"Oh no, please don't call her," Muzammil pleaded, shaking his head vigorously. Manhaa sat in a corner of the drawing room, watching in surprise as he saw her eldest brother make a commotion for the first time in forever.
In other words, full entertainment.
Israa shook her head and headed over to the landline, dialling out Saboor's telephone number.
Muzammil and Saboor were getting engaged tomorrow, and to mentally prepare her daughter-in-law-to-be, Israa had decided to call up Saboor and talk to her about it.
Muzammil made gestures at his sister to go stop their mother before she did something irreversibly embarrassing, but Manhaa only shrugged her shoulders and poured a cup of chai for herself. Muzammil, unable to bear the second-hand embarrassment he would have to undergo, hid his pretty face, and walked away to his room.
"Hello? Oh, Saboor beta, it's Israa."
"Assalamu alaykum auntie! How are you doing?"
"Walaykum assalam beta, I'm doing well. Are you free? I wanted to talk for a moment..."
"Oh, sure, just a minute..."
"Yes, auntie, please go on. "
Beta, I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you both. You and Manhaa are both equally dear to me, and nothing can change that. You have accepted my son, and I want to thank you for that-"
"There's no need to thank me, auntie, and I too consider you as a mother figure," Saboor said, a smile coming onto her face. On the other end, Israa smiled too.
"It might seem pretty weird to you that Muzammil and you have such a big age gap, but believe me, he has a heart of gold. I am not boasting because he is my son, but he's a very nice man, and will definitely keep you happy."
Saboor could only nod.
"I will come a bit early to your place tomorrow, hm? If there's anything you need, let me know."
"Sure auntie, I'll let you know."
"Take care, beta. I'll see you tomorrow."
Once the call ended, Israa noticed her only daughter in the hallway, staring at her.
"What happened, Manhaa?"
But her daughter only came closer and embraced her from behind.
"I love you, mama," she said, leaning into her mother's comforting touch.
"I love you so much, my doll."
~
Saboor looked at the phone in her hand. Her body shivered, and a small tear dropped down her eye.
"Oh, Madam Israa, what have you done?" She murmured to herself. "Why did you tear open my healed wounds?"
"Why did you remind me of my mother who never caressed me like you did, who never reassured me as you did, who never comforted me as you did?"
"I had ignored everything, I had forgotten, and perhaps, forgiven too. But now, your love reminds me of the animosity of the one who birthed and weaned me."
"Oh, Madam Israa, what have you done?"
Wiping her tears, Saboor kept the phone on the empty passenger seat of the car. She restarted her car and joined the fast lane instantly, wiping clean the messy slate of her thoughts.
~
The next evening. Saboor's mother had made such commotion that it had disturbed her to the brain cells. Nor was she able to get ready, nor was she able to focus on her work. Aynoor had come and told her that she was not allowed to leave her room either, for the guests would be reaching any moment, and it would be a disaster if anyone saw her in her home clothes on this day. Saboor had latched her door from inside to avoid people constantly making trips to her room. She heard a knock on the door, and clicking her tongue, she went to open it.
"Assalamu alaykum!" chirruped the motherly voice. It was Israa, and following her, was Manhaa.
"Mama had told you right, that we'd come early? So, we came by scooter!"
"Ah! There was no need to do that, auntie," Saboor said, her hands intertwined with Israa's.
"Come on, let's get you ready!"
With the way Manhaa was gushing at her and Israa auntie was blowing prayers, Saboor did feel like she looked pretty. She had worn the blue dress and placed the dupatta on her shoulder. Israa auntie had made a beautiful hairdo with half her hair cascading down her shoulders, and Manhaa had made good use of her makeup to make Saboor look like a bride.
Simple and sweet.
"Call Moustafa," Israa said to her daughter, fussing over Saboor's makeup. "See how far he has reached."
"Mama? Moustafa bhai said they are on the way." Manhaa said.
"Tell him not to forget the gajray," Israa replied.
Saboor smiled at her future mother-in-law. She had made her so comfortable; or else, she never liked anyone invading her room and personal space.
About fifteen minutes later, Saboor, Manhaa and Israa heard a knock on the door.
Israa paused her story about Manhaa's childhood, and Manhaa went to open the door.
"Bhai!" she half-exclaimed, and took the paper bag from his hand. Saboor could not see him from where she sat. She saw him push the door, but Manhaa pushed it towards him with the same force.
"Nah, bhai, not now! Itni bhi kya jaldi hai?"
Israa laughed and turned to Saboor. "Look at him! Hopeless," she said, chuckling.
Saboor hid her little smile. He might be hopeless, but he had enkindled all her hopes and dreams.
"Here you go," Manhaa said. "Finally, you are ready. These gajray look so good on you!"
"After all, my son has chosen them for you with all his care," Israa said, setting up a string of white aromatic jasmines in her hair. Saboor looked at the jasmine bracelets in her hands, and gently touched the red roses weaved into them.
Such a small gesture, and yet, her heart bloomed.
~
When Saboor came into the drawing room, escorted by Manhaa and Aynoor, she felt her fiancé-to-be's gaze on her. He, along with the rest of his family stood up for her, and sat again when she was seated.
Her head was covered with the blue dupatta, but he could see the faint traces of the jasmines in her hair. Hiding his smile, he looked down.
As was custom in South-Asian families, the bride's father put on the ring on the groom's hand, and the groom's mother put it on the bride's hand. And although the bride and groom sat on opposite sides of the room, they were usually spectators to what was happening on the other side.
Israa slipped on the gold ring onto Saboor's ring finger, pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her hair. Saboor harshly breathed, overwhelmed with emotion. She felt the cold gold cling at her fingers, but she was too nervous to look at it.
Right then, her eyes went to the other side of the room, where her new fiancé sat. He had a slight comforting smile on his face, and looking at him, she smiled too.
Only once the festivities were over and the guests had left, that everyone in the house took a breath of peace. Saboor sat with her mother in the drawing room, slumped in one of the chairs. She was tired, and so was her mother, so no words were exchanged. Her father had retired to his room at seven in the evening and fallen asleep already, while Aynoor had gone to her room and was busy chatting with her friends.
She looked at her mother, and it was rare that she got an opportunity to look at her, up, close, and personal. The most she would look at her was when they had lunch and dinner together or when she helped her in the kitchen, but apart from that, she had turned pretty much distant from her mother.
Saboor gazed at the woman who had birthed her and weaned her for a year. She saw the wrinkles beside her eyes, the slight pigmentation above her cheeks, the mauve colour in her lips and the diamond glistening in her nose pin. Saboor did not resemble this woman much physically, but she belonged to the same part of creation as her: she was a woman, just like her mother.
Then why did she find a friend in a Israa auntie, while she saw a foe in her mother? Why did she have her guard up around her mother but not around her mother-in-law? Were they both not mothers? Then what was it that made them different?
The phone silently buzzed beside her, and she picked it up.
"Yes, Manhaa, all okay?"
"All okay, Saboor aapi! Actually, we're all so tired, I know you must be tired too. So, I ordered some dinner for us and y'all."
"Manhaa...thank you," Saboor muttered into the call. Hands down, Manhaa was going to be the best sister-in-law in the world if this continued.
"The order is prepaid, so you just have to take the food from him. It is Chinese, though, chalega?"
Saboor gave a tired smile, unaware that Manhaa could not see it. "Chalega nahin, daudega! Thank you so much Manhaa! If only I could hug you right now..."
"Main to aapki chhoti behen houn na? Farz hai mera. Don't say thank you," replied Manhaa. "Achha, I'll cut the call, mama's calling. Bye!"
"Bye!" Saboor replied. She got up and took the cotton dupatta from a corner she had tossed it in, and waited in the veranda. Meanwhile, she noticed the ring.
Oh, the ring.
Today's event was all about the ring. All the commotion, the snacks, the dresses, and the preparations, all for the arrival of this one ring. And it was ironic, the she had not even noticed it yet.
It was a simple gold ring, with no diamonds or jewels attached to it, and looked durable. And yet, it was unique from any ring she had seen before. It was a dainty oriental circlet lined with two gold borders up and down. The design resembled the mosaic in a church's glass walls, and between the borders, little flowers were there.
Her lips were parted in awe.
~
"Did the food reach there?" Muzammil enquired with his sister. Manhaa nodded.
"What did she say?" he asked.
"She said thank you," Manhaa answered shortly, holding back information from her inquisitive brother. Manhaa was having fun seeing this new side of his.
"She seemed tired," Manhaa added after a while. Muzammil nodded.
"She did look tired by the time we left," he replied, and continued watching the television as he ate his chowmein noodles. Like many men in his family, Muzammil was not used to wearing a ring yet, and as such, had put it back in the box, and stashed it in a corner of his locker. The ring was nothing but a ritual; the real matter of importance was their relationship.
~
The late hours of the night were approaching, but Muzammil couldn't get sleep. He glanced at his phone again and again, a sign that perhaps, he was waiting for someone's call or message.
Rather, someone very important.
Impatiently tapping his feet on the floor, Muzammil mumbled to himself, and then, a ping on the phone alerted him.
A single message had never lit up his eyes until today. Immediately picking up his phone, he unlocked it and opened the message.
The message read:
Saboor: Thank you for today, especially for the dinner parcel.
Muzammil: Oh no, there's no need to thank me. I'm glad you liked the noodles.
Saboor: I did, but more than me, Aynoor did.
Muzammil: Oh, that's great. Does she like Chinese?
Saboor: Biggest fan. She's a gone case over all that.
Muzammil: What do you like eating?
Saboor: I'm not a picky eater, I like everything, I guess...
Muzammil shook his head at the phone and smiled. Oftentimes, he knew when people lied to him. This was one time.
She said she isn't a picky eater, which means she was definitely one.
Saboor: Maybe curd rice is my favourite.
Muzammil: I like dal rice.
Saboor: Oh! There was this place in the city's outskirts that served such good dal fry! Did you ever try?
Muzammil: Farooq bhai's place?
Saboor: Yes, yes!
Muzammil: Waah! Farooq bhai is my classmate's elder brother, so we often go there for brunches.
Muzammil: If our parents allow, I'll take you there once.
Saboor: Sure, :)
Muzammil: It was a tiring day for both of us, I think we should go to sleep. Good night :)
Saboor: Good night, sweet dreams :)
Maybe a sweet 'good night' from his fiancée was all he wanted for a good night's sleep.
~
Saboor was at her laptop in the restaurant office, typing away at something. But underneath the table, her feet were busy tapping away with impatience. She picked up her phone and dialled up her sister.
"Aynoor! It's eight already! Where are you?"
"Sorry aapi, I forgot I had to pick you up...we're at their home now..."
"Goodness," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "You took away the car with you, how will I come then?"
"....I'm sorry, aapi...oh wait! Muzammil bhai is still outside, I'll tell him to pick you up."
Before Saboor could say anything, Aynoor cut the call. Muttering to herself in anger and now nervousness, Saboor shut down the desktop computer and packed away everything. Then, she got up and opened a door, which opened to Saboor's personal room.
The room was something Saboor had conceived in the last moments of renovation, and for once, she thanked God that she did. For it housed a few pairs of clothes, some shoes, and a pouch of skin care products. There was always some of her family friends coming to meet her, and it wouldn't seem feasible to show up in the worst of outfits after doing manual labour, hence the idea.
Now, skimming through the five dresses, Saboor picked up a baby pink salwaar suit, and changed into it. Smearing some powder on her face, she applied a light lip balm, and then, glanced at the watch.
Three minutes. That's all it took.
But Saboor wasn't satisfied. She shifted her dupatta over and over, trying to cover up properly, but also keep it neat. In the end, she collapsed into a chair.
The phone vibrated. A call was incoming.
It was him.
"Saboor?" he asked with uncertainty.
"Yeah?" she blubbered, picking up her keys and phone and other things. Clatter surrounded her.
"I'm outside-"
"-Okay, I'll come."
~
Muzammil yawned as he waited in the car. It had been only a minute or so, but for him, it seemed like an eternity.
My God, why was it so different with her?
But when she walked out of those glass doors and stood there, locking the restaurant for the day, his breathing faltered.
Pink and her, did magic.
As she walked towards the car, her dress flowed against her body. She pushed away her hair, but they fell back to her face.
Muzammil instantly got out of the car and opened the door for her. She smiled at him, then sat inside. He sat too, and then, maneuvered the car towards home.
~
Saboor got out of the car, bag and all in hand, and waited for Muzammil. She could go inside all by herself too, but just felt better waiting. At least she'd have someone to bear the embarrassment of showing up late.
Today was a small dinner event hosted by Uncle Mazhar, for Manhaa was leaving for college the next day. She had come home for the holidays, and now, it was time to go. Considering the new relation and Manhaa's liking for Saboor, they had invited her and her family too.
Together, the entered the house, saying aloud their salaams in a chime.
Muzammil wondered, if life would continue to be like this once they got married. He would pick her up from the restaurant and they would come home, hand in hand. He would help her with her things and they would then head to their room together.
Maybe it was too soon for her. He needed to hold his horses.
~
Despite the person of the occasion, Manhaa was in the kitchen. She had told her mother to leave, so she could clean up the kitchen for her. After all, tonight was the last night with her family. Tomorrow morning, she would be gone again for the entire semester.
"Need any help?" A voice came in from the door. Saboor smiled, and Manhaa smiled back, wiping sweat from her face.
"No, no, aapi, I'll do it," Manhaa said.
"Give it to me, let me do it," Saboor replied, taking the tongs from Manhaa, and continued roasting the paapad. And then, an idea sparked her.
"Manhaa, how will you serve these paapad?" she asked.
Manhaa was confused. "In a plate...?"
"Oh, no...I mean, just like that?"
"Yes!" Manhaa said, and kept the plate for the paapad in front of Saboor.
"Manhaa, is it okay if I do something funky with these?" Saboor asked cautiously, a fun twinkle in her eyes. It was going to be 'go big, or go and die' for her.
Manhaa chuckled. "Not at all, aapi!"
"Then please bring me two onions and a tomato, and also some coriander..."
"Coming right up," Manhaa said, and went to the refrigerator to bring it. Saboor transferred the freshly roasted paapad to a plate. Manhaa brought the vegetables to the table, and the two went about the work as per Saboor's instructions. While they worked, Manhaa told her tales about Muzammil, and from the conversation, she had figured, that her fiancé wasn't really fond of chaats.
She thought, perhaps she could change that opinion of his. If not, there won't be a loss.
The warm spice and the tanginess of the dish was such, that when Manhaa had a taste, she had to physically stop herself from stealing the whole bowl for herself.
"Aapi, promise me, you'll give me a bigger bowl for this!" she chided to her sister-in-law. Saboor laughed.
"What promise, Manhaa? Abb hi le lo, baad mein shaayad tumhaaray liye kuch naa bachay! Listen now, take this bowl, and serve it to everyone, hm? I'll go to the washroom and freshen up a bit."
"Don't sneak in too much!" Saboor hollered softly as she left the kitchen, and Manhaa laughed sheepishly.
~
"What's this?"
"My God, delicious!"
"Manhaa, who made it? Definitely not you..."
Saboor walked into the room, pretending to be unaware of the entire situation that was going on. She didn't want to be the center of attention, but unfortunately, her dish had somehow become the center of attention.
"It wasn't my idea," Manhaa explained to her mother. "You ask Saboor aapi, it was her recipe!"
"Saboor, bacchay, I would have said something like 'why did you go into the kitchen' and all, but my goodness! This chaat is really delicious!" Mazhar uncle commented, wiping his bowl clean and heading for a second serving. Israa auntie nudged her husband's arm, but she was enjoying the chaat herself.
Saboor looked at her parents, who were full after a single serving. Her father had thoroughly enjoyed, for it was written on his face in clear words, but she could see the contrast between her father, and her soon to be father-in-law.
One was raining her down with compliments, and the other hadn't bothered to speak.
She didn't let her dejection overcome her, and offered some more to Israa. Manhaa butted in between.
"Keep some for bhai na, or you'll finish it all! He's gone to freshen up," Manhaa chided, filling some in a bowl for him.
"Arey wo kahaan ye chaat-chatori cheezein khaata hai?" Mazhar uncle teased. "Uska hissa bhi mujhay de do."
"Buss kar dein aap!" Israa scolded her husband, silencing him, and the entire room erupted in laughter. And amidst the joking and teasing, Muzammil entered the room.
Saboor fell silent when she saw him looking at her, and then, watched, as he respectfully greeted her parents and took his seat. She watched him, as Manhaa gave him the bowl of chaat, as he tsked and refused, saying he didn't like these foods, and yet, at her insistence, had a bite.
"Who made this?" she heard him ask. "It's...wonderful."
"Saboor aapi made it," Manhaa replied, but when he looked up and their eyes met, Saboor had somewhat forgotten that there were more people in the room. A gaze full of care, admiration...and liking.
No one had noticed the little snippet of conversation. The elders were busy talking amongst themselves. Muzammil wiped his bowl clean, ready for another serving, but then, he sat back again, dejected, when his sister told him it had all finished.
"Thoda bhi nahin bachaaya?" he asked Manhaa in annoyance.
"Shukar karein bhai ki mainay itna bachaa liya, warna baba poora chatt kar jaatay," Manhaa replied, not knowing the little conversation that ran between the new couple's eyes, deeper than a conversation of words.
~
Throughout the night, Muzammil and Saboor stole glances at each other, hoping no one would notice them except themselves. This game of 'aankh matakka' sometimes made them smile, and sometimes, made them cover their red faces in shyness. And now, it was time for her to go home.
"Drive safe," he whispered to her from a chaste distance, knowing that she would be the one driving at this late hour of the night. She could only nod, for her voice was stuck somewhere in the corner of her throat.
His eyes had made her go crazy.
Waving goodbye to the family as a whole, Saboor let her gaze linger a bit longer than usual over her fiancé. He too, stood alert until her car left his sight, and even after that, stood in the driveway for a while.
She had never experienced such a feeling before. They were flirting with each other, if only with their eyes, the entire evening. She had never done that with anyone of the other gender before. And his eyes...they told her a lot about him. He was not much of a speaker, but his actions gave away a lot about him, especially when he exclusively did it for her.
Saboor parked the car in the garage and woke up her half-dozing parents, telling them to wash up and go to sleep in their room. Then, she cleaned up the car and locked it, and locked the gates of the house. Aynoor was with her the whole time, babbling something about a dramatic event in their college, but Saboor wasn't half as interested.
"Aapi! Why aren't you listening to me?" she complained.
"I am listening, baba."
"Then repeat the last dialogue I said!"
"That I am not listening to you..."
"Ugh, aapi! Anyways..."
Saboor had a quick shower and changed into her clothes, and climbed into bed after her skincare routine. She took her phone, and noticed a message hanging on the notifications column.
He had messaged her.
Her breathing quickened, and it was still just a message.
Muzammil: My new favorite dish is paapad chaat. Perhaps the one made exclusively by my fiancée.
~
Tauba yeh lamhe katt-te nahin kyoun,
Aankhoun se meri hatt-te nahin kyoun?