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Mehwish's POV
It's been a great week at college since I met Fahimuddin. He is benevolent, selfless, and altruistic, declining the fact that he lived in London. I mean we don't find such people in London or do we? Well, I never thought "London wale" were this generous.
I have often heard from my parent's mouth saying that those who live in abroad are pretentious and more like moderate Muslims. Fahim is nowhere to the definition my father spelled of London Muslims.
Considering the fact that he was struck by a traumatizing incident, it's difficult for him to cope up with life here, but no wonders he had done that successfully.
The first time I heard about his father's demise, the first person who roved through my brain was my brother Azmat. Every time I see him, my heart gets broken into many pieces. Seeing him in that condition is certainly dreadful.
While narrating about the incident, he had sorrow in his eyes but this was also followed by frustration. Maybe because his father was murdered. But didn't got justice.
I had always blamed the system of India that it delays in providing justice to the innocents. But I was wrong. It happens in every part of the world, not just in India.
Just weeks of interaction with this new guy and I have explored a lot about life and myself. I have never visited any place except for Ajmer and roaming the streets of Hyderabad. I was 10 when my father took me to the Khwaja ki Dargah (shrine). Since then, I am not much allowed to travel to far-off places. Maybe that's why I fear new people and places.
Fahim has become a good friend of mine and of course Shanti. We bunk lectures oops! Eat together, study together....more like have fun together. It's good to become a group of three from two. Though I never wanted a guy to enter my life soulless life, but here I am.
"Here is your ice cream." A voice jerks me off from my thoughts. I hungrily eye at the Belgium chocolate chip wrapped in his fist.
"Oh my god!!! Ye toh mera favorite flavor hai" (this is my favorite flavor)," I stood up cornering my eye to grab the cone from his hand but he steps back and lets out a smirk.
"Yes, your favorite mehru." He softens his voice.
"Don't call me by that name." I let out a frowning face, blowing my cheeks.
"Well...Mehru...mehru....mehru-" He blithers. This has become a habit of his as he knows I get annoyed. Why boys are so annoying?
"No!!! Shush." I squint my eyes and pinches Fahim on his hand.
"Owww....that hurts." He pretends to wince in pain which lodges a smile on my innocent face.
"It should." I sniggle.
I wildly grab the ice cream from his hand. He simply eyes it lustfully. Am I going to give it to him? No way.
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That day was extremely exhausting and another drama was waiting for me at the house. Boom! Once I reached home, I was encountered with a shocking announcement that a family is coming to see me for marriage.
I had informed my father already about my perspective of marriage. I wanted to complete my studies first and then think about marriage and its aftermaths. But seems like they were bent to get rid of their responsibilities.
Me.
I was not concerned about myself but my brother, Azmat, who is going through a tough time in his life. I promised to support him by all means. But once I get married , who is going to take care of him?
My parents won't. They will send him to an orphanage. My father already considers him to be a burden, of course including me.
There were so many thoughts traversing through my brain upon hearing the drastic news. My eyes got welled up reasoning about it.
A knock was heard on the hardwood of my door which was slightly open enough for one's eyes to peek into the room.
It was my mother. She asked me to get arrayed as the groom's family would be arriving any moment.
I nodded to her statement. She wrapped in her arms.
"I know you don't want it but you have to. I am helpless in front of your father's demands." She said cupping my cheeks.
I had to dress up myself as no one was there to help me. I didn't want to meet him but I was left with no option.
I thought of saying no to the proposal or misbehave in front of them but all of my plans were useless. I can't let my parents get humiliated otherwise they won't even ask my approval before getting me wedded off.
I had the only option that the groom's family would refuse upon seeing me.
To leave an awful impression on the groom's family, I clothed in a nasty way. I wore a leafy silk suit with no jewelry and no makeup. I dressed as modest as I should with the assumption that they would reject me on the first glimpse itself.
My parents eyed me constantly seeing me dressed in that way. Abbu looked extremely furious on this sight. I faked a smile and sat beside the groom.
I was asked questions on cooking and handling the household chores. My father didn't let me utter a word as he answered every question of the aunty.
While serving the tea, I took a quick glance at the groom. He looked a bit old but that wasn't odd. My parents too had an age gap of 20 years. He wore a loose amber shirt with black pants. I could say he had no fashion sense.
He had an intensely serious countenance. I didn't get any good vibes from him, honestly. He was no less than a pervert-looking guy.
I composed myself but my face displayed disgust.
The day had not yet ended and my mother broke another bad news cracking my eardrums.
I WAS ACCEPTED AT THE FIRST SIGHT. MY MARRIAGE GOT FIXED WITH HIM.
Nothing could be more remorseful than to hear those words. I already loathed Jamal. How will I survive for my whole life?
