Tell me a story

The Vahati House

The red brick walls that lined the Vahati house were adorned with wild rose bushes. They scaled the high walls under the blazing sun, blooming roses here and there like rubies.

Adelia, who had never traveled past the borders of New York, shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the driver of the car pulled into the grand courtyard of the Vahati mansion. Next to her, Neel, her father, took a deep breath as he opened the car door.

"Ready?" He asked Adelia as he held his hand out for her.

"Ready," Adelia said as she took her father's hand and stepped out of the car and into the hot air of the desert.

Adelia had never met her father's family before. He had left the country after meeting her mother and falling in love. Neel's family refused to accept an westerner as their daughter in law. To save his family from shame, Neel moved to New York with Sara and started a new life.

But now, almost twenty four years later, Neel was back home. Sara had passed away from a car accident two years ago. Since then, he felt the need to connect with his family once more and show his daughter their culture.

Omar Vahati, Neel's father, stood under the tall palm tresses with his hands behind his back as he watched his son approach him. Adelia recognized him immediately from the many pictures Neel had shown her before their flight. His bushy white mustache curled up at the side in an impressive fashion as his dark eyes observed the visitors.

"Father," Neel said as he came to a stop in front of the old man.

"The winds of this house can travel very far," Omar said, lifting his nose up to the air as if he wanted to catch the scent of the wild roses. "But they always come back to this courtyard."

Neel gazed at his father for a while in silence, wondering if maybe he had made a mistake by coming back. It wasn't until Adelia cleared her throat next to him that he snapped out of his daze.

Neel ushered Adelia forward, "Father this is Adelia...... your granddaughter."

Omar tore his eyes away from the skies and looked down at the girl in front of him. Her hair was as dark as the coals that burned in the fire pits of his house. Her narrow face poked out from in between her waves to reveal a pair of sapphire blue eyes. Omar couldn't help but smile at the girl who, strangely, reminded him of his mother when she was younger.

"What do they call you?" Omar lowered his head slightly to hear the girl.

"Adelia....Adelia Vahati," Adelia said nervously. She had heard tales of her grandfather's anger from her father. He was a man of limited patience for anything or anyone. Everything in his household ran like the army he commanded for the country.

"Adelia," Omar said slowly. He placed a hand over his granddaughter's shoulders and turned her around to face the courtyard behind him. "Welcome home, Adelia Vahati."

Neel was stunned by the softness of his father's voice. He had never known him to be a gentle soft spoken man growing up. With his children Omar was always stern and cold. He spoke down to everyone as if they were all his soldiers.

Seeing him speaking to Adelia in a soft tone made Neel realize how much time had passed since he had seen his father. Omar was no longer the army general with dark hair and a stern frown on his face. He was now an old man with a potbelly and white hair. The wrinkles on his face were folds that told stories of his life like pages of a book.

"I am very happy you came with your father," Omar said to Adelia.

"I'm glad I came too," Adelia smiled as she walked alongside the old man. Her eyes scanned the courtyard as she took in the place.