12th July, 2020
Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet (ﷺ) said, "A woman is married for four things, i.e., her wealth, her family status, her beauty and her religion. So you should marry the religious woman (otherwise) you will be a losers." Reference: Sahih al-Bukhari
Author's Note: I have taken as much time as I needed to write this chapter, only because I couldn't compromise on it. I hope you enjoy Kahsan's union as much as I did. I feel like I just married one of my (fictional) daughters to this guy. 😭💕
Chapter 17:
Homesick For A Feeling
After sitting around in a wedding hall all day, without even a single glimpse of her husband, Kareema Hussain had to admit weddings were tiring. She'd always been one to enjoy them, but the day's sunny weather wasn't helping her either. Whenever she looked at the bride from a guest's point of view, she'd be amazed at the queen-like treatment the girl would be getting. But now, in the shoes of Mrs. Ahsan Malik, the only dominant emotion around people was embarrassment.
She had no idea why she felt guilty for making an old lady get water for her, even if they all assured her that heavy clothes weren't made for walking in. She felt awkward that people kept teasing her even in the presence of people the age of her great aunt. Another thing she was getting tired of was being called "a bride", making her feel as fragile as the tiny horse statue Ahsan had gifted her from their Old Souq trip. Her mood was worsening with time, and she had a strong feeling it had less to do with the people around her and more to do with why she wasn't left alone with Ahsan.
The clear sky soon changed hues, and the night arrived as it did everyday. It was around Maghrib when almost all the guests left the hall. The relatives who had decided that they'd stay at Ahsan's house were wrapping up the party when Kareema found herself saying goodbye to all those who were closest to her. By the time Isha had arrived at the Malik household, Kareema was sure she'd get to see Ahsan some time next week. Judging by the number of children swarming in and out of her (Ahsan's) room, and adults walking in to introduce themselves, Ahsan was just as busy as she was.
But she compelled herself to stay alert.
She was getting tired of the dress too, it was heavier than anything she'd ever worn. She knew she'd throw up if she was made to sit in it for even a few more minutes. If she was allowed her way, she would've married Ahsan in one of the simple dresses she owned. It had almost taken all her energy to convince everyone that she would not, in any circumstances, take her hijab off. She couldn't bring herself to argue about the dress too. It wasn't that she didn't want to look pretty, the hair stylist had done her job, but there was no way she was taking pictures with strangers without a hijab. Everything seemed easier when her mother agreed with her.
When her phone chimed with a notification from Ahsan, she opened it curiously and almost gagged at the conversation in horror. She should never have left her phone in Leila and Husna's hands...
KareemaH [12:42 PM]: Assalam Alaykum Ahsan 😘
KareemaH [12:45 PM]: I'm so glad and happy we're finally married 😍
KareemaH [01:18 PM]: Here's what I look like today (*seven pictures inserted*)
KareemaH [03:26 PM]: I've been telling Leila and Husna how unfair it is that they don't let us meet until the night. Don't you think so too?
KareemaH [03:35 PM]: I hope you've had lunch, I ate really late today, I almost didn't have enough energy.
KareemaH [05:12 PM]: (*twenty four pictures inserted*)
AhsanMalik [08:43 PM]: Wa Alaykum Assalam, Kareema :P
KareemaH [08:44 PM]: That wasn't me. 😱
AhsanMalik [08:47 PM]: 😆 I guess it was your heart?
KareemaH [08:47 PM]: No!
KareemaH [08:47 PM]: I don't mean it's not, but...
KareemaH [08:48 PM]: I mean... oh God. 🙊
AhsanMalik [08:53 PM]: Hahaha, I'll see you in a bit, In Shaa Allah.
KareemaH [08:54 PM]: In Shaa Allah.
Aaarrrgh. She thought, cringing. Leila and Husna better be prepared for the chaos I'm going to create on their wedding day.
"Assalam Alaykum, Kareema!" Another woman said as she walked into the room with her five children. "I'm Sumayyah, Ahsan's second last aunt."
Wait, how many aunts does Ahsan have again? Her tired brain questioned.
"Oh, um... wa Alaykum Assalam--" Kareema said, as she removed her hijab and fixed her hair.
"You must be so tired, do you want me to get you changed?" She said with a pitiful expression.
"I'm sorry?" Kareema panicked.
"Where is your bag?" She asked, looking around.
"I'm sure I can manage, Aunty." Kareema said, feeling intruded. "Thank you for being so considerate."
"Oh it's no big deal, wait, this isn't the right bag..." She began unzipping another.
Kareema was lost. How was she supposed to say please leave in a very polite tone? She was sure she wasn't taught something like that.
"I think I'll just wait until Ahsan gets here." Kareema tried.
"Oh my, look at that, using his name already, huh?" The Aunty wiggled her eyebrows.
Kareema was torn between being confused and embarrassed at her behaviour.
This lady couldn't be serious.
"From the few times we've spoken to each other, we've used each other's name. Ahsan doesn't seem to have a problem." Kareema told her, relieved that she wasn't going through her bags anymore.
"Really?" The Aunty decided she'd chat with the bride for a bit more and sat down on the bed. "What did you guys speak about?"
"Um... we-- uh, we were..." Kareema suddenly couldn't even remember what they had talked about. "The weather? And... how far my workplace is from the masjid where he works at, the orphanage, my friends--"
"Oh dear, you must never speak about your friends to your husband." She gasped suddenly.
"Why not?" Kareema wasn't curious at all, but there was no harm in getting to know Ahsan's family-logic.
"Men are easily swayed." She whispered. "You never know, they might incline towards that one friend you praise too much."
"I don't think that's fair--"
"I know Ahsan better than you do, you understand?" She demanded.
"Yes, Aunty." Kareema replied, despite herself.
"I'm saying it for your own good, my dear." The Aunty smiled. "And the orphanage?! Don't talk about all that, it's bad luck! Think about your children!"
"Aunty, you are older than I am. You obviously know better." Kareema started. "But please don't expect me to follow baseless theories, the teaching my family has given me, make more sense to me. I know you care for me, but I wish you wouldn't ask me to adopt beliefs that contradict my foundations."
"You are indeed a well-manned girl, Kareema." The Aunty smiled. "It will take some time, but we'll uproot your false beliefs about our family."
"I pray for the same." Kareema nodded. She knew the aunty hadn't understood a word she had said.
But she had to commend the aunty on her bravery and choice of words, after all, what she implied wasn't what Kareema did. With a stony goodbye, the aunty decided she'd better go and Kareema let her with a smile. And for the first time, Kareema wondered if she'd made a mistake by being so straight with her words. She had no intention to hurt anyone, but she couldn't tolerate anyone messing up her understanding without a sound reason.
The door opened, and Ahsan walked in.
Suddenly she felt like he could've taken a little more time.
No ill feelings. No harsh comments. No more overthinking. Kareema told herself. Forget the aunty, at least for now.
"Assalam Alaykum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuhu, again." He said, as he closed the door behind him.
"Wa Alaykum Assalam wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuhu." Kareema replied as he walked towards her.
"If you're giving yourself a pep talk in your head, I could use it for me too." Ahsan smiled at her.
Kareema could hardly speak, as he closed the distance between them and placed a kiss on her forehead. His white thawb wasn't the usual wedding attire, but he'd worn it on her request. She thought he looked very handsome; dishevelled mess of brown hair sitting on his head, dark eyes reflecting a dream and lips curved in a slight smile at the mercy of His Lord.
"How are you?" He asked.
"Would you like the answer to be from the bride or from the usual me?" She asked.
"The usual you is the bride, so both." He said
"A little tired." She answered truthfully, reddening in the process as he grinned.
"That's okay." Ahsan told her and turned her towards the window. "Can you see this city?" He asked her, putting his arms around her and pointing out of the window.
"Mmhmm." She spoke.
"I saw you first over there." He pointed to the marketplace.
"No way..." Kareema protested. "I've only been there once."
"I'm guessing it was around Asr time in the middle of a hot summer day?" Ahsan chuckled.
"Yeah, I think so." Kareema recalled.
"I didn't know what it was, but it was like my head couldn't see anything else in the split second I saw you." Ahsan continued. "Your eyes were like garnets glistening in the sunlight, and your skin was like the golden hour in a wheat field."
"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" Kareema asked.
"Maybe." Ahsan agreed. "I didn't know if you existed for real until I saw you at the masjid after many months."
"Aah, is that why you sent me a proposal?" She teased him. "For glistening eyes and golden hour skin?"
"Well, it may be part of the issue..." He said sheepishly.
And she laughed, making him speechless again.
"What actually compelled me to ask for your hand in marriage was your resolve on Islamic Beliefs." He told her. "I liked your reasoning."
"Aah... That's funny." She chuckled. "It's the exact same thing I like about you too."
"Is that all, though?" He asked curiously.
"I've always liked quiet people." Kareema told him. "You were the few I found to be quiet, I could never tell if you were lost in a daydream or carrying the weight of the world. I liked the dilemma."
"You liked... the dilemma." He spoke. "And the one who revealed the dilemma to you, what about him?"
"Oh, him..." Kareema turned around to face him, and her breath almost caught in her throat at how close he was. "I might or might not have fallen in love with that guy."
"You know, I've heard when words come from the heart, they lose their way and we find them in the eyes." He told her, brushing his thumb against her cheek.
"I'm a writer, I don't let them escape." She told him.
"I'm glad for that." Ahsan told her. "My courage comes from your courage. I've admired your peace with grief, it gives me strength."
"Grief is just love which has no home." She told him. "It gathers in your heart, and in the corners of your eyes. It's very hard to swallow, and it takes a piece of you from yourself. How can it be your strength?"
"When there's nowhere for it to go, it leads you to the musallah. What strength could be greater than the one He gives?" He replied.
Silence fell between them, shattering a million barriers. She could write a book on their conversations, for it seemed like their thinking drove them to a safe place in an unsafe world. Ahsan could see her tiredness wearing off in her eyes, his words seemed to have fueled it.
"Inna ma'al usri yusra." She said, with tears in her eyes.
"Yes, because the promise of our Lord is true." Ahsan agreed, wiping the tear that had slid on her cheek.
"I've been homesick for this feeling for a very long time." Kareema told him.
"Welcome home, habibti." He said, hugging her.
It seemed to Kareema like they stayed that way for an eternity as he let her call this feeling home.
"Shall we pray two units of salah together?" He asked after a while.
Kareema nodded, and left to make wudu again as he arranged the musallah. It didn't take her long to find decent clothes from the unzipped bag the aunty had left. Glad that she had avoided the topic on her very first night with Ahsan, she changed quickly and came out of the bathroom. Ahsan was still waiting, his eyes on the city outside the window.
She didn't know how she deserved the blessing of being his wife, and she knew he thought the same about her. She couldn't ever remember being unafraid to share the moons of every night with this man. The universe had shown her miracles, only because she had dared to let it. She'd found herself asleep, without questioning if she could dream. And in her dream, she had plucked a flower from Jannah. It was only her tawakkul that let her believe it would stay with her when she woke up.
It was the first time she hadn't closed her doors on the storms, it was the first time she'd let her du'as take shape without fearing an alternative.
And then, when she woke up, it was only her belief that brought the flower into reality.