Written In The Stars

Meet the In-Laws

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Anaya

We were sitting in a rickshaw all crammed, our shopping resting at our feet. I sat squashed between Ammi and Hafsa Chachi, my feet aching like I'd just run a marathon. The smell of fumes from the heavy traffic around us made me cover my nose with the dupatta, as loud constant beeping of car horns gave me a minor headache. Welcome to the traffic of Lahore, ladies and gentlemen.

The rickshaw drivers are experts in weaving in and out through traffic, narrowly avoiding suddenly appearing cars like they've somehow been trained to do so.

"We can come back in a couple of days, and Sumbal can come with us." Chachi spoke, fanning herself with a hand-held fan that she had purchased for the ride home. She had known that we would get stuck in the traffic at this time, and that our house was far from the shopping area, so she had decided to buy it, in order to 'not die of heat', as I quote her.

"Do I have to?" I moaned. "I've literally bought everything that is needed for the Nikah. May Allah protect me when it comes to the actually rukhsati." 

Generally, the Nikah and rukhsati (bridal farewell) were done on the same day, preceded by the mehendi (henna ceremony) and followed by the Valima (wedding reception). However, my visa paperwork would be sent after the Nikah (Islamic marriage ceremony), along with the Nikah Nama (marriage certificate). As soon as the visa came through, my passport would be sent to me, and we will have the rukhsati and Valima, and I'll go to live in London with Faiz.

"This is only the beginning, beta." Ammi said. "You never know when the visa will come through, so instead of rushing then, we should start shopping for the wedding as well." 

"Ya Allah! The thought of a wedding makes you desi parents lose it, I swear." I shook my head.

"Let us live our dreams, Anaya." Chachi sighed, dreamily. "We love weddings, and the wedding of one of our own kids is a huge deal." She looked at me. "Your wedding is our last chance to pamper you. You'll then go off to pardes, and forget about us..." 

*Pardes: foreign country.

"Why are you adults so dramatic? Do you all take special Drama courses?" I asked.

They both laughed.

A posh looking car almost smashed against our rickshaw, from Ammi's side, but the rickshaw driver avoided it as narrowly as I avoided as heart attack from the near-accident.

"These rich people drive like their fathers own the roads." Chachi commented, looking irritated.

Faiz is rich. Does he drive like this? I bit my lip as I once again thought about him. I've often caught myself thinking about him randomly. For some reason a lyric from an OST of a Pakistani telefilm began to run through my mind, "Haule haule dil tera hogaya." 

*"Gradually my heart became yours." It's a good song, if you guys want to give it a try. The telefilm is also called 'Dil Tera Hogaya'.

Ya Allah! What am I thinking? My heart is mine, not anyone else's! 

I dozed off, leaning my head against Ammi's shoulder and was jolted awake when the rickshaw practically bounced over the uneven surface of the road near our house. The feeling of coming back home after a tiring day is one of the best feelings in the world. I couldn't wait to kick back and relax in my room. 

We got out of the rickshaw outside our house. We lived on a street with a narrow road, with houses lined up on either side of the road. On one hand, it was very safe here, surrounded by all these neighbours, but on the other hand, it was very noisy. Kids were playing cricket in the street, shouting and screaming under the streetlights, even though the sun had set a long time ago. There were voices and laughter floating out of the open windows of the neighbouring houses, as well as the aromas of various delicious food. Teenage boys were loitering around the end of the road, drinking soft drinks outside a small grocery shop, while middle aged men sat around on charpais outside a roadside café at the other end of the street, drinking tea. It felt like it was the middle of the day.