The Arranged Dilemma

Chapter 3

LUCKNOW, INDIA 1955.

17 years old Shyama was all set now to enter her 11th standard, the young girl was in her very tender age and now her beauty have started to reflect, though she didn't do any justice at all with it. Her young figure with curves were wrapped in the loose clothes, her thick long hair used to be always oiled and in braid, her black eyes and pale skin without even a tinge of makeup showed the simplicity of real beauty.

She was in the age where we know teenagers our more prone to fell in the deep pool called 'Love.' Or, a hormonal effect of Infatuation which is considered to be Love.

Love is indeed painful, selfish and passionate, told by our philosophers and facing this experience in this age where our brain is leaving common sense and heart develops trachycardia looking at the so-called one.

Phew this feeling will get intense day by day then!

Young teen shyama was interested only in studies and her aim was to study literature, she loved the art of writing poem. She was highly inspired by the great poetess Mahadevi Verma.

"rakh shanik patang ki hain amar deepak ki nishani!

hai tuje aangaar shayya par mrudul kaliyan bichana!

jaag tujhko door jaana!"

She finished the last lines from the poem by Mahadevi verma followed by roar of applause in the auditorium and one pair of hands which didn't stop after everybody was finished clapping, were of Krishnasagar’s.

Sitting in the first row the advocate couldn't control himself, his eyes reflected proud for his daughter.

"And the prize goes to Shyama Krishnasagar Srivastav." Came the voice of Shyama's teacher from the microphone who was hosting the event and announced the winner for Young Mahadevi Verma competition, which was kept on the name of Mahadevi Verma who was not only a poetess but also a woman activist.

The great writer came on the stage who was part of the jury to give prize to young shyama. The young girl was felt more ecstastic. In her young age she had proved her worth many times in front of the society and especially her father, by not only being good in studies but also learning Kathak and Singing.

"Shyama I am so proud of you, beti."

The proud father hugged his young girl. Shyama was in blue khadi kurta and white salwar with white dupatta which made her uniform, with hair perfectly oiled and done in a braid ended with white ribbon.

"Thankyou bauji." The shy girl had glint in her eyes as she has just met her ideal and was happy to see her father's beaming face.

*******

"We need to get muslims out of this country and make India a ‘Hindu Nation.’" Said now the chief of Bharat udyog party, Rameshwar Mishra shrewdly to his close confidant Krishnasagar.

"That is so wrong, we have no right to do that, it's their country too. We have no right to do this with Muslims just to secure the position of our party. Remember Hitler tried to outcaste jews and at the end whole world saw his suicide. I hope you don't face the same Rameshwarji."

Said the advocate with the smirk on his face. Kindly rejecting the idea of outcasting muslim. Especially in the state of Uttar Pradesh where Muslims were in large number, it was impossible to neglect them and win party election. But after the incident happened with his daughter Vimla, his hatred to them had only rose. But, Krishnasagar did his best to calm his friend who was on verge of becoming the cheif minister, so he should not to take any stupid step in haste.

Rameshwarji nodded and agreed atleast for once. But the idea has not really left his mind, he will find a chance soon to make a move on this.

******

"Shyama get some cinnamon from Dilawarji's Shop."

The teenager nodded to her mother's order and went to get cinnamon from the nearby shop which was run by Dilawar Khan, a middle class muslim who have owned his shop and gave his life to mend it from the time of he was in his early childhood, this shop was his livelihood.

Idea of leaving India, his own country didn't appeal him so much. He was known by Krishnasagar's family from a long time and was close acquaintance and all the supplies for Krishnasagar's house was bought from the Muslim vendor.

Walking towards the shop, Shyama tripped by the stone and her rubber slippers torned in the process. She looked at her slipper not knowing what to do now. Taking the slipper in her hand, first she thought of taking cinnamon and then get the slippers repaired to the nearby cobbler, as it was not much of the problem, her home was closeby and she thought of going bare foot for the little distance.

"Dilawar uncle please give 10 paisa's cinnamon."

Her eyes were fixed on chappal rather than the shopkeeper, trying hard to fix her chappal with full concentration by her own before going to the cobbler. She took the cinnamons wrapped in the paper and was about to leave.

"Hey wait give me the money?"

Her eyes shot up to see the change of tone in Dilawar uncle's voice but she was greeted by young boy nearly 19 years of age. He was tall but lanky, his skin was pale and had little marks of pimple on his face and his look was completed by straight nose and big brown eyes. He looked like typical muslim guy with his attire of blue kurta pyjama and cap on his head.

"Who are you and where is Dilawar uncle?"

"Madam ji, you are in my shop and you are not giving me money and even ordering. What kind of female are you?"

"You.."

She was cut off by the 50 years old man entering the shop in his green kurta pyjama and thick beard on his face, his face was looking distressed because of the stress issues going around.

He looked like he has just woken up from afternoon nap which made him feel a little better now.

"Arre Shyama, What happened?"

"Uncle, who is this obnoxious male?"

Dilawar khan laughed looking at the outburst of the young girl who had now her both the hands on her hips with furious look on her face. The boy looked at her in amusement but still thought of her as robber.

"Shyama jaan he is my nephew, Ibrahim.Who has come from kanpur to stay with me and learn business for some time."

Shyama nodded, not really being happy meeting the young guy.

"Ibrahim, never ask them for money. We give things on accounting system. They pay money together once in a month."

Young boy nodded sheepishly scratching his head.

"Sorry." He apologised. She didn't reply and left from there, still irritated with him. The elder man’s explanation didn’t calm Shyama not did the sheeish grin of the boy.