RAABTA

My name is Sarfaraz Murad and this is my story.

The story of how my life began, once again.

The second beginning of my life after twenty-eight years of my existence, and this time it is going to be different. Because this time I am not going to live alone, rather someone has willingly tied the knot with me, agreed to ride the ups and downs of life hand in hand with me. Accepting what is perfect in me and what is flawed, approving to be happy in my smiles and sad in my tears.

Oh! How beautiful is the foundation of this relationship.

If its start is this marvelous then how will the coming journey be?

With my heart beating in an audible thud, I open my bedroom door and for the first time in my life, I enter to find an occupant inside who is not me.

Everything is the same, the same old-wood tinted mahogany bed in the center that overlooks the sandalwood wardrobes, the creme curtains that dance with the wind that gushes back and forth through the open windows which views the lush green trees that surround the fence of my house, the lamp of my study table perfectly snuggled on a convenient corner, dimly illuminating the room into a romantic aura. Like I said, every piece of furniture that existed before she stepped in is the same yet all of it has changed.

Everything will be different because this time, along with me, she is going to live here.

In this room. In my room. In my life.

The four ocean blue walls will erupt with her laughs, the curtains will hide her blush, the almirah's will secure her heart in the place of jewels, the bed will offer rest but it will never be able to make her sleep peacefully, because I will be wrapping my arms around her thin waist, snuggling into her neck, my small beard hair will prickle her skin, filling it with goosebumps of pleasure, and I will hold her close, to myself, to my heart.

Shaking away the thoughts of the future, I garnish my lips with a smile as I take a seat in front of her. The laughs and giggles of my cousins and relatives fall as a faraway lullaby when I take off the dupatta that adorns her front, obscuring the view of my newlywed wife.

The heavily embroidered material, littering with rhinestones rests on the crook of her head now, my fingers going to rest beneath her chin as I make her look up.

Wells of brown chocolate that melt into small balls of irises stare back.

I smile welcomingly.

She reciprocates.

It reminds me of the first time when we met at her house, the very first time when we both were left alone to do the talking and see whether we found each other compatible in spending a lifetime in one another's company.

I had been a bundle of nerves, the crisp tension in the air too perky to my liking.

Apart from Chachi's constant protests to get married, I had no intention of getting it done.

I had looked outside at the open balcony, nested with two comfy chairs neatly splayed with a teapoy cushioning warm snacks served right from the kitchen, the aroma wafting through the air, I had perched myself seated on one of the chairs and she, on the other.

I viewed the greeneries of plants and trees overlapping the blue sky and turned around to face her and she met me with this same dazzling smile.

An assurance to me, I will be okay, do okay and that was enough for me.

We just ate our snacks in utter silence, the type of which erupted warmth inside the heart, did wonders inside yet at the outside, calmness settled.