Mere liye ghar
tab bhi tum thay,
aaj bhi tum ho.
Lekin apne hi ghar mein insaan
aksar akela reh jaata hai.
That evening when she came home, she also brought in a strange unsettling feeling with her. White had always been her favorite, but her humble apartment in the outskirts of London was mostly covered with furniture of grey and neutral tones.
Firdaus dropped her sleek bag on the couch that was placed in between the dining table and living space, and walked around it to go to the kitchen. While pouring herself a glass of water, she realised her hands were unstable. The sudden encounter at the coffee shop had left unnerved.
She carried the glass and settled down on the seat by the window, looking out on the street that was beginning to get covered by the first snow of the year. Winter never seemed more ominous than it did that evening. So many memories came and went in waves. When she was moving to London, she knew it was a risk she was undertaking but it still did not stop her. There would always be a chance of running into him, even if it was minimal. That was the reason why Shagufta kept asking her, why London? She would respond, unaffected that it was one of the better places to complete her degree in literature. It was also easier as she had help from one of her father's freind who was the former Pakistani ambassador to UK. But deep inside, she and her mother both knew well, why she chose this particular city.
Where one half of her heart dreaded an encounter with him, the other half waited for an opportunity to catch a glimpse of him, even if from afar. And that was what had happened. A few months after coming to London, she saw him.
It was a calm summer morning. She was heading to class, walking silently without looking around much. But just a few minutes away from her campus, she caught something from the corner of her eye that forced her to look up. A familiar figure. At first she wasn't sure if it was him, but it still made her heart beat fast enough for her to be able to hear it.
He was standing on the opposite side of the wide street. She tried not to lose her focus as a few cars zoomed by in between, but her attention fell on him completely undivided only when he turned around. It was him, Aman. He had somewhat of a beard now, and glasses too. His hair neatly combed at the back, which was quite unlike him. But she could recognize him in an instant.
Firdaus stood there, her heart beating in her chest like a musicians drums, wondering whether to approach him or not. But she didn't need to wait long for an answer to her question. Aman was standing in front of a candy store, unaware of the pair of eyes that were ardently staring at him, when a woman, roughly around her own age came out from the store and greeted him with a hug. There was a small boy with her too. After they pulled away, he bent down and hugged the boy too.
However far she may have been standing, she could still see the smile that was on his face. Something broke inside her. It was not audible to the world outside, but she heard it well and clear. The sound of a breaking heart.
Jab dil toot'ta hai toh awaaz nahi aati.
When the fog of memories stared lifting, she found herself back sitting by the windowsill. Two drops of tears had rolled off each of her eye and splashed onto the back of her hand. An image from the past hit her like a collapsing wall. She knew that was not his family, couldn't have been. But it was a stark reminder that he did infact, want to raise a family. A happy and healthy one, he had always wished for it, but she wouldn't be able to give it him. The baggage of her past would always overshadow their future.
Another painful memory flashed in front of her eyes. This time she was in the doctor's chamber, and her words were still ringing fresh in Firdaus's ears.
'Opioids have a lot of side effects Firdaus. If you want to have kids in the future, you must be really cautious. Despite being clean some drugs remain inactivated in your system for years, and there are high chances that it will affect your unborn baby. Disabilities, mental deficits, there's also a high possibility of miscarriage. As your doctor I would advise you to plan wisely.'
When her doctor heard about her wedding during one of her regular check ups, she had bluntly warned her the impacts her addiction could have in her future life. That night, Firdaus had cried till her eyes were swollen. But she cried in solitude. She did not want to disclose her situation to anyone, not even her mother. As much as she knew Aman, she knew he would give her a long list of positive things that could happen and still marry her in a heartbeat. Her mother would do the same, encourage her to be hopeful. But when Allah takes away such a blessing from a woman, only she knows what she goes through. She did not even have anyone to blame except for herself. Her grief and despondency engulfed her in such a way that she ended up taking a drastic step of calling off the wedding.
Drugs had not only ruined her past and present, but also robbed her of the possibility of having a bright future. At times she wished she was in a science fiction movie where one could go back in time and fix things that went wrong. But this was reality, and reality was always bitter.
*****
The back of his neck was getting warmer as he kept pacing to and fro around the room. He would suck in deep breath from time to time trying to calm himself down, but it was futile. For a second, he stopped and looked up at the ceiling, hoping gravity would prevent the tears from rolling down. Aman closed his eyes, and the tear flowed down eventually despite his efforts. His hands went down into his pockets from where he pulled out his wallet and flayed it open. What made him do it? He did not know. He looked down at the wallet in his hand. On one side there was a pocket covered with a thin sheet of clear plastic. Beneath it, an old picture with faded colors.
Her smile used to be so pure and unadulterated. Instinctively, he shifted the wallet in his hand a little and his thumb ran over the picture. A sad smile appeared on his face, but it lasted momentarily before Aman came back to his senses.
He shut the flaps of the wallet immediately and threw it on the couch. He had carried her picture for the past 8 years, yet it never pained the way it pained today. She was in London, in his city. For God knows how long, and it she never looked back at him, for once.
He clenched his fist and gulped down the anger. Breathed in, breathed out. Stood there and listened to himself breathe. He wasn't a person who lost his calm easily, and even when he did, he knew how to get himself back. But there was something about his anger today that was not letting him let go of it easily. It wasn't just anger, it was the heartache that accompanied it that hurt him more. He did not move for as long as he could remember, until a familiar sound ended his stupor. It was his landline, that rang hrice before the call was diverted to the answering machine.
"Aman..."
He listened carefully with heightened senses.
"Hospital website sey tumhare contact number mila. Main..." her voice was low and husky, "maine bohat himmat karke aaj tumhe call kiya hai. Mujhe nahi pata ke mujhe kya kehna chahiye, lekin ek request karna chahti hoon. Kya hum mil sakte hai? Sirf ek baar, shayad ek akhri baar. Bohat saari baatein jo adhuri reh gayi thi, unhe poora karna hai. Gunehgaaron ko apne difa ke liye ek mauqa toh adaalat bhi deti hai. Tum toh Aman ho, tumhara dil bohat bara hai.
Main kal tumhara usi coffee shop mein 1 baje intezaar karungi. Tumhe aane ke liye force nahi kar sakti, woh haq bohat pehle hi kho chuki hoon. Bas darkhwaast karsakti hoon. Meri darkhwaast ka maan rakh lena. Allah Hafiz."
The machine turned off with a beep.
*****
Chills ran down her spine while she sat there, twirling her fingers with each other. It wasn't easy to tell whether it was the weather or her nerves that was kicking in and making her feel sick, but she came determined. Firdaus was not going to allow any more inconclusive endings in her life.
The clock ticked by, time was going at it's one pace, she was stuck in her own misery. Sitting there, waiting for him she remembered something Zaitoon Khala had once said,
'Zindagi aur waqt kisike liye nahi rukti beta, bhale hi hum insaan kyun na ruk jaye.'
She would often overlook her words as generic elderly advice. Little did she know that someday these words would come back to haunt her like this.
Her eyes were turning misty, and there was still no sign of him. Her hopes had begun to die, but there was till a small flame of optimism that had not extinguished. Everytime someone walked through the door she looked up with a flicker of hope in her eye, only to be disappointed each time. It was quarter to 3 and darkness had begun to settle in when she finally gave up, pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. Just then, the door open again, bringing in a strong cold breeze inside the cozy café. It took her a moment to look up, and when she did, her eyes lit up again. He did not disregard her request.