A Point, Where They All Met.

1960.

Aaqila was having a charm on her face. Brightness could be seen on the bride's face. Other women of the house were getting her ready, her groom Rajinder was on his way. Such happy faces everywhere. Girls were out in the verandah, performing gidda. Old ladies waiting on bedsteads, some with bad faces "ahh! the food is not that good."

"But, they are doing what they can... can't go out of limits Nimmo tayi. Don't make a face...praise them." Replied some other woman.

It was just a normal marriage.

And 'They' were waiting for their daughter Aaqila to come out. They were silent, their only child was going away, to the other house. They were happy, but afraid...as they didn't wanted their daughter to go in some bad household. It took 'Him' more than 2 years to find a perfect groom for Aaqila. And Rajinder was a perfect one, according to him.

Rajinder had a small shop in his village. He earned enough so that he can feed his family. And his fields were also a good source of income. The most simple man. With a mustache and a beard, the Jatt Sikh was ready for his marriage.

But Aaqila and Rajinder never met before. "Will the marriage work?" He took a sip of 'His' Chai.

"What am I thinking...I know this can work. Rajinder is a good man."

These were his thoughts.

1947- Reward Of Independence.

They both were running for their lives. The dark night was a perfect time to run away from that city. And the Moon was not shining in the sky, which could help them more. But people were behind with flambeaus in their hands. Jagpal was finding it tough to run with Roop Kaur. He knew, that if would get caught, they will first slash Roop and then burn her. After that it could be his turn...

Streets were small, there was enough hiding place for both of them. It was her 5th month. She couldn't run more.

"I can't, Jagpal." Roop cried.

"I know. Let's hide behind this wall...we will wait till they all leave." Jagpal had to put his hand on Roop's mouth, her cries could make Idris aware. Idris was not a good person to mess with. He was all on for killing anyone who tries to come in between his target. He had already fed his sword with blood of 29 people.

"Find that Sikh. Or I will slash you all." He roared to his men. Jagpal was able to hear him. 13 of his men were trying to find Jagpal and Roop.

Roop was not able to handle the pain. Her muffling cries reached the ears of Idris' men.

"There he is Idris!! That bastard!"

Jagpal had no choice. He carried Roop in his shoulders and started running again. But the weight made him slow.

"I can't stop....I can't." He could see some light coming out of a house. God's grace, he was able to get away from those men's eyes and got into the house through the window.

Rafiq Chacha was the best confectioner in the whole village. The old man and his sweets were the most famous. He lived with his granddaughter, only 8 years old. Her parents were no more. Maybe they were also killed in those riots. Rafiq knew this but had to hide this fact from his granddaughter.

People from other villages came to his house to buy those sweets. It was Rafiq's house that Jagpal had entered.

Rafiq was heating up oil, he couldn't stop himself from making sweets. They next day, sweets were to be sent to a marriage procession.

"Hey hey! How did you enter here? And who is this woman you are carrying?

And...and...this blood on your shirt? What happened?"

Jagpal was terrified. Another man with the same cap and a long beard was in front of him. He was sure that today, nobody could save him.

Rafiq knew the terror on Jagpal's face. It was his looks that terrified Jagpal.

"Oh my son! You don't have to worry, you are safe here. And that's my promise. No one will be able to hurt you today, as long as your Rafiq Chacha is here."

Jagpal was confused by Rafiq's words. But his first priority was Roop. She was unconscious. But the blood on his shirt, it was not his blood.

He kept Roop on the floor. The salwar was covered in blood.

The fetus inside her was no more. Consistent running and then jerks she got on Jagpal's shoulder; that gave her the pain. The fetus couldn't handle the pressure. And it died.

Jagpal was silent. Tears flowed down his eyes. Rafiq understood the situation.

"Done by your people, Chacha."

Rafiq was numb. His throat was choked.

"Those people my son, they belong to nobody." Rafiq's granddaughter was watching everything from the room's corner. She was horrified with all the blood.

But Rafiq knew it was not a time to panic.

"Son, there is a small room in the basement. My granddaughter will take you there. The way is from next room. Hide there and take care of your wife and my granddaughter. I promise, I will not let a single person come near to you."

The oil was heated up enough. Jagpal went down with his unconscious wife and the small girl.

There was a bang on Rafiq's door.

"Open up the door!! We know that bastard is here Chacha!"

Rafiq opened the door with a smile.

"What's wrong Idris? You are shouting in the middle of night...and there is no one here. Trust me son."

Idris was not in a mood to listen. He barged through the door and pushed Rafiq.

Rafiq was a good man. But he knew, that today he has to raise his hand, else Jagpal will die. Idris' other men were waiting outside.

Idris was searching everywhere, under the bed, on the roof, behind the containers. He didn't know about the room in the basement.

"You are a clever man Chacha, maybe you let him out. You know that Sikh...."

Rafiq was in no mood to listen. He had filled his small frypan in the meantime Idris was looking for Jagpal.

"Shut up you disgrace!" Rafiq's tone was harsh.

Idris' face was burnt. The pain was immense. He cried and wailed on the top of his voice.

His men heard the cries and came inside. The madness on Rafiq's face was enough to tell them, that he was the one who attacked Idris' face with hot oil.

"Kill this bastard! He tried to hurt a man from his own community!"

Rafiq knew it was his end. The old and fragile body of his, couldn't handle the slashes of sword. 13 swords were attacking him. It was like a massacre but only of a single person. Blood was everywhere in the room.

In the basement, Jagpal was able to hear Rafiq's cries. He was sure the men killed him. He couldn't believe, that a old man like Rafiq would die for him and his wife.

That little girl in the corner, was aware of nothing. She was already terrified by the blood and now these wailings...made her numb.

Jagpal came out of the basement after 2 hours. He vomited as he had seen this much blood for the first time. He covered the girl's eyes. His wife was alive but not conscious.

He was again on a run with one more person, but this time it was safer. No one followed him this time.

Idris:

He was unconscious. His men carried him and took him away after killing Rafiq. He succumbed a day later because of his injuries. The pain he gave to 29 people, came back to him and took his life.

1960- The day of Marriage.

The incidents of that day went through Jagpal's mind again. But he was happy that Aaqila, who was not his biological daughter was finally getting married to a good man.

Roop Kaur was never able to conceive a child again. Hence they adopted Aaqila.

Aaqila was aware of the incidents too, but she was brave enough to join Jagpal's family. She happily accepted him as her father, and Roop as her mother.

Life is strange. We start our lives from different points, but at some times, these points meet. Aaqila, Jagpal, Roop, Rafiq and Idris met their fate.

Or they made their own fate...we can't tell.