Chasing Heart

| Mani |

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*

Iman

I was here, in Lahore, to work in a team to help spread cardiac awareness in communities in Pakistan. While I had a passion for the project itself, the fact that I'd get triple my salary was another major reason for me to go ahead with this. Financially, we were not doing very well.

"Dr Iman Fawad Ali." Arhaan Mamu greeted me with a proud smile as he met me in the car porch of the Sheikh family home.

"Assalam Alaikum, Mamu!" I walked over to me, and he gave me a one-armed hug.

"Walaikum Assalam!" He said. "I'm so happy that you're here, Mani." 

I then hugged his wife, Nazia Mumani. "How are you all?"

"Alhumdulillah, all well." She gave me her usual kind smile.

"Imannnn!" 

I glanced past my elder Mamu and his wife and saw their youngest child, Amara, running towards me. "Hey, Amy."

She threw her arms around me. "I'm so glad to see you, yaar. Ismael Bhai is up north with his family, Ibbi Bhai is still in London, and Noor and Billu are busy with the business, and Armaan is annoying anyway. I'll finally have company!"

"I wish I had enough time to catch up with you guys, but the work schedule is pretty tight, I'm afraid." I hugged her back.

"Oh, come on, Mani." Amara looked disappointed.

"How's Taif?" Arhaan Mamu asked as Ahad Mamu brought my luggage inside.

"He's good, Alhumdulillah." I replied.

"Iman, would you like to have something to eat, or do you want to rest first?" Nazia Mumani asked.

"I'd rather rest first, Mumani. I'm tired."

"Of course, sweetheart." 

"Ahad, we have prepared Jasmina's room for her. Take her luggage there." Zoya Mumani told Ahad Mamu.

"I'll help." I grabbed my smaller bag.

"Leave it, Mani." Arhaan Mamu took it from me. "We'll take it." 

I smiled, a warm feeling engulfing me as I watched the uncles take my luggage. It wasn't about who did what for me; it was about how I was being pampered already. It felt good, much needed.

*

Mama's room was still taken care of, as if she was still a regular visitor here. It was obvious how much my Mamus and their families cared about her enough to take care of her room, even though she hadn't lived here in decades. 

I loved coming in here. I loved finding things from when she was unmarried Jasmina Sheikh. In many ways, her things from her pre-marital life reminded me of Hania Appi. The soft, pastel colours of clothing, the jhumka earrings, the books and notepads; if I hadn't known any better, I would have questioned whether these items belonged to my Mama or my sister.

I had just showered, and changed into casual grey trousers an a white long-sleeved shirt,  when there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

"I'd need you to open the door, Mani." Nazia Mumani's voice came from the other side.

I immediately walked over and opened it. "Mumani..."

She was carrying a tray which contained a plate of club sandwiches, and a can of Mirinda orange, my favourite. There was also a slice of brownie on a separate plate. She walked in and set the tray on the coffee table by the sofa. "Zoya made the brownies. Her desserts, as you remember, are exceptional."