June 2020
Omar
"Oh we can pull it off," Sehr insisted.
"Totally, Omar bhai," Maliha backed up her new friend. "I even spoke to Madi's friend Noor and her husband Salman. They are both on board. Plus I've already asked Abu and he said he was ok with it, but needed to ask Mama." Se chuckled, "We all know that that means."
"Don't worry, about our parents either. I dropped a hint earlier today and they seemed very agreeable with our plan," Sehr told her.
Maliha gave a thumbs up, "Great! So, now all that is left is calling our relatives and friends. Easy peasy."
"So everyone is already on board?"
"Yes!" they both exclaimed.
They started discussing logistics while I sat there still amazed at the audacious plan. It sounded like a herculean feat, yet I couldn't also help but acknowledge that they had devised the swiftest route for me to be with Madi. Not just transcend mere societal acceptance of us as a couple; but be able to savor the delicate touch of her softness as the final sensation before drifting into sleep, and awakening to the vision of her beautiful face.
By every measure, those moments of simple pleasure were not the ultimate goal for any couple. Yearning for them before marriage was even frowned upon. Yet, I'd be lying if I said I didn't crave them anyway. Call me impatient but to begin and end my day with Madi in my arms wasn't something I was willing to wait for.
Madi! Suddenly, I sat up.
"Uh hey, ladies. Aren't you forgetting someone who isn't onboard yet?"
Their faces twitched, eyes widened, sheets of paper ruffled in the background as they looked over their lists. One shrugged, the other asked, "Who did we forget?"
I slapped my forehead. This did not bode well for their planning abilities.
"Dulhan nahi ho gi tou shaadi kiss se karoun ga?" (Who will I marry if there is no bride?)
"Ohh right..." said my sister.
"Yikes, we forgot her," said Madi's sister.
They were back to talking over each other, discussing who and how they should convince Madi of their plan. "She's quite a rule follower, you know," Maliha said.
"That's not good. This wedding will be highly unconventional. What if she doesn't agree?" Sehr asked.
Clearly, neither knew Madi the way I did."I'll ask her."
*******
It was early morning for us in Karachi, and would have been evening in Chicago, when I finally managed to get a hold of her.
"I was just thinking about you," she said in that soft voice that instantly melted me inside, making me wish that teleportation had been invented already.
"Thinking about me as the intern...oorrr...as the guy you are head-over-heels in love with?" I pried. I thought about her all the time, and wasn't shy about telling her that, but she hadn't been so forthcoming lately.
Her soft laughter resonated across the room I had grown up in, and I found myself yearning to witness those charming freckles dancing on her sculpted cheeks and capture that gleam in her eyes that always accompanied her laughter, regardless of how terrible my jokes were.
How would I ever wait for another 6 months if she didn't agree? The thought crossed my mind, but I ignored it.
"Dr Khan, I have no idea what you are talking about. Who is head-over-heels in love with who?" she chuckled. "I was just looking over next month's call schedule for the second year residents. I hope your flight comes back without any delays, because I am not sure I will be able move around anyone else to cover your shifts."
I was going to be a second year resident in just a few days. Yet, disappointment hit deep. An incoherent "Uh..ok," escaped me.
"How is Uncle doing?" she asked her usual question.
I gave my usual update. He was feeling much better than before, his blood levels of inflammation were trending down, we had been able to get him off the BiPap.
"Well dear almost-second-year-resident I should get going. I've had a really long day and I still need to work on these schedules for Fall," I heard her yawn, and her voice trailed as she mumbled good bye.
No wait, I screamed internally. The truth tumbled out quickly. "Our parents want us to wait for the pandemic to be over before getting married."
Just as quickly she seemed to have been snapped back to life. "What?" she said so loudly, I nearly dropped my phone. "No. Absolutely not. We are not delaying this anymore. This is our wedding. We should be able to have it when we want."
I chuckled, picturing her facial expressions shifting from disbelief to indignation. "I thought you said you were not head-over-heels in love with me."
"Oh, you know I lied," she snapped. "I want to get married now. I have had enough of following the rules and keeping away from you. Talking is not enough, Omar. I want to be in your..."
Her words abruptly halted, at precisely the moment she realized what she had blurted out. The delightful image of her cheeks turning a deep pink, her gaze lowering, her hand flying up to cover those temptingly full lips, filled my imagination.
"My what, Madi?"
"I...uh...I meant..." she stammered.
My apartment, my arms, my lap, my bed? Every moment of my life? I could have pressed her further, even reveled in teasing her, but whatever her desires were I knew they would match my own. Besides, I couldn't bear to see her embarrassed, especially when I had a proposition that would put us both out of misery.
"How would you like to get married in three days, so you can finish that sentence with ease?"
Madiha
"In three days?" I asked again to make sure I had heard him right, even though in my head I was already screaming: Yes, yes. Qabool hai!(I accept)
In an instant, flushed cheeks and awkward confessions faded into the background, as did that moment of profound tranquility my heart still yearned for—the one when I stood outside a train station, enveloped in his warmth for just mere seconds, which seemingly, may now become permanent in a matter of days.
"Yes Madi," he repeated. "A Nikah 72 hours from now."
"But you won't even be in Chicago then."
"According to Sehr and Maliha's plan, we would have a Nikah over Zoom while I am still in Karachi and you are in Chicago. I insisted on a Rukhsati as soon as I reach Chicago."
The Rukhsati part I got, but the Nikah-
"Nikah over Zoom? Is that even legal? I have never heard of anyone doing that." I meant, I was desperate to get married but not desperate enough to ignore the Islamic laws of marriage.
"Actually, it is. As long as the Imam is satisfied that you are genuinely agreeing to this marriage, you have a relative in Karachi willing to be your representative, and we have the two required witnesses in place, you and I don't have to physically be in the same city," I relayed to her what Sehr and Maliha had convinced me off earlier that day. "This way my parents will be a part of the Nikah, and we can have a small ceremony while I am still here."
In the midst of a widespread pandemic and the abundance of online resources at our disposal, that rationale made sense. Frankly, I couldn't fathom that my faith, which places significant importance on simplifying processes, would advocate waiting six months for marriage instead of leveraging contemporary technology.
"But..." he started again. This time his voice dipped.
"Madi before you agree to a Nikah over Zoom, though, I just want to make sure you are ok with not having a real wedding. This is a once in a lifetime event for you, because I am never, ever, letting you go. So if any part of you wants the whole shebang with mehndi, and dholki, and multiple other wedding events, and all the excitement that comes with it. I'll wait. We can have the wedding that you've dreamt of once this pandemic is over. We don't have to rush this."
I didn't respond to him immediately, even though I knew exactly what my answer to his question was. Instead, I took a moment to savor his thoughtfulness and kindness. He had kept it no secret how much he had wanted to be with me. Yet, he was willing to put that aside, so that I could have my dream wedding.
Could I have asked for a sweeter more considerate husband than him? A resounding no echoed in my heart.
"Omar..." my voice emerged raspier than intended. "I think I've made it pretty clear that fancy weddings are not what I dream of."
"Okay then," he chuckled.
"Okay then," I grinned.
*******
"Ami and Abu, I have something to tell you."
I had rushed out of my apartment as soon as Omar hung up. Yet, when I arrived at my parents' house the scene in front of me wasn't one I had ever expected.
Moin stood in the hallway, clad in the familiar light blue Sherwani he had donned at Maliha's wedding, admiring himself in the mirror. Abu adjusted the buttons on his black waistcoat, worn over a simple shirt and pants, and was brushing off the lint. Ami animatedly gestured while talking on the phone and pacing the living room. On the floor of the living room, suitcases containing the shaadi clothes Ami had crafted for my ill-fated engagement lay open.
Chiffon dresses adorned with sequins and silk ones embellished with intricate embroidery were strewn across the sofas and coffee table. Along side each dress lay carefully paired jewelry, ranging from authentic gold pieces to imitation ones, all meticulously coordinated with the respective outfits.
"Wait! You all know about the Nikah in three days?"
Moin laughed. Abu looked at me sheepishly, "Yes beta, we all know. There was a misunderstanding. I thought Maliha was going to tell you. She thought I was going to tell you. Then we both forgot to tell you."
"You both forgot to tell me about my own Nikah?" I gaped at my father.
"We got busy with the planning. Half the venues we could have afforded for the Reception are closed due to the pandemic," Abu defended himself.
By now Ami was off the phone. She came over and placed her hands on my cheeks, "Good, they didn't tell you, you have enough on your mind already. Larkiyon ko shaadi se pehle stress nahi laina chahiye hai." (Girls shouldn't be stressed before their wedding)
But how could I not get stressed? The adrenaline rush of an imminent wedding after all the nonsensical delays, was wearing off. The fact that I was getting married in three freaking days finally sunk in. There was so much to do, so much to plan, and think about. And oh my God, we didn't even have a venue, or caterers. I didn't have a wedding dress...
"Madi, snap out of it," my brother's loud voice forced me to breathe.
"There is so much to do," I whispered.
Moin was the youngest member of our family. The forever baby, even at 22. Yet, as he held me firmly by my shoulders, and kept a steady gaze on me, for the first time in my life I saw him as an adult. A responsible, reliant adult who was telling me that 'they' had it handled.
"Whose 'they'?" I asked.
"Everyone, who has ever leaned on you when they've needed it most. And that includes me."
He let go off and smiled, "I just have one ask, Madi. Try not to turn into bridezilla." He clasped his hands and begged dramatically, "Pretty please."
I threw a pillow at him, and shook my head. He would always be my goofy, baby brother.
Yet, there was one thing I couldn't stop stressing about.
*******
Later that night, just before I prepared to head back to downtown Chicago, I stumbled upon Abu in the kitchen, engrossed in making a cup of chai for himself.
"Let me make it for you, Abu," I offered.
He gently placed a weathered hand over my head, the tenderness in his voice wrapping around my heart, "Thank you, beta. Ab tou tum hamesha ke liye iss ghar se chali jao gi. Eik aakhri dafa tumahre haat ki chai pi leta houn." (Now you'll be gone from this house forever. I guess, I can have one last cup of tea from you.)
I couldn't contain my laughter; a sudden wave of dramatic flair had seemed to engulf my entire family. With Abu joining me in that lighthearted moment, the kitchen, usually a space of rushed routine, echoed with the bittersweet melody of impending goodbyes.
"Door tou nahi jaa rahi, Abu," I smiled at him. "How about I come over every weekend just to make chai for you?" (I am not going far)
"Deal?" he held out his hand.
I gave it a firm shake, "Pakki deal!"
Yet, even in that light-hearted moment, he remained a father who was unwaveringly committed to his daughters. "Jokes aside, Madiha, whether you are far or near, this house will always be open for you. Never ever hesitate to come back to us if you don't feel safe in your new home, ok?"
"I know, Abu. I know." That reassurance was for him, as much as it was for me. Despite my desperate need to be with Omar, I wasn't naïve to the problems women face so often after marriage in desi households. I understood Abu's cautious nature, his protective instincts had always been rooted in a desire to shield his children from any potential hardships.
Though, I was also in for a surprise.
"Waisay, I think you'll be in good hands with Omar," he admitted.
"Really? How so?"
"Pehlay apne parents ko uss ne tumhare baare mein mana liya. Aur phir Naeem bhai ke liye jo uss ne kiya hai." (First, he convinced his parents about you. Then what he's done for Naeem bhai)
Turns out wedding plans weren't the only thing I had missed out on. Abu whipped out his phone, and showed me a news clip from earlier that day. A news caster, dressed in traditional Pakistani clothes was speaking next to a video of a man being arrested at what looked like the airport. She was speaking in Urdu, and I didn't understand everything, but I caught one name loud and clear: Surgilab.
"Who is this guy?" I asked.
"That is Shadab Khan, being arrested for alleged embezzlement and conspiracy to illegally possess the Surgilab company."
Stress about my Uncle, the only damper on my current mood, suddenly dissipated. "So Naeem Taya is in the clear?"
"Very much. Omar's family dropped all charges against him."
Omar
For someone who had vowed to never become a part of the family business, I had spent far too much time going over Surgilab's finances in the last few days. Cash flow, assets, funds and investments were terms that I had all but purged from my vocabulary. I was a physician and scientist at heart and that is what I had always seen my life's focus to be. Yet, it had became pretty clear to me that asking our family lawyer to drop the charges against Naeem Uncle, compensate him for the damages caused and publicly clearing his name, would only serve one half of the problem.
The fact would still remain that Madi's Uncle had taken out money from the safe. He had insisted to the police he was only carrying out instructions from Shadab bhai. A claim my older cousin vehemently refuted and instead had his men thrash Naeem Uncle while bribing the police to arrest him.
The only way to truly exonerate Naeem Uncle, was to prove that Shadab bhai took the money. The only way to prove that Shadab bhai took the money was to show that wasn't his first time. I didn't have access to my cousin's accounts but Abu granted me full access to his and the company's.
Then I sat down with an auditor.
*******
"Hey, Omar." A woman called out to me just as I exited Abu's room. "How's Chacha?" she asked.
"Hi Saima. Better, Alhamdulillah. He's done well off the BiPap. There's no doubt he has a long road ahead of him, but at least he's on the right track."
The relief I felt was difficult to put into words. Recovery of every patient, no matter the age or disease, came with relief. It was a testament to a job well done, a successful application of the knowledge we had slogged away to gain. A family member getting better, though, meant a few more years of their presence in your life, whether to heal from past separations or savor the moments together.
Without my cousin though, the moment to build a real relationship between father and son might never have happened.
"How is he taking the news of Shadab bhai?" she asked.
"He feels disgusted and betrayed." I refrained from mentioning that I wasn't surprised her brother was siphoning money off Abu's company. I suspected it months ago when he texted me the day I told my parents' about Madi. I just had no way of proving it then.
"Exactly, the way I felt when I found out he had forged documents about me selling my shares in the sugar mills to him," Saima nodded slowly. "How'd you know he would do the same with Chacha's property?"
"Honestly, it was a hunch. Your brother was never very smart. Just greedy."
And it was his greed that gave me the first breakthrough in finding enough evidence to have him arrested. The auditor had found a number of Surgilab's assets sold in the recent year, but only a fraction of the proceeds from the sales made it back into Surgilab's accounts. None made it into Abu's personal accounts.
While investigating where that money went would have taken a considerable amount of time, the date on one of the sales had caught my eye.
It was dated two days after I had arrived in Pakistan, at a time when Abu was barely able to talk in complete sentences. I remembered Shadab bhai had come to the house to get a signature from Abu.
"Besides, I knew for sure Shadab couldn't have gotten those signatures because I sent him away myself. Abu was just too sick. So imagine my surprise when I saw a public record of Abu selling his shares in Surgilab to his nephew. It was easy for our lawyer to convince the judge to arrest Shadab then."
"Such an idiot," Saima laughed.
"He sure is. And the fact that he was trying to leave the country with dollars hidden in his luggage did nothing to prove his innocence."
I took up a seat next to her on the living room sofa. In silence, both of us shared an optimism that wrongs would be righted and justice served not just for our family but others that evil man had also harmed.
Now, it was time to put the past aside and look towards the future.
Saima got Sehr on video call, then she laid out the plan: Every family would get a Zoom link in an evite, through which they would be able to witness the Nikah. Since most of our family was in Karachi, we had divided the city into zones and were going to have food delivered to their places from the respective nearby restaurants.
"We'll use FoodPanda in Pakistan. Maliha, Moin, Noor and Salman will use DoorDash, GrubHub and Ubereats in the US and Canada. I've already picked out the menus and mapped out the delivery locations and the desi restaurants near to them. All we have to do is go on the respective apps and start to place the orders the day of the Nikah." Sehr added.
As impressed as I was with their level of planning, I couldn't help ask, "You know people are going to laugh at us, right? Who has ever heard of a wedding like this?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Sehr laughed.
"Well, the pandemic is -" I began, until Saima playfully nudged my arm.
"She meant, you and Madi being desperate for each other."
Much like Sehr and Maliha did a few hours ago, my sister and cousin succumbed to fits of laughter and jests at my expense. It wasn't until I reminded them of the ticking clock - less than 72 hours to make this happen - that their amusement was momentarily curbed.
"Ready to start making calls, Omar?" my sister inquired.
"Heck yes," I grinned.
"Alright then, let's get you married off," my cousin winked.
Woohoo, finally! My heart leaped with joy.
*******
As crazy as their plan is, the pandemic really forced people to think outside-the-box with planning life events. Hopefully, there's will go off without a hitch!
Lot's more romance and some drama to come in the next few chapters ❤❤
Until next time....Thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote and let me know your thoughts about this chapter 🙂