MEENA

"I did it! I am not proud of it. I had no choice, she made me do it," Gull whispered in very low voice. A big sigh came out of his mouth. He looked exhausted. His face felt dark and sweaty. He was motionless and staring out at the dark with his pale and lifeless eyes. A deep silence covered the compartment. The whistling sound of the wind and heavy noise of train tracks were the only noises that broke it. The train reached my destination about 6.30 am. I picked up my luggage and stepped down on the platform without saying a word to Gull Khan who was still staring out the window at the sky.

I had boarded the Awami express with my light suitcase about 9.30 p.m. It had arrived in Dara Gazi Khan from Karachi about half an hour before and was destined for Peshawar. I was going back to Lahore after attending my old friend's marriage ceremony. The train was filled with passengers. My compartment was equipped with five seats and fifteen berths.

My fellow passenger was already sitting close to the window on the berth, which had my seat number. His face was emotionless. He was quietly staring at the crowd on the platform. His bed was still spread over the top berth. Either he had just woken up and climbed down to see which station the train had reached or he was ready to go to sleep. Lying on the floor, under my berth were a bag and a travel case. I asked him to let me put my luggage under the berth. He raised his legs allowing me to slide my suitcase beneath it. Then I sat beside him. He was strong looking with a heavy build, a middle aged man, about six feet tall with soldier-cut Grey hair. A long scar on his left cheek added dignity to his personality. Perhaps he had received this wound during his service.

The compartment was filled with different noises. A child was crying. An old man at our facing berth was complaining about young people's behavior to his wife. Their teenage son was busy leaning at the window and talking to his friend on the platform. Another person sitting on the single seat parallel to our berth was loudly discussing politics and opposing government policies with his companion. One newly married young couple was passionately staring into each other's eyes in the next row. The young husband whispered something in his wife's ear. She turned red and hit her husband in a very shy and loving manner. The rest of the seats in the compartment seemed like a family occupied them. They were eating and talking in a group.

At about 10.00 p.m. the conductor blew his whistle, indicating the departure of the train. The visitors and friends of the passengers got off. The passengers who were standing on the platform started climbing into the train and stood closer to the windows. An old lady jumped into our compartment with a big fruit basket and a small handbag. She headed towards our seat and sat beside me. The engine blew a long whistle and the train started rolling. The people on the platform waved their hands. The passengers waved back to the crowd. Within a few minutes the train was out of the station and in the next ten minutes the train crossed the city limits.

It was a bright night, a full moon shone in the sky. The old lady pulled a sheet from her bag. She wanted to open the middle berth to rest. The berths were set up in such a way that if she opened the middle one we would have no room to sit on the lower berth.

I looked at Gull Khan and said, "Before coming to the station I had a little nap at my friend's place."

He looked at me and responded in a low voice. "I was sleeping through Multan to D.G Khan. It will be difficult for me to go to sleep again."

I nodded in response and asked him, "Shall we ask the lady to sleep on the top berth?"

He nodded his head and turned towards the old lady who was trying to open the middle berth. "Can I offer you the top berth?" he asked in a very polite and respectful manner.

"We want to sit here for a little longer... You know! We are not sleepy yet," he said with a shy laugh. The old lady agreed. Gull Khan helped her to climb up to the top berth.

The noise of the train changed as it crossed a bridge. I was feeling a little hungry. I knelt down to my suitcase and took out the sandwiches, my friend's wife had given me to eat during the journey. I asked Gull Khan to join me. He nodded and opened up his lunch box. We started eating. He poured some tea from his thermos to a cup, which he had taken from his bag. Then he poured some for himself in the thermos lid. He had kebab and Naan that he told me he bought at the Multan Station. The food was delicious and enough. While eating I introduced myself.

I told him, "I am a writer. I write novels and movie scripts. I live in Lahore and was visiting D.G.Khan to attend my friend's marriage."

Then I asked him, "What is your name?"

He answered, " My name is Gull Khan. You can call me Gull."

After we finished eating he wrapped up the left over food and put it back in his lunch box. When I returned from the washroom we settled back in each corner of the berth. I offered him a cigarette.

He said, "No thanks, I quit a long time ago."

I lighted my cigarette and asked him where he was going.

He said, "I am going to Abbatabad."

Then he paused for a moment and said, " Abbatabad is my home, I am going home after about five years, you know!"

"Your family must be very happy, seeing you after such a long time. Were you in the army?" I asked him.

"No I never served the army in my life." He paused for a moment and then said, "I don't have a wife... I lost her."

"Then how did you get this wound on your face?" I asked him. His face turned pale.

He looked at me with empty eyes. He was silent for a long time. Finally he shook his head. A big sigh escaped from his mouth. He cleared his throat and spoke in a deep and broken voice, "It...Is a long...and...Sad story."

He certainly was able to rouse my curiosity. I was looking at him and thinking. He might have had some accident. His wife must have died in it. I was already feeling sorry for the poor fellow. It must have been very hard for him to remember. Unwillingly I had reminded him of the horror, loss and sadness of his experience.

"Would you like to tell me about it?" I asked him in a sympathetic tone.

He looked at me with his empty eyes and said sadly, "You will be disappointed; it is not a very good story."

The train entered the Patokey city limits. The family who occupied almost half the compartment was ready to go. The ladies were waking up their children. The males were gathering their luggage. The man who was discussing politics stood up and headed to the washroom. The compartment became noisy and alive again. After about fifteen minutes the train reached Patokey city station. I got up and went on the platform to buy some magazines. The train started again after about half and hour as we were sipping our fresh tea which I brought back from the platform.

Six new passengers had boarded the train. By 1.30 am most of the passengers were in a sleep. Gull Khan was still quietly staring out at the dark.

"Are you sleepy?" I asked him.

"No, are you?" he asked me.

"Not yet," I replied, "I still want to know what happened to your wife, and how you got this long scar on your face?"

Gull Khan looked at me for a while then lowered his eyes and looked at his folded hands in his lap. He cleared his throat and started telling his story. "I was the only child of my parents. My father was a rich landlord. He owned a large agricultural landscape, many acres of fruit garden and ten poultry farms. He was the biggest supplier of eggs, chicken and dry fruit in our area.

"Being the only child I had everything in my reach. I was the center of my parent's life. Their excessive love and wealth spoiled me. I became stubborn selfish and self-centered. When I graduated from the local high school, my father gave me a new Suzuki Jeep as my graduation present. He wanted me to take some vacation before starting college. He said to me, 'Go to Murry Hills resort and enjoy some time away from the city.' He had some land and a poultry farm in Nathia Gali, which as you know is only half an hour drive from Murry Hills resort.

"I put some clothes in my jeep, a hunting rifle, some magazines and went to Murry. We have a family cottage close to the poultry farm. I reached there in the evening. The manager of our poultry farm and our land was an old friend of my father named Badshah Khan. I used to call him uncle according to our custom. He lived in the house adjacent to the farm. He was waiting for me in the cottage. The servant put my luggage in one of the bedrooms.

Badshah Khan asked me to freshen up, and said, 'Dinner is ready, my daughter Meena is warming it up in the kitchen.'

I went to the washroom quietly, holding my nightdress and nightgown. I knew Meena, I remembered her as quiet, skinny, and shy, with big black eyes with long black lashes and long curly black hair. On my last visit about five years before when I was practicing target shooting with my new air gun, I pushed her over the fence when she refused to throw her doll in the air for my target practice. She was only eleven years old at that time, a little younger then I. She fell on the slope pretty badly because of the sudden push. Her ankle was twisted but she did not cry or tell anyone about it. I did not feel sorry for her. To me she was only our servant's daughter. How dare she refuse to obey her master. She ought to be punished. However, I never saw her during the rest of our stay.

"Dinner was served in the little dining room with windows facing the back lawn at the edge of the hill of Nathia Gali. Uncle Badshah Khan was waiting for me at the dining table. A beautiful young woman knelt slightly beside the table, filling up glasses with water from a jug. Her beauty was astonishing. She reminded me of the super models in western magazines. She was wearing a light red summer dress with a yellow and green flowery pattern on it. Her shirt was of a modern design with a fairly low cut collar and sleeves barely below her elbows. Her trousers were just below her knees. A light scarf covered her head. Her dress was unable to hide some of the milky white skin below her neck. She was about five and half feet tall. Her long straight dark hair was hanging at her back.

'Gull, you remember Meena?' I was startled and looked at uncle Badshah Khan. I was still standing in the dining room door. She had grown very big, I was unable to recognize her. 'How are you Meena?' I heard myself saying in an apologetic tone.

She lifted her head and looked at me. Her eyes shot an instant stream of electric current through my blood. 'I am fine, how are uncle and aunt?' she asked me with a shy smile.

'They are well and good,' I replied.

Uncle Badshah signaled me to sit. Meena served food from the dishes into her father?s plates and mine and then sat beside her father. The meal was delicious. Badshah Khan asked me, 'How do you like the food? Meena cooked it herself.' Meena smiled shyly.

'It is very delicious,' I replied. Uncle Badshah Khan kept talking. He told me about current season's crop and the difficulty that he was facing with a local egg and chicken buyer. Meena was quietly eating and listening to our conversation. After dinner they left and I went to bed.

"In my dream I saw Meena holding my hand. She was wearing a bride's dress and we both were flying among the clouds. I heard her calling me. I woke up. It was about nine o'clock in the morning. Meena was standing in the door holding the breakfast tray in her hand. She was wearing a white dress. Her hair was tied with a ribbon. A few freshly plucked flowers were also tucked around the ribbon line. She looked like an angel.

'Father is waiting for you in the living room. After breakfast you can see him,' she told me. Then she put the tray on a small table and went out.

I got up and went to the washroom to take a shower.

"In the living room Uncle Badshah was talking with a young man. He was about twenty years old. He was an attractive looking fellow. Badshah Khan turned toward me and said, 'Gull meet Amir, my assistant. His father is a farmer on our land. Amir is a very intelligent boy. He recently graduated from Murry College in the top position. I offered him work as my assistant. He accepted the offer because he wanted to stay home to take care of his old parents.'

I shook hands with Amir. He smiled politely. His grip was warm and firm.

Uncle Badshah again said, 'I am going to Islamabad for important business, Amir will take care of your needs. If you want to go anywhere Amir can accompany you. He had grew up in this area and will be a good guide.'

'Thanks uncle, but I want to take some rest today,' I replied.

"After uncle Badshah Khan left, Amir told me he was going to the poultry farm to supervise workers. He said, 'If you need me, ask your servant, he knows where to find me.' He shook my hand and left. I looked in the cottage but nobody was there. Meena must have left when I was in the washroom. I was still feeling a little sleepy and tired so I went to the bedroom.

"About three o'clock I woke up. The servant told me that Meena had left lunch for me, and instructed him to warm it up when I woke. After a late lunch I put on a shirt and khaki pants. I took my hunting rifle and headed to the poultry farm. Actually I wanted to see Meena. I found her in her house. She was busy in the kitchen. She smiled when she saw me entering her home.

She said, 'I went to see you but you were sleeping. I left lunch for you and told the servant to warm it up.'

I said, 'I had my lunch, thank you.'

'You want some tea? I am preparing the dinner, papa will be coming soon. You can sit in the living room and watch T.V, I will finish soon and then join you. You will be eating here tonight.'

'I am going to the garden and will come back,' I replied.

"I will not bore you with rest of the details. I stayed there for about three weeks. Meena was mostly busy with one thing or another. Very rarely we were alone. She always made some excuses to leave when we were together. I went to Murry Hills a couple of times and asked her to accompany me. She refused by saying that she had to look after many things. Her mother died when she was one year old and her father raised her. Now when she had grown up, she was taking care of the household and many of her father's responsibilities. I actually was in love with Meena and I wanted to marry her. She was so busy and always surrounded by people that I had no chance to express my love to her.

"I was in my second year of college when my father had a heart attack. It was his first attack. Mother called me in Islamabad.

She said, 'Your father is in hospital and he wants to see you.'

When I saw him he looked pale. He had recovered and been discharged from hospital. My father was worried about his heart condition and wanted me to get married to the daughter of a friend of his. His friend was a politician and a well-known businessman. I told my mother that I only wanted to marry Meena. My father became very upset but finally he agreed. My parents went to Nathia Gali to ask Badshah Khan for Meena's hand. In the next few weeks Meena became my wife and we went to Karachi for our honeymoon.

"I was in my final year in college when my father died from a second heart attack. I came back to Abbatabad to take care of business. Meena was as beautiful as ever but she always kept very quiet. I asked her many times if something was bothering her or she needed anything. She always said smilingly, 'Who can be unhappy in this home? I am very lucky you married me. You always bring me things I have everything. I don't need anything else.'

"One year after my father's death, my mother died.

Five years passed we were living happily. Business was very good, but Meena did not become pregnant. We consulted the best doctors in the country. All were agreed there was nothing wrong with us. We were quite capable of having children. Meena often looked very sad. I was trying to keep her happy. I knew she wanted to have a baby, I wished I could do something.

"One night in early winter I woke up and Meena was not in the bed. I thought she was in the washroom, so I went back to sleep. After a few nights I woke up again and saw Meena at the door. She was entering the bedroom. She closed the bedroom door very carefully and came to the bed with light feet so I should not be disturbed. I pretended I was sleeping. I was wondering, however, where she had gone. The next night I was waiting; I wanted to see where she was going every night. I pretended to fall into a deep sleep. She waited calmly until midnight, then she got up, took her robe, and went outside closing the door behind her very quietly. I got up too and put on my silky nightgown. When I came out of the bedroom into the corridor, I saw her walking towards the rest house.

"Our house was built at the top of hill. My father bought all surrounding land and he had built this house. One main road comes from the city to our property. Another small passage, at the back of our house, led to the rest house. It was a very dark and cold night. The whistling sound of wind was making the surroundings very scary. Meena was walking in the passageway, which was covered with bushes and rocks. I followed her from a safe distance, very quietly. After about an half a hour's walk, Meena vanished behind a big rock. When I reached the rock I heard her talking to someone.

I heard a male voice saying, 'I miss you my love, I was waiting here for one hour.'

'I miss you too Amir. Sorry I am late. Gull was up so I could not come in time,' I heard her say.

'I wished we had told your father about our love. I am sure he would never have made you marry Gull,' Amir said.

Meena responded in a very sad tone, 'My father was very happy by the proposal of Gull from his father. I had never seen him so happy in my life. I did not want to break his heart when he told me he had accepted it.'

Then they both went into a deep silence. I went on the other side of the rock and peeked behind. My heart stopped for a second. I saw Meena and Amir's shadows encircling each other. I was unable to see their faces because of the dark. They were kissing and hugging each other very passionately. My blood started boiling. I had the urge to kill both of them. I was frozen in a state of shock and rage. I don't remember how long I stood there.

I heard her saying, 'I have to go now my love, I will see you tomorrow.'

They kissed each other again and departed. Meena started walking towards the home.

"I don't remember well what happened next. Probably, I pulled out my night coat's silky belt and wrapped it around Amir's neck and tightened it. He was still watching Meena going away. He fell on the ground without making any noise. He was struggling for his life but my grip on the silk belt became tighter and tighter. In a few minutes he was dead. I emptied his pockets and tied his wallet, watch and his gold ring in the handkerchief I found in his pocket and took a shortcut home. I dropped his belongings in the dry old well beside my house and went inside the home before Meena arrived.

"The next day someone found the body. The news was all over the town. He was a stranger in the town and police could not find his identity on him. They concluded that he was murdered for money. Muggers must have taken everything. Meena was quiet as usual. I was amazed. She did not show any emotion. She could not suspect me of murder because she saw me in a deep sleep when she returned. Amir's murder was another unsolved case in the police files.

"Twelve years passed. Meena gave birth to a stillborn about five years ago. Her black hairs turned Grey. She never said a word about Amir. Her father also died a few months before our child was born. But she was still as beautiful as she had been the first time I saw her. She was though, quieter than ever.

"One night we were sitting at the small table in the kitchen after dinner. All of a sudden all the lights went off. 'Maybe something went wrong with the power house,' I said. Meena was quiet as usual. I asked her, 'Do we have any candles in the house?'

'There is one in the bedroom, on dressing table,' she replied.

I asked her, 'Can you please go get it?'

'It is very dark, I am afraid to go into the dark bedroom,' she replied.

"My blood suddenly jumped to my head. The stormy night flashed into my mind when she was walking in the dark dusty passageway between the bushes to see Amir. The anger that I had been hiding for many years came out of my mouth, 'You weren't afraid that night when you went to see your lover.'

I heard the chair drop to the floor. She screamed, 'I had always suspected you killed him.'

'How would you expect me to react? You are my wife, and he was having affair with you. He had no right to fool around with somebody else's wife,' I responded.

'He was my lover. You are the one who should be blamed, you wealthy son of a bitch. You ruined our lives; You were the one who should be killed, not Amir,' she shouted in a very hysterical voice.

"Suddenly light came back. I saw Meena, her eyes were bloody reds, her face was pale, and her mouth was slightly open. She ran to the kitchen counter and picked up a big knife. She then turned towards me and waved the knife to stab me. I tried to save myself from the knife by kneeling back. The knife slashed my left wrist and I fell on the floor with the chair. I jumped up, and was stunned. It was almost unbelievable that Meena could be that violent.

'Have you gone mad. Put that knife away. Do you want to kill me,' I yelled at her.

'Yes I want to kill you. You assassin. You killed innocent Amir, my Amir. You had no right to kill him. I will take revenge of Amir's death,' she responded in a hysterical voice.

I was standing beside the kitchen counter when she attacked me again. I dodged her and picked the sharp chopper from the counter. I waved it in the air to scare her, to stop her attacking me. She was so blind with rage and vengeance that she did not care about the chopper. She came closer again and waved her hand in a semi circle towards my neck. I bent with sudden a reflex and her knife sliced through my cheek cutting it from the bottom of the earlobe to the top of my lips. Pain and anger overpowered me. I raised my right hand high in the air and dropped it right in the middle of her forehead. The chopper went down in her head about three inches. A fountain of blood escaped from her head and she dropped heavily to the floor."

Gull fell into deep silence. His face was pale and sweaty. He was staring out the window into the dark. A dull sensation like a razor edge ran through my bones. I could imagine blood-soaked beautiful Meena lying on the floor. After a few minutes dead silence I cleared my throat.