Kissa

*KISSA* * Chapter 1: "After Twelve Years"* ----------- Rain hit the car window like arrows. Each drop carried a memory with it. "We have reached the village, Sir," the driver slowed down the car. My heart forgot to beat inside my chest. *Twelve years.* After twelve years I was returning to the same soil. Kissa Daud - the only daughter of Daud Khan, one of the five biggest business tycoons in Karachi - was coming back to her childhood prison. The car turned and there it was. The same old banyan tree. Alone. Stubborn. Exactly the same as I had left it. But the cot beneath it was gone. The echo of grandfather's stories was gone too. Only the whistle of the wind remained... as if the village was complaining to me. My trembling fingers rolled down the window on their own. The smell of wet earth stole my breath for a second. "Say a prayer, my daughter," my Dad said from the front seat. His voice carried the tiredness of a ten hour journey. And something else. A weight. The car stopped in front of our old house. The iron gate was still open. Time seemed to have stopped here. The driver opened the door. I stepped out. *One moment.* And in just one moment the whole village gathered. "Daud brother has come! Miss Kissa has come!" "Kissa dear! My life, you have finally come!" My uncle stepped forward and hugged my Dad. It felt like old wounds were being reopened. My aunt pulled me into a hug like she wanted to finish twelve years of waiting in one go. "Hello Aunt," I said in a soft breath. "May you live long, my child. You have grown up. You have the glow of the city on your face now," Aunt said as she fixed my hair. Women gathered around. Children stared. The ones who used to play marbles with me were now men with beards. My eyes stopped on every face. Reading every wrinkle, every mark. *And with every moment my restlessness grew stronger.* But that one face was not there. Ali. My shadow. My fight. My childhood. "Kissa, dear come inside. You must be tired from the journey," Uncle said. I nodded. My feet felt stuck in the mud. Like roots had grown again. "Aunt," I asked with courage. My voice cracked like glass. "Ali... where is Ali?" "He went to drop Noor at her grandmother's house. He will be back," Aunt smiled. "My child, come inside first. Let me make you hot tea." "But Ali?" I insisted. Aunt shrugged. "He is like a wandering cloud, dear. He rains whenever he wants. He changes direction whenever he wants." "Aunt, what does he do these days?" "He became a lawyer," Aunt said with pride. "He stays up all night with case files and spends the whole day distributing justice." *A lawyer?* Village Ali? The one who used to fight over a pencil... now reads law books? Childhood flashed before me like lightning. I was nine. He was eleven. "Ali, I did not break this window!" I was sobbing. The teacher's hand was about to hit me. "Teacher, I swear I broke it. Kissa is innocent," Ali jumped in between like a wall. He got scolded too. And then he turned and winked at me. That wink said: `Don't be scared. I am here.` Twelve years. No call. No message. No news. "Kissa, your room is still the same," Aunt held my hand. I went inside. The walls were the same. The window was the same. Where we used to count the stars all night. *Everything was the same.* *Except Ali.* I walked to the window. The rain had gotten heavier. The canal water was black and dirty. The same place where we used to sail paper boats. "Time has touched everyone, Kissa," my Mom's voice came from behind. I turned. Mom was standing at the door. There was a strange kind of peace in her eyes. "Mom, everything has changed, hasn't it?" I asked. She stayed quiet. Then said, "Time turns even stone to wax, daughter. You have changed too. Look at yourself in the mirror." "Yes, I have changed," I said while watching the village drown in rain. "But my heart? My heart still owes a debt to this soil, Mom." Mom smiled and left. Dinner passed in silence. Uncle asked, "How does it feel, Kissa?" "Uncle, like I can breathe again," I lied. After dinner I went to the lawn. The rain had stopped. The smell of wet earth was now tearing at old wounds. "Kissa, dear?" aunt came with a glass of milk. "Drink this. It will help you sleep." I took the glass. "Aunt, tell me the truth," I slipped. "When will Ali come?" Aunt sighed. "Dear, that childhood Ali is gone. Now only the name Ali remains. No one knows when he comes or goes. But after hearing about you... I think he will come soon." My heart sank once... then rose again. "So... does he still remember me?" A smile pulled at my lips. Aunt squeezed my hand. "I think so, dear." At that moment we heard the sound of wet shoes at the door. We both turned together. A rain soaked silhouette stood at the doorway. Tall. Broad shoulders. Water dripping from his hair. My heart came up to my throat. The silhouette stepped forward. The face became clear. He was not the eleven year old boy anymore. He was not a stranger either. *A 23 year old Ali was standing in front of me.* The same eyes. Sharp. Deep. The kind that cut through you. And on his lips that same old innocent smile. His gaze was straight on me. There was no complaint in his eyes. No surprise. As if we had met yesterday. The glass slipped from my hand. The sound of it shattering echoed through the room. Ali did not even blink. He just said: *"So... you finally remembered the village?"* There was no mischief of childhood in his voice. No bitterness either. Just a dry question from a stranger. I just said "hmm" and nodded. As was the question, so was the answer. *And the rain started again.* Did Ali change? Did the memory of childhood get erased from Ali's mind? We will find out in the next chapter... *To be continued...* ---------------------------------