The Dawn Is On Us

C H A P T E R 2 0

T H E grains of time slipped through the hands a mile a minute. Leaving people little to no time to stop and breathe. Each second brought about the moment of seperation. Each minute that passed, made the dream seem a closer reality. Each hour, tears slipped through the eyes thinking about the pending move. Each day harder than the one that had already passed.

It was not uncommon of a daughter to leave her parents house and move away, with nothing but dreams to call her on. It was however, their first and only daughter, whom they would be sending off in a few of hours. It had initially seemed that the day would never come. After a while it looked as if there was still quite some time left. And now, as the husband and wife sat on their bed, looking at old pictures, they realised, no amount of time with them was enough.

Jahan-ara and Jamal sipped on their tea. The cup heavily saturated with sugar and filled to the brim. As their hearts clenched at the childhood photos of their precious Hoor.
"Jamal, aisa lagta hai kai abhi kaal humari shaadi huwi thi. Aaj apni Hoor ki doli sar par khadi hai. Waqt ka pata hi nahin chala!" Jahan-ara murmured, her throat clogged with tears.
"Haan begum. Pata nahin kab aur kaise humari Hoor itni bari hogai keh ab kisi ki biwi bannay jaa rahi hai," Jamal smiled, caressing a photo of Hoor's.
"Pata nahin Jamal. Shaid humne bohat jaldi kar di," the overly worried mother spoke.
"Aisa kuch nahin hai. Yeh sab Allah keh kaam hain. Hum kon hotay hain inhain apni marzi sai karne walay," Jamal soothed her nerves.

It was not a matter of their child being married way too early, infact it was the fact that they had never sent their daughter away. And now all of a sudden she was moving away forever. Atleast that is what Jamal thought. Inside Jahan-ara's heart, a feeling of dread was taking place as the day of Hoor's nikkah approached. She had been very excited at the start of it all and now, she had nothing but a feeling of dread.

Jahan-ara brushed her concerns aside. Or atleast tried to. She convinced herself that it was shaitan who was trying to make her feel like a villain eventhough marriage was the most celebrated bond. She recited the four qul's and blew them all over the house. Followed by Aayat-ul-Kursi, to protect their home from all evil spirits.

The night progressed slowly. The entire family was seated on the dinner table. Discussing the mehndi. It was an event that was all about dancing and cheering. They had decided to hold it privately in their own homes. Jamal was inquiring about the preparations.
"Ali beta lighton ka kia intezaam huwa?" Jamal caressed his brows.
"Ji abba mein nai jo gali ki nukar par Sarim sahab hain unsai maang li hain". Ali replied, causing Jamal to nod his head.

Next they went over the wedding list. It was small from their side. They had a few relatives who they did not meet due to a feud related to land that had occurred well over fifteen years ago. So they had a few neighbours and Jamal invited a few work colleagues.
"Abba woh daigun wala bhi khana time par pohancha dai ga". Ali informed him about the dinner.
"Chalo sahi. Aur Jahan-ara, larkay walun ki taraf sai Hoor keh kapray aagai?" Jamal turned his attention towards his wife. He seemed to have broken her trance, as she jolted on hearing his voice.
"Rehman sahab sai baat huwi thi. Woh keh rahay thay aaj Mustafa keh haatub bhijwa dein gai," she smiled at Hoor, who ducked her head, hiding the blush that was forming on her face.

Just then, the doorbell rang. The loud voice rang through their tiny household. Making them alert. It was very clear who it was.
"Jao Ali darwaza kholo. Mustafa sahab hon gai," Jamal ordered his son.
Ali nodded his head in compliance. Heading to the main door, smiling. He opened the door slowly. Trying to create suspense.
"Arrey bhai ab khol bhi lo!" Jamal shouted.
"Acha," Ali spoke.

Ali opened the door fully. And looked down. Seeing a well dressed Mustafa sitting on his wheelchair.
"Assalamualikum Mustafa sahab," Ali gritted through his teeth.
He may have been happy about his sisters wedding to a man like Rizwan, unfortunately he still resented Mustafa. He was a man who could have easily helped him out of debt, and when Ali had spread his hands infront of him, he had turned him away, heartless-ly.

"Waalikumassalam Ali," Mustafa smiled.
"Koi kaam tha?" Ali asked, arrogantly.
He knew why he was here. To give his sister her wedding outfits. And he knew it was highly disrespectful of him to not invite a guest in, but in-front of his ego, to Ali nothing mattered.
"Ji. Woh Rehman uncle nai, Hoor keh kapray bhijwai hain," Mustafa smiled.
Signalling a few servants to bring out the bags.

"Arrey Ali, Mustafa sahab ko andar le aao," Jahan-ara shouted.
She hid her anger at Ali, it was highly disrespectful of him to not invite a guest in.
"Ji ammi," he shouted, turning towards Mustafa, "Mustafa sahab andar aajain," Ali opened the door for him.
"Nahin mujhe kaam hai. Aap yeh saman rakhwa lein," he replied.
Mustafa was not blind. He would not be dumb to enter a home where he was not respected.

The servants rushed into their home and placed all the bags on the day bed. Leaving as soon as they came. Ali closed the door, and headed into his bedroom.
"Ali wahin ruk jao!" Jahan-ara stopped him.
"Ji ammi?" Ali turned on his heel, acting innocent.
"Yeh jo tumne tamasha lagaya hai na. Sab samajh aati hai. Kia mein jaan sakti hun keh kis basis par tumne yeh harkat ki?" Jahan-ara asked, at the end of her wits.
"Mujhe-"
"ALI TUM BACHAY NAHIN HO. MUSTAFA SAHAB KI KOI ZIMMEDARI NAHI TUMHARAY KARZ UTARNAY KI! SAMJHAY!" Jamal shouted at his son.
Ali turned away from them, ignoring their shouts.

The next morning, the day of the mehndi arrived. Hoor woke up in her bed due to the sunlight pouring in. It was an unexpected change of weather. The past few days, Lahore had been wrapped in a blanket of thick fog. And today out of nowhere, the sun had come out. Hoor sat up straight. Looking at the packed suitcases that sat in the corner of her room. Her eyes spanned the entire length of her room. Observing each and every nook of it. Trying to embed it into memory.

In her mind, Hoor knew that she would not be coming back to this place for a while. She knew, anytime she would visit now, it would be like a guest. She would be expected to go back. And this room of hers would be left empty. Hoor wiped the tears that fell out of her eyes. Wrapping a thick shawl around herself, Hoot stepped out. Only to hear commotion.

"Arrey idhr nahin. Thodi side par!" Jamal was shouting.
It seemed that the young men of their neighbourhood had come to set up the place for wedding. They may have been poor, but one quality she admired was that everybody stepped up when someone was getting married. They would lend things to each other and the young men would help the family in getting things ready and to look after the guests.

It was going to be a hectic day. And Hoor had no idea how to feel about it. So she prayed to Allah. Praying for her happiness and peace of mind. She opened her eyelids. Ready to face the challenges of being a bride.

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