"Mujhe jhelna mushkil hai nader," she said with a smile while her gaze was fixed on the table.
("It's difficult to tolerate me, Nader")
"Main jhel lunga," I replied.
("I'll manage")
She looked up towards me, then continued.
"Mai khubsurat nahi ho...
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She was praying in front of me, and I kept wondering how I ended up here. From dropping off Tamir and Rasha at the airport, then feeling a sudden urge to see her, to arriving at her mansion, climbing over the wall like a thief, to calling Sahara to ask which was Uns balcony, and hearing Sahara's taunts.
Even though I'm older than her, she still acts like an older sister. Then climbing up that mere pipe, throwing stones to wake her up, then hearing Uns scoldings and threats.
I finally entered her room and saw the woman I had come for. After feeling relieved by the sight of her, I had another urge-to drink tea. I hadn't had any delicious tea since morning; maybe I'd like the tea made by Uns.
So, I very softly asked her to make some tea, and now I had the tea made by Uns in my hand while she was praying in front of me.
I took the first sip. It's... it's... the taste is familiar. I took another sip, and then it hit me-the taste is the same as it was when Uns brought me tea that day.
Could it be that she was the one who made the tea for me back then? No, no, Aziz, don't get carried away. You can't get obsessed even with her tea now. There's no way you're going to let that happen.
If you do, your mom will definitely stop making tea for you. And if you sneak into Gusrail like this, she'll surely kill you.
As if it weren't enough that Uns was driving me crazy, now her handmade tea is doing it too. As soon as she finished her prayer and turned to face me, I stood up, and only one question slipped from my mouth.
"Did you make this tea?" I asked, just to be sure.
Uns nodded yes, and walked over to her shelf to keep the prayer rug. I watched her as she moved, still standing there.
"How was it?" Uns asked.
"Extremely delicious," I replied. She looked at me, then turned back, opened another shelf, took out a box, and started walking towards me.
"Sit," she said again.
And I sat down without saying a word. She sat beside me, leaving some space between us, and held the box in her hand.
"A first-aid kit?" I muttered.
"Yeh kya haal bana rakha hai, tumne apna, Nader?" Uns said as she took out some ointment. (What have you done to yourself, Nader)
"Give me your hand," she said, and began applying the ointment to my wrist. I hadn't even noticed my own hand, but she noticed it and was now treating my wounds.
Parwaah hai, inhe meri, I thought. (She cares about me)
But I don't understand one thing: a few minutes ago she was roaring like a lion, and now there's nothing but pure silence within her.
Jab Uns ko jhelne ki baat ho rahi tih, toh usme mood swings ko bhi jhelna tah? (Does handling with Uns also mean putting up with her mood swings too?)
