Omar
That day was finally here. With just hours left the usual chaos of a wedding was complicated by this becoming a literal global event. The original list of 50 households on both sides had some how expanded to over a hundred, as family members kept forwarding the Zoom link to others. At some point we had to draw the line at who we could deliver meals to, but contrary to my fear people were simply excited to be a part of this unique arrangement.
"What if someone doesn't know how to use Zoom?" I asked on the group chat with Sehr, Saima, Maliha, Salman and Noor. Madi was conveniently left off the group. Which was might as well because she still had to do a shift in the hospital.
Saima: Every kid even knows how to use Zoom these days. Don't worry about it.
Noor: Yeah, literally the only benefit of e-learning.
Salman: I am pretty sure Ayah knows how to use Zoom too 🙂
Maliha: Isn't Ayah not even a year yet? You Pediatricians start your kids on computers early!
Sehr: Haha...yeah. I thought no screen time till 2 years of age?
Noor: Unfortunately its the only way my daughter can keep in touch with her family. This pandemic has taken so much away from us.
Salman: Things will get better. I promise.
It was true, the switch to online schooling as soon as COVID hit, meant that every child was now a computer expert. But that is not what caught my attention in the group chat. It was the seemingly innocuous conversation between Noor and Salman.
If I weren't aware of Salman living alone, afraid to return home to his wife and daughter, Noor's text messages and Salman's immediate responses wouldn't have triggered any alarms. Yet, knowing about their struggles, I now felt ashamed for being engrossed in my own challenges and not reaching out earlier. Perhaps today wasn't the ideal day to make up for it, but I picked up my phone and called Salman anyway.
"Hey, don't worry about me today, dude. Noor and I will be fine," he reassured the moment I brought up the subject. I might even have believed him if it weren't for his achingly poignant words whispered at the end.
"We have to be. She is all I have."
"Salman, listen -"
He cleared his throat, "No man, you listen. It's your wedding. And as much as I feel sorry for Madi being stuck with you for the rest of her life, I am more afraid of her sister right now." Chuckling, he said he needed to get back to ordering food for family and friends. The switch in demeanor was instant, jarring and troubling. But he never even let me put in a word before he hung up.
All I could do is text him later.
Me: You and I are going to talk once I get back.
Salman: You and Madi are going to be too busy 'talking' after you get back.
Me: Shut up!!
Salman: You shut up!! And get back to your wedding.
He wasn't wrong about Madi and I. Unfortunately, I wasn't wrong about him and Noor either.
*******
"Shaadi wala ghar lug na chahiye hai", Ami was telling the catering company, when the nurse bought Abu out of the house for the first time in almost 3 weeks. (It should like a wedding is happening in this house)
His breathing had become much better, and he hadn't required the BiPAP machine for the last four days now. He was still coughing and felt very weak, but for now he seemed to be on the mend enough to be a part of this Nikah.
"Omar, beta. Thank you for including us in your wedding," he gestured with a shaky hand for me to sit next to him. "Mujhe bohat khushi hai ke tum Nikah ke waqt hamaray saath ho gai. Aisay mokay phir nahi ayein ge. Kaash Madiha bhi hoti, leikan meri dua hai ke tum dono ko bohat saari kushiyaan milein."
(I am very happy that you will be with us at the time of Nikah. These moments will not come again. I wish Madiha was here too, but I am pray that the two of you get a lot of happiness)
I held back from mentioning it, but he seemed like a changed man after the near-death experience. He had never reached out to me in a fatherly manner, always being the 'boss' at home and treating Sehr and me like employees. He had certainly never invited me to sit with him unless it was to express disappointment.
Ami came over, "I just spoke to Madiha's mother. Bechari, was so worried the Nikah dress wouldn't be altered in time, but shukr hai the tailor came through at the last minute."
"Glad to hear that, Ami. I told Uncle and Aunty not to worry too much about the Rukhsati. Its just a small group of family and friends anyway."
"Haan bilkul," Abu nodded thoughtfully. "There is so much beauty is two people coming together for life, extravagant weddings are just unnecessary."
In the midst of the jubilation filling our family home, if my parents held any reservations about the marriage, they certainly weren't revealing them that day. On the contrary, they flawlessly embraced the role of caring in-laws that Madi deserved. They showered Madi's relatives with affection upon their arrival, treating them as if their past words had never been uttered, putting every fear of mine to rest.
At least for now, it gave me reason to be cautiously optimistic about the future relationship my parents would share with my wife.
I just hoped that lessons learnt in desperate times were not forgotten.
*******
For the Nikah ceremony at our home, we had invited my Mamoo (maternal uncle) and Madi's Mamoo as witnesses, while Madi's Naeem Tayaa would represent her in Karachi. The trio, accompanied by their spouses, a handful of my close cousins, arrived just before 9:30 pm. I promptly logged onto Zoom to officially commence the online wedding.
Despite the impromptu event, Ami had miraculously transformed the house and its manicured garden into a picturesque sanctuary of celebration and joy, a beacon of light in a world still grappling with despair. Though, even amidst the soft glow of fairy lights and carefully arranged floral displays, reminders of the ongoing pandemic lingered. Whether it was the once 8-seater table now spaced for four to maintain distance or the masks adorning nearly every face, the prudent measures taken for this gathering were evident.
Still, the evening air was pleasantly cool, making the outdoor setting ideal. The alluring scent of tikkas and seekh kababs wafted through the atmosphere. While a few in-person guests engaged in conversations, my laptop screen being projected onto a massive white screen teemed with virtual attendees. Messages of congratulations flooded the Zoom chat, while the multiple online conversations happening simultaneously filled any void created by the absence of families and friends nearby.
The only absence that could never be filled was that of Madi.
As that moment drew nearer, my yearning for her had intensified. Till a new attendee joined into the Zoom meeting.
"Can you hear us?" Hasan asked, crouching in front of a laptop I assumed sat on a table outside his parents' house. However, I scarcely registered his words; my attention was entirely captivated by the woman standing behind him.
She wore a maroon traditional Pakistani dress, an organza veil draped over her hair. Golden earrings shimmered under the morning sun as her luscious red lips molded into laughter, the sweet melody of which were caught by the mic. She gestured to someone off the screen, delicately tucked away a stray strand of curls, played with the bangles on her wrist - signs of nervousness, I could tell. All the while, she remained completely oblivious that, halfway across the globe, I stood under the night sky enraptured by her beauty, equally enchanted by the idea of her being mine.
"Madi is so pretty," Saima remarked from somewhere near me.
"Madi is drop-dead gorgeous," I breathed out.
My cousin chuckled, "How did you manage to convince such a drop-dead gorgeous woman to marry you?"
I shook my head, still in disbelief, "I ask myself that question every single day."
Madiha
Hasan was setting up a laptop connected to a larger screen in my front yard, when I walked out with my Maliha, Sehr and Noor. My girl squad as they had decided to call themselves. In the mad rush that had led up to that day, not only did these women pull off an impossible feat, they also somehow kept me from completely losing it.
And became the barrier between Ami and I, when I needed it most.
"Dhoop mein aur bhi plain kapray lag rahein hain, Madiha. Woh blue sequins waala jora kyun nahi pehan leti? The tailor fixed it already. There is still time to change." (In the sunlight your clothes look even more plain. Why don't you wear the blue dress with sequins.)
"Ami, I like this dress, please let me wear it," I replied to her, just as I had several times before.
Sure, the dress might not have boasted the opulence often associated with a typical bridal gown, the organza veil held significant sentimental value as it had been passed down from my grandmother. The maroon lehnga, coupled with a matching shirt, wasn't plain, it had subtle yet intricate details. Tiny pearly white beads were delicately woven into the fabric, complemented by threads of gold and silver – precisely the understated embroidery I favored.
"Oh Aunty," Sehr put an arm around my mother. "Leave my bhabi alone, she looks beautiful."
"But beta, what if your parents think..." Ami started to protest. I disagreed with her , but understood the pressure of marrying up, financially speaking. Our family had gone through the same with Maliha's wedding. Yet, my in-laws were not even physically present. And my sister-in-law was turning out to be the ally one can only dream of.
"Aunty, don't worry about my parents. This isn't their wedding. It's Madi's and she can do whatever she wants."
"I agree, Aunty," Noor backed her up. "Besides the sequins on the blue dress might actually reflect off the sun distorting the image for the people online."
"Yes, Mama. You don't want people to be blinded by Madi's dress do you?" Maliha sealed the argument.
Ami found herself outnumbered and outsmarted by the 'girl squad'. Though not thrilled, she muttered, "Aaj kal ki larkiyan bhi na buss..." and walked away. This left me alone to express heartfelt gratitude to the women who not only had my back but were, I was sure, the ones I would lean on at every twist and turn of my married life. (Today's girls)
"Uh excuse me, when do I get my thanks?" Salman's muffled voice interrupted us. Wearing an N95 mask, he stood there holding his 9-month-old daughter in his arms, as she cuddled her head into his chest.
I might have asked him why he thought wearing an N95 in the open air, at a wedding ceremony, was necessary. But one look at the way Noor sighed, told me this wasn't the time to bring it up. Though Salman in his usual blunt way had no qualms about bringing up the past.
"Well, a huge thanks to you for ordering all the food -" I was going to add a word about him taking care of Ayah so Noor was free to be with me, but that man had other ideas.
"Oh I thought you were going to say, thank you for falling in love with Noor and stealing her away so-"
"Salman..." his wife swatted his arm, he pulled away quickly.
Maliha, caught in the realization, stood with her mouth gaping, and Sehr, burst into laughter. "The man's not wrong, waisay. He did both of you a favor."
Even, I couldn't help but acknowledge the undeniable truth – the past, despite its painful moments, can unexpectedly offer a touch of comedic relief, turning undesirable memories into anecdotes that bring smiles. I let myself laugh with the rest of the group.
Yet, just for a moment, an alternate reality flashed in front of my eyes as well. One in which Salman hadn't fallen in love with Noor, Noor had gotten married to Omar, Omar had never been a part of my life, and I hated it.
Suddenly, stray strands of curls bothered me. The bangles around my wrist felt uncomfortably tight. It struck me, once again, that Omar's parents had chosen Noor for him, not me. And I was nothing like Noor – not in my appearance, attire, or speech.
Maybe my mother was right. Perhaps my simplicity wasn't suitable for their world. Maybe the blue dress with sequins was a better choice after all, whether virtual or not; this was a wedding, and I was the bride on my Nikah day, observed by hundreds of people from across the globe.
"Can you hear me?" a familiar, deep voice cut through the haze of self-doubt I found myself in, forcing me to look towards the laptop that lay on a table nearby.
That's when I saw him. Clad in a crème shalwar kameez, the usual mop of hair neatly combed to the side and his beard closely clipped, his handsome face was projected onto the screen making me catch my breath.
I didn't know if he could see me, or if he was even looking at me. All I knew was that yet again he was the clarity I so desperately needed in a moment of inadequacy. He was enough to remind me, that no matter the color of my skin, or the muted embellishments on my dress, I was the luckiest woman alive - to be loved by a man so immensely, against all odds.
My mind cleared, the past disappeared and the humor of the present caught on again.
"Yes, yes. Omar bhai I can hear you," Hasan was telling him, as Moin and Salman moved closer to the computer, and of course the latter couldn't help take a jibe at his friend.
"See guys, this is why I believe in the theory of evolution," I heard him tell Hasan and Moin. "Donkeys bhi humans ban sakte hain!"
Laughter rang out moments later, when Omar retorted, "Leikn afsos, kuch donkeys, donkeys hi rehtai hain."
But soon, it was time to get down to business. The Qazi had arrived at Omar's house. I saw them taking up a seat around the laptop just as I took a seat on the sofa between my parents.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked back to see Maliha. "Omar bhai sent a separate Zoom link for just the two of you to talk after the Nikah. I set up a computer upstairs in your room. So you'll have some privacy..."
The wide grin on her face should have warned me to cover my cheeks when she whispered again, "And you can ogle him all you want then. For now, don't make it so obvious."
My face must have flushed crimson, prompting my Ami to ask if I felt warm. Maliha on the other hand was already standing next to Sehr. Both doubled over in fits of giggles, and when I feigned annoyance Maliha just blew me a kiss, making Sehr laugh even harder.
"Acha ab yeh sharartein karna bus karo, and pay attention," Ami's whisper-yelling had everyone straighten up though. (Ok, stop with the mischief now)
Abu asked all those online, almost 250 attendees by now, to mute their microphones. So many people, the vast majority of whom I didn't even know sat at their homes listening to the Qazi explain how this Nikah would happen. Ami squeezed my hand, Abu tenderly placed his palm on my cheek.
"Meri bachi," he whispered.
I am someone's child, I thought to myself, nurtured and protected from the day I was born, now about to embark on a journey that I didn't know much about at all.
Tayaa came on camera and asked me if I agreed to marry Omar for the amount of Mahr* that was written in our Nikah contract. My heart raced, and nervousness flushed my cheeks for a second time, as I uttered, "Qabool Hai."
Omar sat to the side but was visible on our screen. A smile slowly spread across his face as he gazed up towards the camera. And just as before, he was the anchor to my rolling ship.
I am not alone in this journey, I reminded myself. This was the moment I had been waiting for so many months. Suddenly, the nervous jitters evaporated. I was willingly marrying the man I loved dearly and wholly, and what could be better to accept that relationship in front of the world. Strangers who I was yet to be introduced to, and familiar family and friends, all there to witness our love get the stamp of approval in front of God Himself.
So, as my Uncle repeated his question two more times, my voice grew louder and clearer with each declaration of 'Qabool Hai'. I accepted the man written in my destiny, with all my heart and all my soul.
Next the Imam asked my Tayaa if he gave consent for my marriage to Omar, in front of two witnesses, to which my Uncle agreed.
Then the Imam directed his attention to Omar, "Do you accept Madiha Ahmed..."
If I thought I was nervous, Omar was on a whole other level.
"YES!" he responded immediately, much louder than he intended, prompting laughter from everyone on and off the screen. When it eventually subsided, the Imam, an elderly man with a white beard who was evidently trying to suppress his own smile, peered over his glasses.
"Beta, calm down and allow me to finish the full sentence first." Red in the face, Omar nodded and the Qazi started again, "Do you accept Madiha Ahmed, in your marriage, with the said amount of Mahr, in front of these witnesses?"
"Yes..." Omar said again, more quietly than before, a sheepish grin on his face.
And just like that the two of us were married.
Those 5 minutes represented the culmination of our fight against our families, navigating through a pandemic, and enduring the intense isolation we both felt. Once the two of us decided to be together, getting married should have been that simple.
However, our past struggles were now water under the bridge. I had to release the bitterness, for an incredible future awaited me with a man who was genuinely my soulmate – someone I couldn't wait to talk to. On Zoom, I saw people patting him on the back, and my own parents reached out with their blessings and prayers. Soon, everyone else followed suit, and our Zoom family, including my father and mother-in-law, unmuted themselves to join the chaotic scene of congratulations. It was a wild and loud, almost reminiscent of an actual wedding.
To be honest, it wasn't too bad.
As a surprise for both Omar and I, our sisters played a video they had created, featuring pictures from our past—starting from when we were little babies in bathtubs to our graduation from medical school. It was a charming video, accompanied by heartwarming songs and little snippets recounting our life's journey till the very last picture I knew only a handful of people knew the significance of.
The final image captured both Omar and me smiling from ear to ear as we removed our jackets at Maliha's wedding. It was the moment we had stepped back inside from the freezing temperatures on the balcony, where we had stood, pledging our future to each other.
Noor had snapped that picture, I was told.
I had tears in my eyes by the end of it, and COVID or not, I hugged my sister, sister-in-law and a friend who might as well be a sister.
"You're guys are making me cry." I felt like bawling my eyes out at the love these women had showered on me in the last few days.
"Oh Madi, you deserve the world." Sehr handed me a tissue. "Omar was right when he said you were a beautiful person, inside and out."
"That reminds me, Omar bhai is getting impatient to have you all to himself. Go up to your room, Madi. He's waiting for you on Zoom."
Maliha didn't have to say another word, before I found myself rushing up the stairs through the front door, through the living room, up the stairs and into my bedroom. The room I had sat in so many times before, talking to Omar.
Yet, today would be nothing like any previous day.
I flipped open the laptop.
Today I would be talking to my husband.
Omar
Sehr: Calm down bro!
Maliha: She is on her way up to her room.
Multiple texts later, I finally got those two to reply to me. Yet, when the screen did flicker and her beautiful face came in front of me, I was the one at loss for words, unable to tame my racing heart. How many times had I chatted with her on this very computer in the last 2 weeks, I couldn't even remember.
Nothing about those meetings though, compared to this.
"Assalama Alaikum," she said softly.
"Walaikum Assalam," was all I could say. Words still stuck in my throat, as my gaze wandered over the screen, drinking in her kohl lined eyes, that flawless skin, those plump red lips.
"We made it," she smiled.
"Yes. We did."
Perhaps she expected me to be more articulate, or the silence suited her just fine. For me, though, it still seemed as if I had entered a twilight zone. Like any moment I would wake up and my dream would disappear, and everything I felt would be nothing but a figment of my imagination.
I noted her smiling. She seemed to be in the midst of typing something. "There, I've been dying to do that," she exclaimed, glancing up at me once more.
"Dying to do what?"
"Look at the bottom left corner of my window on your screen."
Then I saw it, and my heart skipped a beat. Her name that had always read Madiha Ahmed on Zoom, now read Madiha A. Omar.
"I am your wife now," she uttered softly, her words suspended in the air like a tender melody, gradually seeping into the cracks of my soul.
"So this is not a dream?"
"No, it's not," she laughed, and I swear it felt like she was right there, in front of me. So tangible that I could almost touch her, so real that I could feel her warmth encasing me. Even though her image was confined to the cold, hard screen of the laptop when I reached out to trace her features.
"You look absolutely stunning. Do you know that?"
Her gaze dropped, and while the camera's resolution wasn't high enough to pick it up, I knew for sure she would be blushing - freckles bathe in a crimson hue. How I wished I could press my lips to her cheeks, look on with glee as the blush deepened and her breaths faltered.
"Finish that sentence now, Madi."
"Which one?" she asked.
"The one you stopped yourself from finishing three days ago. You want to be in my, what?"
She bit her lip, tucked a lock of hair away, a tender irresistible smile graced her face. "Your arms, safe from this world," she said, her voice barely audible. "I can't stop thinking about that night outside the train station."
That night, I knew for sure Madi could never be just a senior resident or a friend. She was, is, and will always be the guiding light my soul sought, even in the darkest of nights. I lost my heart to her, though she was engaged to another. Those fleeting moments, holding her in my arms for just a few seconds, an intoxicating taste of a forbidden desire, could never have been repeated.
Yet, here we were. I still wholly belonged to her, and she, in turn, became mine. To love, to cherish, to protect—now and for all eternity.
"My arms will always be your sanctuary, Madi. No matter how the world treats you, or how tough life gets, I will always be in your corner."
She took a deep breath, her eyes fluttered. "There are 48 hrs left till your plane lands in Chicago."
I had already started counting the minutes, all two thousand eight hundred and eighty of them. "I know. They're the longest 48 hours of my life."
*******
Two short chapters + an epilogue left!
Let me know what you think about their Zoom Nikah. Jaisa bhi tha, at least they are married!!
Please vote and comment.