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PAGE 7.

Daga fitowarsa daga École Internationale Privée de Paris, bai tsaya ko’ina ba, motarsa kirar Rolls-Royce Cullinan Black Badge mai launin baki mai sheƙi ta tsaya a gaban katafaren ginin kamfaninsa mai suna RH GLOBAL HOLDINGS, wani gini mai hawa da yawa da aka yi da gilashi mai kyalli wanda ke nuna ƙarfin iko da kuɗi, guards biyu suna tsaye a ƙofar suna gaishe shi da girmamawa “Good afternoon, sir” bai tsaya ba, ya sauko daga motar cikin nutsuwa, suit dinsa na Italian tailored navy blue ya zauna jikinsa kamar an zuba masa, agogon Patek Philippe a hannunsa yana ƙara masa kima, tafiyarsa cike da authority, ma’aikata suna tsaye a gefe suna masa “Welcome sir” wasu suna sunkuyar da kai, wasu na murmushi amma babu wanda ya kuskura ya yi masa magana fiye da kima, kai tsaye ya nufi executive meeting hall, ba tare da ɓata lokaci ba aka fara meeting, projectors sun haskaka, screens sun nuna figures da charts, ya tsaya a tsakiyar table mai tsawo yana kallon su ɗaya bayan ɗaya, muryarsa ta fito da nutsuwa amma cike da iko “Let’s get straight to the point…” CFO ya fara gabatar da rahoto kan sabon investment a Dubai real estate expansion, figures sun kai billions, amma Rayyan bai nuna mamaki ba, ya saurara cikin nutsuwa, sannan ya ce “The numbers are good… but I want higher returns… restructure the deal” kowa ya yi shiru yana rubutu, wani director ya yi ƙoƙarin ƙara bayani, Rayyan ya ɗaga hannu a hankali “I don’t want explanations… I want results” kalmar ta tsaya a zuciyarsu, aka ci gaba da meeting, aka tattauna kan agricultural export business dinsa da ke France countryside gonar da Fatima ta gada wacce ya juya zuwa babban kasuwanci, ya ce “We expand production by 40% this season… invest in modern equipment… no compromise on quality” awa ɗaya cif meeting ya ɗauka, amma a cikin wannan awa ɗaya, an yanke hukuncin miliyoyi, an tsara makomar kamfani, sannan ya juya ya fita ba tare da ya tsaya hira ba, ma’aikata suna bin bayansa suna masa gaisuwa, yana amsawa da ɗan ɗaga kai kawai, presence dinsa kaɗai ya isa ya cika wurin da iko.

Yana shiga cikin private executive office dinsa wani ɗaki mai faɗi, gilashi a ko’ina, view na birnin Paris daga sama, desk ɗinsa mai tsari da leather chair mai alfarma, ya zauna cikin nutsuwa yana buɗe laptop dinsa, a waje kuwa Noor personal assistant dinsa ta gan shi, zuciyarta ta buga, murmushi ya bayyana a fuskarta, ba ta ɓoye yadda take jin sa ba, a duniyarta babu wanda take so kamar shi, amma soyayyarta shiru ce, ta ɗauki file ta nufi ƙofar, ta yi knocking a hankali, “Come in” ya amsa ba tare da ya ɗago kai ba, ta shigo cikin ladabi tana tafiya a hankali, “Good afternoon, sir” ta ajiye file a gabansa, har yanzu bai kalle ta ba, “Please review this contract… it needs your signature” ta faɗa cikin nutsuwa, ya ɗauki file ɗin ya fara dubawa, ba tare da wani extra magana ba ya sa hannu, ta tsaya na ɗan lokaci kamar tana son ya ƙara magana, “Do you need anything else, sir?” ya amsa a takaice “No, thank you” kalmar ta rufe komai, ta juya ta fita a hankali, zuciyarta na cike da wani irin abu da ba ta iya fassara ba, tana fita ta sauke ajiyar zuciya mai nauyi, ta jingina da bango na ɗan lokaci kafin ta dawo cikin nutsuwa.

A cikin office dinsa kuwa, Rayyan ya jingina da kujera, ya rufe idanunsa na ɗan lokaci, numfashinsa ya ɗan sauya, wani irin tashin hankali yadda gabansa ya mike, ba abu bane na jiki kawai, wani irin pressure ne na rayuwa, na nauyin da ke kansa, ya buɗe idanunsa a hankali yana shafa fuskarsa “Focus…” ya furta a hankali, ya dawo kan aikinsa, amma yau ba kamar kullum ba, hankalinsa ya ɗan watse, ya ɗauki wayarsa ya kira Mom.

“Hello Mom…” muryarsa ta sauya nan take, ta koma laushi.“Rayyan… are you okay?” Fatima ta tambaya cikin kulawa.

“I’m fine… just checking on you.” “Have you eaten?” ta tambaya kamar kullum. Ya ɗan yi murmushi “Not yet.” “Please don’t skip meals… you work too much.” “I will… don’t worry.” Ta yi masa addu’a cikin nutsuwa “Allah ya tsare ka… ya sa albarka a aikinka…”

“Thank you Mom…” ya amsa da girmamawa.

Sun yi sallama. Nan take ya kira Dad.

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 Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport ne Rayyan ya ɗauko mahaifinsa Haroon Kareem, convoy ɗin motoci masu tsada suna gaba da baya suna tsare su cikin tsari mai kyau, motar Rolls-Royce Cullinan na tafiya cikin nutsuwa a kan titin da ke cike da hasken yamma, birnin Paris na walƙiya a gefensu kamar wani zane mai rai, Haroon ya jingina da kujera yana kallon ɗansa da wani irin farin ciki da gamsuwa, “My love… I think it’s time,” ya faɗa cikin nutsuwa, Rayyan ya ɗan juya kai ya kalle shi da murmushi mai sauƙi, “Time for what, Dad?” Haroon ya ɗan yi dariya “Time for you to get married…” Rayyan ya girgiza kai a hankali yana ɗan murmushi, “Dad… I’m not seeing anyone…” Haroon ya ɗaga gira cikin wasa, “Ba wai dole sai ka ga wata ba, we can find you someone…” ya ɗan yi shiru kafin ya ƙara, “Your mom even said no at first when I mentioned Hanan… ‘yar gidan abokina…” Rayyan ya yi ɗan murmushi mai cike da nutsuwa, “Then talk to Mom, Dad… idan ta amince… I’ll accept,” kalmar ta fito da sauƙi amma tana ɗauke da girmamawa mai girma, Haroon ya ɗan kalli ɗansa da idanu masu cike da alfahari, ya shafa kansa a hankali “Allah ya yi maka albarka, my son… I’m proud of the man you’ve become…” Rayyan ya ɗan sunkuyar da kai cikin ladabi, motar ta ci gaba da tafiya cikin nutsuwa har suka isa katafaren gidan su na Neuilly-sur-Seine, ma’aikata suna jere suna gaishe su, amma Rayyan bai tsaya ba, ya wuce kai tsaye zuwa cikin ɗakinsa, ya cire suit dinsa cikin nutsuwa, ya shiga bathroom, ruwan shower mai ɗumi ya sauka a jikinsa yana kawar da gajiya da tunanin da ya taru a kansa, bayan ya fito ya ɗauki wayarsa ya kira Mom, “Mom… I’ll sleep early tonight… don’t worry if you don’t see me,” Fatima ta amsa cikin kulawa, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine…” ya faɗa cikin laushi, “Just tired,” ta ce “Alright… but I’ll check on you,” ya yi murmushi kaɗan, “I know…” ya ajiye wayar, ya kwanta a gadonsa mai faɗi, amma kamar yadda ta saba… Fatima ba ta yarda da kalmarsa kawai ba, ta leƙo ɗakin sau ɗaya… sau biyu… sau uku… tana kallonsa cikin kulawa, har ta matso kusa da shi ta taɓa goshinsa a hankali, “You’re not sick, right?” ya buɗe idanunsa kaɗan yana murmushi, “I’m fine Mom…” ta gyara duvet dinsa ta rufe shi sosai, sannan ta fita cikin nutsuwa.

A ƙasa kuwa… Nayla ta sauko daga saman bene cikin nutsuwa, tana sanye da doguwar riga mai sauƙi amma mai kyau, “Daddy…” ta kira da wani irin ɗan shagwaɓa mai laushi, Haroon ya juya yana murmushi “My princess…” ta ƙaraso kusa da shi ta riƙe hannunsa, “It’s been five days… I didn’t see you… even video call you didn’t pick…” ta ɗan turo baki kamar ƙaramar yarinya, Haroon ya ɗan riƙe hannunta yana lallashi, “I’m sorry Nayla… work was crazy…” ya ɗan sumbaci goshinta “How’s school?” ta yi ɗan murmushi, “We’re almost done… just a few more weeks,” ya ce “That’s good…” ta juya ta kalli Fatima, “Mom… can I go to Uncle Usman’s house tomorrow? Please don’t tell Yaya… he’ll say no… and Amnah invited me…” Fatima ta ɗan yi murmushi tana kallon ta, “Ask your brother first… idan ya yarda, then it’s fine,” Nayla ta yi ɗan tsaki cikin wasa, “Okay Mom…” ta juya tana cewa “Goodnight…” ta haura sama, saboda ita ba ta jinkirin bacci, tana son ta kwanta da wuri saboda lectures.

A falon kuwa Haroon ya juya ya kalli Fatima, “About Hanan…” ya fara magana cikin nutsuwa, Fatima ta ɗaga kai, “No… Haroon, I’m not comfortable…” ya ɗan yi murmushi “Haba Fatima… Rayyan is grown now… he needs a wife… a family…” Fatima ta sauke numfashi, “Ina tsoron ya samu mace mara tarbiyya…” kalmar ta fito daga zuciya, Haroon ya ce cikin natsuwa, “Then investigate… ki bincika… idan ta dace… we move forward,” Fatima ta ɗaga kai a hankali, “Alright… I’ll look into it…”

A cikin ɗakin Rayyan kuwa… ya tashi daga kwanciyar da ya yi, ba saboda bacci ya ƙoshi ba… sai saboda wani mafarki da ya tashe shi, ya zauna a gefen gado yana sauke numfashi a hankali, zuciyarsa na bugawa da sauri, ya shafa fuskarsa, “Ya Allah…” ya furta a hankali, ya miƙe ya sake shiga bathroom, ya wanke jikinsa da ruwan sanyi wannan karon, yana ƙoƙarin dawo da kansa cikin nutsuwa, ya fito ya sa kaya masu sauƙi, ya tsaya a gaban madubi yana kallon kansa, akwai wani abu da yake ji a jikinsa… wani irin restlessness da ba ya son shi, da ba ya yarda da shi, yana jin kamar jikinsa yana buƙatar wani abu da zuciyarsa ke ƙin yarda da shi, ya rufe idanunsa na ɗan lokaci, yana tuna kalamansa da ya faɗa wa Amir, “Control is a choice…” ya buɗe idanunsa a hankali, ya ɗan yi murmushi mai rauni, “I have to be stronger…” ya koma kan gadon.