The scent of mogra wafted throughout the house, filling every room with its richness. The stick was half burnt now, and its ashes were falling into its attached silver tray. Usually, Komal found the smell of jasmine to boost her mood. Today, it did anything but. For the past week, the house went through intense cleaning; from dusting to cleaning out the kitchen and rearranging furniture to even buying new carpets. Instead of the gray nylon, in its place was a traditional Persian rug, its threads a mixture between browns, maroons, and reds. Finally, it all came together to form intricate, geometrical patterns that seemed all too familiar to those of the carpets back in Pakistan.
Oh Rabba, how she missed Pakistan in its entirety.
If not all, most of her relatives lived there, and the first time she went, when Komal was thirteen, one of the first things she remembered was them having a large family dinner. Everyone lived in separate provinces of the country, but back when hearing the news of her family coming, they had all gathered together in Karachi at her dada's house. She got to meet him for the first time, and although he had passed a few years ago, Komal could remember his warm eyes and smile. Her ammi, maanis, chachis, phupos, and tai ammi took turns in the kitchen and by late afternoon they had finished and rushed into their rooms to get ready. The smell of freshly cooked roti reached her nose, and Komal could remember peeking into the kitchen, wanting to see what they had cooked up.
Haleem, chapli kebab, chole bhature, chicken biryani, zeera, and who knows what else were all placed neatly on the kitchen counters, erasing any trace of the mess it must have taken, making all of this. Her ammi's dishes were delicious all on their own, but the food made by her extended family looked so inviting.
Now, a multitude of those delicacies were sitting in her kitchen, waiting to be served to someone else. Add a box or two of ladoos, and Komal felt all the more bitter. And she'd prefer to be anywhere but here. Even if it was back in Pakistan with her relatives who could never seem to stop bickering, gossipping, or both.
Now, it was her ammi and nani arguing amongst themselves and Komal's baba holding his head and drinking a cup of chai as he watched the two ladies go at it. She only glanced at them before going up the stairs and into her room as she stared out the window. According to her ammi, they were supposed to be here soon. And if desi standard time was any sign, then it meant Komal had some time in her hands to think something out. But if they weren't, then she was in trouble.
The second time Komal visited Pakistan was during her summer break when she was seventeen. The severity of the heat of her first visit was nothing compared to the one then! She got sick and could not, would not, stop throwing up. Her sister, Hina api, stayed behind at their dada's house while their parents went out shopping at the bazaars, and the girls insisted for their parents to bring them something back. Komal was asleep when they returned before sunset, but Hina api had told her they bought her new chudiyan, and excitement rushed through her so fast that she almost forgot that she spent the whole day in bed.
Throughout the food, family gatherings, and long, eventful days, Komal found something, or someone, more captivating. On her first visit, Asad Hussain, one of the neighbor's kids, stole her away during a family dinner, taking her to a bazaar, and Komal, beaming with curiosity, happily went with him.
They slipped between the sea of people to get from one stall to another, and at last, they stood in front of a jewelry stand. Jhumkas, jhanjaras, chudiyan of all kinds were displayed proudly in their stands, and the shopkeeper shuffled around helping people. Komal was in awe; she stared up and down at the displays until her eyes rested on a set of blue-gold chudiyan. "They're so pretty!" she exclaimed. Only when she looked back at Asad did she see his eyes glitter like the jewelry.
"Chacha?" Asad asked the shopkeeper, pointing to the set. "Could we have these?"
The shopkeeper looked to be in his forties with his beard thinning and his hair peppered with a few white strands. His eyes met with Asad and the corners of his mouth lifted. "Of course, beta." He opened the glass case in which they were and gently placed them into a bag before handing them to Komal. "I'm guessing these are for you," he said.
Komal nodded, stunned by the familiarity between Asad and the shopkeeper. They said goodbye and on their way back Komal asked Asad why the shopkeeper gave them the bangles for free. A grin appeared on his face. "He's my actual chacha. His stall is best known around here; if your family needs any jewelry, then tell them to come here," he said, laughing.
She began laughing, too. It was easy to laugh along with him. The sun was still high in the sky. They had time before they had to return. "Why did you get me bangles?"
He didn't stop walking, but he looked at her momentarily before moving to the side of the road, and she followed. "My mama wears bangles all the time. They look really pretty on her. I think they're pretty on you, too."
Komal wanted to say something, but her lips curved upwards instead. Asad continued, "Are you going to come back one day?"
"I think so," Komal replied.
"When you come back, I'll get you more bangles. And one day, I'll even get you gold bangles."
Seeing the way Komal's mouth slowly opened, Asad chuckled. "I'm joking. Don't look so shocked." They avoided a rickshaw heading their way and ran into another street. How far were they from home? Would anyone notice they were gone? Komal wasn't too worried. Asad seemed to know where they were going. At that moment, she enjoyed the company of her new friend.
When she got home that afternoon, she slipped on the chudiyan and smiled every time their clinking made a soft sound. After their first encounter, she wanted to see him again. So she did. Almost every day, Komal would rush through breakfast, earning a scolding by her ammi, which made her slow down her last few bites. She'd feed the goat on their terrace, using that as her excuse to look down from where she was and see if he was home. Sometimes, he stood there, waiting for her. Other times, she would see his sisters or brothers if they were drying the clothes, and she asked them to call for him, to which they smiled and rushed away to bring back a beaming Asad.
She stayed in Pakistan for a month on her first visit. And during her time there, Asad would take her to fly kites in the park at noon or to eat gol gappe early in the morning when the cart would pass by their area. Then, in the afternoons, Asad would go to her dada's house where he played kanche with her up on the terrace or listened to her read fairytales to him only to make her close the book and hit him on the head with it.
"It's not real, though!" he protested, rubbing his head and laughing.
"Yes, they are." And they went back and forth with it until Hina api would come into the room and yell at them for yelling. Komal found out a lot of things about Asad. He was a middle child with two brothers and two sisters. He was the same age as her, just younger by a few months. He loved kulfi just as much as she did, though he preferred coconut over pistachio.
When the month was nearing an end, Komal asked her parents to stay longer, to which they laughed and fondly ruffled her hair, saying that they would be back soon. She didn't get to see him at the airport, but before she left, he came up to the terrace to say goodbye.
On her second visit, they didn't get to her dada's house until late at night, and Komal was so jet-lagged that she fell asleep on the charpai. She didn't wake up until eleven, and that was only because Asad's little sister Mahnoor came over to wake her up, saying that Asad was waiting for her on the terrace.
So a groggy and hungry Komal went there with Mahnoor holding her hand, breathlessly talking to her. "We were sleeping when you came. Asad bhai was so happy when mama told us."
It had been four years. They hadn't spoken since he had said goodbye to her on her terrace. Admittedly, he wasn't the first thing on her mind, and with her head still foggy and her feet blindly walking along, he wasn't fully there either. It was only when she came up to his terrace that it registered. Mahnoor let go of Komal's hand and announced that she was going to go outside and play, and Komal almost stumbled without her.
It didn't escape her notice that Asad tried to reach out and catch her, but upon seeing her balance herself, he pulled back. She lazily rubbed her eyes with one hand and looked more closely at him this time. He was taller now; he had been her height when they last met, possibly even her being taller than him. As much as he looked different, he looked the same. Older, but younger. Serious, but childish. Was that even possible? Did that even make sense?
"How long have you been waiting?" She asked.
"For four years." Asad smiled, and Komal felt her mouth turning upward in response. How was it so easy for her to smile around him? "Have you eaten?"
She shook her head, and she could swear that it felt as if mice were running in her stomach. "Mama made aloo parathe for you. Come and eat," he said. She had to blink to process what he said. He probably saw her face because he assured her, "She was the first one who found out you arrived, and she wants to see you. Let's not keep her waiting." Asad made his way downstairs, and Komal rushed after him.
Sayeda auntie reached for Komal to give her a hug, and she could feel Asad smiling from behind her. "Beta, it's been so long!" She ushered Komal to sit and fussed over her as she ate. "Asad kept talking about you. I told the kids that you guys came back after they had breakfast, and he ran to the terrace right away."
In between chewing, Komal glanced at Asad with a mouth full of potato and flatbread. He insisted for his mom to not say anymore, and Komal wondered what Sayeda auntie would have said. He looked as flushed as he could get with his toned brown skin.
When she finished eating, Asad told Komal to get ready and that he had a surprise for her. Without questioning much, she went home and came back outside not too long after, with Asad leaning against the door of her house. His fingers kept reaching his neck, and his feet kept tapping the ground. What was he nervous about?
"Where are we going, Asad?" Komal asked. He seemed to pause in real life; his eyes, his body. Then he slowly raised his head towards her.
"Can you say that again?"
"Asad?"
His mouth curved upward to where his teeth showed. "You will see. Just come with me," he said, and she kept step with him as they roamed the roads.
They stopped in front of a familiar stand, in front of a familiar man. He hadn't aged too much, but Komal could see an increase in the white hairs on his head.
"Chacha, Komal is back," Asad said to him, but Komal was more focused on the way he said her name. It slipped on his tongue like honey, as if he said it regularly. And the way his voice held her name made something in her heart flutter.
The smile definitely runs in the family, Komal thought at that moment. "I heard so this morning. It's good to see you again. What would you like, beta?"
Suddenly put on the spot, she didn't know what to say. Her first thoughts weren't of getting anything, but she remembered what Asad told her years ago. She turned to look at him, but he was looking at the displays of jewelry. "Can she have the silver and white chudiyan?" he asked his uncle.
Komal switched her attention to the bangles. They were thin for the most part, with three thicker bangles intersecting the pattern. They had paisleys engraved into their design, and the gems on the white part of the bangles demanded to shine, reflecting rays of light. It was truly beautiful.
"Why not? Give me just a second." He turned his back to them and came back with a black, velvet box. Asad gave him the price of the bangles despite his uncle's protesting.
"I want to spend the day with you. Do you have plans today?" his voice was soft and waited for her response.
"Now I do." Komal mentally played his smile on repeat.
They made a quick trip back home where Komal asked if she could go, and strangely but not surprisingly, her parents said yes. They were going to use his family's motorbike. Asad wouldn't tell her where they were going, but she didn't find it to be an issue. She was looking forward to her time with him.
It was when she sat behind him on the pillion that nervousness replaced her excitement. They were going fast along the road, passing by everything in a blur. Her body was pressed firmly against his in assurance as to not fall off, and her arms were wrapped around his waist. The thrill of the ride almost dissipated the feeling in her stomach. Almost.
They finally got off somewhere. Komal felt sand beneath her feet and saw an endless sea before her. He brought her to the beach. She had told him on her last visit that she wanted to go to the beach. And he did that.
She piled heaps of sand onto him until just his head was apparent, and watched as he struggled to wiggle out. When he did, he sprang into the air and stumbled over, just barely escaping catching sand in his mouth. It was her turn, and as she felt her body get heavier with the weight, she focused on how his skin brightened in the sunlight and his eyebrows scrunched in concentration.
"Did I do something funny?" he asked, and she stopped laughing. "No, no, it's nothing."
He raised his brows at her but didn't say any more. She tried lifting herself out, but she felt like she was being pushed to the ground. Komal seemed to take forever, but by the time she had gotten a foot out, Asad found it to be amusing when he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up. All of the sand fell between them like it was a curtain, and she glanced at her hand in his.
Something was happening to Komal, and she could feel her heartbeat quickening. She retracted her hand and could see something of a surprise on his face. Whatever thoughts she was having, she pushed aside as they continued to play in the sand and chase each other around the beach. Every now and then she cast glances his way, and every now and then she felt his gaze on her back.
She was out of breath by then, and the two of them went to get kulfi. "Do you still like coconut?"
His smile grew. "Do you still like pistachio?"
They purchased the ice cream and sat on the rocks along the shoreline to enjoy each other's company in silence. A silence that lasted about five minutes. The sun tortured Komal with its heat beating down on her head, not to mention the heat she felt rushing through her body every time Asad caught her staring at him. She'd finished eating and held her now empty stick in one hand while ushering for him to get up with the other.
It couldn't have been over three in the afternoon when they left the beach to go to the fields. It wasn't some desolate area, as there were already families with their small children and boys playing cricket far off from them. This felt just right to sit here with Asad.
A tree offered them shade, and Komal rested her head against the trunk as she closed her eyes and recounted her day in her head. Her heart felt fuzzy with the thought of Asad. She called his name, eyes still closed. When she did open them, he was looking right at her, questioning in his eyes.
"Why did you come up to me that day all those years ago?"
It wasn't a condescending question; just an honest one. She wanted to know what exactly led them this far. She waited for his answer, watching him blink before looking intensely at her. His tone was serious when he spoke, erasing the usual playfulness it held.
"I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to get close to you, and as you let me and accepted me, I didn't want to stop." He wasn't choosing his words carefully, as if he had to tread around her. Rather, he was trying to find the right words to say it, with the way his mouth was barely open and his brows came together. "I still don't want to."
The Earth didn't stop spinning, the surrounding noises didn't quiet down. Yet it felt as if something had changed. Or maybe something was finally revealing itself. Whatever it was, it was too much to handle for her, especially when he held her gaze with his eyes, unrelenting.
"I like you, Komal. I like you a lot. So much so I can even say that I love you."
He didn't tear his eyes away from her. She didn't move away from him. "Can I know how you feel?"
Komal realized many things about Asad. He craved adventure and risk. His eyes always glittered with a curious twinkle, but there was something else there; adoration. He never failed to notice anything about her, and he showed it through his actions a multitude of times.
Without Asad, she would feel a restlessness. The long years apart with nothing but their memories kept her eager to meet him again. And each time they did, he put a smile on her face.
"I love you too, Asad." How could she not?
His face glowed; no comparison to the sun or to a pearl, but it just did.
He took out the velvet black box and asked her to remove her bangles, so she did. He placed those inside the slots as he took out the new chudiyan he had bought for her. He held them in his hand, a bunch at once, and asked her to hold her hands out. As she formed the fist, she felt the warmth of his hand brush hers when he slid the silver bangles onto her wrists.
When he was done, she shook her wrists a few times to hear their clinking, a sound she thoroughly enjoyed. Asad was beaming, and Komal thought that he was more beautiful than the jewelery she was wearing.
They stayed in the fields for a while, and by the time they went home before sunset, they couldn't seem to say goodbye.
For the rest of Komal's stay in Pakistan, she saw Asad almost daily like she had when they were children. They would hang out on either of their terraces, go to the zoo, or just walk around the bazaars and places they went as kids for the sake of old memories. He'd even told her he didn't live in Pakistan, that it was their family home and that he lived far from there. Far from her. Even if they'd wanted, they couldn't get a flight and see each other. When it was time for her to leave, it felt as if she were leaving her heart behind. Asad reassured her, though, when he told her on her terrace that she would see him again soon.
That was three years ago. Komal was now twenty, and waiting for the guests to arrive. Guests who would bring their son to plan their engagement. She didn't find out about any of it until a month prior, and despite her disagreement with her parents, they seemed to have gone ahead with it, anyway. And they looked forward to this, so much that Komal wanted them to be happy. But how could she go along with this when her heart belonged to Asad?
Aside from Hina api, nobody else seemed to know about Komal's feelings for Asad. And after her trying to bring it up a few times and the matter being brushed aside, she figured it was poor timing.
Her sister had gone to get the cake, and she felt alone waiting in her room, looking out of the window. A car pulled into their driveway, and Komal peered out, almost pressing her face against the glass. She didn't know who he was, much less what he looked like, and she thought she should know at least that much.
However, the last thing she was expecting was to see a man with a tall frame come out of the car. His mother and father walked in front, carrying boxes of sweets and gifts as they headed for her front door. Just at that moment, their son looked up at the window and Komal felt her breath hitch. The most beautiful smile in the world was directed right at her. And only one person could smile like that.
She was still wearing the dress her ammi had bought with her for this occasion, and in a hurry she went downstairs, being careful not to trip over her feet. She saw them ring the doorbell, come inside, hug her parents and as she went over to greet them, she felt the tight and warm embrace of Asad's mom.
Her chest was swelling with joy. Was this actually real?
Komal looked at the smiles on her parents' faces and she realized it was as real as it could get. Her parents knew Asad's parents; they invited each other over for afternoon chai and dinners regularly back in Pakistan. In all of that time, they had to have known that something was up between the two of them.
Did they plan this together? What did they think of this? Why didn't they tell her? Oh, this was so much to think about!
As calmly as she held herself, Komal could not stop the relief and happiness that spread across her face when she walked towards Asad. He was looking at their wall of family photos, specifically one of Komal, when she was a kid with her bangs out and arms across her chest with a frown on her face. His gaze moved to the one of her graduation photo, then many of her other pictures, when finally, he brought his eyes to her.
He dressed in a chocolate brown kurta, fashioned with matching pantaloons and a petticoat. His beard had grown even more since she'd last seen him. His shoulders were wider, his legs were longer. But not everything changes.
He flashed his smile at her and held out a bag.
"What is it?"
His eyes glittered with some secret satisfaction. "You will see," was his reply.
A red velvet box came out of the bag. And when she opened it, it surprised Komal with a set of bangles. Gold bangles. "When you come back, I'll get you more bangles. And one day, I'll even get you gold bangles."
He really held true to that? That Asad was even here right now was overwhelming for her, in a good way. She set the box down on the coffee table and held his gaze. The look of love was apparent on his face, as she was sure it was the same for her. "You came all the way here to gift me bangles?" she inquired, a tease in her tone.
Their parents were laughing and discussing amongst themselves on the couch, she noticed out of her peripheral vision. Asad grabbed her attention again when he said, "I came to fulfill a promise. I'm gifting my future wife bangles."
This was better than any of the scenarios that played inside her head as she waited those years to see him again. This was better than any dream she could have had.