Another Forever

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• n o o r •

"It's hard." A little girl named Iqra came up to me. She was wearing a pink frock, her hair tied in neat pigtails.

"Here, let me help." I said and picked her up into my lap. Holding her hands gently, I helped her fill the sketch with color pencils.

"I am done." Ali walked over to me to show me his drawing.

I tried to make something out of the colorful mess that he had created on the page. "It's amazing, Ali. I am proud of you." I passed him a smile and draw a star on his work.

"Of me too?" Iqra asked with a pout.

"Yes, you too." I said and patted her head.

I taught Arts to Kindergarten because that seemed like the most appropriate use of my degree for now. Dad had asked me to start internship in a graphic designing company of his friend but I was not in the best position to do that. Besides, I loved working with kids. Their innocence had the power to make anyone forget their pain, even if it's a temporary relief.

We were about to finish the drawing when the bell rang. Soon, the next teacher took over and I waved goodbye to the class. From there, I went straight to the teacher's lounge to gather my belonging and made my way down stairs.

The school was at walking distance from my house. It took me less than ten minutes to reach the house and I called Maheen who came out to open the door for me. She had her exams next month so she was on her prep leaves right now.

"Is there someone inside?" I asked when I heard sound of talking from the lounge.

"Ssshhh." Maheen said and pulled me to my room. "Mom asked me to tell you to get dressed. There is a woman out there to see you for her son."

My stomach clenched on hearing this. Mom had been trying to find a suitable rishta for me for two months now. She was worried for me and it was fair. Society isn't kind to a girl whose fiance dies the same day of the marriage. She is considered cursed or at least unlucky; and that's the last thing a mother needs in a girl when she is trying to find a suitable bride for her son.

We have had few women over in the last two months but they all fled away the minute they got to know about Usama. And then the gossiping women of my family and neighborhood did their best to spread the rumours that I was getting rejected by each one of them.

Despite each fibre in me screaming in protest, I dressed up in an orange Shalwar Kameez and walked out of the room. I didn't want to disobey Mama because she had been a constant support throughout my grieving phase, when I didn't even want to leave my room. The least I could do was meet these women because it was highly unlikely that I was getting selected anytime soon.

I stepped into the lounge where Mama and Dado were sitting at one couch and a woman in her fifties was sitting in front of them. The woman stared at me from head to toe when I entered inside. Aunty Afshan knew me inside out. I never had to put myself on display in front of her but things weren't going to be same in the future and I should better prepare myself for it.

"Your daughter is very pretty MaShaAllah." The woman said to Mama and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.

"Yeah, our Noor is beautiful, both internally and externally." Mama said and patted my back.

"What do you do?" She asked me.

"I teach Arts to Kindergarten." I said.

"She is talented too." She said.

"You must taste her Biryani. Our Noor is an amazing cook." Mom said and I smiled awkwardly. The thing is, I can cook but amazing isn't the right word to describe my cooking.