A knock that is on a closed door or on the heart...
A deep silence fell on the doors and walls of the house. Even the sound of slippers walking on the wooden floor was like holding one's breath. Not much had been said in this mansion for years. Only the eyes were locked, and the doors were curtains. Every door here was closed, but today... there was a knock on a door.
“Ami…”
Mehr-ul-Nisa slowly raised her head. Safiya looked a little worried. She had an envelope in her hand.
“Grandpa Abu has called you.”
She stopped, as if the words had returned the same old pain that was felt even before she breathed in this house.
Mehr-ul-Nisa closed the diary in which she was writing something:
“Not every door is just a piece of wood... Some doors belong to the heart... which only open to a voice, to a truth.”
Zamiruddin Khan—the elder of the house, whose glance makes the whole family tremble—was Mehr-ul-Nisa’s grandfather.
Safiya, Mehr-ul-Nisa’s mother, a quiet and broken woman.
Anayya, Mehr-ul-Nisa’s cousin, a modern-minded but compromising soul.
And Mahira… that too, a closed door, bewildered and troubled by her decision to marry.
As Mehr-ul-Nisa passed through the gallery, she saw the closed door of Zahra Apa’s room. A faint cough came from inside. She stopped. She raised her hand, then dropped it back.
Knocking on the door is not easy… and she moved forward.
Zamiruddin Khan’s room was an old study, where there were books, a hakka, and a clock, the ticking of which echoed in the silence.
Mehr-ul-Nisa crossed the gallery and came to the door.
For a moment, she thought about turning back, but then she plucked up the courage and gave a light but effective knock.
A voice came from inside:
“Come in.”
The voice was old but still had a strong hold.
Mehr-un-Nisa entered. An elderly man was sitting on a chair, and her heart sank as she saw him.
Zamir-ud-Din Khan—her grandfather—her relation, who was only mentioned as “Munah.”
Zamir-ud-Din stared at her:
“Are you Safiya’s daughter?”
Mehr-un-Nisa nodded, “Yes… Mehr-un-Nisa.”
There was a moment of silence.
Zamir-ud-Din took a sip of tea, then said:
“Your mother had left the biggest door of this family open… that of love. And it cost her the most.”
Mehr-un-Nisa’s throat went dry.
“اندر آؤ۔”
یہ آواز پرانی تھی مگر اب بھی دبدبہ رکھتی تھی۔
مہرالنساء اندر داخل ہوئی۔ ایک بزرگ شخص کرسی پر بیٹھا تھا، جسے دیکھتے ہی اس کا دل صحرا بن گیا۔
زامر الدین خان—اس کا نانا—اس کا وہ رشتہ، جس کا ذکر صرف “منع” کی صورت میں ہوتا تھا۔
زامر الدین نے اسے گھور کر دیکھا:
“تم صفیہ کی بیٹی ہو؟”
مہرالنساء نے سر ہلایا، “جی… مہرالنساء۔”
ایک لمحے کی خاموشی رہی۔
زامر الدین نے گھونٹ بھر کر چائے پی، پھر کہا:
“تمہاری ماں نے اس خاندان کا سب سے بڑا دروازہ کھلا چھوڑ دیا تھا… محبت کا۔ اور وہ اُسے سب سے مہنگا پڑا۔”
مہرالنساء کا گلا خشک ہو گیا۔
“اور میں نے سنا ہے کہ آپ نے اس محبت پر تالا لگا دیا تھا…”
زامر الدین نے پہلی بار اس کی آنکھوں میں دیکھا۔