Chapter Eight

Mahrosh flipped through the rasala, biting the inside of her cheek as she read about Detective Arsalan finding more clues to solve the murder case; it was the seventh qist* and she was hoping that the murderer might be revealed –

It was a wonder how she managed to read with the apparent uproar the house was in. Ammi had asked Abbu to call for the car from his office because she wished to go to the inner city for shopping. A ride on the car was a treat Mahrosh seldom avoided; but weighing the cons of having to survive through tortuous hours of shopping and the pros of a fun car ride made her politely reject the offer.

Her polite rejection would have been taken as anything but had Aleena not risen as a savior and offered to go with Ammi. It was apparent to Ammi which of the two; Aleena or Mahrosh; would be a better shopping companion, and for once in her life, Mahrosh got an easy way out.

"Mahrosh, we won't be back till dinner so you'll have to take care of lunch alright?" Ammi seemed anxious as she fixed her chaddar for the seventh time.

Mahrosh glanced up briefly, giving her mother a thumbs-up. "Worry not, Ammi."

How could she not? Ammi grabbed her bag, facing Dadi, "Make sure she doesn't burn the house down, Amma. I feel strange leaving you and Mahrosh alone. Why did Sidra have to leave urgently -"

"Ya Allah, go already, Samreen – nothing will happen with you gone," Dadi waved, "And don't forget to bring me something."

Ammi drew a slow breath, turning back to Mahrosh, "Your Abbu is invited to a dawat but I've asked Walid to come since he'll be home alone. Make sure-"

Mahrosh put her rasala down, getting to her feet, "Ammi, you've told me a hundred times. I get it, promise. Aleena is waiting for you in the car-"

It took another five minutes for Ammi to finally leave. Mahrosh stood at the gate, waving at Ammi and Aleena till the car passed through the narrow galis and the curious onlookers. The roar of the car's engine faded and so did the hold Ammi had over the house.

Mahrosh ran back inside, throwing off her shoes first. She had the entire morning to do whatever she wished, and what she wished most ardently was to read with no interruptions. The blanket was brought out, and the tea was made. It was a cool winter morning; perfect to cozy within her blanket and return to her rasala while Dadi retreated to her room to continue with her knitting.

Sakoon.* It was seldom that Mahrosh enjoyed such mornings; when the clouds shielded the blazing sun, the birds sang their anthems, and the turning of the pages replaced the tick of the clock as time trickled by. The once warm tea cup was now cold and empty, and the qist almost done with. Mahrosh' heart ached over the tragic love of Detective Arsalan and his boss' daughter, and it pounded to the mystery of the case-

She could picture it to the minutest detail. Arsalan gripped a gun in his hands, stepping into the abandoned house. The floorboards creaked under his steps as he surveyed the living room when he heard the sound of someone running on the second floor- Mahrosh held her breath, her grip on the rasala subconsciously tightening. He loaded his revolver, carefully stepping up the stairs. The sound of laughter suddenly caught his attention. Mahrosh gulped- forcing herself to read ahead. He inhaled sharply, facing the door in front of him but before he could even reach for the handle, the door pulled open and —

A sudden figure hovered behind her. "Assalam-"

Mahrosh screamed. She practically jumped out of her skin, reflexively throwing the rasala away as she tumbled off the charpai and onto the floor with the blanket and all. By the time she had managed to look at the intruder, the rasala had hit Walid and fallen to his feet.

Silence.

Walid blinked. Mahrosh stared; her heart pounding wildly against her chest. When she was able to register all that had happened, the heat crawled to her face and her mouth opened on its own accord.

"You were meant to catch it."

Walid's head tilted and Mahrosh mentally facepalmed, fighting the urge to bury herself in the blanket. "You know, like-" she tried to offer an explanation as he bent down to pick up the rasala.

Luckily, Dadi arrived. "Mahrosh- what was all the commotion about? Oh, you're here, Walid. Assalamualaikum."

Walid smiled as he replied to her salam, offering Mahrosh a hand. It was only then that she realized she was still on the floor- "Oh, nothing, Dadi. We were playing catch and... fall apparently," he said as he pulled her to her feet.

Mahrosh avoided his gaze, her cheeks flushed as she picked up the blanket and put it on the charpai. "Get Walid a glass of sharbat, Mahrosh- Walid, dear, let me offer my sunnah prayer and I'll be right with you."

Mahrosh didn't waste a second to dash towards the kitchen. The sharbat was made but no Mahrosh showed up for several minutes; not till she had gotten over her embarrassment, raised her dupatta to her head and feigned formality. When she returned with the glass, she found Walid flipping through the rasala.

"JazakAllah khair," he passed her a brief smile as he took the glass from her, noting her gaze flickering towards the rasala. "What were you reading?"

"The-" Mahrosh cut off, her gaze flickering to his face, "What do you think I was reading?"

"You want me to guess?" Walid accepted the challenge, opening the appendix of the rasala. "Mhmm... was it the Jawaid Sulman's interview?"

"Nope," Mahrosh sat down, watching him go through the list.

"Kal ke Mehman*?"

"I'll read that later, but no," Mahrosh shook her head, beginning to enjoy the guessing- game. 

"Not that either, mhmm..." Walid hummed, flipping the page, "Oh, I've got it. Were you reading 'A guide to keeping your husband happy'?"

Mahrosh' eyes widened and her face flamed. "No! I was reading nothing of that sort-" she cut off when she noticed the glint in Walid's eyes as he lowered his head to cover his laugh.

Of course. There was nothing of that sort in the rasala- Mahrosh looked away, trying to ignore her burning face. "Not funny."

"Of course not," Walid's tone remained just as polite, "Even if there was such an article, you wouldn't need to read it. You can just ask me if you're ever curious."

Mahrosh turned a deeper shade of red and Walid had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when her gaze snapped towards him. He closed the rasala, holding her gaze. "Are you?"

His intense gaze did not leave her and her heart somersaulted inside her chest while she struggled to find words-

"I made you wait too long, Walid," Dadi arrived as a ray of shining light to Mahrosh and she could have just hugged her grandmother for saving her a second time from Walid's attention. She let Dadi converse with Walid, disappearing to the kitchen again to warm up the kari and rice her mother had made for lunch.

Lunch was eventually served; and despite Ammi's fears, no dishes were burned and no kitchens caught fire. Dadi kept them entertained and took over the conversation with Walid. Mahrosh gratefully remained silent, sinking back into her seat as she ate and listened; often zoning out when she lost interest. Beginning at the sweater Dadi was knitting for Walid, the conversation took twists and turns till a certain topic caught Mahrosh' interest.

"The lack of religiosity in Europe would startle you, Dadi. It has become a trend almost amongst the younger students to part from their religious roots."

Dadi frowned, "And in India? Do you think our youth is going down that path as well?"

"Perhaps not to the same degree, but we can see its effects. Colonized nations tend to take the worst from their colonizers-" Walid shook his head, "But how can you blame the youth when religion is presented to them as nothing but a culture?"

Dadi's eyebrows drew together, "What do you mean?"

Mahrosh' gaze flickered to Walid as he sat up straighter. "We would serve as a perfect example. For our religious education a Qari Saab was employed to come teach us how to recite the Quran and tell us about Islam after Fajar — as children, these lessons were the only connection we had with deen. And yet, I cannot recall one lesson he taught us that stuck by. In fact, he would barely even be listening as we would quickly recite, trying to finish it as soon as possible. "

"Sometimes I would skip pages and he wouldn't notice," Mahrosh added. 

"Exactly. So would I. And as for our Islamic Studies — we were taught all the basics but no connection was ever made. We were taught to pray, yes, but never taught why we should. And the only reason we did the memorizations and spent time over the Qari Sab's lessons was so when he asked us to recite our sabaq the next day, we would not be punished. Can any education be worse than this? That it does not alter our character in the least?" 

His words left a mark. Mahrosh found herself at a loss for what to say, and Dadi remained just as silent.

"And what's sad is," Walid inhaled slowly, looking away. Even if he was present with them, for a brief moment, something flashed across his eyes and Mahrosh felt as if he was somewhere else entirely. "This is the very Quran that made the hearts of the companions tremble. And not just the Muslim — the very Quran that made even the Quraysh of Makkah fall into prostration without realizing it."

It is a queer feeling; the realization that perhaps what you have been taught all along has not been taught in the right manner. Mahrosh felt a strangeness come over her heart, and she snapped out of it only when Dadi asked her for a glass of water from the kitchen.

"You have a point, I guess. Bas I don't understand these wisdoms of your generation — things were much simpler in ours," Dadi shook her head, thinking of a time where such lessons were satisfactory enough for their children, "I don't understand at all. The other day Mahrosh was asking me what the path of Quran was — us old people don't have the answer to your complicated questions."

Walid's shoulders perked, and when Mahrosh walked back into the living room, she caught the glance he cast her way. She blinked, but as he was quick to look away, did not think over it too deeply — but had she been a bit more on guard, she would have seen the crinkle of his eyes even when the topic changed to something light-hearted, and his gaze flickering towards her every now and then.

It was not too long before Ammi and Aleena returned. Shopping showcase is an event of its own and both women seemed equally excited as they showcased everything they had bought. Walid listened with interest to all the stories Aleena narrated to him, and kissed her head in gratitude for everything that she had bought for him. Dadi commented over everything Ammi showed to her, and it wasn't until several minutes later when Aleena commented on something they bought for Mahrosh did they notice her absence.

"This girl," Ammi shook her head, folding the clothes and putting them away, "She doesn't take the slightest interest in shopping. I'm glad we did not take her along. It's been so long since I've enjoyed shopping this immensely. Thank you, Aleena."

These words were casually spoken, and not thought over too deeply as the subject changed.

It was only Walid, perhaps, who noted the figure pausing at the door instead of walking in just as these words were spoken. Seconds passed with her standing frozen in spot, and Walid saw her turn around and walk away.

Mahrosh did not return the rest of the day. Not to greet her father when he arrived, nor when the family sat out in the courtyard and laughed. Walid's gaze flickered often towards her bedroom door, and when she did not even come as they were leaving, he realized that whatever he wanted to say to her would have to wait.

qist - episode

Kal ke Mehman - tomorrow's guests

Sakoon - peace

assalamualaikum!

more mahrosh and walid scenes for you in this chappie ;) see? my boy isn't only mysterious and cold – he can be tease too xD

any insights on the conversation he had with dadi though? would love to hear your thoughts ^^ 

overall, this was a lighthearted chapter and i enjoyed writing it. the calm before the storm i guess :)