The Confrontation

At the same time outside, Chaman was moving fast and Zara Bibi was having a hard time catching up to him, but she was determined not to let him out of her sight...

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The Confrontation

At the same time outside, Chaman was moving fast and Zara Bibi was having a hard time catching up to him, but she was determined not to let him out of her sight.

“Stop following me,” Chaman yelled while running to an outside patio without turning to look back at her.
“I won’t,” she shouted back. “You need to stop. Show me what you’re hiding and then I’ll stop.”

“I told you, it’s none of your business,” Chaman was truly frustrated. He turned around, waited for her to catch up to him, and then punched her in the face. She fell hard, her cries were loud and painful to hear. He stood there and stared at her waving his closed fist and doing his signature move, almost dancing, he looked almost not human with glazed eyes and spit coming out of his mouth, like a rabid dog.

“You coward, stupid bastard! You hit me. How can you hit a woman!?” She felt warm liquid flowing from her lower lip, down her chin. The back of her hand went up to wipe it off and came back covered with blood. She saw red spots falling on the floor and started shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh my God, I’m bleeding you bastard! I’ll see to it that you get punished. You’re not getting away with this.” She started screaming. Chaman was still circling and bouncing around her, glaring while waving his fists and fingers for no apparent reason. He was out of control, wild with fury.

“You are certainly not a woman! You’re a bitch, an old, stupid bitch,” he shouted and kept moving in peculiar manic circles around her. Servants came running from all directions as if they’d been hiding behind walls waiting, but there was no way to silence or calm the commotion.

“Zara, you’re bleeding! Let me get a bandage.” A frantic maid saw the blood dripping and turned around urgently looking for help, while the others all tried to work out what to do next.

“This bastard Chaman stole something from the pantry. I saw him hiding it in his hands, so I questioned him and then he took off and just hit me when I caught up to him.” Chaman found everybody staring at him. Questioning glances.

“She’s a liar!” Chaman shouted back. “I didn’t steal from the kitchen or the pantry. I don’t steal!”

“Then show everybody what you were hiding from me,” Zara Bibi insisted.

“It’s personal,” Chaman shouted again.

“See!” Zara Bibi looked around while pointing at Chaman. “He’s lying. He’s hiding something and he refuses to be forthright about it. He’s stealing because he’s untrustworthy!”

The peering crowd of local spectators, servants included, started murmuring, whispering. Heads nodded and eyes rolled. Chaman closed his eyes and kept shaking his head in disbelief. Noise from the crowd was getting increasingly louder, and then suddenly it all came to an abrupt halt. Absolute quiet. Sensing something very wrong, Chaman opened his eyes. He saw Sardar Timur’s wife, Sarah Khanum, standing in front of him.

The Confrontation

  • Book: IN WOMEN WE TRUST
  • Author: Naim Haroon Sakhia

At the same time outside, Chaman was moving fast and Zara Bibi was having a hard time catching up to him, but she was determined not to let him out of her sight.

“Stop following me,” Chaman yelled while running to an outside patio without turning to look back at her.
“I won’t,” she shouted back. “You need to stop. Show me what you’re hiding and then I’ll stop.”

“I told you, it’s none of your business,” Chaman was truly frustrated. He turned around, waited for her to catch up to him, and then punched her in the face. She fell hard, her cries were loud and painful to hear. He stood there and stared at her waving his closed fist and doing his signature move, almost dancing, he looked almost not human with glazed eyes and spit coming out of his mouth, like a rabid dog.

“You coward, stupid bastard! You hit me. How can you hit a woman!?” She felt warm liquid flowing from her lower lip, down her chin. The back of her hand went up to wipe it off and came back covered with blood. She saw red spots falling on the floor and started shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh my God, I’m bleeding you bastard! I’ll see to it that you get punished. You’re not getting away with this.” She started screaming. Chaman was still circling and bouncing around her, glaring while waving his fists and fingers for no apparent reason. He was out of control, wild with fury.

“You are certainly not a woman! You’re a bitch, an old, stupid bitch,” he shouted and kept moving in peculiar manic circles around her. Servants came running from all directions as if they’d been hiding behind walls waiting, but there was no way to silence or calm the commotion.

“Zara, you’re bleeding! Let me get a bandage.” A frantic maid saw the blood dripping and turned around urgently looking for help, while the others all tried to work out what to do next.

“This bastard Chaman stole something from the pantry. I saw him hiding it in his hands, so I questioned him and then he took off and just hit me when I caught up to him.” Chaman found everybody staring at him. Questioning glances.

“She’s a liar!” Chaman shouted back. “I didn’t steal from the kitchen or the pantry. I don’t steal!”

“Then show everybody what you were hiding from me,” Zara Bibi insisted.

“It’s personal,” Chaman shouted again.

“See!” Zara Bibi looked around while pointing at Chaman. “He’s lying. He’s hiding something and he refuses to be forthright about it. He’s stealing because he’s untrustworthy!”

The peering crowd of local spectators, servants included, started murmuring, whispering. Heads nodded and eyes rolled. Chaman closed his eyes and kept shaking his head in disbelief. Noise from the crowd was getting increasingly louder, and then suddenly it all came to an abrupt halt. Absolute quiet. Sensing something very wrong, Chaman opened his eyes. He saw Sardar Timur’s wife, Sarah Khanum, standing in front of him.

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