دانلود رمان انگلیسی “با تماس موافقت شد”

In the semi-darkness of dawn the muezzin called out, ‘Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar . . .’ His passionate, full-throated appeal to the Almighty broke the stillness of the new day and slowly Maler Kotla began to stir. As if on cue, the sun gasped through the horizon, flushing the rapidly brightening sky with redness. Yet another day crept into the lives of its residents. Except for one. Standing tall and in full glory, the white marble haveli surrounded by lush green lawns had lost its main occupant in the wee hours. For the villagers, especially the women, it was not a mere structure of stone but a symbol of peace, a shrine which they could visit any time and be heard. With the arrival of the new day, the imposing bungalow of Sehmat Khan quietly slipped into mourning. Tej Khan, the elderly matriarch, and now the only other permanent occupant of the sprawling house, took one last look at her daughter, blissfully calm in death, and quietly closed the bedroom door. Blinking back tears, she made her way to the telephone and fumbled through the painstaking effort of calling up Samar Khan. As soon as she was greeted with a curt, ‘Yes?’ she said, ‘Ammi passed away in her sleep. Come home.’ She heard the faint sound of a tortured sigh from Samar’s end before he hung up. It was proof of the huge shock he had received. She too put the receiver back into the cradle. On the other end of the line, Samar Khan was shrouded with a sorrow that seemed to choke his very being. Two days ago, he had come to Delhi on duty from his field station in Amritsar and had requested a weekend leave. He had recently been promoted to the rank of Captain and had excitedly ordered new uniform and badges in which he intended to present himself to his mother. Sehmat had always felt proud and happy to see her son dressed smartly in military uniform. Gasping, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He would have to take on the responsibility of a lone surviving son, but it was easier said than done. His mind was in anguish, his vision blurred; tears welled up as if to distance themselves from the grief that ravaged his body. It seemed a lifetime before Captain Samar Khan could collect himself and call his Commanding Officer, Brigadier Parthasarthy, to seek permission for an emergency leave. As Samar Khan packed his bags with the essentials needed for the most poignant battle of his life, his Commanding Officer called up that one family member of Sehmat Khan whom she chose to live away from. One of whom no one was aware . . .