Kitti Marshal

Kitti Marshal-3

"Iqbal, I see your attention was distracted again and again. Do you have a problem? If so, tell me, my brother. I can't see you in a sad mood; you know that?" Surjit had noticed Iqbal's depressed face. How long can anyone hide!

"No, Surjit, I don't know. Fatigue doesn't go away yet. I haven't been able to recover since I came." Surjit sighed. His long `huh` meant that there was something about to think.

They both stood for the last salutation with folded hands and then returned to Manji Sahib. Now he had his back to Harmandir Sahib. Iqbal remembered that Darbar Sahib always protected him from his mother's reprimands.

Sometimes, when he was playing at night, he used to say that I used to serve at Darbar Sahib premises to avoid getting late and being scolded.

How could she not accept such an atom bomb-like excuse? Iqbal began to think that I did not spare my mother; Raji is a simple woman; I could easily mold her, only to use my tactics.

Surjit said once. "You're not young anymore; you're twenty! Shame on you."

"I promise today that I will not do such a thing again." Surjit was laughing. But as soon as Iqbal disappeared from Surjit's sight, his childhood spread to his youth again.

Both were now standing in front of Manji Sahib. The road leading to the langar hall was congested. They took their pair of shoes and went ahead.

In the past, there was Bhojan Bhandar, ample food storage. It was very crowded in the early morning when he was young, and even when he was married, it was still full of excitement. He Raji and Iqbal once sat here and ate puris. Raji was delighted to eat such tasty food. Now there was no food storage. Everything changed, now there were small all kinds of shops. Travelers bought stuff for memories.

"Are there still famous puris?" "Where's the food storage in the golden temple complex?"

"No, I'm talking about the bottom of the high bridge, towards Crystal Square."

"Yes, that place is still alive, but the Golden temple complex is changed entirely after Blue star."

The flight attendant's trolley was coming for breakfast. Raji's appetite was probably aroused, and she remembered the puris at that time. It was early morning on the plane. Everybody is active now and waiting for breakfast now.

"Yes, Raji, I will take you there again. We will sit in the same corner, which you liked that time. Maybe I am lucky enough to do the same thing." Iqbal fell in love with his wife and threw a romantic filler.

He also felt that she would not fall into the trap so quickly.

The same thing happened, Raji ignored his words and started looking at the trolley. It was not clear from her intentions that she would swallow the bait so soon.

She had flown away from Iqbal's umbrella. It was yet to be decided whether she passed herself or Iqbal push her out for his momentary pleasure.

Iqbal also thought that she might not have waited for his return. Men always did these things quite often. For them, these are minor matters, and then they should be ignored by default.

She had gone somewhere to fly with her daughter Meera. Iqbal did not get the depth of a mother.

Iqbal should learn his fatherly emotions. Lust arises when it becomes desire.

Raji had become an inaccessible entity for Iqbal.

If he still refrains from doing tricks, then maybe Meera will forgive him too. Otherwise, it is an impossible task.

Raji was thinking and taking vegetarian breakfast from the attendant. She also knew that Iqbal never took a non-wage for breakfast. Raji handed the breakfast tray to Iqbal. "Raji, I have a headache; I can't eat yet; first, give me two tablets of Advil."

"Please eat something first. don't take pills empty stomach." That is what she has been doing for 20 years.

Iqbal had not been following this advice for twenty years, but today his heart wanted to obey everything. Even that which was never acceptable to him. Iqbal ate breakfast reluctantly. Heathrow was to arrive in another hour.

Raji and Iqbal were in no hurry. There was dawn in the open sky. The night watch had passed. Raji's head rested on Iqbal's shoulders during the night. Iqbal spent those moments awake. He was engrossed in an unexpected taste; he did not want Raji to be disturbed. In those moments, Iqbal remembered a lot that had become a dream. He held on to his existence by all means.

During these hours, Iqbal did remember Satbir negatively. Iqbal was compelled to say nothing in his headache. Raji knew this. She took out the jar and gave two pills to Iqbal, and went to the washroom to wash her hands and face.

Iqbal recalls the past, first thing in the morning. when Raji used to go to the washroom and took a shower

Raji came back after a shower and opened the Holy Book, and start reciting. Iqbal always listened to her recitation. During this time, he always tried not to disturb Raji. Precisely ten minutes before Raji was about to finish her prayer, he would pour two cups of tea and put it on the coffee table. Meera always calls it hypocrisy. After that, Raji would prepare lunch bags, and they would go to their respective jobs.

'Am I a Hippocrates and continuously build up the absurd Hypothesis? Was it my absurd hypothesis to do two shifts for ten years? 'Iqbal never understood Meera's point. Maybe he was utterly wrong; otherwise, it never happened negatively` in their family.

Raji was still in the washroom, and her purse was lying on the seat. Iqbal opened her purse. He did not find anything suspicious in it.

The complete Raji was in the purse. He hit the nails in the purse again, but he didn't find any peacock feathers anywhere.

Advil's jar, Siderom-toothpaste that only Iqbal used.

Q-tibs for ears that only Iqbal needed. A small diary containing phone numbers. No number was new—some of the recipes and little make-up. Seeing Raji coming, he closed her purse and put it on the seat. Raji glanced at Iqbal and then gave a cursory smile in which there was nothing new warmth. The same twenty-year-old smile. Raji looked fresh as she had just washed her face. "Go and wash your hands; Heathrow is coming." Raji handed him a towel, brush, and toothpaste.

"Give me your towel. Why another towel to use? It's a journey, not a home." Iqbal grabbed the used towel from Raji's hand. A faint smile appeared on Raji's face. Iqbal completed the habit halfway and did not attempt to touch Raji's hand. The differences were still there. Iqbal went to the washroom and stood in line. He was glad that he was not alone in standing in line. He had the smell of Raji on her towel. Upon reaching Heathrow, the handbags were still clinging to Raji's shoulders. Iqbal was fresh, and he was no longer alone. Today, India also beat South Africa by just one run to extend their series by two to one. The match in the last phase was fascinating.

The way of airport authority was excellent and commendable. The passengers have to walk along the path.

Where does one go for such a long walk without any need? It was not the time to remember Satbir. Iqbal was walking with Raji with pride and hope. After a long and wide walk, they came to the lounge. The flight was still an hour and a half away. The problem was that he could not share any of the events of the past. It was something he had kept to himself. He did not want any unfortunate moment to happen in today's journey.

He had to make his journey to find out his destination, where, why, and when. One thing he understood was that marriage does not mean possession of anything. This civilization, which has been going on for generations, had lost its meaning.

Iqbal understood this very well. He was the one who taught Raji the first lesson. Gradually, these lessons became chessboards, and certain things should not have happened.

Iqbal was utterly unaware of these chess moves, but now a lot was known. He wanted to play again. But he also had an idea. Life is not a game. Working hard, doing two jobs did not mean you could leave happiness and adopt momentary pleasure.

The game could fall apart but not life. Life is not a pet; you can't keep your pet in a cage according to your convenience. Iqbal was thinking philosophically and watching Raji and her every moment.

She is his wife, she is not his wife, and it is not a physical blender. Iqbal remembered many things about Surjit's life. Especially his saying to be comfortable in life. It is simply the essence of your past life, and it is your conscience that shapes you.

Be comfortable in life. It is the essence of your life.

Iqbal smiled while thinking and ask himself. What is the meaning of a comfortable zone for anybody's life?

Suddenly an idea came to his mind. My comfort zone is different than Surjit and Raji. I should not change anybody, and I don't have to, but Raji and I should have the same comfort zone of our life.

I can't change Raji, but I should adjust myself to Raji. She is the mother of my daughter.

A bad guy inside Iqbal laughed loudly. Iqbal got confused, and he got up and started walking with straightforward steps. He rechecked the take-off time for the plane