Nikkah

5

Delhi, India
It poured heavily outside, but due to the sound of the fan in the living room with the closed windows, no one realised it was.

They sat in a circle and kept a bottle in their middle.

"I'll spin it. Whoever it points at has to choose between truth and dare. Then we'll decide who'll get to ask him or her." Zoya explained to them.

Outside, the breeze was very heavy. It was destroying everything it came into contact with.

Zoya spun the bottle, and it pointed at Sanam.

"I will ask her." Ahil uttered and said. "Truth or dare?"

Her eyes analysed his enthusiastic face, and she replied, having no trust in him, "You're trying to get something out of me, but I won't let it, so I choose dare."

He laughed evilly. "I dare you to reveal your relationship status."

Her face turned into a blush, and she started to stammer while telling him, "That's not how the game works. In a dare, you'll ask someone to do an action. Not reveal something."

"Okay! I dare you to send me some money."

She was interrupted before she could reply by the lights that got switched on. They all looked at who did—their mother, who went and sat down beside Zoya.

"I went to the room to check whether Zoya had slept but found it empty. What are you doing awake at this hour? It's quite late, and Ahil, you being the elder, instead of scolding them to go to sleep, you're with them."

"Zoya will be here for two days, Mum. I want to know her so that when I visit Agra in the future, I'll have a friend who will show me around." He answered her, not giving in to her frown; instead, he added, "You should also join us because she may never get the opportunity to visit us again since she's a lady, but that doesn't mean we won't be in touch through calls or social media. However, for that to happen, we have to be comfortable in each other's company, right?"

"Who told you she wouldn't have the opportunity to visit us again? This is her home. She may come whenever she wishes." His mother replied.

"Aunt won't let me come again. She was angry earlier when I called her. She didn't even let me speak. She disconnected the call." Zoya said with sadness as she lowered her gaze.

"Your aunt will have no choice other than letting you come. If God wills, this home may become yours," she stretched the last word and paused while Zoya and everyone else got confused.

"What do you mean it may become mine?"

Her aunt had realised what she had said and didn't want to explain it just yet, so she shifted the topic. "What are you playing?"

Zoya found her change in behaviour strange.

"Truth or dare," Sanam told her.

"I'll join as well."

Well, Zoya released a breath that cleared her mind off what just happened, and instead, her smile returned, and she spun the bottle again, which pointed at her.

"I'll ask her." Ahil raised a finger with so much interest.

He cleared his throat before he said. "Truth or dare?" He prayed silently for her to choose the truth because he wanted to ask something about her.

After careful consideration, she replied, "Truth."

A smile spread on his lips—a happy smile. He asked with an elated tone. "What type of husband do you want?"

She was taken aback by his unexpected question because what he wanted to know was very personal to her. In a polite tone, she replied. "Please change the question, Ahil."

"He can't. That's the rule of the game." Aunt answered. She was also interested in knowing what she expected from her future husband and what type she wanted.

She sighed and wondered for a while. After thinking, she replied. "I want a husband who won't look at another woman after me. I want to marry someone who won't marry again after our marriage. He must sign an agreement before our wedding that I'll remain the only one. If he breaks it,..." she started calmly, but got overshadowed by an unknown feeling that scared all of them. "My husband can't marry another wife after me. I get jealous easily.

Aunt asked her. "What if he gets married again after you? Islam permits four wives."

She shook her head and mumbled, "I don't like sharing. One of us must go. Either her or me." She ended with a forced smile to lighten what she said.

Aryaan's mother smiled back though; she was tensed on how she would bring Aryaan and her together to lessen the sin they committed two years ago. Aryaan is a religious person, so she doesn't know his view yet about marrying another wife after his first, but she hoped he wouldn't, as Zoya won't entertain that.

"Envy makes one go insane. If you don't reduce it, it will make you a dangerous person. I'll advise you to speak to Aryaan. He's a psychiatrist. He'll help you." Ahil told her. His reply ruined her mood to play the game, as she wondered if he thought she was mad or insane.

"I'm done. Sanam, I'm going to sleep." She looked at her, who had remained silent all along.

"Aunt, good night," she said as she leaned in and gave her a brief hug.

"Wake up early tomorrow. We visit the mosque on Saturdays to meet a sage. He prays for the betterment of the family and also predicts fate." She muttered restlessly as her viewpoint on the second wife had made her weak, even making her rethink her decision to match her to Aryaan because women like her go crazy when their husbands remarry to the extent that they may kill him or his bride.

"InshaAllah."

She was returning to Sanam's room when Ahil's voice replayed in her head about Aryaan being a psychiatrist.

"What harm will it be to me checking whether he is good at his job?" She knocked on his door.

"Come in," came his voice.

She inhaled a long breath that fuelled her with strength just in case they may end up arguing again, and then she went in.

"It's me! Zoya!" she politely informed him. He was studying with a huge book, but dropped it and glanced over at her innocent face before his face scrunched in anger. "What do you want?"

"I'm here for help."

•••

He offered her to sit on one of the chairs in the library while he too sat down, but on the couch.

"Tell me," he said, giving her time to be comfortable in the room even though she wasn't making any effort to be. She was fidgeting with her fingers, tapping her foot against the chair, and not able to sit down as she was consistently moving. The words weren't ready to leave her lips because they were a burden she wasn't ready to let go of.

"Look, Zoya, you can share anything with me. Think of me as your heart. You're not talking to a person, but your heart. Whatever you'll tell me goes with me to my grave," he reassured her again. He was good at placating and convincing people to open up to him, and because he is a professional, no matter what relationship you share with him, be it his enemy or well-wisher, he always kept it aside to give you the best treatment. He never allows his personal views to affect his line of work.

She hummed, and just as she was about to tell him, she remembered, "I can't just share my problems with a stranger who thinks I'm insolent. I know what I'll do."

"I have a friend who is terrified of the rain. She hates it. Whenever it is pouring and it touches her, she feels like acid is being spilled on her. What should she do?"

He gave her a half-smile and enquired, "Why does this your friend hate the rain? Could she have had a bad experience during it that caused it?"

"Yes!" Her eyes brightened up. She was glad he didn't realise she was talking about herself. "Her parents got involved in an accident in the rain. Whenever it pours, she locks herself in a room with closed windows. She wants to change, though. She wants to become normal like the other people. They all find her weird because she doesn't enjoy rain like they do, so she wants to change. However, she lacks the confidence and motivation to. What should she do?"

"Tell your friend it is absolutely normal to detach herself from the rain. Sometimes, what people think of us doesn't matter, but sometimes it does."

Her confusion was evident in her face, so he continued to elaborate, "It's very late. Meet me early tomorrow before the visit to the mosque for the therapy that will help your friend."