Don't Leave Me Again

4- Granny's Home

As I entered the house, my cousin Aysha's voice echoed with palpable excitement, "Oh my dear dadi, look who's here!"

"Please don't call her outside. I'm coming in," I instructed her, filled with a sense of longing for Granny's home, her comforting presence, and her enchanting stories. Every fibre of my being resonated with the memories of this place, where I had grown up. A year had passed since my parents decided to move to an apartment, and I hadn't returned until now. Caught up in a whirlwind of responsibilities and distractions, I realized that all my cherished childhood memories were attached to this place. Despite my yearning, my father had chosen a different path for our family - the path of a nuclear family, for reasons only known to Allah.

As Granny came into view, I rushed to embrace her tightly. "I've missed you so much, dadi. And I've especially missed your cooking."

"Only my cooking?" Granny queried, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"No, dadi, I've missed you too," I confessed. "I've told Ammi countless times that we should visit. But she always says we'll come during a holiday. Yet, whenever I have a break, Zanya has classes, and when she has a holiday, I'm busy with college. That's why we haven't been able to visit. Otherwise, you'd be the first person I'd come to see," I explained, pouring out my heart.

Visiting Granny's house feels like stepping into a cosy haven filled with love and memories. The front door opens to a warm embrace of family photos on the walls and the smell of Granny's cooking in the air. Inside, comfy chairs invite you to relax while shelves hold books and treasures passed down through the years.

In the kitchen, Granny works her magic with spices, creating delicious dishes that bring everyone together around the table. It's a place where time slows down, and you can forget about the outside world, surrounded by the comfort of family.

Granny's house is more than just a building-it's a sanctuary where love and tradition thrive, making it a special place that stays with you long after you've left.

"So, how is college? Have you made new friends?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with interest.

"Yes, I've made many new friends, but I miss my school friends more. I think I should visit them during the midterm holiday," I said, reflecting on how much had changed. Then, with a wistful sigh, I added, "It's just that things were so much simpler back then. I wish I could turn back time, even if just for a day, to relive those carefree moments."

"Zaaf, come with me. I have so much to tell you," Aysha called, pulling me toward the room. I smiled at my whole family and other cousins before following her.

"What do you want to tell me?" I asked, puzzled by her excitement.

She placed her hands on my shoulders and said, "You know what? I'm getting engaged!" Her laughter was contagious, but I couldn't share her joy.

"So, who's the lucky boy?" I inquired, trying to match her enthusiasm but feeling a pang of concern. Aysha had always dreamed of pursuing a degree, and now it seemed she had forgotten that dream.

She burst into laughter again, "Your mom came up with the proposal!"

"My mom?" I asked, confused. There were no marriageable boys in my mom's family.

"Is the groom from my mom's side?" I asked curiously, unable to believe it.

She shook her head, "I don't think so. She was talking to my mom about it. It's her friend who introduced the groom."

There's no one other than Aunt Sara who comes with proposals. She was like the matchmaker, always trying to set everyone up.

I changed the topic to something else, and we started reminiscing about our childhood memories, putting her engagement aside for the moment. The future could wait; for now, we were just two cousins reliving the good old days.

As Aysha and I sat reminiscing, the nostalgia wrapped around us like a warm blanket, momentarily shielding us from the complexities of our present lives. Our laughter echoed through Granny's house, intertwining with the scents of her cooking and the familiar sounds of family chatter. For a fleeting moment, I felt like the world was simple again, just like it used to be.

"Remember the time we tried to bake a cake without any help and ended up with a gooey mess?" Aysha laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"And Granny still said it was the best cake she'd ever tasted," I added, grinning.

As the evening progressed, the house filled with the comforting chaos of family gatherings. Stories were exchanged, jokes shared, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly at peace. It was in these moments that I realized the importance of family and the bonds we share. Despite the arguments and misunderstandings, these are the ties that hold us together.

Zaid and Zanya eventually found their way to us, their earlier antagonism forgotten in the warmth of Granny's home. Even my parents, who arrived a bit later, seemed more relaxed and happy in this familiar setting.

"Zafrin, come help me in the kitchen," Granny called, breaking my reverie.

"Coming, dadi," I replied, standing up. As I walked towards the kitchen, I felt a lightness in my step, a sense of belonging that I had missed dearly.

Later, Gathered around the dining table, the essence of family unity enveloped us like a warm embrace. With each bite of dadi's cooking, memories flooded back, reminding me why these gatherings were so cherished. Dadi had prepared a feast for us, including my favourite fish curry, steamed rice, roti, pickle, and papad. Each dish carried the unmistakable flavour of her love and care.

For a fleeting moment, the struggles and conflicts of daily life faded into the background, replaced by the simple joy of being together. Around that table, surrounded by loved ones and delicious food, we found solace and understanding. In dadni's kitchen, amidst the aroma of spices and the clatter of dishes, we were reminded of the power of family to heal, nurture, and uplift.

When it was time to leave, I felt a pang of sadness but also a renewed sense of strength. I hugged Granny tightly, promising to visit more often. "I'll miss you, dadi."

"Come back soon, dear," she said, her eyes full of love.

As we drove back home, I realized that while I might be the middle child, caught between the demands of my siblings and the expectations of my parents, I was also the bridge that connected our family. And in that role, there was a unique strength and purpose.

The car ride was quieter, the earlier tensions dissipated. Zaid and Zanya seemed to have found a temporary truce, and even my parents were chatting softly, the stress of the day melting away. Maybe things were starting to change, and maybe, just maybe, I could navigate this complicated world with a bit more grace and understanding.

For now, I was content. Content to be with my family, to cherish these moments, and to look forward to the future with hope. As we pulled into our driveway, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew I had the strength to face them and a family that, despite its flaws, would always have my back.