Sacred Heart

In the realm of reality, people often forget themselves. For greed, for wealth or in their wishes, they forget that their life does not just revolve around the materialistic rewards that we regard so highly and mighty now. Faith, belief and honesty remained just as highly appreciated words, used by many but practiced by one a few counted.

We all are hypocrites, all are narcissistic. Everyone's greedy, busy fulfilling their never-ending desire.

She is also like the rest. Greedy and hypocrite. Want more than she got, desire of more than she will ever get.

"What I don't understand is why involve them when our members will get the majority?" Her elder cousin, Asher, questions, "we have good polls over the whole state. Joining those losers will only get our name tainted." He shrugs his shoulders as he casually drops the file on the table.

Mannat eyed him, studying him for a moment. Red eyes, dark bags under his eyes, crinkled shirt , droppy shoulders and tiredness clearly visible. He is overworked, overloaded with the work pressure dumped upon him and sleep deprived. The three coffee mugs lying on the table is a clear indication of how much he is struggling to keep himself steady and present worthy at the moment. He dares not to miss the meeting called by their grandfather. No one dares to.

Ahad gave a look at his younger brother for his comment.

"Obviously it's needed, Asher," he says. Asher  says nothing about it, just nods. If his brother says that it's needed then there must be something behind it. Ahad Raza Mir knows well how to play the game of politics than him.

"If you say so."

Mannat looks away from their discussion. Her eyes take the strong, wrathful and piercingly lit clear sky. The big peepal tree in their garden acts as a boulder between her and the rays. Providing her with necessary warmth and shielding from the excess wrath.

A sigh escapes her lips and she continues to focus on the scattering of the leaves due to the wind.

Someone clicks his fingers and her attention snaps back to her current surrounding. Ahad and Asher looking at her, a look of impatience dawned upon the latter one's face.

She frowns, "yes?"

Ahad narrows his eyes, before shaking his head and disappointment clear in his expression. "You didn't hear anything we said." He states with conviction. No room for doubts in his words and tone.

Mannat opens her mouth but nothing comes. It's true that she didn't hear a word they uttered or doesn't have any idea of it.

She shrugs, "Will it matter?" She whispers.

Ahad and Asher stills for a moment as they take a look of her. Her question devoid of any emotion or accusations. Something that they often look for in her eyes, but never found any. She knows how to handle things well. Something that they believe, unlike the elders of their family.

Ahad looks in her eyes, "to us, yes," he nods with so much confidence and conviction that it made Mannat smile. A real one. Not like the controlled and trained display of acts reserved for others.

"Tell me." She focuses back on them. Ahad takes the iPad from Asher and slides it to her. A spreadsheet of numbers with detailed information displayed on the screen. Her fingers slide on the screen and she reads the words carefully.

Her eyes concentrate on the screen  as she looks at the reports. She looks back at Asher, "you are taking over this? It's great," she summarised, nodding in appreciation.

It would have been, but no, it's not. He sighs in dejection, "no, we are not," he speaks, "and by the turn of events I don't think we can get hold of it ever." His tone conveys his dismay and frustration.

A frown mars her face and she raises an eyebrow at his display of irritation. Asher Ali Mir doesn't openly fret over things.  Something must have happened. Specially now they are asking from her even when they have high qualified and experienced efficient team at their command.

"Why? What happened?" She enquires softly.

Asher leans over, joining his hands he darts his chin towards the device in her hold. "This project you see is not an ordinary tender Mannat. You know our country is not that advanced in technology and machinery. And for this reason we are at the mercy of other countries such as the USA and Russia. More than ninety percent of our weapons are imported. To stand in international business and politics, we also need to improve this sector as soon as possible."

Okay, Mannat remembers the direct address on this matter by the Prime Minister and the Defence Minister last year.

"Remember the mines discovered last year in Africa? Those mines aren't just gold or silver mines. Huge mines of metals were discovered but they kept it undisclosed. Since last year, our officials and many businesses have been trying to buy it or even get a partnership but to avail , the government has denied any buyouts." Mannat changes the slides on the device and reads about the failed acquisition. Not just by the their team, even big conglomerates have failed. He paused for a second before continuing, "We tried talking to their ministers and the president of the union. Even the defence minister and external affairs minister personally went there for a meeting but no results. Until recently," he stops and shows her pictures of some construction around the area, "there are research going on and surprisingly it no longer belong to the government. Those mines have been sold and another company owns them completely. Not even in partnership." He finishes, sounding completely pissed and upset about it.

Mannat understands his frustration. One lost deal came be a big setback for their plan.

"Why don't we try to talk with the current owner and get a partnership? I am sure someone won't take such a huge risk all alone and our government's partnership and performance can bring better profits and stability." She says.

Asher nods, "I know but our officials have failed to know who actually brought it. The ownership is registered in the name of DR Corporation in Saudi Arabia, but it is a paper company. Actual owners are someone else who is playing from behind and pulling those strings. And dadajaan-" he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, pinching in between his nose "-he is very adamant on this and he had sent a few of his trusted officials but they failed in negotiating with them. The fact that we don't even know who took it away from us is more frustrating."

Mannat can only sympathize with him. She knows the nature of her grandfather. The great renowned and powerful politician, and the current chairman of the current ruling party of the country, Nawaz Sharif Mir doesn't accept any defeats. Never had, never will. If he wants something, he will take it. A fact that has been the reason of his success in the world of politics.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to do something. Not them, Mannat." comes the voice of Nawaz Sharif Mir.

Mannat's head snaps back towards the door and stands up as she notices her grandfather standing there. Dressed as usual in plain kurta and kolhapuri chappal, he veers towards them followed by his secretary and his sons; Mannat's father and her uncle. She watches him as he takes his seat behind the dark mahogany table, his secretary stand beside and others take their seat. Mannat's eyes doesn't dwindle away from him, not even for a fraction of second.

Nawaz Sharif Mir looks at his youngest granddaughter with a regard, "take a seat Mannat." He tells her. A look of surprise and question swirls in those honey brown irises that it so identical to his.

Mannat does as she is told. She sits beside Asher and Ahad, and faces her father.

Nawaz Mir looks at his younger grandson, quirking an eyebrow at him in question, "I take that the meeting for the Singapore port went well."

It did. Asher nods in positive.

"Better," he comments and his secretary lays a few set of files and an iPad infront of him and then steps back after handling his reading glasses. He regards his eldest grandson, "I'm seeing you after a week. How was the trip to Mumbai? Any updates?" A smile broke on his face.

"I'm fine dadajaan. Thank you asking." He says, "and about updates, our guess was correct regarding the opposition. There are some alliances forming behind us, and few are trying to be masterminds there," Ahad scoffs at their pathetic attempt to grab power, "mostly they are wary, as they should be but Tushar Deshpande is very confident of his plans and support." He explains.

Nawaz Mir shakes his head in mocking dismay, "people these days," he tsks in disappointment as he looks down at those papers and carefully signs one by one.

"I had some good plans for Tushar. He has capabilities," others stay silent as he speaks, "but what to do? You invite your own end when your greed exceeds you and you try to defeat the time." He completes the task in his hand and leans back in his chair.

Umesh collects the required files and carefully tucks them in his hold and keep the remaining ones inside the drawer. "I knew he wanted to expand his position for power but never guessed his betrayal will be this fast." Nawaz Sharif Mir comments. A look of seriousness and wrathful clear on his face. Mannat gulps and looks down.

A sighs escapes his lips, "you clearly know what to do next I assume?" He directs, maybe to Ahad mostly as he speaks next, "yes."

"Good," he hums.

She sits there silently as the men continued to discuss politics and business. She listens to them implore ideas from extracading the unfaithful leaders of their party to development of new ideas in commerce and science.

As their discussion ends, the men starts exiting the study one by one. She narrows her eyes at Asher, on whose call she came here as he had some important things to talk about.

"Sorry," he mouths before following his father. Mannat shakes her head.

Nawaz Sharif Mir looks at her sitting infront of him, waiting for him to address her. Not even a line of frown or any annoyance seen in her face or expression.

He gives her his attention.

"I presume you are not bored, considering politics was never your choice of interest."

Neither is business. She stays quiet, the silence follows and she just shook her head in negative.

A mirthful look settles on his face and satisfaction swirls in his eyes. His control on her and her obedience satisfied him. "Good." He takes out a file from the inner drawers of the table and slide it towards her.

"Take it." She does. She reads about an rough sketch of the plan of a project for illetrate and underprivileged women in rural parts of the country.

She looks back at her grandfather, questions and confusion lingering in her gaze. "Nalini aunty is supposed to head this project, isn't she?"

Nawaz Mir confirms.

Then why are you tell me about this project? The question stays unasked.

"From today you are a part of this project. I want you to carefully handle it. Mir's and our party's name and reputation is connected with it. It should be a success." He orders without any further explanation. He won't take a no for it.

Mannat's eyes held the astonishment but locking it away, Mannat stares at the files in her hold. "Okay, dadajaan," she accepts.

Nawaz Sharif Mir leans back on his chair, satisfied with her response, "that will be all," with that he dismisses her. Mannat nods and leaves the room. Uncertainty, restlessness and confusion clouding her mind.

She shuts the door quitely on her way out and veers towards her own room. As she ascends, she fails to notice her surroundings and misses Asher waiting there for her, continuously tapping his left leg on the floor. Noticing her, he straightens himself off the railing of the stairs.

He waits as she climbs upto him.

"Mannat," her eyes meets his, snapping her out of her rievere. His eyebrows quirks in question as he finds her climbing the stairs without even realising her steps or acknowledging him, waiting for her. His eyes narrows at the file in her hand. She can recognise the shock and surprise that dawns on his expression. A frown mars his face. As she stands in front of him, he looks at her face. "You will be working?" Amusement and curiosity reflects in his tone as well. Thrusting his hands inside his pockets, he glances at the file in hold and again looks back at her face. They resume walking.

Mannat climbs up the stairs. "Dadajaan's orders."

Ofcourse. He nods. They walk upto the corridor of the third floor in silence before Asher speaks again. "A very big surprise, or I should say shock it is Mannat." He refers to her working, "now I understand why you sat with us for today's meeting. Because dadajaan you wanted to. But knowing your reluctance to be involved in dadajaan's business, I didn't want you to sit with us forcefully. So I asked Kumar to inform that I called you.

Mannat looks at him. He says that he called her by pretense not to make her feel forced. She doesn't understand what to make of it; be angry and show him how much forced she feels in her own home, with her own people or be grateful that whatever it is, he thought of her, about her.

"I understand." She doesn't probe further.

Asher's phone rang. Seeing the contact, he looks at Mannat. "I need to take this," with that he leaves without any reply from her.

Mannat turns on her heels and veers towards her room. Her steps hastens as she clutches the file tightly in her hold. Turning the lock, she pushes the door and steps inside her room. Placing the file on the coffee table, she rounds the sofa and plops down.

Even though she knew that she has locked her doors from inside, she rechecks. A feeling of uncertainty brewing inside her since the moment her grandfather stepped inside.

He had called for her?

Questions pilling in her mind, she couldn't pinpoint.

Nawaz Sharif Mir never spirals out without any planning. Every move, every step he takes, he has a motive behind it. Either good or bad, but for his sake. Always.

The females of Mir family doesn't work. Or in other words, they simply don't have any permission to explore themselves in having a professional life. Her grandfather doesn't like it, nor his sons. Once there was an exception but it ended as a disaster, a catastrophe, a dreadful tragedy. So they don't go out and conduct business, or hold offices like many other ladies. Their life revolves around their husband, kids, kitty parties and hobbies. That's why even after having a degree in business from an Ivy League University, she just stays in her house, inside her room without going out and making an use of her skills she learnt there.

Then why did he made her a part of a team?

What is he thinking?

Anyone else in place would have been happy to get to work. Chances like this are rare. But she cannot feel any happiness. Fear, tensed and scared, she rules out every positive reason behind this chance. Of being happy, or finding a new identity that except for being the daughter of the Mir's. Is this one of his new twisted ways of caging her, or punishing her? Her heart beats faster in anticipation and she can feel herself sweating profusely even under the AC. Her throat dries and fingers shake. Negative thoughts clouding her mind. They are horrendous, dreadful and painful.

No! It cannot happen. Her mind yells.

Gathering her knees closer, she hid her face inbetween her arms. Tears flowing down her cheeks. Her lips whispers prayers and pleas. Her throat tightened and she couldn't breathe. Like someone has her in a chokehold, cutting her air supply, snatching away the air from her to breathe. Her head polls back on against the sofa. Whimpers escaped her mouth.

Please take away her punishment and free her from pain.

Her eyes flutter as she drifts to sleep, crying and whimpering.

Hours laters she groans. Someone's on the door, continuously knocking and banging. Her body protests as she abruptly tries to stand. There's an acute pain behind her eyes and her head throbs. She clutches her hair tightly, massage her temple to relieve her from the pain. She can hear faint voices just outside her door.

Rubbing her face, she tries to erase any trace of her crying or fear. She opens the door and finds Razia, the head of the maids and one of the oldest staff, with a trolley of food and a look of concern dawned upon her face.

"Why you weren't opening the door? What happened? You don't look fine." Razia places her hand on Mannat's forehead and face, trying to find out what happened, or whether she has temperature or not.

Mannat gave her a weak smile. She steps aside, letting Razia enter inside the room along with the trolley of food. She shuts the door behind.

Razia frowns taking her condition. Soaked tear marks on her face and swollen eyes.

"You don't look fine Mannat baby. Is everything okay? Do you want me to call the doctor?" She enquires softly as Mannat plops down on the sofa, face buried in her palms.

Mannat looks at Razia and denies with a shake of her head. "I'm okay," she assures.

She has to be, or show others she is.

To avoid her wary eyes and gaze filled with questions, Mannat walks inside the bathroom. She instantly grimaces as she stands in front of the mirror, taking her face. Her swollen and red eyes and dried tear marks and dishelved hair. No wonder Razia looks worried for her. Even if a kid sees her in this state, they can say something is wrong with her. Shaking her head she ties her long hair properly and washes her face. The cold water hits her face. It feels better.

When she walks back, Razia has already set the food for her. Mannat quietly sits.

She clears her throat, trying to look normal. Her eyes fell on the covered dishes and she looks back at Razia questionly. "No one's home for lunch?"

Usually the Mir family eats together.

"No, " Razia serves her food, "your dadijaan, ammi and bari ammi left an hour back. It's only you, Choti Mir." Mannat's lips curve at the mention of the nickname. A name that brings so many memories related to it.

She silently finishes her food. Razia telling her stories of what's happening with the workers and their fear regarding Ahad. They are always walking on egg shells around him and fears even facing him.

"........aur kal toh Umesh sir bhi unse bohot dar gaye the. Hum sab ko toh chod hi do," Razia shrugs as she trails off.

Mannat nods. She is aware of her elder cousin's wrath. Not just them, even the party members are afraid of Ahad Raza Mir. Why not? He is forceful power to reckon. A lethal force in the field of politics. Behind his mask of calmness resides the rage that burns down his enemies.

When she finishes, Razia gathers the plates and leaves. A look of uncertainty clear in Razia's gaze but she stays silent, giving her time to understand and cope with it.

Mannat looks at the file. Even though she is brimming with questions, Mannat is aware that there's no denying about it. She is going to work. A new start to her life. Something that she never thought of happening.

What grips her attention is what this new start is going to unfold.