"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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Tumhari awaaz mein bahut sukoon hai, Aziz," I heared Abbu's voice. (Your voice is very peaceful, Aziz)
When I turned around, I saw Abbu sitting on the couch to the left of my cabin. I was so engrossed in reading the Quran after the Asr prayer that I didn't even notice anyone entering.
"When did you come?" I asked Abbu as I closed the Quran.
"When you sat down to read the Quran," Abbu said with a smile.
"Why didn't you call me?" I asked as I folded the prayer mat.
"If I had called you, how would I have heard your soothing voice?" Abbu asked me. Tumhari "It's not that good," I said, refusing to believe him.
"It is. Bahut taasir hai tumhari awaaz mein Aziz, bahut hein dil seh padhte ho, Quran tum," Abbu said with great admiration. (Your voice has a lot of impact, Aziz. You read the Quran with a lot of heart)
I couldn't say anything in response, so I just gave him a slight smile and started putting the prayer mat back on the shelf.
"This is Zaina's Quran, right?" Abbu asked, looking at the Quran in my hands.
"Yes," I replied.
"Did you steal Zaina's Quran?" Abbu asked as he approached.
"No, Abbu, I took it after asking from Ammi," I explained.
"You could have told me, I would have gotten a new Quran for you," Abbu said, standing in front of me with a slight smile.
"But it wouldn't have been Ammi's," I said with a smile.
Abbu smiled, and seeing him, I also smiled.
"Do you read the Quran in the office as well?" After a long silence, Abbu asked.
"Aadat hogayi hai," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the Quran. (It's become a habit)
"A habit? Of the Quran?" Abbu asked, confused.
"In the beginning, it was difficult. Then, I don't know when it happened, but I became used to reading the Quran," I said with great composure. It felt like I was not talking to him but to myself, telling myself that the person who once only looked at the Quran now had become used to reading it.
"Aakhir kon hai woh Aziz? Jiski mohabbat neh tumhe momin bana diya hai? Aakhir Kiski mohabbat?" Abbu asked with a sense of urgency.
Seven years had passed, and no one had ever asked me about that woman, but today, after so many years, Abbu's question took me back to those seven years. (Who is she, Aziz? Whose love has made you a believer? Whose love?)
Complete silence filled the room. Abbu was sitting on my chair, and I stood quietly in front of him, my eyes fixed on the Quran.
"Uns ki mohabbat neh," I said after a long silence, holding the Quran in my hands.
