Tillim's Bullet

Chapter Two; Mehedi Ceremony

Tillim

The main hall room was decorated with couches and cushions and right beside was the drawing room where the elders sat. I was forced to attend this meeting here. The nods and opinions thrown from here to there were making me groan.

Their grim expressions weren't ignored by the elders of the room. Even though, their willingness to stay here and negotiate was less than going to the mall for wedding shopping.

I cozily sat down on one of the chairs in the corner, eyeing them. I had a reason to come here and it certainly wasn't to be seated so silent. Everyone's opinions were being thrown from one corner of the room to another.

Some of them were raising their voice a bit, sometimes chuckling or just getting glared at.

When the topic of food came up, I knew that it was a time when heads turn in my direction.

The heads turned and I let out a huff, showing every bit of annoyance I felt in here.

I shoved a small part of my Hijab back on my shoulder as I stated "Well, I think that much food will be wasted. We want all our guests to be satisfied but what's the point of wasting food?"

Marjan, my older cousin scoffed. He was one of those who were never invited but still came over to throw some of his opinions. The elders bobbed their heads at him because he was older than me but other than that, without even asking for my opinion, they just ignored his words.

He looked over at me and I looked at him back. He dramatically rolled his tongue in his mouth and said, "We certainly don't want our guests to be calling us cheap when we get short of food. Who'll feed 'em then?"

It sounded like a child complaining about his lunch. I scoffed. Baba looked at him.

"Listen Marjan, we don't want to be short of food that is true enough. But we also don't want to waste food either." He said.

As a frantic blur of stating their ideas on food shortage and waste started, I quickly zoned out. While having my knuckles on my cheeks I looked bored.

I wanted to get away from this as soon as possible.

"How about giving the leftover food to the people who need it? That way, no food will be wasted and it would also be counted as charity." I said finally as a hum of approval went through the room. I sighed in relief.

Getting up, I made my way outside. This was indeed a very boring meeting. I can't believe I have to go through this all over again.

The whole house beamed with happiness, pride, and lights. It was a Bangladeshi wedding so people all over the neighborhood came by to have a look.

My cousins were all over the house, playing, running, working, and talking. It looked nothing less like a wedding in Bangladesh.

My grandfather Al Amin Shah was a liege lord who was respected all over Dhaka and gained his taintless reputation through politics. He was a man of power. His family in Bangladesh immigrated to the US in 1944.

He had much larger property there in his homeland but his reason for immigration was still unknown to the family. My father said He wanted a better living so he came here.

I still had thousands of questions regarding that but I ignored them nonetheless. I tend to avoid the matter that involves less of my business.

As I walked through the house, I couldn't help but wonder how all these preparations may have looked in our house in Bangladesh.

We had a huge mansion there. The wedding would have been grand. Salim would've loved it too.

Salim is the third child and second son of Abdul Karim Shah and Dilruba Khan. My brother and my reliable companion.