Mainu Heer Naa Aakho Koyi

IX // Pre-Walimah

"Haider, let the Walimah be. I don't want unnecessary stress." I tell Haider as I rub a piece of lemon on my arms.

"It's tomorrow. And you're very much invited."

I roll my eyes, "You married again?"

I look behind me to see him leaning on the bathroom's wall. "I annulled the temporary fix before marrying you."

Temporary fix.

He looks uncertain.

"But how many women have been on that bed?" I ask drawing my eyes towards his bedroom.

He looks behind at the bed.

The awkward silence forces me to talk,

"You know, in my extended family, I've only witnessed two healthy couples, MashaAllah for them. There are thousands of couples with dozens of kids in my village but only two of them are healthy. There's one thing in common in both the couples."

"What?"

"The woman is more aged."

He waits for me to add more to it.

I put the lemons aside and turn the shower's tap on to wash my arms.

"That's it?" he asks.

I turn the tap off, "Yea."

"What was the purpose of this information?"

I shrug as I wipe my arms with a towel.

"Is it just about the age or did the woman have the upper hand? And do you want that?"

"I'm not talking about us. I'm talking about men and their nature."

"How'd you know?"

"I was saying that those two men were mature enough to not take the age difference to their ego. Because most men do. And Haider, I'm not mentally prepared for the Walimah. I hate guests. And being the main character isn't my thing, I'm too shy for it."

He chuckles and kisses my forehead and I leave with the bowl of lemons.

I see the lady he was warning the other day.

Karishma bhabhi walks into the kitchen in a party dress. I almost want to ask her because Harmeen's nowhere near, but she looks like someone with a lot of attitude and I don't want anything to spoil my mood.

She takes a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and I stare at the lady servant.

She keeps on working indifferent to my stare. Her eyes have large obscure dark circles as if she hasn't slept in ages.

There are marks of burns on her neck and chin and several scars on her arms and hands.

She looks tired and my suspicion turns out right when she almost slips, "Araam se!" but catches herself with the help of the countertop. (Be careful!)

She shakes her head and looks at me all alerted as I walk to hold her. She steps back and yells "Nahin, nahin, nahin, abbh nahin ho ga. Maaf kar dein, abbh nahin ho ga."

(No, no, no, it won't happen again. Forgive me, it won't happen again.)

What? "Ji? Aap ttheek hain?"

(Sorry? Are you fine?)

"Nahin, nahin. Nahin." She steals her eyes, "Maazrat." She leaves all atolondrate- atol- anguished.

(No, no, no.) (I apologize.)

I go upstairs repeating three times in my head that I need to ask Harmeen about her.