Sashe 11
Zuciya Da Kuna Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel · about 5 min read
Yammacin Paris ya sauko cikin hasken rana, birnin na ɗauke da wani irin kyau na alfarma da nutsuwa, amma a zuciyar Rayyan ba wannan natsuwar ce ba, daga RH Global Holdings ya nufi wani ɓangaren birnin inda Amir Kareem Ventures yake office ɗin abokinsa kuma ɗan uwansa Amir, motarsa Rolls-Royce Cullinan ta tsaya a gaban ginin, guards suka buɗe masa ƙofa, ya shiga cikin nutsuwa amma da wani irin yanayi na ciki da ba a gani a fuskarsa, kai tsaye ya nufi office ɗin Amir ba tare da sanarwa ba, yana tura ƙofar a hankali… abin da ya gani ya sa jinin jikinsa ya tsaya na ɗan lokaci, Amir na tsaye yana rungume da wata yarinya cikin kusanci da bai dace ba, hannunsa a jikinta, dariyarsu cike da wani yanayi mara kyau, a take fuskar Rayyan ta sauya, idanunsa suka yi duhu, zuciyarsa ta cika da wani irin bacin rai mai tsanani, “Amir” ya kira da murya mai ƙarfi, suka firgita, yarinyar ta yi saurin ja baya, Amir ya juya cikin kunya, “Rayyan…” bai gama ba, Rayyan ya nuna ƙofa cikin tsauri, “Get out.” yarinyar ta ɗauki jakarta ta fita cikin gaggawa ba tare da ta kalli baya ba, shiru ya sauka na ɗan lokaci, Rayyan ya rufe ƙofar a hankali, ya juya yana kallon Amir, “Do you even realize what you’re doing?” muryarsa ba ta da ƙarfi amma cike take da tsanani, Amir ya sauke kai, “I’m sorry…” Rayyan ya matsa kusa da shi, “Haramun ne, Amir… this is clearly haram… you think it’s just fun?” ya ɗan tsaya yana kallonsa cikin ido, “Would you accept this for your sister?” kalmar ta soka Amir a zuciya, ya ɗaga kai cikin kunya, “No…” “Then why are you doing it?” Rayyan ya tambaya cikin zafi, Amir ya shafa kansa cikin damuwa, “I don’t know… I just… I can’t control it…” Rayyan ya girgiza kai cikin rashin jin daɗi, “Control is a choice… discipline is a choice… idan ka bar zuciyarka tana ja ka, zaka faɗa cikin halaka,” ya ɗan ɗaga murya, “Get married, Amir… if you can’t control yourself, get married… stop disobeying Allah saboda son zuciya,” kalmar ta fito da nauyi, Amir ya ji kunya sosai, ya ɗan matsa kusa, “You’re right… I’m sorry… I’ll fix it,” Rayyan ya sauke numfashi, ya ɗan zauna a kujera, suka fara tattaunawa cikin nutsuwa kan rayuwa, kasuwanci, da kuma yadda mutum zai iya kiyaye kansa daga fitina a duniya mai cike da jaraba, Rayyan ya ce, “This life… it’s not just money… it’s about discipline, iman, and responsibility… idan ka rasa waɗannan, ka rasa komai,” Amir ya saurare shi cikin girmamawa, yana jin nauyin kalamansa, bayan ɗan lokaci Rayyan ya miƙe, “Take care of yourself,” ya faɗa, Amir ya amsa da ladabi, “Thank you…”
Daga nan Rayyan bai tsaya ko’ina ba sai gidan Meme, duk da girman da ya samu da matsayin da yake ciki, amma idan maganar Fatima ce, babu wasa a tare da shi, yana shiga falon ya fara magana kai tsaye, “Ina Zeynab?” muryarsa cike da iko, Zeynab ta fito daga ɗaki tana ɗan murmushi amma zuciyarta na bugawa, ta san dalilin zuwansa, Rayyan ya tsaya yana kallonta, “I heard what you did…” shiru ya sauka, “Don’t ever… ever disrespect my mother again,” ya jaddada kalmar my mother da ƙarfi, “Wallahi idan na sake jin wani abu daga gare ki… you won’t like the outcome,” kalmarsa ta fito da tsanani wanda ya sa Zeynab ta ji sanyi a jikinta, “I’m sorry… it won’t happen again,” ta faɗa cikin sauri, ta san halinsa, ba yaron da za a raina ba ne, Meme ta tsaya a gefe tana kallon su, amma ba ta yi magana ba, Rayyan ya juya ya fita kamar sarki, presence dinsa ya bar wani irin yanayi a cikin gidan, da zarar ya fita, Meme ta yi tsaki, “He thinks he owns everything…” Zeynab ta ƙara da cewa cikin zafi, “Insha Allahu… wata rana zai kawo mata bakin ciki…” zuciyarsu cike da hassada.
Rayyan yana shiga mota, ya jingina da kujera, ya rufe idanunsa na ɗan lokaci, wani irin yanayi ya ratsa jikinsa, ba bacin rai ba… ba gajiya ba… wani abu daban, wani irin tashin hankali na ciki, ya ɗan dafe goshinsa, “Ya Allah…” ya furta a hankali, yana jin wani irin pressure a jikinsa, yana azumin Litinin kamar yadda ya saba, yana ƙoƙarin kiyaye kansa, amma wannan yanayin yana dawowa lokaci zuwa lokaci, wani irin urge da ba ya so, da ba ya yarda da shi, ya buɗe idanunsa cikin damuwa, “This is not me…” ya faɗa a hankali, a zuciyarsa yana ƙin duk wani abu na bin mata, yana ganin ko addini bai hana ba, akwai tsafta da mutunci da mutum ya kamata ya kiyaye, yana son rayuwa mai tsarki, mai tsari, amma jikinsa wani lokaci yana ƙoƙarin jan sa wani wuri dabam, wannan shi ne ya fi damunsa, wannan shi ne yake yaƙi da shi a kullum.
Ya ɗauki wayarsa ya duba lokaci, ya tuna yana da dakko mahaifinsa, nan take ya daidaita kansa, ya kunna motar, ya nufi Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, tafiyarsa cikin nutsuwa amma zuciyarsa na aiki, kafin ya iso, motoci sama da goma na security convoy sun riga sun isa, guards suna tsaye suna jiran sa, yana sauka daga mota cikin nutsuwa, suit dinsa na sheƙi a ƙarƙashin hasken airport, ya ɗaga kai yana kallon sararin sama na Paris, ya sauke numfashi a hankali.
Daga nan Rayyan bai tsaya ko’ina ba sai gidan Meme, duk da girman da ya samu da matsayin da yake ciki, amma idan maganar Fatima ce, babu wasa a tare da shi, yana shiga falon ya fara magana kai tsaye, “Ina Zeynab?” muryarsa cike da iko, Zeynab ta fito daga ɗaki tana ɗan murmushi amma zuciyarta na bugawa, ta san dalilin zuwansa, Rayyan ya tsaya yana kallonta, “I heard what you did…” shiru ya sauka, “Don’t ever… ever disrespect my mother again,” ya jaddada kalmar my mother da ƙarfi, “Wallahi idan na sake jin wani abu daga gare ki… you won’t like the outcome,” kalmarsa ta fito da tsanani wanda ya sa Zeynab ta ji sanyi a jikinta, “I’m sorry… it won’t happen again,” ta faɗa cikin sauri, ta san halinsa, ba yaron da za a raina ba ne, Meme ta tsaya a gefe tana kallon su, amma ba ta yi magana ba, Rayyan ya juya ya fita kamar sarki, presence dinsa ya bar wani irin yanayi a cikin gidan, da zarar ya fita, Meme ta yi tsaki, “He thinks he owns everything…” Zeynab ta ƙara da cewa cikin zafi, “Insha Allahu… wata rana zai kawo mata bakin ciki…” zuciyarsu cike da hassada.
Rayyan yana shiga mota, ya jingina da kujera, ya rufe idanunsa na ɗan lokaci, wani irin yanayi ya ratsa jikinsa, ba bacin rai ba… ba gajiya ba… wani abu daban, wani irin tashin hankali na ciki, ya ɗan dafe goshinsa, “Ya Allah…” ya furta a hankali, yana jin wani irin pressure a jikinsa, yana azumin Litinin kamar yadda ya saba, yana ƙoƙarin kiyaye kansa, amma wannan yanayin yana dawowa lokaci zuwa lokaci, wani irin urge da ba ya so, da ba ya yarda da shi, ya buɗe idanunsa cikin damuwa, “This is not me…” ya faɗa a hankali, a zuciyarsa yana ƙin duk wani abu na bin mata, yana ganin ko addini bai hana ba, akwai tsafta da mutunci da mutum ya kamata ya kiyaye, yana son rayuwa mai tsarki, mai tsari, amma jikinsa wani lokaci yana ƙoƙarin jan sa wani wuri dabam, wannan shi ne ya fi damunsa, wannan shi ne yake yaƙi da shi a kullum.
Ya ɗauki wayarsa ya duba lokaci, ya tuna yana da dakko mahaifinsa, nan take ya daidaita kansa, ya kunna motar, ya nufi Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, tafiyarsa cikin nutsuwa amma zuciyarsa na aiki, kafin ya iso, motoci sama da goma na security convoy sun riga sun isa, guards suna tsaye suna jiran sa, yana sauka daga mota cikin nutsuwa, suit dinsa na sheƙi a ƙarƙashin hasken airport, ya ɗaga kai yana kallon sararin sama na Paris, ya sauke numfashi a hankali.