In Another Universe

Ibrahim and Mahjabeen

Simran and Ibrahim ( 20:00 pm)

Ibrahim rang the doorbell to Simran's house and nervously waited. It's been a long time since he did something like this. When he was married he had served under special forces and rarely got time to come home to do anything of this sort.

‘ Good evening sir. I'm here to pick up Simran.’ Ibrahim said as soon as the door opened.

Simran's father stared at Ibrahim who stood with his arms folded behind his back, back straight, like he was still in the military.

‘ Simran! Ibrahim is here’ he called out.

He turned his attention back to Ibrahim.

‘ you look different…’

‘ Bad different?’ Ibrahim panicked.

He looked at the window at himself. Long sleeve, lose black shirt, tucked into lose white trousers. Black belt and a titan watch.

‘ No I mean, I always see you in your uniform so…’

‘ oh..’

Ibrahim and Simran's father stood awkwardly as they waited for Simran who took her sweet time to come down.

The sight of Simran in the red sari, her long hair left open, left Ibrahim wide eyed, mouth agape.

‘ muh toh band karo uncle…’ Simran's father joked.

‘Hi..!’ Simran squealed in excitement.

Ibrahim tried to answer her, but he just stammered a few words. Simran laughed at his reaction.

‘ Be right back, papa’ she said as they left.

‘Bring her back soon!’ Simran's father yelled before closing the door.

‘ Where are we going?’

‘ Oh uh, your favorite restaurant..’

‘ I already went there, can't we go somewhere else?’ she whined.

‘ like where? Shubman said you liked this restaurant…’

‘ Shubman is an idiot…can't we go some place new?’

Ibrahim's heart melted as he looked at her and saw her pout. He gently took her hand into his.

‘ take me somewhere you like to go…I want to see what you do on your off days..’ she requested.

‘ Alright, your wish is my command.’

‘ A shooting range???’ Simran laughed in excitement.

Ibrahim helped Simran through the basics as they stood in front of the targets.

‘ Am I doing this right?” She mumbled.

Ibrahim gently put her arms around her and helped her position the gun.

Simran felt her heart skip a beat as she felt his his skin on her. The woody smell of his attar engulfed her senses.

‘ eyes on the target, exhale slowly as you pull the trigger’ he whispered against her ears.

A gunshot rang through the room. It missed the bullseyes by a few inches.

‘ Not bad, Simran Gill’

Simran blushed at the compliment and playfully nudged him.

They shot a few more rounds, Simran always missing a few, Ibrahim always on target.

‘ You are too good at this!’ she said as they walked out.

‘ Years of practice, Mahjabeen..’

‘ What does that mean?’

‘ Moon faced beauty…’

Simran face turned as red as the sari she was wearing.

Ibrahim tilted his head and stared at her playing with the end of her sari. He took out a disposable camera and took a photo of her. 

She looked at him confused.

‘ Oh this…? My son used to do this whenever we had outings. He would develop them and keep them as memories..’

Simran smiled softly, came up to him and stood a few inches away from him. Even with heels on, he towered over her easily. She gently rested her hand on his chest and felt his heart beat getting faster. For a few minutes neither of them said anything, maybe they didn't have to. Their eyes spoke for them.

Ibrahim and Simran sat in silence and listened to the waves crash on the shore. They had a long night of eating street meat from Ibrahim's favorite place, walking through the crowded streets, stopping every now to look at cute jewelry, which he bought for her.

‘ Did you um, like tonight?’ he hesitantly asked.

She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a deep sigh.

‘ As long as you are there, I would like anything, Ibrahim'

Ibrahim put his arms around her, bringing her closer to him. She snuggled into the warmth of his arms. Both of them were happy with where they were. They knew that the relationship wouldn't end in marriage, but they didn't care. For now they just wanted to make memories. Memories which they would spend the rest of their lives being buried in.

‘ Ibrahim…’

‘ yes?’

‘ I will always love you, even if I can't take your last name’

Ibrahim tilted her face up towards him, and looked at her and all of a sudden all the urdu poems he read about beauty and love became about her.

‘ I will always love you too, Mahjabeen. Even if I can't give you my last name’ he whispered before softly kissing her.