Fizah

لرزش|Larzish

"زندہ ہوں اس طرح کہ غم زندگی نہیں
جلتا ہوا دیا ہوں مگر روشنی نہیں"

Saleh contemplated as he stared at the door. He didn't know how his mother was going to react after he told her that he was getting Fizah married to his friend and hung up without another word. She had tried to call him a few times but he didn't respond. He knew that his mother would say something hurtful and ruin it for him. He couldn't have let himself be down when he was giving his sister off to someone who would cherish her and in the end, grow to love her.

He was laid back about everything, knowing his friend was someone he could entrust his sister with. It was hard for him too to marry her off when he had just gotten her back, there were so many things he needed to learn from her so he could bring his mother to love her since all that Fizah wished for in her life was her mother's love.

The door opened and his mother stood with trash bag in her hand, looking at her son perpetually. She didn't think he would show up after what he had said to her when she told him that Fizah killed Rumaan. He just raised a question.

"Aap ko ammi kaise bulaon jab aap meri behan par sirf zulm karti aayi hain?" He had said the moment emotions left his body and he looked nothing less than a cruel lawyer who only knew to cut others with words and accusations.

A question that upset his mother that she never called him again in two months and he cared less.

"Have you been well?" His mother asked. He did all but nod at his mother and stepped inside. The air in the house was empty like it had always been even when the siblings lived there. Saleh would mostly be out somewhere in the city of Karachi, studying and his sister would lock herself in and the parents didn't bother to make a lively atmosphere. Although it carried familiarity, there were no homely feelings whatsoever.

Saleh had come to pick his sister's things- the ones that were really precious to her back at that time, maybe because she still loved them. His sister had a weird obsession with anything that was tiny- the marbles, the beach stones, miniatures and even dried leaves and at times the hair clips. She had it all around her, placed in the most random places. She found happiness in little things. He let his eyes roam across her room, it wasn't tidy enough and the air had dust to it that he automatically choked on his breath. The pastel turquoise had worn off and faded, the patches of dust decorated the walls everywhere.

"Ammi, do you even have someone clean Izah's room?" He yelled out as soon as he heard the knob being opened.

After a moment, his mother came to rest against the door frame as she leisurely took a glance at the room, "No one uses the room anymore, so what's the use?"

Sure, he did expect something like that from her. He shook his head in disbelief, taking a step in, coughing and trying to swallow the particles that pricked the insides of his throat. Her diary was kept on her study table- old and raggedy and still in place. The wind chime and the dreamcatcher danced together the minute he opened the windows to release the dirt particles.

"Kuch nahi batana tumhe?" His mother asked, seeing him dust off Fizah's old diary.

"Kya bataon?"

"Ke tum ne Fizah se uss larke ka nikah karwa diya."

"Woh larka mera dost hai amma." He said almost in disbelief. No doubt, she was doubting his friend and his intentions at the very moment. Like she cared about her daughter.

"Woh dono ek dusre ke liye sahi nahi hai, Saleh."

"Ya yun kahein ke aap meri behan ko khusiyon ka haqdar nahi samajhti." His eyes, still on the papers as he aimlessly skimmed through it.