S T E A M flew from between the grains of rice as the freshly filled dish was brought out into the dining room. Everybody sat around the table, eagerly awaiting the food to be served. Hoot sat next to Mustafa, fiddling with her shawl, worried that he might not like what she had made.
The brown rice was scooped into white porcelain plates. The aroma becoming intense as it moved closer. The raita and salad were filled into everyones plates as the feast began.
At first, Hoor found it weird that Munazza had told her to make food for herself and her husband only. And yet now everyone was eating what she had prepared. Which was in no way enough for them all to have. The portion Hoor prepared was enough for two or maximum three people.
Within a blink of an eye, the glass dish that was filled to the brim was empty. With a few grain of rice sticking to the sides.
"Jao Hoor bhar kar lao," Munazza spoke with arrogance.
Hoor stared at her with bewilderment. She had not even put some in her plate before everyone else had devoured it. She looked to her right, Mustafa too had an empty plate.
"Par aunty mein nai tou 2 logon keh hisab sai banaya tha," she explained calmly.
"Tou tumhein ziada banana chahiye tha!" Rumaisa stepped in.
"Par-"
"Par war kuch nahi! Jab kuch khanay ko nahi banaya tou apnay shohar keh liye kuch le kar aao! Dekha nahi bechara bhuka betha hai!" Munazza gave her the stink eye.
As if challenging her to speak against her.
"Koi zaroorat nahi cachi. Mein intezaam kar lun ga. Hoor kamray mein chalo!" He ordered his bride of two days.
His aunt had lost her mind if she thought he did not see through her schemes. He could easily make out what was going on inside her head. He may have been silent and tolerated the way they behaved with him. But in no way would he ever let them treat his wife, the owner of this home, like a mulazim. It did not matter to him that they were his father's brother's family. Their facade of loving him and show of power that they did not have, had gone on for too long.
"Hoor mujhe batao keh asal baat kia hai," Mustafa gently asked.
"W-woh aap ki chachi nai kaha tha keh...." and so she narrated the entire incident to him.
Not hiding the smallest of things. Hoor knew transparency in relationships was important so she would not be a fool to hide things from her husband.
"Aap ghabraye nahi. Hum kuch bahir sai mangwa lete hai," he smiled at her.
Before sending their driver to get some barbecue for the two of them.
"Aap kapray badal lein," Hoor spoke in a tone that was slightly above a whisper.
"Hmm aap Riz- Mehmood ko bula dein please," Mustafa smiled at her, after which he wheeled himself into the large bathroom.
Mustafa felt ashamed whenever the nurse would come to help him out. It was even more embarrassing that his wife had to see him be handled by another grownup adult. It did not do wonders for his self esteem. And it was already quite crippled. He wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel that everyone talked about. But he just could not see it.
Feelings of hatred for himself had been born in his heart. And it was not like he was unknown to the feelings that Hoor had about him. The pity and frustration he saw in her eyes every time she faced him, made it clear that he had nothing more than her sympathies. Eventhough they had been married for two days only, he wanted her to accept him already. He had lived with the rejection of love from everybody. He knew his heart did not have the power to withstand hatred from the woman who was his equal. His shareeq-e-hayat. His wife.
Mehmood, was a care taker in his early twenties. He had adapted to Mustafa's daily routine very well. And left no chance of complaints. But the two had no emotional bond like the one he shared with Rizwan. Mustafa let his heart cry bitter tears as the man wiped him down before dressing him up. He wished to do such mundane tasks by hand once again. Oh what he would give to just have the luxury of walking himself to wherever he wanted.
The two stepped out of the bathroom to be met with a sight of Hoor setting up their food in the room itself. Mustafa smiled at Mehmood, dismissing him.
"Hoor aap bahir hi lagwa deti," Mustafa spoke.
"Bahir sab bethay thay isliye munasib nahi samjha, aajain kha lein," she motioned.
She was so engrossed in setting things up that she never notice that Mustafa was staring at her.
Her ebony hair that curved along her back as she bent over. Her slender fingers taking the naan out of the hotpot. The small smile that always played on her lips, no matter what. His heart beat faster. As he thought of kissing those soft petals. But he knew they had a long way to go. If he wanted Hoor to accept someone like him he would need to be patient.
"Yeh lein," Hoor placed his food in his lap.
She had put a bit of everything into his plate. It was the first time someone had served him, other than Rizwan that is. And he had never known a feeling so sweet.
"Shukriya," he smiled.
Softly breaking the piece of chicken, dipping into the imli ki chutney they came with.
The remainder of the dinner was not eventful. Instead it was filled with a peaceful silence. The only sounds of their breaths. Contrary to what he had seen in movies, there was no accidental touch of fingers as he asked for more, and neither was there any talk. Instead they focused solely on their food. But what he would give to feel the electric shock or butterflies he read about as a teenage boy.
After they had finished with their food, Hoor took the dishes out, calling Mehmood to help Mustafa get into bed. When she returned, Hoor performed ablution. And began to pray. As she ended with the salams, and raised her hands for dua, a long list of complaints began to flow out without her even knowing it.
"Ya Allah! Mein doodh ki dhuli nahi hun. Par jitna ho sakta hai, utna tou karti hun. Phir yeh kyun kia meray saath? Kaisay insaan ki biwi bana diya? Iss sai tou behtar tha mein shaadi na hi karti. Aisa kia gunnah tha jo itni bari saza mill rahi hai mujhe? Kia khushi ki haqdaar nahi hun mei? Kia saari zindagi logon ki humdardi ki muhtaaj ban kar reh jaun gi?" Her wishes had turned into complaints and she did not know when. She always imagined herself to be the kind of woman who had it all. Who never had a reason to complain.
She wiped her tears, folding the mat. Her bare feet made contact with the cold floor as she went to their large bed. Hoor laid on her side. Closing her tired eyes.
"Hoor?" Mustafa asked gently.
"Kia hai?" The words coming out harsher than intended.
"Hum aapke shohar hai. Aap hume bataiye keh kia musibat hai jis ki waja sai roz roti hai?" He asked.
Thinking that perhaps she would like to share it with her husband.
"Aap apne kaam sai kaam rakhiye," she turned to face him, speaking bitterly.
"Par aap humari biwi hai. Fikr hoti hai aapki!" He sighed.
He did not know how to convince her of his good intentions.
"Yahi tou masla hai," Hoor thought to herself.
She chose to ignore his last sentence. Causing Mustafa to sigh. He wished he could somehow make her feel that he was worthy of her. Make her feel that he was not as bad as she thought of him to be.
"Agar hum aapse kuch mangain tou de gai?" Hoor asked out of the blue.
"Ji. Mangain," Mustafa felt that perhaps there was some hope for them.
"Humari silai ki machine humaray ghar sai mangwa dein," she told him.
"Hmm eik shart par," Mustafa turned his neck, looking at her.
"Humaray pass denay ko kuch nahi," she huffed.
"Aap bas humara naam liya karein. Sara din aap kehti hai. Mustafa bola karein," he gave her an earth shattering smile.
"H-hum kaise?" She felt shy all of a sudden.
"Apnai zaban sai. Aur kaise?" Mustafa joked, before adding seriously, "subah Mustafa keh kar uthana. Aap ka kaam fori tour par hojaye ga!" He smiled.
That night, the husband and wife had a peaceful sleep. A sleep that they had been craving for, for weeks.
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