"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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It was 7 PM when I returned from college. As I entered the house, I saw Samir approaching me.
"Assalamu Alaikum—"
Ignoring him, I headed straight towards the stairs.
"At least respond to Salam, Bhai," he said from behind.
Without responding, I continued walking towards my room.
The same darkness enveloped the room, the same memories, the same tears, the same flower. Sitting on my bed, I again got engrossed in looking at that rose again.
"Saab, dinner is ready, Bade Saab is calling you," the servant said from outside the room.
"Tell them, I am not hungry," I said.
Without asking anything further, he left without a word.
I didn't feel like eating, and sleep? It seemed to have disappeared. I glanced at the rose, then at my watch; it was midnight, but sleep was far away. Pulling up the blanket, I tried to sleep, but I couldn't close my eyes.
Perhaps I was afraid that if I did, her face would appear before me again, and I didn't want to think about her at this moment. Yet, here I am, still thinking about her.
It's a common thing for people to leave each other in love, but this wasn't a reason for her to leave me. She left me, just for the sake of Allah? If there was any other reason, I could have understood, but this isn't a reason. Did she leave me just because I don't believe in her God?
It's been a whole day since Uns Reza left my life and the country. There was no contact with Sahara, and I didn't want to talk to Samir, but I needed to know with whom, Uns came to the club that day. Samir couldn't do, Sahara didn't know. And... who else could it be?
So many questions were running through my mind, but there were no answers to any of them.
I looked at the clock in my room again; it was four in the morning. It was the time for Tahajjud, and for some reason, she came to my mind again.
My gaze shifted to the corner of my room and that corner took me to her room where she used to pray, and tears would welled up in her eyes when she prays. She used to looked even more beautiful while praying.
Uns Reza phirse yaad aayi thi. Yaah shayad har waqt yaad aati hai. (Uns Reza came to my mind again. Or maybe she's always on my mind)
As I tried to close my eyes and sleep, I heard Azaan for Fajr prayer echoing from a distance. And once again, sleep eluded me. And for the first time, I was listening to Azaan so intently.
I didn't understand the meaning, but the mention of Allah kept repeating. When Azaan ended, the same questions came to mind again: Who is Allah? What is Allah?
"Aziz, what's the matter? You're not eating properly, you're not sleeping well. What is wrong with you?" Ammi asked me with great concern when I refused to take rice.
