Chapter 15
Beri piya...bada bedardi
The news broke soon after.
Aapi was the most excited from the lot. Her Zoya coming back home after so long. She had a million things on her to-do list to welcome the newlyweds.
It was decided. The walima was going to take place in New York. Their two weeks of honeymoon would be enough time to set up. And she could show Khala and Najma around too. Mashallah! Damaad ho to aisa! How easily he had included them all.
She emptied rest of the contents from the suitcase and saw Zoya carrying over a heap of jeans to pack.
"Zoya, you are not going to need so many. Leave some space for other stuff too"
"Aapi, how am I supposed to know which one I want to wear?"
"Just listen to me, would you. I have something for you"
"What?" Zoya jumped to her side excited.
Zeenat quietly handed her a bag before getting back to her job of removing half the jeans from the big pile.
"Umm...Aapi, what exactly is this?" Zoya asked, her voice horrified.
"It's your honeymoon gift. Wahan bhi apne tomboy kapde mat pehne baith jana" Zeenat answered at once.
A burst of loud and hearty laughter forced her to look at her baby sister.
"What" she asked conscious.
"Ling...lingerie... you got me lingerie" Zoya managed to spit out between her raucous laughs. "Oh, aapi" she exclaimed clutching her stomach "You have grown, haven't you"?
"What are you implying, young lady?"
Zoya raised her eyebrows knowingly and broke into another round of laughter, her Aapi joining in this time.
She remembered the time when Aapi refused to have 'the talk' with her. When Lucas from seventh grade had tried to hold her hand, she had thought she was going to get pregnant. There were tears, tissues and a runny nose. And when she had come home crying, her Aapi still wouldn't elaborate. Poor Jeeju had to take the brunt. He had managed to find a kid appropriate way for the birds and bees talk.
Looking at the lacy piece of black in her hand, she looked at her proud. See how far we've come! But just couldn't resist herself from saying,
"Aapi, I don't think they are going to take a whole lot of space in the bag...or me"
"Lahaul- vila- kuwwat, Zoya"
xx
He almost slammed the door to his house as he walked into it.
What a bunch of morons! He leaves the office unattended for one week and comes back to a pile of horrid unorganized mess. It's like they couldn't get anything done without him there.
What did he even pay them for?
"Aagaye Asad, coffee banau" his Ammi called out
"Please Ammi"
He massaged his pounding head with his knuckles just before he opened the door to his room. A crease appeared between his brows as he looked with disdain at its condition.
There was a suitcase propped directly on the bed – not even any additional measure taken to protect the bedsheet. There were clothes splayed everywhere and an army of shoes patrolled on the floor.
Seriously? He had just organized it yesterday!
His hand found its way to his forehead again. "Mrs. Khan" He realized he loved calling her that. "Mrs. Khan?" Where is she? "Please clean up the room"
With a resigned sigh, he got to the job himself.
"Mrs. Khan" he repeated. What weird order did she want her jeans to be in again?
"Zoya" Asad said, his voice loud and agitated now. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache was killing him.
Just as he picked another pair of jeans to put away, he tripped on Zoya's shoes thrown beside him haphazardly.
What in the world!
He removed the fabric that had landed on his face and looked at it properly for the first time.
"Yes, Mr. Khan"
He hadn't heard her coming in. And now he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He didn't know what his face revealed.
"Apne bulaya" Why was he frozen like a statue?
"Asad coffee" Dilshad's voice broke the silence.
It was Zoya's turn to freeze as Asad lifted his head to look at her.
"What...what's wrong Mr. Khan?" she asked timidly, her hands turning clammy. She could feel him grinding his teeth.
"Please clean up the room" There was nothing polite about his voice. Zoya looked at his retreating figure baffled. She knew he hated untidiness but why was he being this touchy. It's not like she did it on purpose. Ab packing karni hai toh thoda messy toh hoga na.
Meh! When did he ever behave normal, Zoya
As she moved to pick up her shoes from the floor, she saw Najma sneaking in.
"Is it time yet, bhabhi"
Zoya smiled lovingly. She'll never get used to that word.
"Tamatar, your bhaijaan is right outside in the kitchen"
"It's okay, he is busy with his coffee. You go ahead. It'll only take a minute. Please"
"Ok ok. Ja rahi hu" Zoya laughed surrendering.
Najma clapped excitedly as she moved to shut the door.
Maybe she can pick something similar for her in New York. She hoped her bhabhi had the power to convince her bhaijaan in her signature toofani manner.
xx
"What's the matter Asad? Something happened?" Dilshad asked concerned.
Yes, aapki zarurat se zyada modern bahu happened.
"Nothing Ammi, just a headache. I think I'll go change first"
Dilshad frowned. What new trouble was lurking in the paradise now!
As a tired Asad trudged back to the room, Zoya stepped out of the bathroom earning appreciative oohs and aahs on her new outfit.
"Tamatar?"
Bhaijaan!
"Aah! Bhai...bhaijaan" she responded scared out of her wits.
Asad was about to question her about the deer-caught-in-headlights look when his gaze fell at his wife sporting the wretched mini skirt that had landed on his face moments ago.
While Najma's wide eyes enlarged further in fear, her brother's turned steely with anger.
"I guess I'll talk to you later bhabhi" she mumbled, her voice breaking.
"Mrs. Khan" he growled. Zoya gulped.
"In my defense, you weren't supposed to see it until Paris"
"What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded jaw clenched. Was this answer supposed to help his frayed nerves? Before she could retort, he continued with his word vomit.
"You do it on purpose too, don't you...to make me mad. You knew I wouldn't permit you wearing clothes like this, that's why you bought this didn't you" he thundered on and on.
The nerve in his forehead danced and leaped as he averted his gaze, looking at anything but her. His head was on the verge of exploding.
Agreed he had calmed his nerves when he had first seen it, thinking it was one of her New York fashion ensembles, that might not see light of the day. But now hearing her admit she specifically got that handkerchief for a skirt, deserted his body of any residual patience. There was no way he was going to let other men see his wife in that thing. Did she not know how their brains worked? What their vile thoughts were comprised of? Can she not for once act like a pardesi brat and show some decorum for her culture and roots.
"You know, I was right. Aap mere liye bilkul galat ladki hai. Kisi ke culture ki boundaries, tehzeeb, tameez kya hai, you don't have the slightest idea." Asad roared, his figure intimidating hers.
A couple seconds ticked away in silence as Zoya stared numbly at him.
But then rage quickened her blood.
Her words came late, each tick of the clock riling up the storm inside her. They stuck in her throat half in disbelief, half wounded.
But once they did, there was no stop sign barring them. He had broken the dam today and there was no going back.
xx