Taste of Love...

I took it from Urdu language Novel.

When she saw Waqar on the first day, she was left staring at him. Someone in Asma's party had introduced him. Meet them, it's dignity. Dignity was a complete stranger to him, but there was a strange familiarity in that strangeness. It's as if years or perhaps centuries later they are both meeting today, and trying to remember a single forgotten thing. The second time Shahida met at a coffee party, and this time too, the two seemed to feel the same unity within this alienation. It was not love at first sight. There was a strange feeling of closeness and intimacy. Which was rising in the hearts of both of them as if they had met somewhere long ago. There have been very long discussions.

Habits, ideas and personal preferences are tested on each other. They both know the warmth of each other's hands. Recognize this electric current. As soon as they see each other in their eyes, they start running. It is as if the strings are tied inside the heart and after being separated from each other, sitting alone in their own rooms, in their own rooms, in comfort, serenity and peace, it feels as if the strings are moving. Is. At the same time, in the same second of time and feeling, they are both remembering each other. In the loneliness of the night, Azra, lying alone on his bed, suddenly felt as if dignity was bent on his face very close to him. Terrified, he turned on the bed switch and turned on the light. There was no one in the room. Still, she panicked. In that one moment, it seemed as if his secret was known to Waqar. For the third time, when Waqar met Rauf at the invitation of repentance, his eyes dropped and his face turned pale. The heart of a loving woman is very transparent.

It didn't take long for Waqar and Azra to come closer to each other. It feels like the creator made them both, but for each other. Both were stubborn and arrogant. Honest and hardworking, neither suppressed nor flattered by anyone, were both somewhat crooked arguments. And maybe that debate started between them centuries ago and is now continuing. Both were excellent science students. And he was one of the leading scholars at the university, and nowadays there is more to science than just philosophy. On top of that, both of them were good looking and handsome. Nature seemed to have thrown them both away from each other in the same mold and stamp. Circling on the axis of the situation, they suddenly met and now it seemed as if they would never be separated from each other.

This recognition lasted for three or four years and deepened. During this time Waqar was selected for IAS and was undergoing training. Azra was also employed at the National Library and was researching her favorite subject, Christology. Life was beginning for them both like the first gust of spring. They had decided to get married. But a few days before the wedding, 'No' came out of Azra's mouth. Even today, years later, when she remembers the incident, she is not surprised at this "no", yes, she is surprised at this "no".

They were both eating on a grass table in a dense corner of the national park. There was a sun somewhere far away. In the middle were the yellow flowers of the jasmine, in the shade of which the blue water of the lake sometimes peeks into their loneliness like a wicked child. A boat crosses the shore. A loving girl is laughing with her head on the arm of her lover. His laughter is a piece of white cloud. Resurrection will always come in this world and they will always quarrel with each other. Ten yards for the earth, sometimes for a false pride and always some kind of disaster will break out in this world. But love only comes once. It floats like a white piece of cloud in a lake, with its head resting on the arm of Chahat, staring at the sky, touching the shores of the heart. If someone raises his hand and stops it, it stops, otherwise it goes away like the echo of death.

That discussion started at such a cold and sweet moment. Waqar had advised her to quit working in Azra National Laboratories after marriage. Waqar has now joined IAS. By the grace of God, he has got all kinds of leisure. Now Azra should submit his resignation. They are getting married in a few days. No, she will never quit her job. What he needs to do is quit his job. She wants to do research. Marriage does not mean that a woman should be a slave to Mordecai. How much time does it take in the household to cook food, water will come from the tap, broom sweeper, sweeper will do the job of cleaning. What's left? Wearing a nice saree on the sofa and paving the way for the husband? So how difficult is this task? Within a few minutes of coming from the office, you can change your saree, wash your hands and stand up like a bright smile hanging on the door.

As they talked, the debate escalated. Azra was guessing that the discussion was going in the wrong direction but in the world of Josh she also started talking. During the discussion, she also realized that she was diminishing the importance of home and her responsibilities and feelings just for the sake of discussion. Some even began to realize that the argument for prestige was overweight. This made her even more upset. Her tone became bitter.

Then he felt like it was all going wrong. He should have handled the matter, but the 'no' that came out of his mouth was gone.

And she began to use more perverse arguments during the debate. Waqar also started working with anger leaving seriousness. You have to quit this job.

"You can't threaten me like that." Tears began to flow in Azra's tone and she became even tougher on her faith.

"I will not leave this job at any cost. Whether married or not. I will not stop my work. "

Suddenly Azra gave his verdict. And the debate ended abruptly. The tablecloth was rolled up. The dishes were washed by the lake in silence. A boat was passing close by, full of laughter of men and women, full of wicked children. Azra wanted to reach out and stop the boat, otherwise all the children would go away and she would be left alone. But her heart was so full of sorrow, anger, and pride that she could do nothing. Holding an empty Tiffany vessel in her hand, she dived into the water, and the water hit the walls of Elmo Neem like a meaningless phrase.

Even in the car, he thought that he should obey the word of dignity and give up his stubbornness. Take advantage of a weak moment and put yourself in the lap of dignity. But that mundane moment passed. And she became as hard and arrogant as a rock, sitting on her seat with dignity until her flat came.

Waqar and Azra were not married. Waqar went alone on his posting. Azra also transferred to another big city. Many years have passed. My heart sank. Waqar still remembered Azra. In the lonely nights, in the desolate and long moments of life, the separation of dignity began to open up. There were many men and what could be the shortage of men for a woman earning a thousand rupees. But when she marries another man, when she somehow forgets her dignity and she does not come down from a poor heart.

Azra did not get married. But for a few months, she adopted an orphaned baby. Munna was now four years old and used to ask his father,

"Mommy, where's Abu?"

"Went to Canada."

"Where is Canada?"

"It's far from here."

"When will you come?"

"Will not come."

"Why don't you come?" Everyone's father comes home at night. Why doesn't my father come? "

She would go silent without answering. But Muna kept asking. Mane's father's name was asked when he was asked to enter the kindergarten. Suddenly, the excuse stopped. Then he spoke softly.

Waqar Hussain

The name has been written. It was also written on Mana's heart. That night, Manna put her arms around her mother's neck and asked, "Mother, is my father's name Waqar Hussain?"

"Yes, son." Tears welled up in Azra's eyes.

"How do you see my father?" Mina asked another question.

In order to end the conversation, Azra opened a trunk, took out a picture of dignity from it and gave it to Mane. Muna stared at the picture for a long time. Then he put the picture of his father on his little chest and then kissed the face of the picture and said, "My father ... My father...''

Azra quickly hugged him. And she burst into tears, but did not weep. He was a man and when Azra's tears ran out, he asked Azra in a solemn and serious tone, "Ammi, is Abu angry with you?" Azra nodded slowly in affirmation.

Mana stared at her mother for a long time. A deep line of thought formed between her two eyebrows on her innocent, forgetful face. Muna put her finger on her cheek and said, "Don't cry mother. When I grow up, I will take Abu to Canada with me. "

"Canada?" Waqar was somewhere in India. He did not even know where Azra was. It was also known that a son had been born somewhere. Little did he know that the boy had hung a picture of her on the wall in his room and talked to her.

Waqar did not know all this. But he did not get married. The wound was not yet healed. Some even felt that the woman who was for him in this world, who could be his true companion, had lost him in his stubbornness. Even today, he realized that his point was correct. If he hadn't insisted so much on quitting his job, Azra would certainly not have been so stubborn. She could have left on her own after a while. Or she would have quit her job when she was a child. For one thing, your ... Waqar had turned down his love for the sake of a man's worthless self. This feeling was growing day by day. Inwardly, Waqar was confused about his mistake, but now nothing could happen. Days passed, months passed, years passed. Will youth pass like this? Of course he was not a luxurious man. He was a single-minded man who loved domestic peace. He was terrified to look around. All she could think of in her life was Azra, her children and her home. And when he did not find the same house, he also gave up the idea of ​​marriage and immersed himself in his work.

Once he was flying from Nagpur to Delhi. There were monsoon days, the weather was bad and stormy. His plane had to change course and land at Hyderabad airport. The engine also malfunctioned. The weather was getting very bad. It turned out that the night would have to be spent here. All passengers were taken to Ritz Hotel for overnight stay. He had the opportunity to come to Hyderabad. After drinking tea, he stood outside. There were gusts of wind in the air. The sun was red as it sank into the deep slits of the dense clouds. Dry grass, straw and tamarind leaves were flying on the road. Waqar lifted the collar of his coat and landed on the road that cuts its way down the side of a high cliff. After a while, he was on the rhythm system that separates Hyderabad from Secunderabad and was watching the water spread for miles. While walking on the dam road, he turned on another road. There was a strange sadness in the air. The streets were lit up. But in the turbulent environment, the yellow light was trying unsuccessfully to break the frustration.

Now there were small bungalows all around, with half-grown walls overlooking the flowering branches of the Bougainvillea. At times, the branches of the amlatas and tamarind trees seemed to be engaged in a conspiracy against him. A man in a dirty shawl was buying a bundle of handcuffs from a drinker and the trans-sister's private music was coming from the fair atmosphere of the nearby Dil Shad Hotel.

Music, if not personal, becomes mere machine noise. Much of the music he listens to today sounds like empty pots. The connection between the voice of the singer and the ear of the listener remains, but the connection of the soul has disappeared. Such music is like a wedding that is performed through newspaper advertisements. Once he heard the elder Ghulam Ali Khan singing in front of his eyes in a small gathering then he did not enjoy it in any of his records. Once upon a time there was love. Then there was no fun in any wedding message. Once he stopped thinking. Someone grabbed her pants and pulled them under her knees.

He turned around and saw a small four-year-old boy holding his trousers and looking at him with deep eyes.

"What's the matter, son?" He asked in a very soft voice.

"What's your name?" Manne asked.

"Waqar Hussain," he replied.

"But why do you ask, son?"

"Because we have a picture of you in our house."

"My picture in your house." Waqar Hussain looked at the four-year-old boy in surprise. Even after putting a lot of emphasis on the mind, he did not remember that he had any relatives living in Hyderabad.

Manna nodded slowly in affirmation. Then he stretched out his hands and said, "Take me in your arms and go to my house." I will show you that picture. ”Waqar Hussain bent down and picked up the child in his lap. The child clung to her chest with great ease and with the tiny fingers of his little hand began to tell her the way home.

As they entered the garden of a semi-dark bungalow, Mana slipped off his lap. Now the two of them had come to the porch of the bungalow, circling in a semi-circle around the garden. Manna quickly rubbed her finger with Waqar's hand and rushed inside the bungalow and shouted, "Amy ... Amy ... Abu has come. ”Azra came running out. Then she knocked and stood at the door. Then, recognizing the dignity, she started crying with joy. No, no, she will never do it again.