A Mazed Heart (Rifa Fathma)

06. Matrimony

The sun rose away from the horizon and sat in its comfort zone. It stuck out its red fangs from all its sides and directed a fiery glare at the poor people who raised their collars to protect themselves from the sweltering heat.

Cherry on the top, Yahya hated when the folks in his city opted for a summer wedding. 

When the working days at the borders were drawing to an end, his desire to go home only increased. He would stand at the borders and imagine himself sitting at home with his mother stuffing delicacies in his mouth here and his sister lovingly massaging his scalp and shoulders there. 

He mentally shuddered. That was definitely not how his annual leave was sailing. He lost the count of times he had walked in and out of so many banquet halls with the sun blazing over his head.

The wedding of Meerub's brother was going on a swing. Inside the four walls of the banquet hall, everyone swayed with joy. Happiness bursted out from their sweet smiles, echoing laughter, and unending chatter.

★★★★

Yahya stood in the store room on the first floor. He slid his hands in his jeans pocket and scanned the room around. Where could he possibly find his sister's abandoned art supplies in this not-so-organised room? Sighing, he took a few steps inside.

On the left side, huge cartons were stacked up on a long table.

He sauntered towards the table and flicked open the first carton. He peeked in and saw unrecognised items stuffed inside the box. He brushed them around, searching for a white lidded bin in which his sister kept all those brushes and paints.

Amidst tapping things away, his hand caught something heavy. He lifted it up to see a big album. A family album.

His shoulders slumped as he stared at the album in his hand. He knew what lay behind that brown colored hard cover.

The blue hues of his orbs darkened, his grip tightened around the album. He also knew that it might open the forbidden doors of his memory. His heart thumped against his chest but his body had a mind of its own. His hand slowly went up and flicked open the hard binding.

The first picture had two divisions. The first picture was of his younger self and the other displayed his adulthood. A fine line between the pictures was enough to indicate that the sand of time was drained, pages were turned, and myriad of colors were passed through the sky, leading to a parallel universe.

On the left side, his younger self stood beaming brightly at the camera. He held a bow in his hands, diagonally directed across his small frame. His smile was carefree and innocent, unaware of the upcoming storms in his life.

A small smile crept up his own lips. He was full of life back in the days, gripping hopes and dreams in those innocent blue orbs.

On the left side stood an adult version of him. Same pose, same person. But he had a smile on his face, a small one, barely there. He had put on his blue colored crisp and well-pressed military uniform. His hands held a gun in place of the bow.

★★★★

A lot of people had showed up in the wedding. He stood alone amidst all the glitz and glory of the celebration.

He stuffed his hands into his black pant's pocket and stared at the glass wall ahead of him. Beyond the glass wall lay a garden packed in the darkness of the night. But he was not looking at the kids running around, tossing the balls, or trying to touch the sky from the swings. He was staring at his reflection.

He had changed. His big, innocent blue eyes had morphed into a stoic, guarded balls.

His features had painfully hardened. He had lost a lot of cheeks over the years. His jawline had turned sharp, giving him a more stoic and pensive look.

He crossed his hands across his wavy dark brown hair that fell on his forehead and pushed it aside. The faded scar still sat there, provoking many memories and good old days. He dropped his hand to his side, his hair whooshed back to its place, hiding the scar beneath.

★★★★

He turned the page. The next one was of his family in a wedding photoshoot.

His mother looked tired and worn out as she held the newly born Darakhshan in her hands. She had a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

He still remembered when it was shot. His jaw tightened and his Adam's apple bobbed. The doors of the forbidden territories from his memory snapped open.

The picture was taken after a few days of settling down in the City of Dawn.

Post the horrific funeral, they had taken their leave from the gloomy atmosphere and left for their home back in the City of Gardens.

But it was his mother who was broken into two. She couldn't able to process the loss of her younger sister, her only family. She would be found in a corner bawling her eyes out. She would easily slip into the unknown zone and wouldn't respond until someone nudged her back to the present.

One day, Yashayah walked up to his wife who had created a huge mess out of herself. He stared at her, his jaw tightening before he snapped.

He snapped her out of her constant mourning over her dead sister for past one month. He shouted at her for breaking herself on days she should be taking rest instead. The baby would come out anytime soon.

All the while, Yahya held the door like his life was  depended on it as he hid himself behind it and occasionally peeked in to eye his parents in fear.

After that day, his mother would quickly wipe off her eyes with the tassels of her dupatta the moment Yashayah returned home.

But after she delivered Darakhshan, she broke down in front of her husband and helplessly told him to move in to Hijazi Manzil. It was their ancestral home. And there were too many memories, laughter and chatter of her parents and sister echoing against the walls to sell the house off.

At first, Yashayah waved the topic away, like it was the last and stupidest thing he wanted to think of.

But when he saw his wife melting away in grievance, he realised she would find solace only in Hijazi Manzil. And so, he sighed in defeat and gave in to his wife's demand.

★★★★

"One glance is enough to catch the idiocy on your face." He heard a smug voice say beside him. "What with those intense stares and analysis? Since when did stupid - sorry, your face become a rocket science?"

Yahya titled his head and stared up at the roof. Will he ever get rid of this human?

He dropped his gaze at the smug Kamil beside him, with his head still tilted up. "Sit back and look at your face, some day. You will realise that you are no less than a rotten potato."

Kamil's smile didn't drop. He closed his eyes, took an exaggerated breath in, and looked at him smugly. "See? I was right about it. I can smell it burning."

He rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, his lips curving up. How they became best buddies from intense rivals, was beyond his comprehension.

★★★★

The next picture was of the trio: Aahil, Darakhshan, and Haadi. Yahya smiled. They were adorable in their early childhood.

Darakhshan stood in the middle, with Aahil on her right, and Haadi on her left.

Aahil had on a small, tight-lipped smile. He had black eyes and curly brown hair. No doubt why everyone thought he went after Haarim. Except for the wavy hair, he had got those curls.

Aahil was more like a member of his family. At first, his sister would drag him into their home and make him play with her. Then, he began searching for excuses to come around at their place. And with time, Aahil learnt to casually walk into their home and make himself comfortable. The onlookers might even think Aahil lived with them now.

But Yahya could never muster up the courage to walk up to Aahil and speak to him. He did try his best to initiate conversations with him. He really did.

But he never knew why. There had always been something that pulled him back from getting himself deeply involved with Aahil. There had always been this invisible hand on his shoulder that stopped him from touching the deepest scars of Aahil.

Maybe it was the fear that the same scar would repel  back to him and catch him like fire.

Or maybe it was the pity that brought about a rift between them.

Or was it the guilt? Guilt that held his eyelids to even lift up and look at the boy who didn't deserve the things he was navigating through?

Aahil didn't deserve it. Living without the shadows of his parents above his head, bearing the spiteful remarks, intense hatred, and unbearable disdain from the society. He deserved none of it.

As he looked at the small frame of Aahil in that picture, he badly wished he could do something for him.

The dissatisfaction, the loneliness, and the pain in those brown orbs. He badly wished he could melt them away.  

★★★★

"Sir."

He turned around at a professional tone behind him and saw a waiter with a platter of cold drinks.

Yahya smiled with a nod and took one of the glasses from the platter.

The waiter tipped his head with a smile and turned to leave. His legs swayed and the platter in his hands stuttered for a moment as Aahil strode towards them, colliding the poor waiter on the way.

Aahil gaped and stepped back. He first looked down at his white shirt for the stain, then gave a once-over at the waiter who was balancing the glasses in the platter. The orange colored liquid had speckled over his uniform.

A deafening silence fell in the air. Aahil glanced around him, a faint blush rushing up his cheeks. He muttered apologies to the waiter, took a glass of drink for himself, and made his way towards them.

"How have you been, Aahil?" Kamil asked beside him.

★★★★

Yahya stared fondly at Darakhshan who stood between the two.

She beamed at the camera, her green eyes sparkling against the sun light.

That grin on her face was enough for him to swell with pride. He never thought that his sister would become the biggest part of his life, the Gull of his garden, the coolness of his eyes, and the balm to his wounds. He had bonded so well with her despite him wailing to only have a brother back in the days.

He wanted to smack the head of his younger self for refusing to accept that sisters make lives fun as much as brothers do.

★★★★

Aahil nodded his head off to hold on to the conversation and to hide the fact that his mind was somewhere else. His eyes kept on flicking towards a certain direction.

Yahya narrowed his eyes at Aahil and followed his gaze. Two figures stood at a faraway distance from them. They were busy speaking to themselves amidst the people around them.

Darakhshan had on a pink lehenga. Her brown hair framed her face so perfectly. Her bangs coated her forehead as usual. The sides of her hair flowed down her shoulders from both the sides.

Darakhshan inherited her eyes from their grandmother. They sat well in her sockets like some brilliant green gems.

His lips tugged up into a small smile. His sister had grown up to be a fine lady.

He could clearly see the anxiety that tinted at those green eyes. Her eyebrows were sewed together, her lips were on constant movement as she whispered something to Meerub beside her.

Last year, she had attempted for NEM, National Entrance test in Medicine. Despite the nerve-wrecking preparation, sleepless nights, and mind-boggling anxiety and stress, her marks couldn't reach up to the desired expectations.

Shutting down the degrading and taunting society around her, she dropped an year again to write the exam.

It had been a month since she had written the exam. One full month of stressing and grumbling about the results which were on due at the end of the month.

It was two years of seeing his sister all jittery and nervous. Two years of fidgeting her fingers, biting her nails with furrowed eyebrows, and restless green eyes.

From past few weeks, her anxiety level was on par. She was desperate to know the result. She couldn't sit even for a second. She would stride back and forth, fidget her fingers, and halt her steps only to ask people if she could get past the expected scores this time.

★★★★

Yahya sighed from his nose and gulped as he stared at Haadi. His fingers slowly traced his small frame.

Haadi's lips were set on a straight line. His brows slightly dipped. Like he was nudged and pushed to go and stand in front of the camera. 

It had been one year since he disappeared from their lives. As if he had never been there with them in the first place.

His eyes started filling with tears. He caged his lips between his teeth to stop the drops from falling down.

He couldn't believe how that stupid chunk managed to make an overwhelming presence in his life.

They barely acknowledged each other's presence back in the days. Haadi was always unapproachable. He had always been the frowny little boy who hated socialising. On the flip side, Yahya was an introvert. Perhaps, that was why they didn't get along well in the beginning.

But some incidents were meant to happen and were meant to bound them together. From ignorance, to awkward silence, to formal chats, to becoming the two sides of a coin, it was only a matter of time before they became inseparable. Soon, they became best pair in every gathering. They got on well with each other and connected like two halves of a whole.

★★★★

"What do you think of Meerub?"

His head snapped towards his side where his father came to stand. He didn't spare a glance at him but  stared ahead at where Meerub was standing.

Shock appeared in Yahya's face which soon morphed into surprise. What made his father walk up to him and speak?

"S-salaam, uncle!"

If it was not his father by his side, Yahya would have snorted loudly at his friend whose greeting went unheard. But his mind was whacking around with every possible thought to justify the presence of his father in front of him.

Yashayah ignored Kamil the way he ignored flies and turned his head at Yahya and stared into his eyes, as if searching for an answer there.

"I'm sorry?" His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Yashayah sighed and gestured his head towards Meerub, his eyes never leaving him. "Have you ever thought of Darakhshan's friend? You have been seeing her around for so many years now."

Yahya's eyes widened as he slowly processed what his father was up to.

★★★★

The next one was of Emaami family. Maarwa stood at the centre, Kabir on the right side, and Haadi on the left side. He stood slightly away from his parents. As if he wanted to be anywhere but sharing the frame with them.

It was taken a few years back judging by the way Haadi reached over his mother's shoulder.

Instead of the usual scowl that adorned Haadi's features, his face was blank and cold. He had that 'no-nonsense accepted' look over there. Yahya shook his head with a smile.

Haadi had big black eyes and spiky black hair from the back. The small bangs hung at the sides of his face.

Yahya tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. He noticed something peculiar for the first time. He stared at Haadi's eyes and then at  Kabir's. Both were identical. Pitch black, cold, and guarded. For a split second, they looked so much alike to him.

But Kabir possessed curly black hair. His eyes were cold, alright. But they were calm too, like he was sure of all the good things that might turn out in his favor. They were hopeful unlike that of Haadi's.

When they moved to the City of Dawn, they were surprised to see Kabir in Heer's home.

He too had permanently moved in to the Hijazi Manzil because he didn't want to turn his back on the house where all the memories of his brother and his best friend were swooshing around.

That dragged Kabir to live on the right side of the Hijazi Manzil whereas Yahya and his family lived on its left side.

After the death, the folks in his city witnessed a myriad of changes in Kabir. He was not the same Kabir who always had on a smug face.

It would take one glance to know that Kabir had endured a lot more than anyone else in the dark storm that passed by their family.

Before, his lips would pull up into a smirk. Now, it curved into a smile.

Before, he always had snide remarks up his sleeves. Now, he would always have a small smile on his face and would speak a handful of wise words.

Before, he was a city councilor, working in the shadows. Now, he was the Mayor of their city.

All the respects, excited and gushed voices, and inspired and hazy eyes followed him like a tail wherever he went. Kabir Emaami was the first person from their city to reach up to the highest position in such a young age.

That was why Yashayah had a soft spot for Kabir. Yahya thought it was because Kabir now had no one to claim as his family and he was all alone in this world. Or was it because he had made a great name of himself and was a successful figure in every gathering? Everything that Yahya wasn't?

How he wished his dad respected Kabir's late brother too. Over the years, Yahya came to realise that his dad despised and detested Haarim.

Yahya looked up to this man all his life, had a deep respect for him, and had been holding on to his faint memories from the past. His eyes still turns wet, his heart still beats frantically whenever he hears his name or thinks of him. It hurts him so much over the fact that his dad never saw Haarim like the way he does.

It had been an uphill battle to convince his dad to let him join the army. But his dad didn't want his son going around staining their family name just like how Haarim did by running away from the battlefield.

Ever since his death, there had been loads of whispers and rumours in the city, passing from ear to ear. One of them was that Haarim wasn't sacrificed in the battlefield but rather he tried to run away. When the commander saw him slipping away amidst the crumbling war between Duskaz and Aurora, he pulled up the trigger and shot him.

Deep down, Yashayah believed it was true. It was evident in the way he always blurted out so many times that he would never allow Yahya to stain his family name by letting him go behind the so-called noble profession.

He still remembered the day when he had logged his head with his father for the first time.

It was a few days before his graduation day. He had agreed to do Masters in Engineering as per his dad's demands. But he never forgot his dream. It was always there. At the back of his head. Just a few days before his graduation day, he stood his ground. He told his dad that he always saw himself in the open air of the borders of Aurora, not inside the four walls of some office. That his true calling lay in making sure that Aurora is safe behind his back as he stands at the borders, keeping their enemies on check.

That was when Haadi overhead the argument. And that was when... everything began slipping out of his hands.

★★★★

He slowly turned his head and stared at Meerub. She wore a dark green lehenga that flowed well down her feet. She had small black orbs. A small, twinkling nose pin adorned her nose.  The highlight was her hair which made her stand out from the crowd - black and curly. Like the small knots of noodles.

While his sister was a chirpy but shy person,  Meerub fell more on the brave but silent category. Being around her for so many years had given him some idea about her.

She was not someone to accept non-sense, and talked on the face without batting an eye. But unlike his sister, she was not passionate. She was more of a 'go with flow' person. She had all the potential and talent that one needs to ace a prominent career. But she chose to quit. Perhaps, she hated cracking her neck under books and exams and studies. Or she was lazy and lethargic. Or her priorities pointed towards a different direction all together.

But it was after the constant nagging and persistence from Darakhshan's side did Meerub agree to do a BA in English from correspondence.

"What about her, dad?" He asked, not tearing his gaze from Meerub who was consoling his sister with her gaze keenly sweeping the hall.

"She is well-mannered and responsible. She would take good care of our home. Her father... he is a close friend of Kabir. I'm confident about their lineage and background. She will fit well in our family."

As his dad spoke beside him, Yahya caught the slightest trace of seethe in his voice. Like he wanted to provoke him, challenge him to oppose him this time.

He flicked his eyes towards his father and tried to read his face.

Yashayah raised both his brows, waiting for a response from him.

The air around them suddenly turned off. The heat seeped through his attire and all the way into his nerves. Kamil and Aahil nervously looked at the father and son who had a staring contest.

Yashayah then raised his shoulders. "Take two days time, think, and let me know." He gestured with his hand. "I expect a solid answer from you."

Yahya just stared at his father, trying to gauge the true reason behind bringing this topic out of the blue.

Yashayah turned to leave but stopped. He placed his hand on his shoulder and whispered. "I hope you won't let me down this time." He took the glass from Yahya's hands and walked away.

Yahya stared at the spot on his shoulder where his father patted and stared at his raised and empty hand. Shaking his head, he let his hand fall to his side. He raised his gaze only to catch Meerub staring right towards their direction. She looked away hastily.

★★★★

"Bhai?" Darakhshan shouted from the stairs. "I asked you to bring my art supplies not to stand there sweeping and dusting the room."

With a small smile and a quick 'coming' he shut the family album, snapping the thread of memories.

Just yesterday, the NEM results came out. Darakhshan not only got the desired results but also was receiving calls from esteemed medical universities. She was over the moon ever since she checked out the result.

His sister had abandoned her hobbies long ago so that she could concentrate solely on the competitive exam.

But now, as all the roads were loaded out, she remembered the dusty, abandoned art supplies tossed away somewhere in the corner of this store room.

When she realised she had a lot of paintings in her mind that she had to get back at, she showed her big green eyes and folded her hands in front of him to search her abandoned passion and bring it out for her.

He put his hands on his waist and looked around the room. Back to  scrutinizing the nook and corner of this room. Until he got his hands on that white, dusty lidded bin.

****

He sighed tiredly. "Did she eat something?"

Darakhshan shook her head and pouted. She then narrowed her eyes and popped her jaw to the side. "Are you sure she had no problem with your profession before marriage?"

He ran a hand through his hair, then tugged them in frustration. "Ugh! Of course! I made sure of it." He then dropped his hand, his shoulders slumped in tiredness as he eyed her. "You are her best friend, Ludo. You should probably be knowing everything about her."

"She is a closed book, bhai." Her features morphed into a small pout.  "If she comes down to hiding something, she makes sure no one gets even the air of it."

He rolled his eyes and shuddered. "So much for sticking by her side all these years. You are as blank as me."

"But she will be fine, I know." Darakhshan hurried to reassure her brother with a smile. "She must be grappling with one of her mood bursts."

He raised a sceptical brow. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Go and bring a smile on her face. She likes that kind of stuff you know." She giggled.

His brows knitted in confusion. "What kind of stuff?"

She looked up, sighed, and muttered incoherence. Glaring, she turned him around and pushed him from the back. "Just go and act like a proper husband, already."

He looked at the stairs that led to their room, clueless. He shook his head and sighed before walking up the stairs. "Women!"

She stood at the casement and stared out at the dark sky. He silently made his way towards her and stood beside her.

He looked up at the sky too. There were so many stars today, sparkling beautifully and speckled all over the sky. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands.

Meerub didn't turn around to look at him even once. She had her head craned up as she stared at the sky.

He traced the lines of his palm, his mind whacking about how to start a conversation. He shifted in his feet. They really had a long way to go!

After a long silence, he sighed and said. "They came after us again. Everyone needs me at the borders right now. It's..." He closed his eyes for a moment before saying. "It's not like I'm doing this on purpose."

When she didn't say anything, he looked up only to see she was staring at him. He hurried to say. "I had asked your say before marriage. You were fine with me being away from home. Now, what's with this silent treatment?"

The thing that bothered Yahya was that his wife was a blank slate when she was angry. No one could possibly know what was going on in that head.

She tilted her head. "It doesn't mean you leave your newly-wed wife right after marriage."

He eyed her as he said, his voice soft. "It's been a whole week to our marriage, Meerub."

She stared at him but didn't say anything. She tore her gaze from him and looked up at the sky, like the sky was more handsome than her husband.

Silence came and sat between them, looking at both of them one after another. As if it's waiting for someone to break it.

When the call to prayer echoed in their room, Yahya sighed in gratitude. He didn't have to say anything for a few minutes.

He never knew it would become this awkward once you sign up for a marriage.

When his father posed his idea on him and expected an answer within a couple of days, Yahya knew that his father was challenging him.

It had been a year since he joined the army. Against his father's will. Ever since then, his father was giving him a cold shoulder. Whenever he came home, he tried getting himself into a conversation with his dad.

But Yashayah acted like he didn't exist in the room. When Yahya would begin to say something, his dad would get up from the place, not letting him complete what he wanted to say, and would go to his room. Or he would visit Kabir on the next door. Because he knew very well that Yahya would never dare to put a foot on that house.

After one whole year of not speaking, when his dad suddenly showed up in front of him and brought out the topic of his marriage, he knew.

Yahya knew his father was challenging him. Yahya still had a long way to build his career. Marriage was the last thing in his list. He couldn't risk putting his feet in two boats separately. He would get himself torn apart along the way.

His dad knew this way too well. He knew he would have to again turn down his demands. His dad wanted to show him that he didn't respect his wishes. That from day one he was hell bent on going against his words.

Yahya really wanted to get his dad into talking to him once again. He didn't want to go out, tying and putting his country together, when his own ties with his father was not stable.

He wanted to prove to him that taking up a career of his own choice didn't mean he chose to disrespect him or neglect his choices.

He still held his words above everything. He was still proud of him and loved him beyond anything. It was not like he chose his career over his father. Family was a different part of his life and so was his career.

He was tired. Tired of this silent tug of war between him and his father. He wanted a truce.

He didn't have any problem Meerub. She was his sister's best buddy, saw her grow in front of his eyes.

But he was sure she wouldn't marry a soldier who had to most often be at the borders rather than at her side.

Before taking things to next level, he sat with her. Yashayah and Sultan, Meerub's father were present in the room to make sure Satan didn't act like an evil third wheel that he was.

The entire time Meerub kept her gaze down. After getting over the civilities, he jumped to the point and asked her if she had any problem with being a wife of a soldier, meaning, she had to be patient, considerate, hopeful, ready to sacrifice, and carry a brave soul.

She went silent. For five whole minutes. He could literally see those gears running at the sides of her head. After a pregnant pause, she looked up at him. Her eyes determined but didn't give away any of her thoughts, her shoulders broad, her lips set in a thin like, as she gave her consent.

He never expected that Meerub would accept him. He had always thought of her to be the kind of person who didn't give a damn to what other thinks or feels. She could care less about what other feels for all that mattered. Being thoughtful and considerate was not written in her book. It had always been the job of his sister to be empathetic and approachable. Perhaps, sticking by his sister's side for all these years had got a toll on her.

Nevertheless, he was over the moon that night. He could finally get his father back. Moreover, he found himself lucky to get a very matured and considerate partner. What else could he ask for?

But now, as he stood beside her in their casement, he found it extremely hard to bring out the matured and considerate side of his wife.

If given a chance, he would have liked to stay back, spend some time with her, get to know her. But the situation back at the borders called for his presence. He was helpless.

He took his wife's hands into his. He couldn't leave a dejected wife behind. "I promise. I will try my best to come back to you the moment everything settles down."

She tore her gaze from the sky and looked at their hands.

He waited for her to say something. But when he received only silence, he sighed in defeat. He decided to go for prayer for now. He wouldn't leave until he convinced her.

He turned to go but stopped as he felt a tug at his hand. He turned his head and looked at Meerub's little finger which was curled around his own to stop him from going. He then looked at her who was staring at him.

"Just don't go overboard or push yourself off the limit and - look after yourself. I won't be there to do the job for you." He saw a slight glint in those small black orbs before it disappeared. The side of her lips curled up. "I want to see you fit and fine when I see you again."

All this while...was she afraid for him? Did he take it in a wrong way?

How wrong was he about his wife?

What more of herself was she hiding in the pages of her book?

What more surprises did Meerub Sultan have in store for him?

****

There. Maze of Yahya comes to an end here.

From the next episode, we will see the Maze of ______.

On you to fill that up now ;)

Thoughts?