When Nashwa came to visit me, Hana told her Taha and Yahya are not actual twins. Nashwa shot up screaming, "I CALLED IT!"
She did a weird Egyptian dance praising herself with so many glorious words, she could have vomited a dictionary. Only after that Hana told Nashwa, Ahmad Mamu had been in a violent car accident. That he's been in surgery for the past ten hours. His MRI reports that failed earlier could complicate things further. That we are all praying for a speedy recovery.
Nashwa fainted.
We called in a nurse. I got off my bed. The attendants laid Nashwa on it and within minutes Haala Mami arrived straight from the maternity ward, all three boys pushing her on a wheelchair, nurses chasing after them. She held one of Nashwa's lifeless hands in her own while in her other hand, Nashwa still clutched her mother's golden chain so very tightly.
What if Ahmad Mamu didn't make it?
For Nashwa, my heart shattered a million times.
When she came to, a few minutes later, she was silent. She didn't eat a thing, wouldn't say a thing. She simply sat staring at nothing. Even when a nurse came to inform us Ahmad Aurangzeb had triumphed, come out mentally and physically healthy, Nashwa's traumatised state did not subside while all the rest of us thanked Allah in many many prayers.
Nashwa remained an empty shell of haunted dreams.
Still unnerved, she now stands in the very far corner of Ahmad Mamu's hospital room, small and cowering within herself. A little ball of misery trying to blend into the shadows, her eyes already lost in them. Ahmad Mamu is sitting and speaking. Why is Nashwa still so broken?
Dadi sits by Ahmad Mamu, murmuring and blowing prayers all over him. She raises her voice and says, "May Allah Almighty grant you many more obedient kids, Ahmad. The obedience is all that matters. I don't know where I went wrong with raising my only child that he now no longer respects my wishes. But you are equally a son to me. I did always see more potential in you than in Junaid."
Baba scoffs. If he's trying to appear unbothered he's doing a lousy job. If it weren't for my Mama standing by him, holding his arm instead of my Mamu's, Baba would have stormed off in jealousy already.
Hana stands by me. We greet Ahmad Mamu. I even compliment him on how he looks like a big giant baby in his polka dots white button down shirt and matching trousers, a bandage on his head. If he really wants to marry my Doctor Amima he should change quickly.
He rolls his eyes. "I am as I am, chipmunk. You all love me regardless."
I have much to say to that but don't because Mamu's attention keeps wavering behind me to the little frail figure whose eyes are trained on the ground.
His voice is hoarse when he calls out, "Nashwa."
She looks up but not at him.
"I'll slaughter the cow just as you asked."
"I was only teasing."
"Will you come sit by me?"
She draws in a deep breath. When she speaks, her voice is distant. "I have not known many fears. I am Nashwa after all." She swallows. "But nothing in this whole wide world is more terrifying than the prospect of losing someone. To never see them again. Not even a smile, never another laugh. Forever out of sight."
A shiver crawls down my spine.
When she looks at him, her eyes are ablaze. "I know how that feels now. If you keep me away because the feeling terrifies you too, you have all the right reasons to continue doing so. I will respect it because I have gone through it. I don't ever want to again."
Mamu's eyes are delirious. "Nashwa..."
She shakes her head, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I'm fine. I'll focus on what I have. Not on what I don't. But isn't that just as cruel?" Her voice breaks. "All the things, all the people I could possibly lose."
When she lets out a strangled hiccup, Mamu grumbles under his breath, rips off the IV needle inserted into his hand and jumps off the bed. He holds his head, hissing at the shooting pain but despite it he stumbles across the room and takes Nashwa straight into his arms.
After all this time.
She shakes against his chest, sobbing so very intensely. "You could have died. You could have died without slaughtering me a cow first. You could have died and even though you've never been around much you still had me terrified. Terrified of losing you! How could you do this to me?"
He strokes her hair, her slender shoulders pressed against his broad chest. "God forbid, Nashwa! If those were your pictures instead of Hana's and if that gash was on your abdomen instead of Hanaan's—" he takes in a ragged breath. "I don't know if I would be able to forgive myself. I really don't know."
"But it wasn't me, was it?" Her voice is so very fierce. "You don't have to be worried about my safety, Allah takes care of that. You just have to love me. And keep me nearby."
All of us turn away to hold our squeezing hearts. Oh, Nashwa.
Mamu looks down at her —no mask— raw affection overflowing in his eyes. "I know that now, love. And all these corruption cases I risk my neck at, I just want to make this world a better place for you."
"This—" Nashwa looks him straight in the eye, still in his arms. "Is the best place I could ever be."
He matches her blazing eyes. "And you will remain here for the rest of eternity. To that I surrender my life."
Her head tucked under his chin, Nashwa begins sobbing all over again. He absorbs the shocks going through her body, holding her tighter and when she hiccups something inaudible against his chest, his reply makes all of us wipe at our tears.
"I'm here now, Baba kee jaan."
Mamu pulls away then gently, both his thumbs wiping at her wet cheeks. "And you're not your daddy's princess like Hana and Hanaan are." He smiles at her affectionately. "Because you, Nashwa Ahmad, are a whole queen."
She sniffles. "Keep going."
He laughs. "You don't need a crown but you deserve to be treated as such."
"I'd still like one anyhow."
"I'm not as rich as you think."
"I take back all I said about losing you. There's nothing to lose at all."
He blinks at her. Nashwa laughs amidst the tears before once more resorting to crying like a little child. But all is well and all is good because she's a little child tucked safely in her father's arms. Finally, happily ever after.
...
When all hearts overcome the rush of emotions, we settle into Mamu's hospital room. Baba puts up a projector and plays a video on it. Some hospital staff try joining in but Dadi waves them off saying this is a family moment only. She pulls in Doctor Amima just as she shuts the door and locks it. Doctor Amima arches a brow. Dadi only winks. Ahmad Mamu sits up straight and pats down his hair.
This is where I say: smh.
Baba plays the video.
Court proceedings started with lawyers introducing themselves. It was a money laundering and human trafficking case accused upon some renowned Lashari clan. When Ahmad Aurangzeb failed to confirm his presence, Yahya Afaaq stepped forward dressed in a tuxedo, hands stuffed into his pockets, a tie hanging loose around his collar. All the female court women sighed. At this point, Hana's eyes are also wide with wonder.
The proceedings continued. Yahya tried making his point and every two words later, the defense from the other side interrupted him abruptly, not letting him talk at all. When Yahya became completely flustered, ready to get his knuckles bloody, a man stood up from the audience and strode forwards with immaculate grace. Dressed in a black kurta shalwar, sleeves rolled to his elbows and a heavy wrist watch on his hand, he introduced himself.
"Junaid Jehangir, your honour. Ahmad Aurangzeb's fail proof back up plan."
At this moment, Baba pauses the video. He turns to Dadi, pointing at himself. "That's me!" Dadi gives him no regard while my mother presses herself more firmly by his side. He scowls at Dadi but smiles at my Mama nonetheless.
Baba in the video— he's my very own superhero.
"Funny, your honour. These cowardly namby-pamby men went all the way to harass my beloved daughters—"
"—objection, your honour!"
"Objection overruled."
Baba grinned. "As I was saying, your honour. These scaredy-cat pussy cats went all the way to deviate Ahmad Aurangzeb's focus on this very particular case via his nieces. In doing so, they forgot about me. Just because Junaid Jehangir sticks to safer, less risky cases, it does not out rule the certainty that he will step forth and chop off all heads that dare assault his family. Or even think of it."
He then turned to throw a vicious most glare at the representatives of the Lashari clan. A shiver runs down my own spine. Go, Baba!
Baba in the video nodded solemnly. "Yahya Afaaq will shed light on how Waheed Qayser surpassed limits with my daughters. And then, your honour, I will shed light on why exactly these men were so adamant on wreaking havoc for my brother in law. And while Yahya Afaaq speaks, if anyone dares to interrupt him again, I will make sure they forget their own name."
It went down from there. Yahya explained all of Waheed's doings. Cybercrime and photoshopped pictures. Failed car brakes and dangling wires. Going all the way to Nashwa's home and then following us to the hospital. My father took lead after him. Just when the Lashari clan's lawyer made a very strong point, the doors to the courtroom slammed open and in stormed a particular idiot who has impeccable timing.
Or incompetent mind blowing strategies.
Taha Muhammad strode straight to his brother and punched him across the face, hissing at his knuckles. "You had me shitting my pants wet in fear, Yoyo! Have you no care for my fragile heart?"
He took Yahya in his arms then, sobbing in full spotlight, splattering his face with wet kisses. Nashwa shakes her head at this point muttering under her breath that the guy has absolutely no performing skills. Hana holds a hand to her heart. Her wildly fluttering heart.
The mystery is, fluttering for who exactly?
And then Taha turned to all the court women and snarled through the tears, "He's engaged, women! Move on!"
Suffice to say, my Baba ruled the day.
When the video ends and he turns for the millionth time to my Dadi, Ismat Jehangir shrugs and pats Ahmad Mamu on the back. "If you hadn't prepared him so well, Ahmad, he would have certainly wetted his own pants. Makes me wonder how he'll manage the camel all by himself. But nonetheless, Ahmad, I am so very proud of you."
Baba takes off his shoe and throws it at Ahmad Mamu. "Damn you, bro."
Ahmad Aurangzeb catches the shoe in one hand only. "You stole my little Mama from me," he gestures at my mother. "It's only fair I steal yours."
Bromance. Such a beautiful thing.
But the best part comes after this when Baba puts on another video clip, saying before he presses play, "This one is for my daughters Hana and Hanaan. And their very own sister, Nashwa."
On the big screen appears a dank room and in the centre of it chained heavily to a metal chair sits Waheed Qayser, bloody and bruised. Baba walks up to him and stares at him for a while. Silent, unblinking, arms crossed upon his chest. And then he reaches forward and punches the guy straight across the face.
So hard, the chair falls back with him in it.
...
Taha Muhammad comes to visit me later that day. He's back to his rough dressing, a button down shirt over faded jeans over worn out sneakers but he doesn't need good clothes to add a charm to his persona, this much everyone knows. He gently places a cargo bag by his feet in my hospital room and when the bag moves on its own, he grins at me, sipping on the Pepsi can in his hand.
"I come bearing gifts."
I eye the moving bag again. Did he bring us a demon?
Hana exchanges a glance with me. No one can ever know what Taha Muhammad is up to.
Spotting a box of donuts, Taha rushes towards it, picking out the pink glazed one. He bites through it, then scrunches his face. "Nothing like homemade goodness."
Hana arches a brow at that and Taha only shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. If he was trying to hit on my sister, what a fail!
Once he's done stuffing his mouth, he wipes his hands on his jeans. "Won't you ask what gift I brought?"
Hana meets my eye again. The bag is moving. Why is it moving?
Taha crouches by its side and unzips it. Slowly he pulls out a mass of white fur that completely knocks all my senses numb. Meow! It's a gorgeous fluffy white cat.
Am I breathing? Absolutely not.
Taha Muhammad stands up to full height cradling the big white furball in his arms, stroking behind its ear, a fond smile on his lips. The cat claws at his cheek and he pulls away just in time. He laughs, eyes glued to the beauty in his arms. "All ladies I fancy have a tendency to do that. Lash out at me."
My gaze shifts to Hana and she's pink all over. No surprise there.
Taha Muhammad is still playing with the cat, cooing at it with all the tenderness and affection his cold eyes could ever possibly hold. He adjusts the circle shaped pink-purple shades on the cat's eyes and frets at the silk tie dye pink-purple scarf around her neck. If there was a cat version of Doctor Amima, this one would be it.
Is this our gift?
I can barely hold in the squeal.
Yes, yes, yes!
Taha Muhammad is the absolute best!
His eyes meet mine. "Won't you ask her name?"
"Tina? Snowbell? Something like that?"
"Mehr Un Nisa."
Pretty name. My gaze flits to Hana. Why has her face lost all colour?
Taha Muhammad does not look up from the cat. His eyes are in a faraway realm and I wonder how cold that place is. When he let's go of the cat, she leaps into Hana's arms straight away. Hana shrieks but the cat holds onto her until Hana is holding her back, her entire body tense. Mehr Un Nisa quickly finds her comfort against my sister's chest.
Hana's wide eyes stare at Taha. He only looks at the cat.
"Mehr Un Nisa is no less than royalty. She bathes everyday but only with strawberry scented shampoo and then you dry her with a blow dryer, never a towel."
He swallows. His voice is so cold.
"She doesn't make any mess. Not a crumb out of place. Won't leave any feathers behind if she ever skins the occasional dove. She only prefers her litter box, just make sure it's a large one. And yes, she sleeps in her own basket, you better buy her a fancy one."
Hana stares at him, brows furrowed together. "Why...?"
"Kindness and softness. I know no better caretakers in this world."
Hana's voice is painful. "Why give her away though?"
Taha draws in a deep breath. "I'm going away, that's why. Once I complete this semester and graduate that is."
"Where?"
He tilts his head, eyes still focused on Mehr Un Nisa. "Islamabad. Your Mamu found me an intelligence company to intern at for a few years. We also found some leads to my origins in that city. He'll follow along once he's done with the wedding and his honeymoon and Nashwa's world tour."
Nashwa is going on a world tour? She didn't even tell me?
Hana's voice is a whisper. "What happens after that?"
"After is a very long time away. Now is the only time."
Silence falls over the room as two hearts beating for one another pound against rib cages, wanting a way out to each other. Mine and Mehr Un Nisa's of course. After Anna Sofia, this would be my first cat. I never had the courage to get another before.
Taha Muhammad takes two fingers to his mouth. He blows an ear piercing whistle and Mehr Un Nisa jumps out of Hana's grasp and leaps outside the hospital room door.
Hana gasps. "Why would you do that?"
He shrugs, a coy smile on his lips. "No animals allowed in the hospital. Won't you rush after her?"
She crosses her arms. "Absolutely not. You did that on purpose."
We hear screams and loud thuds and when Taha arches a brow at Hana, mouth in a mischievous grin, Hana sighs in frustration. "Oh my God! Why do I even care?" She leaps out the door, going after the cat.
Taha turns to me now. "Don't let her get distracted."
"Hana?"
He nods. "Make sure she studies and studies hard. She has a dream to become a doctor, help her pursue it, stay focused on it."
"Why don't you just talk to my father and put a ring on her. Keep her from getting distracted from you?"
He laughs at that. "That would be cruel to her. Your sister has commitment issues."
I narrow my eyes at him. "If you're talking about her diet plans—"
"—I'm talking about her heart." He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "She doesn't get attached as easily as you do. She just gives her heart a name if she doesn't necessarily give it away."
"You're talking about your brother."
"She's moved on now."
"How are you so sure?"
A daydream haze takes over his face. "If she hadn't placed her hand at her heart and muttered that prayer for me—" he smiles stupidly from ear to ear.
Bleurgh. Love is in the air again.
"Poor you." I look him up and down.
He grins back at me. "Oh don't pity me. This is what got us both through middle school and then college too. Yahya wooed all the good girls. I snitched out their notebooks then. We copied the answers during recess. Sometimes I also stole their fancy pens; I had a thing for those."
"Hana would be so disappointed. You couldn't even do your homework?"
"Plus I had a crush on all my math teachers." Stars twinkle in his eyes. "We could do our homework but we didn't have the time. We had this money making regime, see. Yahya and I would go out on our bicycles and buy last minute groceries and dhaniya, podina, dahi for all the ladies in our community. With a little bit of profit of course."
Something in me stirs. I want to live like that too.
"I don't know how far I'll live, if I'll even make it back." His voice is strained. "And she's too young now, turns eighteen in November. I can't promise anything and I won't keep in touch because that's not appropriate, I'm not a mahram after all."
My heart aches for him.
"But I'm still a bit selfish so I'm asking for some time. Just till when she finishes her med school, not a second more. In case she ever gets distracted—" he clears his throat, a smile creeping on his lips. "Tell her I give nothing for free. Even these shades and scarf that Mehr Un Nisa wears, they came from Hana's money only."
When I arch a brow at that, he grins.
"I bought Hana a water bottle a few days back. She had a thousand rupee note in her bag and the bottle cost only seventy rupees. Never returned the change."
So this is why Hana said she was bankrupt because of Taha. That he was unwilling to hold her in his arms without wanting anything in return.
"If she doesn't lose her mind at that, I'll know I never had a place in her heart."
Oh, Taha Muhammad. You have given my sister a taste of starlight.
He turns when Hana appears in the doorway, holding Mehr Un Nisa firmly in her arms. Her breaths come short and she's panting a little. She glares at Taha before giving the cat to me. Taha averts his gaze and keeps it averted from this moment onwards.
"We can't just take this cat. You should talk to our father. He'll buy it from you."
"Hana Jaa—" his eyes find mine and he clears his throat. "Hana Junaid. Do you really think I give anything for free?" He smiles all over, looking at Mehr Un Nisa only. "Of course I talked to your father. I'm saving every rupee I can to invest in my Abba's business. I'll need some income while I do my internships."
"Does your heart come with a price tag too?"
"Are you interested in buying?"
"I don't buy hearts." She eyes him sternly. "I win them over."
"Can't argue with that."
He picks up the empty cargo bag and exhales heavily. Before he gets to say goodbye, Hana calls out.
"Taha?"
He barely manages to choke out a hum.
"I have something for you."
To my utter astonishment, Hana pulls out a little velvet box and offers it to him. His eyes are wild with shock. Hesitantly he opens it and blinks at what's inside.
Tell me, Hana. You're not proposing to him?!
Taha pulls out the object and raises it in the air. "Mentos?"
I clamp a hand shut at my mouth to hold back my laughter and giddiness as he raises it towards his mouth. He stops short suddenly, his eyes narrowing at Hana. He catches sight of the Pepsi can he set aside a while ago and then he shakes his head ever so slow, a fond smile pulling across his lips.
"Hana Junaid, you did not just try to disintegrate me!"
Hana lets out a shaky breath, avoiding his eyes. "Whenever you find yourself lost out there let the heart guide you back home."
He pockets the mentos and I know for a fact he'll have ants in his pants very very soon. "I'm not taking my heart with me, am I?"
When Hana gives no answer to that, he raises a hand to his head in a mock salute. Taha Muhammad spins around. He's halfway through the door. Going, going and soon he'll be gone.
Hana calls out, "I never said your heart."
He stops, freezing in his steps just as my heart freezes in my chest. Taha Muhammad does not turn around. He does not turn to reply back to that, to look my sister in the eyes. Allah knows if he did, two entire worlds would collapse until nothing remained, not even stardust.
Now is not their time, Hana and Taha both know it.
Soon, hopefully soon.
He stands there, still so very frozen and I wish I could have seen the array of emotions that passed over his face. He shakes his head a little before he walks out, taking all the stars with him but leaving behind a celestial glow on my sister's face.
Mehr Un Nisa purrs in my arms as Hana falls on a seat nearby. I stroke her hair and play with her silk scarf until it becomes undone and a piece of paper falls out. On it is written in the tiniest handwriting ever: most of all, take good care of her and طه signed underneath.
Take good care of who exactly?
Hana or Mehr Un Nisa or both?
There's no knowing, couldn't ever be. Taha Muhammad is a question mark all over and it just so happens that Hana Junaid loves all her question papers.
Mehr Un Nisa jumps into Hana's arms and Hana holds her tightly close to her chest, the very same Hana that got anxious with Anna Sofia nearby, the very same Hana that never liked animals much at all because they terrify her. She holds Mehr Un Nisa close to her chest, closest to her heart. Her heart that she didn't just give a name to but also gave it away.
I pray in this moment that love is not cruel to my sister as it was to me.
...
The day before Eid-ul-Adha, Dadi, Nashwa, Hana and I lounge in our garden, our feet dipped in water tubs with rose petals and essential oils, a canopy shade over our heads because we don't want to get sun tanned even though we're having a spa day. The whole Girl Gang. Mama and Doctor Amima booked themselves an appointment at the actual spa. Dadi wanted to tag along but we pulled her back reminding her she's part of us, the much younger squad.
She couldn't say a word against that.
"How organic," Nashwa remarks. "We have aloe vera in our hair."
"Multani mitti on our face," I add.
"Cucumbers on our eyes," Hana pipes in.
"And the stench of fresh manure all around us." Dadi scrunches her nose.
The camel in our car porch grunts as though offended. It is Dadi's best friend these days and I know she will cry when we slaughter it because of all the tending she has done for it. But that's the whole essence of sacrifice, isn't it? Dadi would still not have it in her garden though. She wouldn't sacrifice that much.
Mehr Un Nisa sits in Hana's lap. I tried my best to win her love, to get familiar with her but her highness only just scratches at me so very viciously. But Hana, she doesn't harm a hair on Hana.
Fishy.
Two days back, we dyed Nashwa's hair brown, matching the colour of her roots to get back her mother's original shade but when Nashwa didn't think it clicked her right, we dyed it all a rich auburn red again. Nashwa felt more Nashwa that way. She's a proud product of her struggles, she says. We all agreed.
The only thing that remains on my redemption list is the part where I memorise some passages from the Quran. It just so happens that back at the hospital as we all sat praying for Haala Mami while she gave birth, the verses of Surah Ar-Rahman that I recited again and again, they now flow from my tongue on their own accord. When I recite them again for Dadi, Hana's eyes are glowing.
You're a memorist, she had told me. She is so very right.
It is in this moment that I relish in my own self-love, pride and delight overflowing in my heart for the blessings I do have rather than focusing on the ones I don't. My hands and feet are not perfect but this life is temporary even if it feels like an eternity and what I do have, it does not come to others so easily. The ease of safeguarding the words of Allah in one's heart, mind and soul.
And which of the favours of your Lord will you deny?
Nashwa's phone vibrates. "Ahmad Aurangzeb just started a live chat."
Her brows furrow as she switches to Instagram. Hana, Dadi and I crane our necks to look at her phone too. When the live streaming loads, Dadi murmurs Inna Lillah under her breath. Holding the camera at an arm's length, Taha Muhammad grins back at us with all his teeth on display.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Mostly ladies because that's the majority of Ahmad Aurangzeb's followers list and I would really like to know who Natalia and Camille and Isabella are and how they met this Pakistani guy who hasn't lived abroad at all. But we'll get to that later because I welcome you all to the very first episode of my debut show: aag lagay basti mai, Taha apni masti mai!"
Hana chokes on saliva as does someone in the background. Yahya Afaaq appears with another man, as thin as Taha but carrying a bit of muscle and a well maintained beard.
Taha focuses the camera on them. "Presenting to you my partners in crime: Yahya and Qasim. Today we're celebrating the downfall of the notorious bachelor Ahmad Aurangzeb. He has finally been shackled into the holds of marriage—"
The man called Qasim shakes his head. "We all know you're very miserably single, Taha. You can stop painting marriage like that to comfort your own desolate heart."
Yahya smirks. "He's just very spiteful. His doctor crush is getting married to his frenemy."
Qasim's brows furrow. "I thought Tehniyat said his crush is yet to become a doc—"
"AND CUT!" Taha whirls around to glare at the boys. "I'm live, you idiots. Just because you're all no longer single, doesn't mean you don't let me freely mingle."
Yahya opens his mouth to say something but a commotion breaks away in the background. All our eyes are on Hana instead. She doesn't look impressed but her fingers have halted amidst stroking Mehr Un Nisa.
On Nashwa's phone, Mamu's peon appears. The boys speak in hushed whispers before Taha Muhammad takes the camera back to himself.
"This is it people. The final showdown. Right now, right here we're in Ahmad Aurangzeb's office and he's about to storm in very very angry at me for stealing his phone. See here, we've even decorated the entrance for him."
The camera switches to show the lobby, the floor entirely carpeted with rose petals. Is Taha Muhammad throwing my Mamu a bridal shower? We have yet to find out.
"Hold your breaths people. I'll set this camera here and take my own place. If Ahmad Aurangzeb cries because no one has done such a thing for him before, Yahya will do a bhangra dance at his own wedding."
"But if Taha gets caught—" Yahya cuts in. "He'll be the one dancing instead."
The camera shifts until it is still. The door to Mamu's office is in full view. The three men and Mamu's peon stand on either side of the door holding brown paper bags in their hands. We hear the jingle of keys and then the door opens. Mamu enters in but stumbles in his steps catching sight of the rose petal floor. His entire face and neck redden as his mouth falls open, staring at the boys in wonderment.
That's when Taha Muhammad shrieks, "Attack!"
Nashwa and I fall off our seats as we see what transcends on the screen. Hana and Dadi gasp out loud, holding their hearts. The three boys and the peon all viciously egg Ahmad Aurangzeb. And Mamu is still in a shock to comprehend it while yellow yolk slips down his immaculate tuxedo.
"SHOOT! This smells awfully bad."
Qasim and Yahya both blanch, green all over.
Taha Muhammad laughs menacingly running towards the camera, picking it up and making a dash for the door side stepping Ahmad Mamu who reaches for him but fails to catch him. He's still wildly running when he calls over his shoulders, "Obviously those were old rotten eggs! Did you really expect me to waste good food?"
I cannot imagine the stench.
"TAHA MUHAMMAD! IF I DARE SO CATCH YOU—"
He's running down a staircase, panting and grinning so very hard when he turns to the camera. "That was all the show ladies but not the end of it. I'm leaving a phone number on the next story, save it in your phones, men included. Anytime you wanna rant, curse at, swear at, prank at or disturb, use that number. Free service. Do humanity a kindness and write it on every public washroom you can find. The owner of this number does not mind at all!"
He turns over his shoulder finding Ahmad Mamu hot on his heels. He salutes at the camera. "That's all for today people! Pray for my survival. Signing off, your most adorable, Taha Muhammad!"
He screeches like a banshee as someone grabs his collar and we're all laughing our heads off by now. When Nashwa shifts to Ahmad Mamu's Instagram stories, there's a phone number written on it. Her eyes narrow as she looks through her contact list and then she doubles over laughing once more.
"That's Waheed's cell phone number."
Dadi claps and I hoot while Hana shakes her head ever so slowly.
Nashwa recovers, sighing at Hana. "You could have chosen a man of higher standards, Hana but I approve. Just don't let him compete against us for your heart too, he's too big a competition against my father anyhow."
She nudges me and I nod.
Dadi still clutches her chest, laughing. "I adore this boy. I'll be his Dadi with all my pleasure."
Hana bites back her smile. "You girls have nothing to fear, my heart has a permanent chamber for my Girl Gang only. And this guy—" she shakes her head at Nashwa's phone again. "Is a total idiot indeed. I hope he never changes."
We're all laughing again but there's sadness in Hana's eyes because she knows where Taha Muhammad is headed, there is no light at all. If an idiot like him changes for the worst — the world would have to be its cruellest with him.
But time's biggest tragedy is that everything changes.
Nothing ever remains the same.
...
On the third day of Eid, Hana invites all her friends for a barbecue.
Ainee, Faria, Neha and even Zimal. She introduces them to Mama, to Dadi, to Baano, even to me. She tells them everything that had happened in these past few days, the truth about Waheed, about me, about how we put him down together as a team.
Nashwa sits by Hana's side very quietly, her eyes focused on Zimal entirely. I sit on Hana's other side on our rooftop where we have put up fairy lights.
When Hana completes, Zimal fans her face with her hand. When finally she caves in and sputters an apology to Nashwa, Nashwa says some very wise words:
"I'm a queen, Zimal, even if I don't wear a crown. Don't get me wrong, my father has ordered one from the jeweller's and as soon as it comes back, I will wear it twenty four seven in case morally blind people cannot see me as I am."
Nashwa does a fabulous hair flip.
"But here's the thing. I've known a queen who wears a crown on her soul. And she taught me to be kind, to be soft. Be vulnerable if I must to not hurt someone else. Be the candle that lights another. So this is me, Nashwa Ahmad, in all my glory forgiving you wholeheartedly for doing wrong by me. I'm not putting myself down. I'm exalting myself. So don't you dare take satisfaction in this."
While Zimal blinks, Nashwa turns to her side. "Stop blushing, Hana. I was obviously referring to Ismat Jehangir." She looks around to make sure Dadi isn't nearby. "Did you really think I would call someone else a queen in my own presence?"
Hana shakes her head at Nashwa but she smiles anyhow. She smiles because the quote she put up on her side of the wall in our room today — Nashwa must have seen it before the party and Nashwa must have read it and Nashwa surely accepted it into her heart. Just as I have. Just as everyone should.
Be kind. Be soft.
Be vulnerable if you must to not hurt someone else.
Be the candle that lights another.
That is the way to live— live with grace.