5 years ago - The Incident.
I had been ready hours ago, waiting until someone told us it was time to go. Summer had kicked in again and Isa and I were lazing around in front of the fan. The fan stopped working and Isa sighed before forcing himself up.
"I'll put the generator on," He said.
"We need to get a UPS. I feel like the electricity is going more and more often now," I complained.
"You've seriously started complaining more recently," Isa commented and I glared at him.
"Don't blame me! Blame my hormones. Pregnancy makes people moody," I explained and he rolled his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me!"
"Don't use your pregnancy as an excuse to complain," Isa replied.
"Excuse me? What right do you have to tell me not to complain when you complain all the time!"
"I'm feeling too hot to talk. Let's just sit on front of the fan quietly, please," Isa said, sitting next to me after turning the generator on. I felt the breeze of the fan and sighed in relief.
"Too hot to talk about our kid?" I asked and Isa grinned.
"Our son," He responded and I grinned back. We found out in one of the recent check ups that we were having a son.
"How about the name Uthman?" I asked.
"It's nice I guess. But I don't know, I'm not feeling it."
"Dawud?"
"Hmm... Nah."
"Yaqub?"
"That sounds like an older person's name to me."
"Noman?"
"It's not pronounced well in English."
"Yusuf?"
"No, the name reminds me of the guy in Eastenders," Isa said and I frowned at him.
"Are you serious?"
"I do not like that character! Okay?"
"First of all, we haven't had the chance to watch something like Eastenders since we came here, second of all, we never even watched it in England, third of all, how do even remember that character? And why would you associate such a beautiful name with him?"
"I watched it a couple of years back in Mama's house. She told me there was a Muslim family and so I began to watch it only to be scarred by the misrepresentation. The guy named Yusuf was abusing his wife and it just made me so sad that it got embedded into my memory. It's quite unfortunate," Isa said and I shook my head.
"I cannot believe you."
"What's wrong with Isa junior? His name can be Isa ibn Isa. How cool is that? Or he can be Isa the second and sound royal," Isa said with a mischievous grin.
"Yeah, because that won't cause any confusion at all! I'll say Isa and both of you will come running. I know, why don't I name myself Isa too and we can be the Isa family," I said sarcastically.
"No need, Esha sounds a lot like Isa anyway. Almost like the female equivalent."
"Razeen?"
"That's a name?"
"Yeah! I had a friend whose fiance was named that! You've never heard of it?"
"No..."
"Okay, tell me names you have heard," I said, sitting up.
"There are so many names! Too many to choose from. I don't know!" Isa still couldn't think of a single name to choose. He could be so incredibly indecisive.
"'I said choose a name!" I demanded.
"Hey, this is my son's name we're talking about. It has to be perfect. It has to be like a du'a. A prayer for my son to grow up and be like his name."
"How about Asad, so he can grow up to be like a lion," I suggested.
"Lions are kind of lazy."
"What better name than Muhammad?" I asked.
"You see, that's an excellent name. But it's far too common."
"Abdul with a name of Allah following it. Adbur-Rahman? Abdul-Malik? Abdur-Raheem?"
"Again, excellent names. We do want our son to grow up to be a servant of Allah. But if we're planning on moving back to England and put our son through English schools, they'll probably separate the names and call him Abdul. That doesn't make sense. They'll be calling him, servant of."
"You're so impossible!" I said through gritted teeth, shoving Isa.
"You're so beautiful," Isa replied putting an arm around me.
"That won't work. I know what you're doing."
"I'm not doing anything!" He argued.
"You know you're annoying me so you're going to try and compliment me to make me less annoyed!" I said, making my frown deeper. Isa looked deep into my eyes.
"So very beautiful," He said softly.
"And it's working," I replied, trying to stop myself from smiling.
"I could stare at you all day long!"
"Stop it!" I replied, beginning to giggle. Isa kissed my forehead and pulled my to his chest. Though it was hot, I wrapped my arms around him. He smelt a bit sweaty but not the smelly kind. I found it strangely nice. I closed my eyes, feeling drowsy from the heat. I felt Isa put his hand on my little baby bump.
"Do you want something to eat?" Isa asked and I shook my head.
"It's too hot to eat."
"What if he's hungry though?"
"If I'm not hungry, he's not hungry," I told Isa.
"Khalil and Hadia aren't calling us yet so shall I quickly make a trip to the bazaar and get something to eat?"
"No, I want to save my appetite for the food they'll give in Karachi. I heard they have everything there! I can't wait! I'm so excited! Oh, and we have to go shopping for ingredients to make cool things at home. And I also want to check out the shopping centre and see if it really is how they show it on TV," I said too quickly.
"I'm still kind of scared though," Isa admitted and I rolled my eyes. He had been watching too much news recently.
"There are people in Karachi who have never experienced anything that you see on the news. We're only going for a few days," I reminded him. We were going for my cousin's wedding as she was getting married to a man in Karachi. She was friends with Hadia from school and we were both invited so we decided to go together.
"I know but I'm still nervous. I'm not going to leave your side the whole time," He said, squeezing me.
"Dude, we're normal people. We don't attract trouble or attention. My life is too normal for such things to happen to us," I said to Isa and he turned back to look at my face.
"My dear wife, I'm a black man living in Pakistan. Only last week, someone shouted at me to go home," He said, amused. "We're not that normal."
"Things will be fine, in'sha'Allah," I assure Isa. I mean, things out of the ordinary rarely happened. I went to normal schools, got a normal degree, worked average jobs. I couldn't define the major things that happened in my life abnormal either. My father's death was expected for two years and cancer is common. I met Isa through marriage meetings, another common way to meet spouses. Of course the feelings I felt were intense on each important occasion but these were things that happened to people often.
We continued talking until finally, someone knocked on our gate. I put my niqab on while Isa went to open the gate. I got my bag, gave my bump a secret affectionate rub, grabbed the small suitcase and then stepped out of the veranda and followed Isa to where brother Khalil had his car parked.
I gave the suitcase to Isa and turned to the side of the car in which Hadia was sitting. She came out to greet me and we hugged before climbing into the car. They had left their daughter with her grandparents and their year old son sat between Hadia and I. Isa sat next to Khalil in the passenger seat and brother Khalil asked,
"Ready to go?" We all mumbled a reply and soon, the car was moving. Hadia and I chatted in the back, keeping our voices low and trying to control our giggles.
"I know I sound so typical but I cannot wait to check out the shopping centres. Or should I say malls? You call them malls here, right?" I asked and Hadia's eyes widened in surprise.
"You wanna see the malls! You, who comes to our house to milk cows! You, who goes to Inayah's house to sit on her horse! You, who is from England! You want to see malls?" Hadia asked and I grinned.
"I have a feeling it's going to make me feel like I'm at home. Sometimes, when we're in KFC, I imagine that we're in England. I like that weird feeling of thinking I'm in England when I'm in Pakistan," I said and Hadia raised an eyebrow at me.
"That's really weird," She commented with a laugh.
"I know. But even Isa does the same thing. We went to Kashmir a few months ago and I took him to Azad Mega Mart and we felt like we were in England again! It was so cool!"
"If you miss England that much, why don't you go back?" Hadia asked.
"I used to do the same thing there! Every time I smelt petrol from a passing motorcycle I zoned out and felt like I was in Pakistan. It's just fun to do these things," I explained.
"If you say so," She said, shrugging.
It was a long ride and we stopped a couple of times to pray and eat food. When we'd finished praying Asr, I asked,
"We'll get to the hotel by Maghrib, right?"
"In'sha'Allah," Isa replied.
"Good. Sorry, Hadia, but I'm going to sleep until we get there," I told her.
"I'll join you," She said, as she put her head against the window. Unfortunately, Hadia's son, Bilal, had different ideas for us. He'd been a good boy throughout the journey with only occasional whimpers. But just as we had settled to doze, he began wailing. This was followed by him being sick in the car, ruining his clothes and the seat on which he sat.
"Oh no! Bilal!" Hadia said, getting tissues out of her purse. "Khalil, we need to stop the car somewhere."
"We can't yet," He replied.
"Can't you park on the side somewhere? He's ruined his clothes completely! I need to take out some fresh clothes from the boot," Hadia said to her husband.
"I'll stop at the next service station," He replied. "It's not coming for another ten minutes though." I inwardly groaned and looked away from the scene. The stench was making me sick.
"Can I open the window?" I asked. The car had air conditioning and we kept our windows shut to keep the heat out.
"Yes please," Hadia said, as she wiped down Bilal's clothes. I opened the window and held my niqab as a cool breeze flew in.
Soon, we stopped and Hadia changed Bilal's clothes before we set off again. After Bilal fell asleep, we also tried to take a nap. I was in and out of sleep for the next hour or so until I felt someone shaking my shoulder through the window. Realising there was a hand on my shoulder, I bolted upright. Then Isa opened the door for me.
"We're here!" He said and held out his hand to help me out of the car.
"My my, what a gentleman," I said, taking it and standing up. I rubbed my eyes and asked Isa, "Do I have any eye bogies?" He looked into my eyes and shook his head. "Good."
"They look a bit swollen though," He commented and I blinked a few times. Hadia got out of the car and I could tell she was looking between us from the corner of my eyes. Brother Khalil took Bilal out and then locked the car.
"Let's go into the hotel and I'll wash my face. Need to do my wudhu anyway."
"I still got mine so I'm off to the masjid with Khalil," Isa said. "And I got a feeling you're about to comment on me keeping my wudhu for so long."
"You did your wudhu at Zuhr! How have you managed to keep it for so long?" I asked.
"I don't know. Anyways, I'll be back soon," He said as he walked over to the other side of the car. "And leave the suitcases, we'll bring them in on our way back," Isa said over his shoulder. Brother Khalil handed Bilal over to Hadia and they both set off for the masjid, leaving Hadia and I to check in and find our hotel rooms.
Once we had our keys, I followed Hadia into her room and we took turns doing our wudhu and praying in case Bilal started crying. When we finished, we both lay on the bed, letting Bilal play with his toys.
"You're at a beautiful stage in your marriage," Hadia said. I turned my head towards her.
"How?"
"You seem to be getting out of the honeymoon period which some people are scared of. But that's when the real love story begins. You become such good friends that you'd rather ask Isa if you have eye bogies than ask me so that you could hide that you have human problems such as eye bogies from Isa. Do you understand what I'm saying?" She asked
"I think we became like this soon after we came to Pakistan. Isa doesn't really have anyone else here, except for a few good friends like your husband. So he ended up confiding in me for everything. Same for me. It was a while before I met you and Inayah and even then, Isa and I bonded a lot being alone here. I can't imagine not being good friends. Besides, I wasn't so much into being all shy and dressy from the beginning. He says I'm down to earth and he says he likes it so why not ask him questions most wives wouldn't ask their husbands?" I said.
"You two are so cute! Masha'Allah," Hadia commented and I let out a little laugh.
"Yeah, we are."
It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door and I pulled my niqab on. Brother Khalil entered and I told Hadia I'd meet her later and left to go to my room.
Isa sat on the bed, going through a leaflet and I sat next to him. Then I lay my head on his shoulder.
"I'm sleepy," I said, taking the leaflet from his hands.
"Get ready for bed, pray Isha when the time comes and go sleep straight after," Isa said.
"What about you?"
"I feel exhausted so I'm gonna do the same. But we haven't had a proper dinner. Are you hungry?" He asked and I shook my head.
"I'm just tired."
"Me too. It's weird how sitting in one place can make you tired," Isa said, referring to the long car journey.
"My back started hurting half way here," I admitted.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Isa sat up. "Do you want a massage? Are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah, I'm feeling a little better now. But a massage would still be nice," I said, looking up at Isa with hopeful eyes.
"Do you want to lay down or something?"
"Do you want me to squish our baby?"
"No no! But how...?" I turned my back towards Isa and pointed at the sore spot. He awkwardly gave me a little massage before I started feeling sorry for him and told him to stop.
"Thank you very much," I said, sitting back. "Okay, waiting for Isha is making me a little hungry now," I commented, wondering if I wanted to eat because of hunger or boredom.
"I'll get you some food. What do you want?" Isa asked.
"Anything. Are there even shops that are open at this time?"
"There must be. I'll be back," Isa said, kissing me on my forehead.
It felt like ages before he returned and we had dinner. Then he left to pray again and Hadia came into my room. Like we did at Maghrib, we took turns to pray. We talked and waited for our husbands to return and then Hadia left and Isa and I got ready for bed.
That night, I couldn't sleep properly. I kept feeling a weird sense of panic and maybe even fear.
"Isa, wake up," I said to him, an hour before Fajr.
"What's wrong?" He mumbled.
"I'm feeling... kabhrat," I said.
"What?"
"I can't remember the English equivalent to the word! It's ghabhrahat in Urdu. And I guess panic and a sense of uneasiness in English. Whatever it is, I feel it!" Isa put his arm around me and cuddled me.
"It's okay, there's nothing to panic about. Maybe you had a bad dream or something..." a few seconds later, I could hear Isa snoring. I rolled my eyes and then twisted and turned in bed until I could find a comfortable position to sleep in.
We slept for a little while after Fajr too before Hadia came knocking on our door to wake us up. I was still feeling tired and told Isa to get ready first.
"But women take longer to get ready so you get up first," He argued.
"According to sleep specialists, women need twenty more minutes of sleep than men. So up you get."
"I'll let you off because you're carrying my child," Isa said as he forced himself up.
We took our time to get ready and met up with Hadia and brother Khalil to go to the house where the wedding was taking place. But before that, we stopped for some delicious breakfast.
Isa and I were separated when we got to the wedding, which hadn't even started yet. Hadia and I went to see the bride and sit with her while she got ready. Hadia knew the bride better than I did so I felt a bit awkward and out of place. But the bride was lovely.
"This is my cousin from England," The bride said, introducing me to her friends. I smiled at them and saw their curiosity and interest.
"Which one? Is it... that one?" One woman asked.
"What one?" Another asked and I sat, looking between them feeling confused.
"Are you the Arab?" One girl asked me.
"Half Arab," I replied, feeling uncomfortable that everyone was discussing who I was.
"Is she the one who married an Indian or the one who married the black guy?" A woman asked her friend.
"Hey, this is so rude!" Hadia spoke up and I felt so grateful. "She understands you all perfectly fine. Her Urdu's better than mine!" That was a lie, my Urdu still needed some work but I appreciated Hadia defending me.
"It's the one with the black guy that came Pakistan," Someone from behind me spoke up, startling me. I just looked around feeling lost. I reached for Hadia's and and she squeezed.
"I'm so sorry about this," She whispered.
"You're the one who married that black man?" Someone asked.
"Yes, because he's an amazing person!" I said, feeling defensive.
"Aren't our Pakistani men good enough for you?" She replied. I was losing track of who was saying what.
"Oh but honey, you're so beautiful! Why would you marry him if you had the option of marrying someone like your cousin, Aslam?" A woman slightly older than us said, sitting next to me.
"What?"
"Aslam is so handsome, he's the fairest of all the cousins," She said and a few women agreed. "He would've happily married you." I was tempted to stand up and give a long epic speech but I was too shocked and overwhelmed.
"You're comparing my Isa, my religious, handsome, loving husband to Aslam? The guy who flirts with girls on the streets and Allah knows if he even goes to pray Jum'ah!" I didn't add that he was Aunt Nyla's son. That made everything much worse.
"He's young. Men change after marriage. You could have changed him and been much happier." The sad thing was, that they weren't intentionally being racist. They were stating what they truly believed and I wanted to cry. This was worse than when I was told I could've done better than Isa at my wedding.
"Hey, he may not be white but I heard he's a very good man!" Finally, someone other than Hadia spoke up for me.
"And she seems happy." One of the women who was previously talking about me as if I wasn't there actually took my side.
"I am happy," I assured them.
"And besides, Aslam may be handsome but he does have a bad history of girlfriends. Too many of them to count," Someone else said. I didn't see his appeal at all but I remained quiet. There were women defending me and I didn't want to say anything to make them feel like they shouldn't defend me. I wanted to take the attention away from myself and tease the bride but I felt too hurt and embarrassed to say anything. When we were at home, in our village, Isa was always by my side and any racist comments or remarks thrown his way we're shrugged off by him and he helped me feel more comfortable and secure too. It didn't bother me so much then.
I shuffled closer to the bride who was getting her hair done.
"If there's anyone else you want to introduce me to, please don't tell them I'm from England. I don't want to go through that again," I said and she smiled and nodded. She got told off by the hair stylist and we looked at each other before laughing only to get told off again.
It was then that I decided to keep my niqab on to remain anonymous, even during the time there were girls only. It helped me survive the wedding and I was grateful when the wedding came to an end and I was finally reunited with Isa.
"You've eaten, right?" I asked and Isa nodded. "Good, can we leave then?"
"I saw a shopping centre on the way here. Do you want to go there before we go home?" Isa asked and I nodded enthusiastically. "Hold on a moment," Isa said before walking over to his friend, calling out to him, "Khalil!"
A couple of minutes later, Isa returned.
"Well?"
"We're getting a taxi. I thought we can go, just the two of us," He said with a smile and I grinned under my niqab.
It was the perfect evening. Isa bought me new abayas and I told him to buy me some milkshakes while I went to look in a shop which had caught my interest. I told him which table to meet at. Luckily, he didn't question where I wanted to go or why and I bought him a cool watch. I had it wrapped even though I was going to gift it to him in five minutes.
"What did you get?" He asked when I approached the table he was sitting at.
"You'll see," I said, taking a seat and sipping my milkshake.
"I can tell by your eyes that you're super excited about something. What is it? Confess!"
"Okay, fine. I got you a present," I said, holding out the box to him.
"Awesome! What is it?" He asked, taking the box.
"Open it! Open it!" I said and Isa chuckled. He opened the box and got out the watch. "Your old one's very old now so I thought I'd get you a new one."
"This is so cool! Put it on me," Isa said handing me the watch and holding out his arm. I put the watch on him and then made it the right time too.
"Jazak'Allah khair," He said. "Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome," I replied. We finished our milkshakes and headed back to our hotel. It was a good ending to a day which wasn't very good. But little did I know what the next day had in store for me. If I only I knew that evening was going to be my last with Isa. If only I knew that gift was going to be the last gift Isa received. But what would have happened if I had known? Maybe I would have made a better effort to have made it a better evening for Isa. I wouldn't have complained of what happened at the wedding. But then again, ignorance is sometimes bliss. It was a great evening and we laughed and joked, unaware of what was to come.
The next day, brother Khalil took us all around Karachi. It was nearing Asr when Isa noticed me holding my back and announced we were going back to our hotel.
"We'll drive you," Brother Khalil offered.
"No, it's fine. We'll get a taxi," Isa replied. I felt really bad and tried to talk him out of it, though I wanted to lie down. But Isa knew me well and we ended up in a taxi, on our way back to our hotel.
"Right, I'm refreshing my wudhu and I'm heading out for Asr. You make plans for when I get back," Isa said.
"Okay," I replied, laying on the bed. Isa came out of the bathroom five minutes later and rolled his sleeves down. He checked the time and then kissed me on my cheek. "See you soon, in'sha'Allah," He said before he left.
I never did see him again.
Half an hour passed after I prayed Asr. I sat on the bed, scrolling through my phone while waiting for Isa to come through the door at any minute. I heard a loud noise outside and jumped. It sounded distant so ignored it and continued to wait.
Another half hour passed, making it an hour, and there was still no sign of Isa. That's when I began calling him.
When one and a half hours had gone since Isa left, I called Hadia.
"Isa's not back yet and it's been so long!" I said, worried. There was silence on the other end. "Hadia?"
"I'll call you back," She said and hung up. I tried calling her again. And then I called Isa. In desperation, I even called brother Khalil. No one was picking up!
Two hours since Isa left, I finally heard a knock on my door. I rushed to it, opening the door and expecting to see Isa. Instead, I was met by a teary eyed Hadia holding Bilal. She let herself in and led me to my bed, putting Bilal down on the floor.
"What happened?" I asked and she hugged me and began sobbing.
"Be strong, okay? I have some really bad news. But you're going to have to be strong and patient," She said. I pushed her off me.
"What happened?!" I asked again, my hands on her shoulders.
"Isa..."
"What about him?" I shouted, feeling my panic course through me. My heart felt like it was about to explode.
"You know what we see on the news. Yet we think we'll never be affected by it..." Hadia said, struggling to explain what had happened.
"Hadia, please just get to the point. What happened?"
"Isa's gone. I heard a bomb went off near the masjid... I'm so sorry," I let go of Hadia, unable to believe what she was saying.
"No." I shook my head, getting up. "Take me to him," I demanded.
"No!" Hadia instantly replied, also standing. "No, you can't go!"
"He might be okay. You have to take me to him! If he was there, maybe he's just injured. You have to take me to him!" I repeated. I had to know for myself. Isa was too young, too healthy to leave me! He said he was going to be back!
"We saw him! Khalil checked," Hadia said, wiping her eyes. "Please sit down."
"Isa," I whispered. He couldn't leave me. I needed him! Now more than ever! I put my head in my hands and slowly sat down. Then I let out a scream and Hadia held me. "Isa!" I said his name repeatedly, sobbing so hard I felt like I was going to be sick. The pain wasn't like anything I had ever felt before. I felt like I'd lost everything in the blink of an eye.
"Esha, please stop crying. Look, he passed away right after praying Asr and he'd just left the masjid. In'sha'Allah he'll only feel peace from now on," She said but it only made me cry more. I didn't want to hear this right now. I wanted someone to tell me he was still alive, that I would see him again.
"The baby!" I remembered as I held my stomach and my entire body shook as I let out another loud sob. I couldn't breathe while I thought of Isa never being able to meet our child. How was I going to cope without him? Isa was my rock, my pillar of support and now he was gone and I was crumbling.
"Esha, Allah has plans for you. The baby will be fine in'sha'Allah," Hadia comforted, her voice shaking. "Esha, breathe!" She said, panicked. She rubbed my back, then rushed to get me water. I managed to breathe in again and Hadia held out a glass of water to me. I ignored it and covered my face with my hands. Everything hurt while I continued to struggle to breathe through my sobs. It was a long time before I managed to calm down enough to speak. I asked to be taken to Isa again.
"I can't," Hadia replied.
"I'm begging you," I said, letting my tears flow freely down my damp cheeks. "Let me see him one more time. I need to see him."
"I can't," Hadia said, hesitantly.
"Why?!" I asked, angrily.
"I just... I can't."
"Please."
"Esha," Hadia started. "I can't tell you why but you can't see him, okay? If I tell you, I'm scared what will happen."
"There's nothing worse that can happen." I was wrong.
"You have to stay strong if I tell you, okay? Stay calm for your baby," Hadia said and I nodded. "Isa's face and body... The bomb went off quite close. His entire left side, including his face, it's... I can't let you see him. It's not good for your condition," Hadia explained while she covered her mouth and bit back her sobs. I stared back at her. My crying ceased only for a moment. A moment in which I imagined what state my husband was in. And then I cried even harder than before, if that was possible.
I always thought I was separate to those people on the news, crying their hearts out for the loved ones they lost. I thought I, a girl brought up in the West, a girl who lived a sheltered average life, would never experience such pain. But we never know what life has in store for us.
They never let me see Isa's face. And perhaps that was for the best. I'd heard Hadia couldn't sleep properly for the following months as every time she'd close her eyes, the image of a mutilated Isa would haunt her. But she had Khalil to hold her and kiss all her fears away. In my room, all that surrounded me was a deafening silence and the suffocating absence of the man who it hurt to imagine my life without.
How could one move on from that?