TAWAKKUL

4. A Decision

Ever heard or seen any bride writing a diary on her wedding night sitting on a bed decorated with roses, while her husband lay on a couch.

I am that bride. It's definitely a night, a wedding night, much different than the other normal nights. The worst night of my life.

My ever so handsome and smart husband, used to be my crush once upon a time.

I still remember the first time I heard his name in class. Studying in a Hindu majority country that India is, it was normal to have a minimal of Muslim students in class.

It was my first day at medical college. All the students were called to the dissection hall. Groups were being formed. Our teacher began calling out names and that is when I heard his name "Azlan Hussain". I turned to see who this person was but I couldn't. I was curious. But I couldn't see his face.

Later at the bookstore while buying books, I saw a good looking guy trying to interact with one of my classmates. Basically faking a conversation to make a friendship move or whatever move he intended. The only thing that crossed my mind at that time was, what an 'opportunist' guy he is.

At that moment someone called out his name. He was Azlan. Azlan Hussain, who I wished to see a while ago.

I was a tiny bit disappointed. I don't know what was going on in my mind, but something just pricked me seeing him with the other girl. And I began thinking, just because she seemed fashionable and pretty, he interacted with her. I felt so because I wasn't like that.

I was a very simple girl. Clad in a long loose gown, basically an abaya. A hijab always covered my hair. I never had any makeup on. My eyes were hidden by spectacles. There was nothing attractive a guy would find in me, when compared to all the fashionable girls around.

This was the punch I'd got on the first day.

Eventually we got introduced to each other. Me and Azlan. But that was even weird. He didn't talk to me directly for days and days.

And I was not a person to just start talking with a guy since I did my schooling in an all girls school. I was uncomfortable.

He spoke to every other girl in class. Except for me. And the day we actually started talking, it was because of a misunderstanding. Because he made fun of my name in class. My name, Tawakkul Aziz.

And I confronted him to know what actually happened. After that incident, we talked through messages. Quite often. We didn't talk much face to face. We didn't talk on the phone. But we chatted quite frankly.

I was happy. And soon I realised that I liked him. I had a crush on him. I didn't think I would, but I did.

And today, that same guy is with me. In the very same room, as my husband. Although there's a very huge gap between what I felt then and what I feel now. A gap of 11 years.

I never imagined my Qadr would bring me here. With him. Unhappily tied with him. Forcing myself to endure his presence.

He didn't have an ounce of shame when he presented me with his so-called marriage contract. Yea, I knew he didn't want to marry me. But I never expected him to do this.

"What contract?"

" Tawakkul, I won't beat around the bush. I didn't want to marry anyone . And you probably don't want to stay in a forced relation since you yourself confronted me. That is why, we'll file for a divorce after a gap of a few months."

"Divorce?"

" It's clear that since you married me even after knowing the truth, your family doesn't know it. And for sure you can't let them know anything now since it would be a disgrace. Same goes with my family. It's even worse here actually. I can't let my dad get a tiny bit of idea about it. Do you understand? "

He continued after a short pause.

" See Tawakkul, I don't want to force anything on you. But, we'll have to continue to act like everything's normal between us. At least until everyone forgets about the marriage thing. I would go back abroad after a few months. And you can find a job anywhere . You are such a successful neurosurgeon after all. Both of us will walk our own way. People around will think we're living with each other but in reality, we'll be happy with our own lives. It's just a matter of a few months. "

I should've quarreled maybe. Shouted at him. Asked him how he could do this to me. But I didn't say anything. I accepted what he was asking me to do. Why? Not because I was a weak or submissive woman.

But because I was tired. Devastated. So heartbroken. I couldn't say a word. There was such a sharp pain in my throat. Since I was trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill through the corner of my eyes. I didn't want to beg him. Or seem to be weak in front of him.

As per what my faith teaches me, I shouldn't give up on our marriage so easily. I should make an effort to make it work. I know.

He gave me a few months.

I shall play my part in the coming time. But with dignity. I won't lose my self respect for it. I've stood strong all my life. I'll stay strong now too.

He doesn't love me. He might never. But I won't lose myself in the process. I won't let him ruin my castle of dreams. He can't ruin it even. Because I don't build castles of glass that shatter with just a piece of stone.

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NOTE
Abaya: A loose-fitting full-length robe worn by some Muslim women.

Qadr : Means destiny in Arabic language.

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