Hona Tha Pyaar ✔

7. Kiya Socha Tha Aur Kiya Paya

"Nai. Koi bhi nai hai." She replied and left to do the task on hand.

This is how life's been for the past week. Nothing but pure hell. Everything screamed bad vibes from the moment I hugged Bhai goodbye and boarded the plane at JFK. Nothing went the way I had imagined it to be. 

I've traveled a lot. But never in my life did I throw up as much as I did this time. It was like, nothing would sit in my tummy for more than an hour. The entire journey, all I did was eat, puke and sleep. They'd wake me up for meals, and I'd pass them a meek smile as I glanced at the food in my tray, before stuffing them in my mouth. Only to have it all out in the white paper bag.

We landed here in the evening after the sun was down. My feet, totally numb as I tried to take a step forward.  Mom passing me the 'make yourself look like a human' look every now and then until we reached the airport's bathroom. After brushing my teeth and making myself look human again, I remember taking deep breaths before following my folks out of the sliding glass doors.

About 100 people, waved at us as soon as we were noticeable to them. An easy 100.

I could now tell what a stampede might look like, as I saw them rushing towards us. Excited smiles mirroring their faces. I was taken in embrace after embrace, with different kinds of back pats and hugs, while I stood there frozen in my spot. My mind too hazy to process anything other than the blue rising in my stomach.

I had to tear away from the crowd, to rush to the nearest dustbin to empty my guts.

'Allah bichari!'

'Vomits hote kiya inku traveling me?'

'Kapde gande mat karlo.'

'Time lagta set hone.'

So many commentators but no one to step up and give me a bottle of water so I could rinse my mouth in the least! 

Khair...

Moving on to the car ride back home which was... rough and claustrophobic. Every other second, I'd hit my head somewhere as the vehicle jumped or fell into a bump. I had to sit on one of my cousin's sister's lap with another human on me, who was sprawled so comfortably like I was a f$cking couch, squeezing the living shit out of me!

The air around reeked of smoke and garbage and cow poop. Honking and beeping topping it all.

Nothing like what they had shown in Swades!

We stopped for a tea break, as everyone had insisted that I should drink the famous Irani chai first thing. And I did. Enjoyed it even with the non-chocolate chip cookies they had provided with it. [She meant Osmania biscuit]

Reaching 'Muqaam-e-Ibrahim' the house was named after my grandpa, Ibrahim Malik, was a whole different thing.

More and more people, crushing me into their chests and patting my back. I could only look at them like a newborn would, with wide curious eyes. Just a trigger and begins to wail.

I didn't cry though!

The elders made me sit between them on the deewan, stuffing a weird, brownish-looking sweet in my mouth every other second. That didn't taste very nice. [She meant 'Ajmeri Khalakhan'] The famous question never leaving their mouth 'Do you remember me?' And I would just sit there, blinking my eyes. At first, I denied it honestly, but a few minutes later I began playing along.

'Haa, yaad hai mujhe..'

And then the lady would again take me in a bone-crushing hug.

But...picture abhi baaki hai mere dost! The torture just begins. The worst part was stepping out of the house.

I don't know if I am too pretty. Or too hard to resist. Or people just being creepy. But the moment I walked out, I felt like a million eyes on me. Call it my American self, or maybe I am just being paranoid or overreacting or whatever.

I JUST DIDN'T FEEL SAFE!

Although I have my paltan with me, the feeling of being watched is unsettling. All the faces seem familiar, everywhere I go, making me wonder if I was being followed all around, creeping the hell out of me!

And like it wasn't enough, I slapped a man who just wouldn't stop brushing his arm against me while standing in a queue. Snapped at an auto rickshaw driver who was staring at me for too long. Snatched a boy's phone because I saw him clicking a picture of me, and some more from last night.

All of that in a mere week. And here I am, having more than 2 months laid out before me in this country.

May Allah give me strength!

All my cousins now call me boss lady/gundi for my kartoots. Which I am proud of. Note the sarcasm.

"Tahera? Did you-- AAAAHHHHHHHH!"

I jump on the bed, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Kiya hua?!" Mom came rushing inside.

"Co-cockroach" I stutter, pointing at the creature in front of me.

"Deewani bachi!" She smacked her forehead. My jaw hung to the floor seeing her heading out of the room.

"Areyy, maar ke to jao. Mumma?!"

"Kiya hua, bibi?" Shaheen Bi inquires, entering the room holding my suit in her hand.

"Cockroach hai uder itna bada!" I tell Shaheen bi, as she looked at me scared state, trying to bite back a smile.

Placing it on the bed, she picked her flip flop, and smashed it against the crawling thing, and smiled turning to look at me.

"Waha pe nai rehte?"

"Haa rehte." I utter, cautiously getting off the bed.

"Chuhe rehte?"

"Haa wo bhi rehte. But they are not scary like cockroaches are. I call them Jerry." I snicker.

"Aap jaldi bahar aajao, kheer banari thi me." Shaheen bi said patting my head and walked out.

Shaheen bi was the only one I remembered all these years. She was my caretaker since I was a baby, and our bond is something really special and close to me. I treat her like a mother and she treats me like a daughter. More than Tahera, her real daughter.

Changing into the outfit, I throw my hair in a ponytail and walked directly into the kitchen. Helping Shaheen bi in making Kheer, and practically taking over the kitchen. Forcing her to sit in a place. The easiest and the quickest of all the desi sweets. Also, the only desi thing I could cook.

The house was in its usual bustle until the bell rung and everyone decided to turn deaf towards it.

"Saira, door kholo." I heard my dad say. "Maqsood hunga."

"Alright," I say, walking towards the front door. Setting the orhni properly, I pull the door open. Three smiling faces greeting me. A man almost dad's age, a woman on his left, and a young man on his right.

"Assalamalaikum, bache." Said the older man, beeming at me.

"Walaikumsalam." 

"Ayan hai?" 

"Haan..." I reply in a perplexed tone until realization dawned upon me. "Oh! To aap hai humare walid saheb ke beauty." I blurt, biting my tongue the next second.

The trio chuckled, as I ushered them into the drawing room. We said our Salams, hugged, and settled down on the couches.

"Teri beti achi badi hogai re, Mashallah." Maqsood uncle said, running his hand on my head and patting it.

"Imran bhi ache bade hogaye. Fahad kider hai bhaiya?" Mom asked him.

"Car park--" Uncle was interrupted by another bell sounding.

I get to my feet and walked towards the door. Pulling it open, a familiar face comes into view.

"Tum?!" We exclaim in unison, as realization dawned upon us.

XOXO

M.