MANAL

27. Jawaad

I took my eyes off my computer screen and reached for my vibrating phone on the desk. It had been for a while now, but due to how busy I was, I couldn't respond.

I wasn't surprised when I took a look at the caller ID and discovered it was mum calling. Ever since the last time she tried to play the role of a matchmaker, she had been on my neck, insisting I introduce her to the lady I was in love with and wanted to settle down with.

I reclined backwards in my swivel chair and massaged my forehead. Mum might not know it, but for the past few weeks, her action had been giving me the feeling of being oppressed. Though I understood her viewpoint, I felt suffocated. It seemed the only thing we recently talked about was marriage, marriage and marriage. I missed the times we spent together, talking about random stuff. I wish I could live the moment again, but knowing just how adamant mum could be, I knew it was not forthcoming—except I decide to get married of course.

"Jawaad?"

I was still engrossed in my thoughts, when I heard my name being called. At first I thought I was being delusional, until I sensed a figure hovering over me. I looked up to Muhammad, a colleague and friend of mine standing in front of me. I had barely known him for a year, but he had proven to be a loyal friend. He was the only person I could comfortably confide in, asides family. Plus, his advises are first-rate. It was an attribute of his that I liked the most. "When did you come in? I didn't notice."

"How could you?" He sneered and settled himself on one of the two visitor chairs on the opposite side of me. "You were obviously daydreaming about some pretty chick."

"Uhm uhm." I shook my head. "I was actually daydreaming about a lamb."

Muhammad narrowed his eyes at me. "Tell me honestly, is everything fine? You don't look good at all."

A surprising fact about Muhammad, was that he could read through my acts—a thing most people, including my family found difficult to do. Sometimes, I wondered if he was a psychologist, hiding beneath the shields of a businessman. "Same old news." I groaned. "My mum is seriously on my neck. She wants me married at all cost. She doesn't even care if I love someone or not. She just wants me to get married. It's draining, man."

Muhammad chuckled. "That's the nature of mothers. In my opinion, she's only looking out for you. It's only natural that she wants you to get married. I mean, she's your mother. It would be totally strange if she's never spoken to you about your marriage..." He paused for a second or so. "At this stage of your life. My mother was exactly like yours, if not worse. It came to a time she stopped talking to me completely. She made a vow not to, until I introduce her to the woman I love. I thought she was only being childish and that it would pass, but she shocked me by actually standing firm on her words. Thankfully, I already had someone in mind, though I didn't want to get married immediately, I had to." He gave a tight lipped smile. "And here I am today with two beautiful daughters already."

I smiled—not because I was transfixed by his story, but because he actually put his mother's desire above his. I also wanted to do that. I wished I could, but the problem was that I hadn't met someone I could vision forever with. And the last thing I wanted, was to get into a marriage of convenience. All I wanted, was to be able to get married to someone whom I truly loved—someone who loved me just as much.

"Come to think of it, it's really not a bad idea—at least, not as bad as you think. Marriage is a beautiful thing. Instead of causing yourself and your parents distress, why don't you just get married? You already have everything. There's no excuse you can give right now."

"Do you think I don't want to get marriage? Of course I want to, but just not now. Marriage is not just something I can rush into because people are doing it or because I'm being pressurized to. Yes, my mum wants me to get married to a certain girl—a girl I know absolutely nothing about. She doesn't know my likes, the things that piss me off easily. She knows nothing about me and yet I'm expected to get married to her. I'm going to be the one living with this girl, not my mother, not my father, not you or even anyone else, then why are you people telling this to me so easily? I feel suffocated. Really suffocated."