CHAPTER ONE

Bismillāhir-Raḥmānir-Raḥīm.

Mulki amanah ne. Sarauta hidima ce.

Amma duk inda aka kafa kujerar mulki, akwai jinin da aka zubar domin a kare ta… da kuma jinin da aka binne domin kada ya dawo ya nemi hakkinsa.

Rana ta fara sunkuyawa a bayan tsaunukan da suka kewaye masarautar. Haskenta na ratsa manyan bishiyoyin lambun fada, yana barin dogayen inuwa a kan farfajiyar da aka shimfiɗa da duwatsu masu sheƙi. Daga nesa ana ganin tutocin masarauta suna rawa a saman sandunansu, yayin da jami’an tsaro ke sintiri a ƙofar fada, radio a hannunsu, idanunsu a buɗe. Babu wani motsi da ke wucewa ba tare da sun gani ba. Fadar ta fi girman da ido zai iya ɗauka a kallo ɗaya. Manyan tagogin gilashi suna fuskantar lambunan cikin gida. Motocin sarauta na shigowa suna fita. Daga kitchen ana jin ƙarar faranti da muryoyin masu aiki, duk sun cakuɗe da hayaniyar ranar. A zahiri, komai yana tafiya daidai. Amma akwai wani ɓangare na fadar da ba a cika ambatonsa ba: wani corridor da aka daɗe da rufe shi, wata ƙofa da ba a yarda ma’aikata su buɗe ba, da kuma wani tsohon tarihi da aka share daga littattafan gidan sarauta, kamar ba a taɓa rubuta shi ba.

Shekaru ashirin kenan. Amma wasu abubuwa ba sa mutuwa don an yi shiru a kansu.

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“Sabeeha, ki sake duba wannan tray ɗin kafin ki tafi.” Muryar Hafsat ce ta fito daga bayan teburin aiki. Sabeeha ta ɗago kai daga tray ɗin da take gyarawa, ta ɗauki ƙaramin cokalin da aka ajiye a gefe ta mayar da shi inda ya dace, sannan ta sake kallon kayan. “Komai yana nan.” “Ban ce ai  babu ba. Na ce kawai dai ki  sake dubawa.” Sabeeha ta kalle ta  gefen ido. “Ke ce dai kika fiye son magana fiye da aiki.” Hafsat ta yi dariya. “Ai magana ma aiki ce.” “Aiki irin wanne?” “Ina rage wa mutum gajiya.” Sabeeha ta yi murmushi ta ci gaba da aikinta. Hafsat ta jingina da counter ɗin kitchen, idanunta suna bin ƙofar da ke kaiwa babban corridor. Sai ta ce a hankali, “Amma akwai wani aikin da zan fi so.”

Sabeeha ba ta ɗago ba. “Allah Ya sa ba ni za ki sa ba.” “Ba ke ba.” “To wa?” Hafsat ta yi ɗan murmushi. “Guard Taymoor.” Hannun Sabeeha ya tsaya a kan tray ɗin. Ta ɗaga ido a hankali. “Me ya sa kullum sai wannan mutumin?” “Saboda ya cancanta.” “Me ya cancanta?” “Ki daina yi min kamar ba ki san abin da nake nufi ba.” Sabeeha ta yi mata irin kallon da take yi duk lokacin da ta fara shirmenta. “Hafsat, kina kitchen ne ko kina binciken rayuwar guards?” “Duka biyun.” “Allah Ya taimake ki.” “Wallahi wannan Taymoor ɗin—” “me Yayi  kuma?”cewar sabeeha “Kin ga yadda yake tafiya?” Sabeeha ta fashe da dariya. Sabeeha tace “Ke kina kallon tafiyarsa kenan?” “Mutum zai daina kallon abin da yake da kyau ne?” cewar hafsat 

“Ba ki da kunya.” “Kunyar me?” Hafsat ta gyara hijab ɗinta tana dariya, amma kafin ta ƙara magana, wata murya ta katse su. “Sabeeha.” Maryam ce. Dariyar ta yi sanyi. Maryam ta tsaya a bakin ƙofar kitchen, wayarta a hannu ɗaya. “Ki kai wannan wajen Sarauniya.” Ta nuna tray ɗin. “Yanzu?” “An ce ki kai yanzu.” Ta faɗa a sauƙaƙe, amma wani abu a muryarta ya sa Sabeeha ba ta ƙara tambaya ba. Ta ɗaga tray ɗin da hannu biyu. “Ki dawo lafiya,” Hafsat ta ce, tana murmushi. Sabeeha ta tsaya. “Lafiya?” Hafsat ta ɗaga kafaɗa. “Fadar nan fa.” Sabeeha ta girgiza kai tana dariya. “Ke dai kina da matsala.” Ta fita.

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Da ta bar hayaniyar kitchen, shiru ya biyo ta. Ba cikakken shiru ba ne. Ana jin takun jami’an tsaro daga wani ɓangare na fadar, da ƙarar elevator tana buɗewa a nesa, da iska tana bugun dogayen tagogin corridor. Sabeeha ta saba da wurin. Ta girma a cikin wannan fadar. Ta san kusan kowace ƙofa, kowane staircase, da kowace hanyar da ma’aikata ke bi. Amma akwai wani corridor da ba ta cika bi ba. Na gabas. Ma’aikata sun fi bin babban corridor, domin shi ne yake kai wa sashen Sarauniya kai tsaye. Amma yau, don ta yi sauri, Sabeeha ta zaɓi hanyar gabas. Ta kusa shiga hanyar lokacin da ta ji takun ƙafa daga can gaba. Ta ɗaga kai. Wani mutum na tahowa. Uniform ɗin guard ne a jikinsa, amma tafiyarsa ba irin ta guards ɗin da ta saba gani ba ce. Babu gaggawa, babu motsin banza. Kamar wanda ya saba da wuraren da yake shiga, ba mai neman izinin shiga ba. Sabeeha ta gane shi kafin ya ƙaraso.

Taymoor. Ya tsaya a gabanta. Idanunsa suka sauka a kan tray ɗin, sannan suka koma kan corridor ɗin da take niyyar bi. “Ba nan za ki bi ba.” Sabeeha ta ɗan daure fuska. “An ce in kai wa Sarauniya ne.” “Na sani.” “To?” Ya kalli corridor ɗin. “Ki bi wancan.” Ya nuna mata wata hanya ta daban. Sabeeha ta kalli hanyar, sannan ta dawo da kallonta gare shi. “Me ya sa?” Taymoor bai amsa nan take ba. Kamar wani abu yake saurara. Sai ya ce a hankali, “Saboda yau ba ki da abin yi a nan.” Bai ɗaga murya ba. Amma bai bar mata wurin yin gardama ba. Sabeeha ta daɗe tana kallonsa. “Har corridor ɗin ma kai ne za ka hana ni bi?”

Wani abu kamar murmushi ya bayyana a gefen bakinsa, ya ɓace kafin ta tabbatar da ta gani. “Ki koma.” Ya wuce ta. Sabeeha ta juya tana kallon bayansa. “Guard Taymoor.” Ya tsaya. “Me ya faru?” Ya ɗan juya kansa, amma bai kalle ta sosai ba. “Babu komai.” “Amma ka ce—” “Ki bi waccan hanyar.” Sai ya ci gaba da tafiya. Sabeeha ta tsaya da tray ɗin a hannu, tana mamaki. “Mutumin nan kam…” ta faɗa a hankali. Ba ta san dalilin da ya sa maganarsa ta dame ta ba. Wataƙila saboda ya yi mata magana kamar ya san wani abu da ita ba ta sani ba. Ko kuma saboda a karon farko tun tana aiki a fadar, wani ya hana ta shiga wuri ba tare da ya ba ta bayani ba.

Ta juya. Amma kafin ta ɗauki mataki, wata inuwa ta motsa a bayan gilashin da ke saman corridor. Sabeeha ba ta gani ba. Taymoor kuwa ya gani. Ya tsaya a ƙarshen hanyar, idanunsa a kan gilashin. Daga bayan labulen da aka ɗan buɗe, wata mace na kallon wurin. Sarauniya Zulaiha. Ba ta motsa ba. Taymoor ma bai motsa ba. Na ɗan lokaci, idanunsu suka haɗu daga nesa, babu wanda ya yi magana. Sai Zulaiha ta rufe labulen. Taymoor ya runtse idanunsa na ɗan lokaci, sannan ya juya ya tafi.

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A cikin ɗakin Sarauniya, Zulaiha ta koma kan kujerarta. Babu abin da ya dame ta kamar fuskar yarinyar da ta gani tare da Taymoor. Sabeeha. Sunanta bai taɓa zama wani abu mai muhimmanci a gare ta ba. Yarinyar ma’aikata ce, wadda Mama Rabi ta taso, kuma ta shafe kusan rayuwarta a cikin fadar. Amma yau, Zulaiha ta ji wani rashin kwanciyar hankali da ta kasa fassarawa kanta. Ta miƙa hannu ta buɗe drawer ɗin teburinta. A ƙasan drawer ɗin akwai wani tsohon envelope mai launin ruwan kasa. Ta ciro shi. Babu abin da aka rubuta a jikinsa. Sai dai idan mutum ya san abin da yake nema, zai ga ƙaramin rubutu a kusurwar ƙasa. K. A. Zulaiha ta daɗe tana kallon haruffan. Shekaru ashirin. Ta yi ƙoƙarin binne komai, ta yi ƙoƙarin mantawa. Amma wani abu ya fara dawowa, kamar tsohon rauni da ya sake buɗewa ba tare da an taɓa shi ba.

Ta rufe envelope ɗin. “Ba zai yiwu ba,” ta ce a hankali. Amma muryarta ba ta yi kamar ta yarda da abin da ta faɗa ba. A waje, kiran sallar Magariba ya fara tashi daga masallacin fadar. Zulaiha ta kalli taga. Fadar na ci gaba da rayuwarta, kowa na tunanin yau rana ce kamar kowace rana. Sai dai Sarauniya Zulaiha ta san abu ɗaya da ba za ta iya faɗa wa kowa ba.

Idan tsohon tarihi ya dawo… ba ya dawowa shi kaɗai.