old table and chair were missing. He used to sit at that chair, elbows on the table, and both would sway side to side. In their place now stood a new table and chair. Against one wall, a small wooden cabinet. Against another wall, a new bed with a fresh cover.
"You've suffocated my room," Jaida said with a sad seriousness.
Naz took his arm and led him into the next room. There stood two new beds with a table between them, holding a bouquet of artificial flowers. Pictures hung on the walls. Jaida glanced at them blankly, as though seeing without seeing. Naz brought him back to the first room.
"Now sit on this chair," Naz said. "I'll bring dinner."
Jaida sat absent-mindedly. Naz went to the kitchen. Jaida's mind was not ready for such enchanting change. He liked it, yet disliked it. His nerves could not bear such a beautiful home. This was a living, breathing house.
Jaida had never lacked money. Wealth was child's play to him. Yet he had never used it this way. Despite having everything, he always slept on a grimy cot on a dusty floor. And now, when Naz had laid out a fresh cot for him, decorated this dark cave with furniture and pictures, Jaida felt like a chronic patient who had lived for years on bland food and was suddenly force-fed a rich feast.
This vibrant home unsettled him. His mind couldn't cope. His thoughts turned back to the past. He was caught in an inner struggle.
In that struggle, his eyes fell upon the idol.
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To be continue.....