Like Chalk And Cheese [Completed]

Words of Assent

All the men were home that morning - an unusual sight. Moreover, to make things look more abnormal, the reading room was locked from the inside. My destiny was being decided.

I noticed with a sting that Nimra didn't try to talk to me, and Wajiha was nowhere in sight. I went to my parents' room and waited there on the bed, with Ma beside me muttering prayers under her breath.

Finally, after what seemed like countless hours to me, Baba Jaan returned to the room. He walked in, closed the door, but wouldn't look at me.

I rose to my feet, staring at his drawn face with a clawing desperation. "Baba jaan, please."

"Go to your room." He said, his voice cold and flat as he took the steps towards the bed.

"Baba Jaan, please it wasn't me. Ba-"

With an unwavering and an aggrieved lilt to his voice, he cut me short. "For the last time, go to your room."

Sensitive to raised voices and contempt regarded at myself, I was unable to take it anymore, and henceforth, started to cry. "It wasn't me. I don't know Baba Ja-"

But I couldn't complete my protests, because he grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me to the door. Opening it - as I whimpered pathetically - he pushed me out and slammed the door shut on my face.

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Mama Jaan bought me food. I took a few bites, but then felt as if I may vomit so I pushed the tray away.

Baba Jaan hadn't told her anything about the meeting in the Reading Room, so Mama Jaan had no idea and looked as distressed as I was.

I didn't have the energy to talk to Mohib so I didn't pick his call.

---

I waited for night to take over, waited for Baba Jaan to come home so I could try to talk to him again. Every minute that passed brought gallons of dread with it, washing over my senses and trickling into my skin.

I was about to get up from the bed when Mama Jaan came in. I immediately noticed her drawn expression, swollen eyes - as if she'd been crying for hours.

Something was wrong.

I found my feet on the floor and took a step towards her.

"They're marrying you off. Now." She imparted, her tone grave, dripping with unsaid sorrow.

I thought I couldn't breathe. My insides jammed. I stared at her unblinkingly, moisture collecting in my eyes.

"He won't listen to me." She was nearing me, arms stretched out, ready to take me should I fall.

My mind struck just one name, like the hour hand of the clock jammed on the twelfth hour. "Mama Jaan, Mohib." I found myself saying.

"Do you trust Allah?" She was saying. She was coming towards me.

"Do you trust Him, Warda?" She raised her voice and placed her hands on my shoulder as she reached me.

I could barely nod.

"Do you trust your Baba Jaan?"

My eyes stung. Whatever could have I said to that?

"He won't let any harm come to you, no matter how angry he is at you."

The door to my room opened, and I saw Aunt Nazia saunter in, followed by all the other women of the family.

"Here, Maheen. I brought it." She said to Mama Jaan, offering her a fancy, silk red scarf. Mama Jaan took it, unfolded the cloth, and placed it over my head.

Tears pricked my eyes. "Mama Jaan, Mohib."

"Shh." She said, putting a finger on my lips. "Don't take his name ever again."

When I looked up, Baba was standing by the door. As he started to walk in, Mama Jaan and the Aunts moved away from me.

He came closer.

"If you'd refuse to the Nikah in front of the Molvi, Warda, remember that you'd find me dead by the morning."

I tried to peer in his eyes. "Baba Jaan, Mohib."

Something shifted on his face, but he turned and trudged away and was out through the door in a moment.

Mama Jaan made me sit on the bed, and perched down beside me. She moved her hand up and down my back as if I was either having complications in breathing or I was crying. But I was numb, unable to properly process my surroundings.

All the women remained standing in different corners of my room. Nobody said a word.

In a few heavy minutes, Baba Jaan came back. And this time, a Molvi accompanied him. My heart convulsed.

Baba Jaan stood beside him, who was asked to sit on the chair across the bed.

And then he was narrating.

"Warda Zaman binte Zaman Qasim, do you accept Hasan Abdullah bin Abdullah Obaid in your Nikah?"

I glanced at my mother, and then flicked my gaze to Baba Jaan, sending a silent implore that he fluidly ignored.

As an image of my dead father rose to my mind, I found myself pronouncing the words of assent.

The Molvi repeated the same question again, and I had to agree once again, tears spilling from my eyes.

And then I registered his name on the third try.

Hasan Abdullah bin Abdullah Obaid

Agha Hasan.

Baba Jaan was marrying me to Agha Hasan.

Do you trust your Baba Jaan? I heard her voice whisper at the back of my mind. No, Mama Jaan, I don't. I don't trust him.

As the last round of acceptance escaped my mouth, I had my eyes trained on Mama Jaan, who looked back at me with all the world's grief swimming in her eyes.

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