Puranay Rastay ✓

chapter ‣ 5

With a cast on his arm, his head bandaged and wounded from several places, Khaled stuck out like a sore thumb at the wedding—and I thought I was supposed to be the main attraction. He was clearly visible among the dozen men even through the partition separating men and women at the masjid.

He sat a few rows behind Aqib and my father, nursing his injuries. His face was etched with unease, as if he had forgotten to take his painkillers and was going through far more pain than he had expected.

I peeked from behind the thin veil over my eyes, looking around the spacious masjid hall as the imam gave a khutbah before initiating the nikah. Kainat sat behind me, gripping my arm for emotional support. While Phopo and my Ami sat to my right. Aqib's mother, Mrs. Chaudhary was sitting on my left, intently listening to the imam talk about the importance of marriage and keeping loyal to one's spouse.

I felt surprisingly calm at that moment. The night before I had tossed and turned in bed, thinking about everything but my wedding. I had felt an array of emotions as I reflected on my life up until that moment. I lamented over the opportunities I had missed, over the times I could have been a better daughter and sister. I thought about all of the major decisions I had made, and whether they had been the right ones. I reflected over the blessings that had easily come to me despite my countless wrongdoings and mistakes.

Sometime during that restless night I had slipped out of bed, and carefully walked over or by cousins and aunts who slept in various places around the bedroom. I tightened my shawl as the chill of the night flowed in through the half open window, seeking warmth in the fabric before I caught yet another cold that winter.

Gingerly making my way through the living room, I made a decision to go to the terrace instead of the roof, staying close so the others wouldn't mistake my disappearance as me running away with some mysterious lover in the dark of the night.

A gasp left my mouth as soon as I closed the terrace door behind me.

Maybe I should have stayed inside. I thought to myself as the cold penetrated through the warm pashmina and chilled me to the bone.

Yet as I leaned against the railing and stared on at the night sky, I felt myself fill with a sense of calm. All of my thoughts from earlier had disappeared, instead leaving me in the silence of the present moment.

Home. Home had always been my parents' flat, the numerous neighbors around me who had watched me grow into the woman I was. Home was being a staircase away from Phopo, it was sleeping in the same room as my sisters, fighting with them over who got to decide which bedsheet to lay that week. It was standing at the bus stand in the sweltering heat, waiting for the university bus at 7 am for an 11 am class. It was smelling my mother's nihari as soon as I returned exhausted from the campus. It was spending hours on the roof, feeding the pigeons and flying kites. It was in the embrace of my father as he visited us after weeks away.

All of it was going to change. My definition of home was going to change.

A single tear rolled down my cheek, catching me off guard. I wiped it away quickly, denying the sadness inside me. I had to be strong, I couldn't allow myself to enter into a new life with a heavy heart.

I sighed heavily, slipping down to sit on the cold cement floor. I would no longer be around when my father would return home for the final time after retiring, I would no longer be there to watch Kainat ace her FSc. exams and graduate. I would no longer be there to watch the pigeons lay their eggs in the summer. And I wouldn't be there when Khaled visited the first girl in his quest to find a wife.

Phopo and Khaled—I would miss them for sure. They were part of my life in a way no one else was. Their unbounded love, support and care would be hard to replicate, regardless of how loving my in-laws were going to be.