The Segment (Completed)

21. It's Fashion

"Assalamualaikum, Daddy," Farrah said as she slid into the back seat of her father's navy Jaguar XJ. She sank into the plush white leather interior and looked over at her father with a smile.

"Walaikumussalam bacche," he said in his soft-spoken manner that she was so used to. She kept looking at him, her eyes studying his weather worn face. His deep-set eyes, felt deeper to her today. The wrinkles on his forehead, around his eyes, seemed to have multiplied since the last time she saw him. Even his coarse curly hair and beard seemed whiter to her, almost neon in the stark wintry night.

"Kya dekhrahi ho? Baba ka budapha?" he asked with a smile, teasing her. (what are you looking at? Baba's old age?)

"...Nahi...woh, mein bas..." Farrah cleared her throat before continuing; "I've really missed you."

White eyebrows knotted together as Yousof Khan looked at his daughter, really looked at her. He'd always prided himself with having a great relationship with his daughter. He tried his best to be both, friend and teacher to his children after their mother's passing. And after Omar passed, he took on the role of a confidant to his one and only family.

"Bacche," he gently squeezed her hand, "Aapko yeh karni ki zaroorat nahi hai." (Child, you don't need to do this.)

"Kya Daddy?" she asked feeling unnerved. (What, Daddy?)

"This. Getting matched," he said, eyebrows still furrowed.

"Choti Khala ne aapko bataya?" she asked in a small voice, feeling like a child again. (Did Choti Khala tell you?)

"Haan." (Yes.)

Yousof watched as Farrah averted her glance and looked out the window. The hall where the Mehendi was taking place was still a good distance away. He looked at his knobbly and rough hand that was still holding Farrah's hand, he couldn't stop the smile on his face. He remembered the first time that he held her hand, when she was a small bundled up baby.

At that time, he couldn't bring himself to imagine her being an adult. And now, looking at her as an adult, the memories of her babyhood felt like a dream to Yousof. He would never change anything about her, she was perfect in his fatherly eyes. Although, he only wished for one thing, he wished he could remove all that sorrow she endured. Sure, it made her a stronger, but he often found himself wishing that she didn't need to be.

"I'm sorry, Daddy." Her soft voice brought him back to the present. "Kis liye bacche?" he asked, still studying her.

"Maine aapko nahi bataya," she said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not upset about that bacche, I just want to know why. Bas."

As her grip tightened on his hand, he gripped back reassuringly. He knew what she'd been through in the previous rounds of match making. The questions that they would ask her. It felt like they were demeaning her. Degrading her. Not just her, her upbringing as well. He shook his head. Bin Maa ki bachhi (A motherless child). That's what they called her; and it made his blood boil. She has a mother, but she was sick. And no one ever saw that.

Yousof would be lying if he said that it didn't matter who she married. It mattered. It mattered a great deal to him. He knew he wasn't getting any younger. And as any typical Pakistani parent, he worried about his only daughter, his only family. Yes, he would like her to marry a Pakistani man. Yes, he prayed for her to marry someone who will love her, cherish her, and keep her safe. More than anything he prayed for someone who will not only keep her happy, who'd also keep her content with her life. But if he had to choose between a Pakistani man and her happiness, it will always be her happiness. There simply wasn't a choice in his eyes. He'd lost so much already in this life, the last thing he'd ever want to do is lose his daughter.

"Maine socha ke akhiri bar...phir koshish kar lo," she said quietly. (I thought for the last time..I'd try again.)

"Akhiri bar?" he asked, raising a white eyebrow. "Koi aur hai?" (Last time? Is there someone else?)

He saw her hesitate, but he didn't comment on it when she answered him, "Nahi." (No.)

"What's his name?"

"Whom?"

"The boy you're meeting tonight?"

"Oh..ah," She quickly unlocked her phone and scrolled over to Choti Khala's messages, "Umm...Syafiq."

"Hmm...Syafiq," he sounded the name. "Do you know what the name Syafiq means, bacche?"

She looked at her father with wide eyes, her lips in a pout and shook her head.

"It means, loving."

"Really?" she asked lightly.

"Yes, you know what Farrah means?" he watched as he looked at her shaking her head, a small smile on her lips a slight twinkle in her eyes.

"Joy. It means joy," he said. "Jahaan bhi jaogi, khushiyaan lekar jaogi," he laid a light kiss on the back of her hand. (wherever you go, you'll bring along happiness.)

He knew instinctively, that she needed his support and strength behind her. Something was going on in her life and when she finally feels comfortable enough to share it with him, he will be there with all the love and support he could offer. He would never let down his only family.

It started, with giggles and then it became full blown laughter. He watched as his daughter's pensive mood dissolve between fits of giggles.

"Arre, kay hua? Maine kya kaha?" (What happened? What did I say?)

"Dad, first of all, you sound like a proper Bollywood cliché whenever you say that. Second your beard is pretty much a scouring pad stuck to your face! It's so rough!" She said in between giggles.

"What? It's fashion bacche," he said running his fingers through his beard and he smiled at Farrah. "Aab batao, aapka kaam kaise chalraha hai?" (now tell me, how is work?)

***

Oh a short chapter in the middle of the week, is something brewing in my twisted mind you ask? 

There might be, there just might be.

So now, we have a glimpse of Farrah's relationship with her good ol' Dad. Aren't they the sweetest??

Anyways, you know the drill guys. Vote, comment, & share.

Love to all of you and it's lights out for me. ZzzzZzzzZZz