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Naz had barely begun to speak when a sudden clatter came from Jaida's room. Naz ran in and saw Jaida sprawled on the floor. A chair lay overturned, an empty bottle lay on the table — he had drunk too much. Along with the liquor, he had been smoking hashish. The two substances together had left him half-collapsed. Naz tried to lift him, but he was heavier than she could manage.
Muna and Tipu arrived. One took hold of Jaida's legs, the other his arms, and they lifted him like a corpse and threw him onto the bed. Muna took off his slippers and loosened the strap; Naz felt angry at their treatment and at the same time sorry for Jaida.
"Leave him," Muna said.
"Should I give him some water?" Naz asked in a frightened voice.
"Why are you panicking? He's not dead." Muna said sarcastically. "Has he been drinking a lot?" Tipu asked coldly. "He's alive only because of the booze and the hash."
They went back to their room, but Naz felt hollow — as if everything she owned was being taken from her. In that darkness, Jaida was her only support. She hated the indifference she had seen in Muna and Tipu. Jaida was their teacher, and Naz felt as if they were ruining him.
She stood by Jaida's head, staring at him. She wondered: has Jaida gone mad? Will he kill himself? Her heart would not accept such torturing fears, but signs and circumstances kept insisting on them. Jaida had shot and shattered such a beautiful picture. He had been crying and now lay unconscious, and his companions had picked him up like a dead thing and tossed him on the bed.
What was all this? Why had it happened? Naz wandered in confusion. In that strange world she felt alien; she knew nothing. She was ignorant of human psychology. She did not know that criminals are not normal people — they are half-crazy. She herself had no awareness of her own psyche. She only knew that Jaida was unconscious and helpless, and she felt even more helpless than he was. For the first time she realized that she loved Jaida intensely; both of them were wandering in the criminal world, and both of them were trapped here. Jaida — and Naz too!
Seeing the unconscious Jaida, for a moment Naz felt as if he had been born from her own womb. The thought struck her like lightning and then faded, and tears came to her eyes.
Two months passed.
The picture continued to hang propped against the wall in its broken state. Jaida's routine remained the same. He was often absent at night and sometimes spent a night or two in Naz's room. Since Naz had tidied and decorated the rooms, he had been even more absent. When he did come, his mind seemed elsewhere.
His gang increased the speed and scale of crimes in Karachi. The nights in Karachi grew darker and more terrifying, and Jaida cast himself like an awesome shadow over the city.
Ibn's family had moved into a new house. The children were enrolled in school and his wife was happy — their days ahead of them. The robbery case was still going on in court, but the police were still searching for their missing witness Ibn, whom they had promised to pardon. By now Ibn's whole family had disappeared. Finding the whole family was not difficult for the police. The family had left at a time when a police informer had been present there. It was said that Muna and Tipu were the ones who had driven them out. The informer knew the two, and the two knew the informer — who was no ascetic or pious man but a man of Muna and Tipu. The family left right before his eyes, and two days later he informed the police about the time when all the people had left the house.
One night Jaida went to Ibn's. He wore the same disguise: a black beard, a muslin cap on his head, a shawl over his shirt and tight trousers. In those two months he had made himself presentable. When Ibn's wife saw him she sat up; her face brightened. The children were asleep. Jaida inquired about news, and Ibn's daughter went to make a little tea for Jaida.
Jaida gave Ibn's wife one thousand five hundred rupees and told her the money had been sent by Ibn from Lahore. "Here, daughter — your father sent this," she said.
"When will father come?" the girl asked Jaida.
"He hasn't come yet; it's better that he hasn't," Jaida replied reassuringly. "He'll come — business matters. Alhamdulillah, income is doing well."
"What business do you do?" Ibn's wife asked.
Jaida looked startled. He wasn't ready for that question. Gathering himself, he said, "Some supply work, things like that."
"May God bless your business," she said with a prayerful tone. "You see, now that the money comes, I'm free of so many worries. The children go to school, they dress well — the sorrow has gone. And above all, we're free of the police's harassment." She hesitated, then said in a shy voice, "Brother, there's another important matter — I feel ashamed to say it." Her daughter rose and went into the other room.
"Come on, sister! There's nothing to be ashamed of in important matters," Ibn's wife said. "Zeenat's health isn't good."
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's what we feared." Ibn's wife lowered her head. "That day he came to give four hundred and fifty rupees to the police station — you know that. Then what happened…" She fell silent, looking down.
"How will I face her father?" she whispered. "Where will I go if people find out? How will I show my face?"
"Why let the world find out?" Jaida said. "We won't let the world know. When the time comes, I'll take care of it. I'll hide the child. No child is illegitimate; the child is innocent — neither the child nor your daughter is at fault. It was my mistake to send such a man to your house. It's not your fault — the poor are fated to such things." Ibn's wife sighed.
"No, no," Jaida said to reassure her, "Don't worry. I'll make arrangements before and after the birth. Don't get into any more trouble, or the police will find out where you live."
"We have to accept our fate," Ibn's wife replied with a long sigh.
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To be continue....