Don't Remind Me

Chapter 40: The Inspiration

"Where's Sanam?" Razi fumed at me, knowing full well that I'd refused to divulge my mother's location and condition. 

"I'm here. And that's all you're getting for now." I retorted, waiting for the secret contact person to call us. 

Mama never expressly announced her condition to her employees, but it is obvious that they're aware that something isn't quite right with her. She is in the middle of a series of five surgeries that will hopefully eliminate the cancer from her body.

Despite my protests she refused to head back to England, choosing to get treated at a local cancer hospital. It was a nightmare, convincing the authorities to ensure her special privacy during treatments. No news of her disease has made it to the news yet. 

Not that our family needs more exposure, anyways. 

For that one blessed day in that hospital room, all of us were together. We laughed, cried, hugged a lot. 

Mama made Zaif sing his newest music, much to our collective surprise. 

Maria wanted to know why I was getting home-made food from Azaan Malik's mother. 

(I think I know why)

Mama wanted to know if Azaan had a decent job yet. 

(Err...)

Zaif wanted to know if Azaan still had 'That cool ear stud'. 

(Not that I'd seen)

Maria wanted to know if I had bashed his head with a blunt tool yet. 

(Unfortunately, no.)

We deliberately avoided talking about Musa, Cancer, and Khalid Hayat. 

We did talk about Zaif's failed marriage though. This was the second serious relationship he had ended in the past few years. The first was an engagement to the lead singer of a folk band. Apparently, she wasn't a fan of monogamous relationships, and my brother had little tolerance for cheating. 

He surprised us all during our last Eid visit, by marrying Aisha-a Sikh Indian living in the UAE. While we would never openly oppose his decision by criticizing his wife, (who seemed to be a very decent person), all of us were a little taken aback by this blatant defiance of Islamic values, which prohibit inter-faith marriages. 

The marriage lasted all of 4 months, during which both of them realized that they weren't suited for each other. Religious and cultural differences aside; both of them had very different personalities. She was almost neurotically neat and orderly, while my brother is a slob. She was a career-oriented doctor, while Zaif is a self-employed music producer who works whenever he feels like it. She wanted to help Zaif change his career paths, and my brother sees 'Help' as some sort of pity for his mild dyslexia. 

They parted on appropriately friendly terms with a quickie divorce. 

But I can tell that my brother is in one of his depressive phases. 

He hasn't made music in weeks, and that frustrates him. 

"Why ever would you come home, dumbass?" I pulled at his silky brown hair. Zaif and I share the lighter brown of our Dad's hair, while Maria has Mama's almost-reddish auburn mane. We're now so used to seeing Zaif in longer hair, that even Mama has stopped glaring at it, secretly plotting its demise.

We were alone in my hospital room, while Maria and Mama had gone home to catch up on their jet-lagged sleep.  

"That fart-brained Musa almost got you killed with his stupid press conference Laylee. And then Mama decided to head back home, while she was still on her pre-surgery meds. I just...I needed to see all of you." He breathed tiredly. "I'm tired of hiding away in Dubai like a privileged asshole. Enough is enough! After almost ten years, If he still wants to press charges, he is welcome to it. At this point, I'm willing to go to jail, if it means that I get to stay in Pakistan after I get out. I want to earn the life of a free man."