Kissa

*KISSA* *Chapter 1: "Twelve Years Later"* Rain drops hit the car window like arrows. "We've reached the village, Sir," Uncle the driver slowed the car. My heart started pounding. Twelve years. After twelve years I was coming back. Kissa Daud - the beloved daughter of Daud Khan, one of Karachi's top five business tycoons - returning to the soil where my childhood passed. The car turned and there was the same old tree. Standing alone. Exactly the same as when I left twelve years ago. But the cot beneath it was gone. Grandfather's stories were gone. Only the whistle of the wind remained. My fingers lowered the car window on their own. The smell of wet soil stopped my breath for a moment. "Say Bismillah, daughter," Father said from the front. His voice carried exhaustion too. Ten hours on the road wasn't easy. The car stopped in front of our old house. Open gate. Everything the same. Uncle the driver opened the door. I stepped out. One moment. In just one moment the whole village gathered. "Daud brother has come! Miss Kissa has come!" "Kissa daughter! My life, you've come!" Uncle stepped forward and hugged Father. Aunt hugged me to her chest. "Hello Aunt," I said in a low voice. "Live long, my girl. You've grown up. You look like you're from Karachi now," Aunt said, smoothing my hair. Aunties gathered around. Children stared at me. The ones who were children had grown up. The ones with clean faces now had beards. My eyes rested on every face. Reading every face. And hope grew stronger with every second. But that face wasn't there. Ali. My childhood friend and my cousin. "Kissa, come inside, daughter. You must be tired from the journey," Uncle said. I nodded. My feet felt rooted to the soil. As if they had grown roots. "Aunt," I asked with courage. My voice trembled. "Ali... where is Ali?" "He's gone to drop Noor at her maternal uncle's house. He'll come," Aunt said with a smile. "My girl, you're tired from travel. Come inside, I'll make hot tea for you." "But Ali?" I asked again. Aunt smiled. "He's like a wandering cloud. Comes and goes as he pleases." "Aunt, what does he do these days?" "He became a lawyer. Stays buried in files all night and disappears all day." A lawyer? That village Ali. He had become a lawyer? He was always good at arguments even as a child. My childhood came back to me. I was nine. He was eleven. "Ali, I didn't break this window!" I was crying. The teacher's hand was about to rise. "Teacher, I swear I broke it. Kissa didn't," Ali jumped in. He got scolded too. And he? Turned and winked at me. Twelve years had passed. No call. No message. "Kissa, your room is still the same," Aunt took my hand. I went inside. The room was the same. The walls were the same. The window was the same where Ali and I used to watch the moon at night. Everything was the same. But Ali wasn't. I stood by the window. The rain had gotten heavier. The canal was visible. The same place where we used to sail paper boats. Now it didn't have clean water. Mud was flowing with it. "Time has touched everything, Kissa," Mother's voice came from behind. I turned. Mother stood in the doorway. I saw a different kind of happiness on her face today. "Mother, everything has changed, hasn't it?" I asked. Mother stayed silent. Then said softly, "Time changes everyone, daughter. You've changed too. Look at yourself." "Yes, I've changed," I said, looking out the window. "But my heart? My heart is still the same, Mother. I still love the village." Mother didn't answer. She just smiled and left the room. Dinner was served at night. The whole house was together. Uncle, Aunt, Father, Mother, me. Uncle asked, "Kissa, you've come to the village after twelve years. How does it feel?" I replied too, "Uncle, fantastic." After dinner I got up and went outside. Stood in the lawn. The rain had stopped. The smell of soil was strong. "Kissa, daughter?" Aunt's voice came. I turned. Aunt stood there with a glass of milk in her hand. "Drink it, daughter. You'll sleep well," she offered me the glass. I took the glass. Aunt came and stood beside me. "Aunt, tell me the truth," I said softly. "When will Ali come back?" Aunt sighed. "Daughter, Ali has changed a lot. He's not that childhood Ali anymore. No one knows when he comes or goes. But he knows you've come, so I think he'll come soon." My heart stopped for a moment. "So... does he still remember me?" There was playfulness in my voice. A smile on my face. Aunt took my hand in hers. "Seems like it, daughter." Right then the sound of footsteps came from the gate. We both turned to look. A rain-soaked silhouette stood at the gate. Tall height. Broad shoulders. Water dripping from his hair. My heart started beating fast. The silhouette stepped forward. His face became clear. He wasn't an eleven-year-old boy anymore. He wasn't a stranger. Twenty-three-year-old Ali stood in front of me. The eyes were the same. Sharp. Deep. And on his face that innocent smile. His gaze was straight on me. But in his eyes... there was no strangeness. As if we met every day. The glass slipped from my hand. The sound of it shattering echoed through the courtyard. Ali didn't blink. He just said: "So... you finally remembered the village?" His voice didn't have that childhood innocence. No complaint. As if a stranger was asking a question. I also just said "hmm" and nodded. As the question, so the answer. And the rain started again. Had Ali changed? Had the mark of childhood been erased from Ali's mind? All of this in the next chapter... To be continued...