Maham had fallen asleep right after praying Tahujjud. She couldn't describe the calmness she felt as her head hit the pillow and she ran away to dreamland.
Prayer and dreams were her escape.
Prayers for a better future. Dreams for an escape from her present.
But dreams left a melancholic feeling. She often saw dreams of sitting in a field, a field that never ended. She thought that even if she took binoculars, she would not be able to see where this peaceful field ended.
Her subconscious would be aware she was in a dream. Yet, she wouldn't feel it. She would sit in the middle of the field, unmoving.
She would feel her breath, the breeze, how the grass felt under her hands and feet, and how peace felt.
She would look up at the sky, pass a smile to her creator, and then look around. Happy and content in her dream.
But as the dream slipped away from her feet, she would wake up with the familiar melancholia.
She knew it was a dream. So, why was she so upset that, that dream left her too? It was that feeling of peace that upset her.
She didn't know what the future held. She didn't know how many more traumas and hits she would have to endure to finally achieve peace.
She checked the time and felt guilt filling her veins for missing fajr. She sat up, slowly, her back hurting.
She stood up, walking to get ready for the day. She keeps a dupatta on her head throughout the day. She cleans the house cooks three meals of the day, and sits silent even when she doesn't get a taste of it.
She stood in the kitchen mixing the pot when her cousin's brother, Osman, entered the kitchen. She tensed up and tightened her grip on the wooden spoon making sure it was ready if it needed to be used.
Osman never did anything to her. No. He would ignore her as if she was a housemaid but her trauma got the better of her and she felt the need to hold something if things got bad.
Men couldn't be trusted.
Osman opened the cabinets, looking for something to snack on while Maham prepared lunch. He smiled when he found their cousin's sister, Zafeera, a packet of chocolate chip cookies.
She was obsessed with them. Always tells someone to go buy them for her every day.
Maham didn't notice him walking away with someone else's snack. She finished cooking and was in the process of making raita when Zafeera strolled into the kitchen, uninterested.
She opened the cabinet, expecting to see her biscuits but her eyes widened when she saw nothing there.
"Maine toh yehi rakhe the..." she mumbled before she scowled and turned to the girl.
(I kept them here.)
"Oye! Mere biscuits rakhe the kaha gae?" Zafeera asked Maham.
(Hey! My biscuits were kept here where did they go?)
Maham looked at her and shrugged, "pata nahi." She looked and went back to cutting a green chili.
(I don't know.)
Zafeera glared at her before gripping Maham's arm and turning her to face her.
"Jhoot mat bolo! Tumhare siwa kitchen mai koi nahi aata. Tumne hi khaye hain na mere biscuits? God, tum kitni- tum kitni nadeedi ho!" She yelled as Maham's eyes widened.
(Don't lie! No one comes into the kitchen except you. You ate my biscuits, didn't you? God, you are so- so needy!)
Hearing the yells of her daughter, Shehnaz, Maham's mami entered the kitchen.
"Kya ho raha hai?" She asked, looking between the two girls.
(What is happening?)
"Ammi! Is jahil ne mere pasandeeda biscuits kha liye," Zafeera complained in a whiny tone.
(Mom! This illiterate ate my favorite biscuits.)
Maham's eyes went to her aunt and she quickly shook her head. "Na- nahi, mami, maine aesa nahi kiya! Mai toh khana bana rahi thi mujhe nahi pata kisne khaye." She pleaded but her words fell on deaf ears.
(No-no, auntie, I didn't eat them! I was making lunch I don't who ate them.)
Her aunt rushed towards her, hitting her face and continuously cursing her with words like "orphan!" "disgusting bastard!"
Her hits finally stopped when Osman and his mother entered the kitchen because of the cries. They saw Maham sitting on the floor, her lip bleeding.
Zafeera's eyes widened at the biscuits in Osman's hands. "Kutte! Woh mere the!" She yelled and ran after him.
(Dog! Those were mine!)
The two elders left the kitchen, leaving Maham to compose herself and continue cooking.
She stared at the wall, tears welling in her eyes and her teeth grinded against each other.
Don't be angry. Don't be angry. Treat them with kindness. Like our Prophet taught us.
Her mind told her as she choked back on a sob. Her heart cried out to the watcher of all and she closed her eyes, letting the tears flow.
Ik din. Ik din yeh sab pachtayenge.
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𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐍 - rewritten | ✓
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