Enwrapped

Chapter 09

~

In the quiet solitude of the night, Saboor found herself awake, the hushed darkness enveloping the house. The impending nikaah weighed heavy on her mind, making sleep an elusive companion. She rose quietly from her bed, tiptoeing through the corridors to the hall, finding a glass and a bottle of water.

Her arms and feet were adorned with henna. It dried and little chips feel to the floor as she opened the door with one hand. With her other hand, she carried the glass inside, while tucked in her elbow was a bottle full of water.

She left the door open, and keeping the bottle and glass at her desk, went back downstairs. She passed by the hall, and saw her mother's relatives fast asleep in the air-conditioned room, not minding having to sleep on the floor. Then, she went to the dining table, where piles of empty pots and dishes lay. All of that was for the affairs of the following day. She hopped silently into the kitchen, and switched on the dim cooktop light, and its warm yellow light fell onto her face and neck.

She headed to the fridge in a hushed manner, and pulled out a lemon from the side shelf. Taking out a knife from the stand, she cut it into half and squeezed it with all her might into a bowl. Then, she mixed in a spoon of sugar from the sugar pot, and her mixture was ready.

A slight itch on the arms caused Saboor to make a face, but despite that, she quietly dabbed the mix onto her mehndi design.

A memory flashed through her eyes.

~

She hardly five, when her mother's brother was getting married. Back then, it was just her; Aynoor hadn't been born yet. She was the first child, first grandchild, and the first niece, and had everyone running for her at her fingertips.

They had gone to the bride's party that evening, to give gifts from the groom's side for her. Saboor had worn a blue frilled frock, with lace detailing all over. Her hair was tied into two ponytails and dangled down her head.

The bride was so enthralled seeing her to-be-niece, that she called her to sit beside her. Saboor meekly sat, for she didn't know anyone else other than her mother and aunts, who had gone inside to help with the festivities.

The bride's mehndi was almost dried, when her mother came with a ceramic bowl in her hand, and a cloth in another. Seeing her mother, Saboor became more comfortable.

"Ammi, what's this?" she asked, touching the rim of the bowl.

"Uh-oh, don't touch it, it's sticky."

"But what is it?"

"This is a mixture of sugar and lemon juice. Mind you, it doesn't taste good, so don't even think of trying out anything. It's only to put on the bride's mehndi- it becomes dark after this," her mother explained.

"Like that photo in the beauty parlor?" she wondered.

"Oh yes. Just like that. Your colour's so deep!" Saboor's mother exclaimed to the bride. "Perhaps my brother loves you a lot already," she murmured, making the other woman blush red.

~

"Ah!" Saboor hissed in sudden realization. The cold wind had frozen her limbs, and the mehndi was not helping at all. She dabbed the cotton ball in the bowl and squeezed out the excess, then dabbed it gently on her coloured skin, just as she remembered her mother do.

A tear brushed past her cheeks and dipped into her chin.

Tonight was her last night in this house. It was the last night that she was a single woman, and tomorrow, she was going to leave this house, this family, and this life; forever. Then why did her mother not come to reassure her? Why, oh, why was she left alone and unadvised at such an important moment in her life? She had from others that their mothers stayed up all night, catering to them, comforting them, telling them tales, and giving them advice. Then why had her mother distanced herself from her?