Adultery Car driver Iqbal's beti Fathima weds Business magnet Manohar's son Rahul (Jun 04)

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In Pune...

When Rahul, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, finally woke up, he found himself lying right next to Fatima—on the bed.

Fatima, having fallen into a deep sleep out of sheer exhaustion, hadn't even realized there was another person beside her. Morning broke.

Fatima woke up with a yawn... only to see Rahul lying right next to her.

Letting out a startled shriek, she yelled loudly, "Hey, Rahul! What are *you* doing here?" Startled out of his slumber, Rahul looked around to realize where he was.

Apologizing profusely, he attempted to climb down from the bed; however, his feet got tangled in the hem of Fatima's burqa-gown, causing him to stumble and fall—landing squarely right on top of Fatima.

In that fall, his lips pressed against hers, sticking together as if glued with Fevicol. As her soft breasts were crushed beneath his chest, Fatima—lost in the moment for a fleeting second—stared at Rahul in stunned bewilderment, yet she made no attempt to push him away. Rahul understood the signal; assuming she had finally "come around," he gently pushed aside the black veil covering her face and asked, "Do you really need to wear this even while sleeping?"

Snapping back to reality, Fatima shoved Rahul away and exclaimed, "Hey! What is this nonsense? You slept right next to me all night long! If things continue like this, I'm leaving!"

Rising from the bed, Rahul retorted, "Go ahead... If you go to Mumbai, you'll end up in the Red Light District... and if you go to Hyderabad, you'll end up in jail!"

Fatima, too, rose from the bed and asked:

"Jail? For what?" "For someone like you—who withers away indoors, and who must wear a veil whenever you step outside—isn't that Old City neighborhood essentially a prison?"

"It’s not like that... I’m not quite as restricted as you seem to think."

"What do you mean?"

"On Sundays, I go out without wearing a veil."

"Wow... where to?"



"To eat *Pani Puri*."

"Right next to the garbage dump, isn't it?"

"Rahul... eating *Pani Puri* there is where the real fun is."

"In that case... come on, I’ll treat you to some *Pani Puri* today."

"But today isn't Sunday."

"From now on, every day is Sunday for you... no need for a *burqa*... you can eat *Pani Puri* every single day."

"No need... I know exactly how I ought to live."

"Alright then... get ready. Let's have breakfast, and then we'll go buy you some new clothes."

"Okay... but wait—why did you get into bed next to me? I thought you were sleeping on the sofa?"

"Well... uh..."

"Tell me, Rahul."

"Fatima... I have a habit of sleepwalking."

"Oh, *shit*... if that's the case, living with you is going to be a nightmare. And why did you unbutton my gown?"

"Well... uh..."

"Tell me, Rahul."

"I have a habit of unbuttoning blouses while I'm sleepwalking."

"Oh, *shit*... if that's the case, living with you is going to be a nightmare. Whose buttons did you used to unbutton?"

"Who else would be at home? My mother's."

"Oh, *shit*... so you never unbuttoned your sister's?"

"No."

"Why not?" "She sleeps without even buttoning up her shirt... so there's no need to take it off."

"Oh my God... dealing with you is a struggle. What would you do with it even if you did take it off?" "What do we do after taking it out? Into the mouth..."

"Stop it right there... Ugh... So, last night... mine too...?"

"Who knows? How would I know what happened while I was asleep? But I'm wide awake now, aren't I? Shall I give it a try?"

"I'll give you a beating! We need to get a separate room—urgently!"

"When I suggested sleeping in a different room, *you* were the one who said, 'I'm scared; sleep right here!'"

"Fine... How was I supposed to know you had such filthy habits?"

"Alright then... Ready?"

(.) (.)

It is 10:00 AM.

The guest house watchman steps into the adjacent lane to have some tea.

Two men, who had been loitering there suspiciously, approach him. "Have you seen this woman anywhere?" they ask, showing him a photograph.

The watchman looks at the photo and replies, "Her face is completely covered; how am I supposed to recognize her?" Apologizing, they show him a different photo—one where her face is clearly visible.

The watchman is stunned. Maintaining a stern demeanor, he says, "I haven't seen a girl like that around here. By the way, who is she?" With a dismissive "Get lost!" the men shove him aside and walk away.

The watchman immediately calls his employer.

Rahul receives a phone call from his friend.

"Hey, Rahul... It's not safe for you guys to stay there anymore. Apparently, some thugs showed up carrying that girl's photo and asking around for her. They even questioned our watchman. You need to get out of there immediately and go hide somewhere!"

Rahul understood instantly... It meant the Sheikh's men had come to capture Fatima. It looks like they are searching.

Immediately, she told Fatima about the situation...

"Come on... we need to change our disguises—urgently. Let's go to a shop."

They quietly slipped away from there... and headed to the mall.

Fatima... just before entering the mall...



Fatima... after stepping out of the mall:



Upon seeing Fatima, he exclaimed, "Wow... possessing such beauty, why did you hide behind that veil all this time?"

Before Rahul could finish, she cut him off: "Stop it, Rahul. I don't like that kind of talk. I only did it because I had no other choice." Hearing this, Rahul fell silent.

They arrived at the hotel.

"We have a reservation for two nights."

The very same hotel that had refused to give her a room when she was wearing a veil—the moment they saw a girl dressed so glamorously, and the tall, fair, posh, and wealthy-looking young man beside her—they handed over the room keys without a word.

"Sir... you've booked for two days, right? The third night is complimentary. Would you like us to book that for you as well?"

"Certainly. By the way... are you Telugu?"

"Yes, Sir. Speaking of which... Madam's name is listed as Fatima."

"So? Is there a problem with that?" "Oh, no... that's not exactly what I meant."

"It's just that... my girlfriend and I... I noticed this hotel allows unmarried couples, right?"

"No issues at all, Sir. Here are your room keys."

"Thank you. Tell me, Mustafa... what is your girlfriend's name?"

"Roja. By the way, how did you know my name?"

Pointing to the nameplate... "Roja... Mustafa... a nice pair."

"Rahul... and Fatima, too, Sir."

"Okay. If anyone comes looking for us, tell them we aren't here."

"Why, Sir?"

"Don't disturb us."

"Understood, Sir."


In the elevator...

"Why did you waste so much time chatting with that guy?"

"Look, Fatima—*Baby*—from now on, no one can catch us. Anyway... you look absolutely stunning."

[Inside the] Room... opening the door...

Fatima motions for Rahul to sit in a chair, then—to ensure he can't move—she ties him up with a towel. "If you try to touch me, I'll make you regret it," she warns, before heading into the bathroom to change her clothes.


"Ugh! There wasn't a single decent clothing store in that entire mall. All they had was this trashy stuff."

"Baby... you look super sexy."

"Hey! If you call me 'Baby' one more time, I'll shove you right out that window!"

"Alright, alright, I won't call you 'Baby.' Fatima... wow, just look at you! You look absolutely killer."

"Rahul, stop it! You told me to wear these skimpy clothes while we were out—specifically so no one would recognize us, and more importantly, so the hotel staff would actually give us a room..." "You said it wasn't necessary... you made me take off my veil... you made me change my attire... but if I have to wear clothes like this even inside the room... I just can't do it, Rahul."

Rahul opened his bag, took out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, went into the bathroom, changed, and came back out.

He looked at Fatima and laughed. "Look at my size... and look at yours... you look absolutely ridiculous! Alright... after lunch, let's go to another shop and buy you a salwar suit—one that you actually like," he said. At that, Fatima began untying his bandages.

"Rahul... we’ve managed to find a room. No matter how much we bicker, the fact remains that the two of us have to stay in the same room, doesn't it?"

"On the very same bed."


"So... you can't sleep unless there's a woman lying right next to you on the bed?"



"Fatima... I live in a massive mansion—a sprawling estate. Each person has their own separate room. My bedroom alone is three times the size of this entire hotel room; the bathroom is twice as big. Fatima, the larger a house gets, the greater the distance grows between the people living in it. That’s why I never sleep alone; I always need someone right beside me. I told you I had a habit of sleepwalking, remember? That was a complete lie. I just need either my mother or my sister lying next to me. That’s why I slept beside you last night. I’m sorry."

"It’s alright, Rahul... do as you please. Go ahead and sleep right next to me. I’m actually the same way—I can’t fall asleep unless I have my father on one side and my brother on the other. We all live together in a single, tiny room—just ten by ten feet. We spread mats out on the floor, and all four of us sleep there together; if anyone needs to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, it’s practically impossible to do so without accidentally stepping on someone’s foot!" "It's tough."

"Is that so? Well, couldn't you just sleep next to your mother, Fatima?"

"And couldn't *you* just sleep next to your father?"

"What do you mean? Is it that... you... with your father... or your brother..."

"Rahul... for people like us, living in such hardship, that is the *only* pleasure we get."

"Is that why people have dozens of children each...?"



"Shut up, Rahul! This is your final warning. If you speak so vulgarly again—whether about my veil or our customs—I’ll cut your balls off!"

"Sorry... that wasn't my intention..."

"Forget it. Anyway... yes, that *is* the only pleasure we get. What about you? Don't *you* 'climb' on your folks?"

(.) (.)

While the Sheikh's men ravaged their home, the Sheikh himself ravaged their bodies.



Iqbal, Haseena, and Qasim finally reached their home.

Neighbors from the surrounding area gathered to offer them help and words of comfort.

Despite everything that had transpired, Qasim's friend Ahmed still hadn't shown up; growing angry, Iqbal asked:

"Hey, Qasim! Where the hell is your friend Ahmed? He hasn't even come by to offer his condolences. Usually, he’s at our house every single day—even when there’s no need—just to pester Fatima!"

"I know, Baba. I’ve been trying to call him ever since this happened... but his phone just says it’s switched off."

"Really? Where could he have gone? By the way, is Fatima's phone ringing? Keep checking it."

"Baba... her phone is switched off as well. I’m thinking we should go file a complaint at the security officer station."

"Don't do it, man... if you mess with the security officer, things will turn into a complete mess."

"Then how are we supposed to find a trace of Fatima, Baba?"

"Qasim... it's better if she stays away for a while. If she gets found, Manohar Saheb won't let her off the hook. He must be furious, thinking she ran off with his son."

"That's true, Baba."

(.) (.)

At Apollo Hospital...

"There is no danger to his life. It's a good thing you brought him in at just the right time. He needs to stay in the hospital for about a week. We'll conduct the remaining tests and then let you know the full details."

"Thank you, Doctor."


When Shruti told her mother that their father was out of danger, Pavitra was overjoyed.

Once Father's health stabilizes, we need to find out what happened to Brother... I mean, running off with the driver's daughter—what on earth was he thinking? It feels unbelievable...

While Shruti was lost in her thoughts, a call came in from Kajal.

"Nothing’s going to happen to your dad, don't worry... Just get ready and come over before something happens to *my* dad, Shruti."

"Kajal... please... don't torture me like this. My dad is already in the hospital ICU as it is... It's really not right for you to pester me like this, Kajal."

"Hasn't your old man kicked the bucket yet? What exactly are you going to do just sitting there while he's in the ICU? You might as well come to our place and get some rest for the night."

Shruti hangs up the call... and blocks the number.

(.) (.)

In Pune...

Inside a hotel room...


Fatima, who had gone in to take a bath...

Let out a piercing scream. Rahul, who was checking his phone nearby—and noticing that the bathroom door had been left slightly ajar—instantly shoved it open and rushed inside to see what had happened.


Rahul was stunned the moment he saw Fatima like that. "What happened, Fatima?" he asked. Blushing with a mix of shame, anger, and exasperation—and while simultaneously trying to cover her modesty—she replied, "Rahul... I thought this was the cold water tap... but when I turned it, hot water came pouring down on me!"



Rahul burst into laughter. "You can't even tell which tap is for hot water and which is for cold, Fatima? How can you be so naive?" He walked over to the shower and said, "This one is the hot water tap." As he turned it on—expecting the water to flow out from the spout below—it instead came gushing down from the showerhead above... and scalded him. Screaming in pain, he jumped aside... and there stood the naked Fatima. He pulls her into an embrace.

Fatima was already furious. Not only did he pounce on her and wrap his arms around her, but as he began squeezing her buttocks, she delivered a sharp kick—right with her knee. She had aimed for his ribs, but missing her mark, she ended up striking his manhood instead. He let out a piercing shriek of agony—a loud, drawn-out "Amma!"—before stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing onto the bed.

Fatima, flustered, quickly wrapped a towel around herself, climbed onto the bed, and sat down beside Rahul. "I'm so sorry... did that hurt badly?" she asked.

Still clutching his testicles with his hands, he groaned in pain. "Amma... how could you hit me that hard, you pig?! There's some moisturizer cream in the bathroom; go get it and apply a little for me," he demanded. Fatima went to the bathroom, retrieved the cream, handed it to him telling him to apply it himself, and turned to head back into the bathroom.

"You hit me... the least you could do is apply the cream."

"First you'd tell me to apply it... then—*ugh*—you'd claim the pain hasn't gone down and ask me to plant a kiss right there... and after that, you'd probably tell me to take it in my mouth! Don't pull those stunts with me."

She walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Rahul, loosening his shorts slightly, thought to himself... *She sounds like she has a lot of experience—she listed off every single thing I would have asked for, one by one, before I even had the chance!*

Inside the bathroom, Fatima—this time being extra careful—turned on the shower.

As the cool water cascaded over her body, she was suddenly struck by a vivid memory of Baba.

 

*Baba used to barge into the bathroom and tease me just like this, too... Whenever Mom and my brother were busy in the bedroom, he would get aroused and come in to fool around with me while I was in the bathroom...*

As the memory of Baba flooded her mind... Tears streamed down her face... her sorrow mingling with the shower spray... her body thrilled by the young man's playful teasing... his hand brushed against her skin... and a shiver ran through her frame. She smiled as she recalled how, at the mall, every man who saw her in her modern attire had stared at her unblinkingly.

The hotel clerk who had refused to give her a room when she was fully clothed...

...had offered her a complimentary stay—an extra night for free—when she dressed sexily, revealing her body.


Do clothes truly stand in the way of seeing a woman's beauty?

It is not *I* who wears the veil... it is this society.

If one were to lift that veil and look upon a woman simply as a human being, one would discover where her true beauty lies:

In the heart that reaches out to help a fellow human being in distress...

In the words she speaks, sharing stories with her loved ones with affection...

And in the mind of a woman who believes that her life—until her very last breath—belongs to one man alone.



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