MAQAAM - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Rahil was the only son of Rehaan Sohail and Afreen, a couple who married young out of love and leaving their small village to make a life for themselves in the city of Hyderabad. While Rehaan had climbed his way to general manager of a pharmaceutical company, Afreen had taken up the responsibilities of making their flat a home. A year into their marriage, Rahil had joined their paradise. They never wished for another child. They were satisfied with the small world they had created for them.
Before, they were offered residence from their company but with the years that passed, his parents realized their dream of purchasing a small apartment for their family. Her mother had decorated every inch of their current home over the years. From the balcony filled with vegetable and medicinal plants to the living room wall which was laced with every milestone they had attained together over the past 31 years. Their Nikah, her pregnancy, bringing small Rahil into their home, his first step, the first day of school, Rehaan's promotions over the years, Rahil's days in annual functions and sports days, his college days, all this and all that.
This wall had everything one should know, if one spared enough time going over the ice cream stick frames, he would know all their lives.
They had a happy trio. With some extended families thrown around, their life was a beautiful blend that the outer world would term as picture perfect. But only a few know the transformation of Afreen from a housewife to a school teacher. She had late-night study sessions with her son when he studied for his boards and she took exams to attain a B. ed degree. They could see them smiling in those pictures but only a few knew the fight they took over when Rehaan was diagnosed with third-stage blood cancer. With each frame that was added over the years, there were more smiles but none would see the tear-laden eyes of his parents, the reducing curve of Rahil's smile.
The day his father had lived his last breath, Afreen did not only lose her husband. Rahil lost his shield too, making the 21-year-old build a ginormous wall to hide his emotions from this world. He had changed a lot over the years, the invisible wall now could be felt from 100 meters away.
While Afreen took over more household responsibilities, Rahil decided never to enter the employment market. He had to build something of his own, seeing his father work dedicatedly for a company that couldn't even cover medical expenses had made him bitter towards the corporates.
Taking engineering as his base course, he completed his graduation while working for developers and creators followed by a master's to strengthen his knowledge in upcoming technological advancements. Now, having an on-ground experience of 7 years in building health-tech platforms, he had dived into Artificial intelligence to build his own genesis that could change a little something in the world.
A micro change but good enough to affect this world.
His world.
His mother, family, friends, and now Inara.
She stepped inside his home of two decades with a curiosity and repugnance to his presence.
Not that he did anything like worthy.
She had ignored his pleading eyes, his attempt to open her door (she slid out from the other side), and then his attempt to talk before the flight of stairs could end.
Afreen had passed him disappointed glares when the woman had no idea what had transpired between the couple, but his failed attempts to get her to look at him were proof enough of how he had messed up.
Rahil sighed with tired shoulders. They had had a long day already, why did he have to say those words to her?
"She is hurt." Irfaan piped from the sidelines, looking pensively towards the young girl who had breathed into his world for not more than 24 hours but had created havoc in his organized plans.
"Tell me something I don't know." He quipped unlocking his watch and pocketing it. The mere accessory felt useless to him. "Why would you want me to wear this to see time when I can always use a handy for it?"
"That is a pretty tech term for a Mobile phone." Irfan rolled his eyes. "Khala, can we have some tea?"
"Have it in your home," Rahil replied on his mother's behalf. "My mother is not your poison supplier."
"Don't, Rahil." Afreen chastised him.
"But she is my favorite Khala." His all-time reason wouldn't work today.
"I am your only Khala." Afreen laughed at his sweet boy smile.
"She is tired and we are out of milk," Rahil stated catching Inara's eyes. She was tired as well.
"Lucky you. I was craving black tea today." Irfan shot him a wining smile trudging towards the sofa and falling on it.
"Get out, man!" Rahil groaned aggravated earning a chastising glare from Afreen shutting him up.
"Behave, Rahil." She reminded him. "I will make tea for all of us."
"Not me, Ammi," Inara interjected, her lips turning down apologetically. "I wanted to rest if you do not mind."
"Of course, Bacche." She cupped her face with her motherly smile. "Come I will show you my room."
"Your room?" He straightened abruptly. "She is living in mine, no?"
"I think I will go home and sleep too." For the love of God, Irfan took a hint and was out of the door before anyone could protest.
"Look I have meaning to talk about this." Afreen's lips turned into a curve that was a sign of uncertainty. "Would you two take a seat?"
His knees bounced at the silence that followed, Inara chose the other single-seater couch and both faced each other yet did not. Her eyes stayed at his mother who sat in between looking troubled with her words.
"What is it, Ammi?" He was getting impatient.
"I know the circumstances you both were married in." She started. "And I am not someone who would ignore that elephant in the room. I would understand if you two would like to settle on a living arrangement until you actually get to know each other. I do not want to burden you, Inara. You are free to decide if you wish to live with me."
After his words on their way back, that is what she would be choosing. He tortured his lower lip. What may have happened, he couldn't be dumping another bother to his mother to bear for him. Her mother had a right to live with comfort. This apartment wasn't luxurious, yet the difference between the size of the rooms between him and his mother was visible.
When he had agreed to marry, she had offered to pack out of this place to take a bigger place. If he had been married to Iram, that suggestion would have had to be seen through a few months down the line.
He wasn't sure about Inara anymore.
"You can make a choice, Inara. I wouldn't put it on your head nor I would force you to share space with my son just because you are married to him. I know how hard it is for a girl. If you were promised to each other before, I guess you have made up your mind to share a room with him but seeing the circumstances, I understand your worries."
"Ammi," She licked her lips looking for a reply, deep in thinking.
"I am not old-fashioned, Inara. You can tell me what you want and I will make it happen for you. You married my son, that means you are my daughter too." Afreen squeezed her fidgeting palms "You can tell me anything."
Gnashing his gums, he waited for her to speak. He wanted to see her look at him and somehow read his face. How he wishes he could have breached this topic before with her.
In a brief second, her eyes met his and his heart jumped up to think the conviction in her eyes. Her mind was made and he could do nothing to change it.
"Thank you, Ammi." She blinked back a sheen of tears that he had witnessed not long before, making him feel like a prick. "I...I don't have words to express how lucky I feel to have you here."
"Like I said, you are my daughter now, Inara. You can live with me."
She nodded with a clearing of her throat. "I think I would like to give a chance to this marriage, Ammi. We did start things in less than acknowledgeable terms but it is what it is. I am married and I would like to respect it. But, thank you. You gave me an offer and I am happy I will have you to come back if ever disrespected in this marriage."
Her eyes met his. Her words were well received by him, well heard, and would be well remembered.
"You will always have me, bacche." Afreen grinned for Inara to smile back. "Come, I will show you yours and Rahil's room. You can also kick him out if he ever irritates you."
The two ladies shared a good chuckle while his shoulders slumped in relief.
"Rahil, bring her back to your room."
He nodded at the instruction. Hurrying on his feet, he rolled her bags afraid she could change her mind if he delayed.
While Inara watched the room with his mother, he placed the two trolley backs near the bed for her ease. This room was remolded over the years and he had grown out of his previous room.
His old bean bags, gaming consoles, academic books, wall posters, and single bed were replaced with woolen rugs, a double bed, some wall art, and a lighter shade of cream. His books were now hand-picked and arranged above the desk shelf which was the only piece of furniture to be kept back. His dark curtains were replaced by a layer of printed white netted ones that covered the iron rod windows that overlooked the community park. They were the ones he had used to send signals and calls to his friends for football matches in his teen years, now they were the ones that he used to stare out and sip his morning teas.
Some flower pots were thrown around and a few frames of symmetrical art covered the corners and walls respectively, making it personal yet empty to be filled in the future.
"Do you like it?" His mother asked her excitedly. Her inner interior designer wanted more praises to live and grow.
"It is refreshing," Inara mumbled with a soft smile, her eyes lingering on his desk and vanity where he had placed his framed memories. "Beautiful indeed."
"You like it." Afreen clapped cheerfully reaching a conclusion.
"Please take some rest now, Ammi." He said from his place near the bathroom door. "It has been a long day for you. Tiring too."
He added with his eyes lingering on Inara who averted her gaze from him.
"Is now the time to act like a mother-in-law?" Afreen mused silently, making the couple frown.
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged with a secretive smile. "I will leave you two alone and get some much-needed sleep."
"You should." He quipped not thinking much of her words. She was habitual to talking to herself and he had overcome the sense of curiosity he often incurred.
She nodded, reaching the door she called him. "Though I am not that old, but I wouldn't mind grandkids that much."
Leaving him gaping behind, she sprinted out with a teasing smile. He rolled his eyes at her antics and turned to look at his new wife who tried to hide her flaming cheeks.
He watched her try lifting the heavy suitcase, groaning as her dupatta fell on her palms and came in between her vision.
"May I?" He offered walking towards her only for her to scoff. She dropped the bag with a thud and squatted to open it on the ground itself.
He shook his head at her anger towards him. Not that he didn't deserve it.
"I am sorry, Inara." He had been meaning to say the words from the second his brain came back to thinking, for seconds that he had lost his composure he had made a grave mistake. "I was angry and I said things I didn't mean. I never meant them."
Without responding to him, she collected a change of clothes, towels, and a bag of what he could guess were her cosmetics. Zipping the bag, she was ready to lift it back but he was quick to hold it from her.
"I am talking to you, Inara." He could hear her grinding her molars.
She dropped the suitcase without giving him a second to hold it tighter, it landed back on the floor and this time on his foot included.
"Ouch." He winced at the sudden weight. Though cladded in his shoes, the bag plummeted his toes leaving him hopping on his other one.
"I am sorry." She was quick to hold back the bag dropping her belongings on the bed in reflex. Her dupatta slid down her head and those black locks covered her wide eyes. "I didn't...I didn't mean to hurt you."
"So did I." He confessed to her, eyes holding hers and letting his intentions seep along with his guilt. "I apologize, Inara. I really do."
"Fine." She mumbled averting her eyes, giving him something to hold on to. As if shaking her head to erase her admonishes, she turned back to him. "Do you want to sit down?"
"Yeah." Grimacing, he hopped towards the end of the bed and sat. He removed his shoes and gritted his teeth as moving his fingers was a task. They had turned red but no visible wounds.
"Does it still hurt?" She asked with a frown watching him biting his gums to stop wincing.
With hunched shoulders, she agreed and gathered her things again to get inside the washroom. He exhaled a deep sigh as he gently massaged a pain reliever spray on his foot. Placing it back in the second drawer on his side table, he closed his eyes while waiting for her to come back.
"Rahil." Her soft voice broke his small nap, "You can change."
He blinked to see her in a simple set of another suit blended with plain white and blue color. Her hairs were pinned back and her dupatta was tied around her head in a way one wears it while offering prayers.
He glanced at the side to find her Jahan namaz kept neatly folded on the ground.
"How long was I asleep?" He asked clearing his throat.
"There is still an hour for Isha to pass." She informed him thinking he was enquiring about his prayers.
He hummed standing up.
"Should I wait for you for prayers?" She asked softly following his eyes towards the mattress and back at her.
"No." He quipped with certainty, not wanting to see her disappointed face. "You can continue."
"You won't pray?" Her voice halted him at the washroom door. He knew his answer would give rise to many questions but decided nonetheless to answer her.
"I don't." He stated stoically. "I am not a practicing Muslim. It would be better if we do not discuss this again."
Slamming the door shut, he inhaled a breath feeling bad for the first time in the past decade. He had stopped believing in Allah a long time before when his ever so faithful and Allah-wale father was left on a hospital bed fighting for life.
This almighty did not save the people who believed in him, but those who did all the sins and still refused to acknowledge his presence. No, he didn't test his beloved people. He left them alone to suffer after being preached by them for years and years.
Changing into a pair of t-shirts and sweatpants, he stood contemplating their sleeping arrangements. Between staring at his bed and her, he pursed his lips finding the right words.
There wasn't a couch, nor enough space around for one to sleep and not get into another's way. Unaware of her sleeping schedule, he was ready to offer to sleep below. He would wake before to leave for work early but what if she has to offer her morning prayers?
He may not believe in the creator but she did, and knowing the conviction with which she offered sajdah this moment had her believe in her faith. She was raised to be a practicing Muslim and he wouldn't want her to change a thing for him.
His eyes drifted towards her form, watching her shoulders shake ever so softly in her prayer. Was she crying?
Feeling like an intruder, he looked away from her private moment with her lord. Unmoving, he stood in his place to not disturb her walking around. Curios to what she was so upset about, yet caring about her privacy he pushed asking about it.
"Why are you standing there?"
He snapped out of his staring session with her jahan namaz, he blinked to get back the clarity in his vision as he looked at her face. It was bare, flushed with crying, and eyes still glassy. His eyes met hers, avoiding to ask her a question that would not be comfortable for her, he watched her avert her eyes and fold her prayer mat keeping it securely on her vanity chair.
"I had made space for your clothes in the closet." Rahil wanted her to turn back but she only nodded still fidgeting with unwrapping her shawl. "But do it after tomorrow. Take some rest."
Saying he walked towards his desk and fetched his laptop.
"You are going to work?" Her eyes followed his movements.
He hummed softly. "You can sleep. I will work in the hall."
"Rukiye." Inara's soft feet padded towards him, or was it a bed? "Mujhe neend nahi aarahi hain. You can work here. I will read something until then."
He nodded and turned to face her. She was nervous, the confident girl he had met that day seemed to have backtracked leaving a nervous 24-year-old, staring at him confused.
"Thank you for choosing this room." Her beady eyes stared at him and something changed in her, now what? "I know this place is not that grand like your parents..."
"Are you going to keep talking than work?" Her genuine attempt to make him stop begrudging his childhood home made him almost smile. "I will take the right side if you don't mind?"
He preferred left.
His lack of reply made her shrug out of her dupatta and it dropped on her shoulders, still securing her petite frame. She plopped on his bed like she owned it and it made him smirk in amusement.
"Apna hi ghar samjho." He commented to rile her. (Think it to be yours only.)
"Aapko itna uncomfortable dekh ke lagto esa hi raha hain." She shot back with a tilt of her lips. "Mujhe nahi pata tha aap itne talented hai."
"Matlab?" He mused with a frown.
"Using a laptop in the air is a skill itself." That saccharine smile was annoying.
"Itna talented nahi hain tumhara shouhar." He rolled his eyes at her attempt of jest and took his side, shutting her mouth. He felt her stiffen for the first minute but later relaxing as he got comfortable.
Pushing his glasses up, he booted the device and she fished a book from the collection making him stare at her.
"I am not going to steal it." She scoffed at his protectiveness at his things. "I will read and keep it back. Now stop glaring at me."
They silently sat side by side, her deeply engrossed in her book with knees pulled together and supporting the handbook for marketers he had tried reading once. Being an entrepreneur, he needed to know all aspects of business, coding could take him only some distance.
He had needed serious help in marketing and brand placement to grow, an aspect he had been struggling with for some months now. Tight on budget and fewer resources had bound him on to work without an expert, some interns who were new to the industry and ready to learn without a good enough stipend were all he had in the name of a marketing team.
"Your staring won't let me focus." She placed the book down and met his gaze head-on. Instead of averting his eyes, he oscillated between her face and the book title.
"I have understood nothing from that one." A confession he had made only to himself in these months now had another person in it. "How does one differentiate between buttering a customer and marketing? Both are so relative."
"You...you think marketing is buttering a customer?" She asked in disbelief, sitting cross-legged and facing him with as if offended by his words.
He shrugged passing a glare to that book. "What is more there? It is like begging and buttering people but on a greater scale."
"Wait! This is going to be serious." She raised her palm and looked aggravated now. "You think marketers beg people?"
"What do they do more?"
"Ya Allah!" Her eyes widened like a doll, now pissed at his beliefs. "You think I beg in my job?"
Oh! "You work in marketing?" He didn't realize he was diving headfirst into the lion's den.
"Yes!" She declared. "Did you not know before? Or you are acting now to avoid my wrath. You, Rahil Sohail, just offended my profession."
"I had no idea." Happy late realization, Rahil. He mentally smothered him harshly with back pats. What a way to pass his wedding night.
"We are not beggars." She stated with finality.
"Okay."
"You don't believe me." She scowled as he frowned and shook his head. He said nothing but okay. Didn't he? "We help you get the desired recognition. We do not butter people. There is no begging but a smart ploy to attract customers. If you think you can run a company and insult marketing, you are in for trouble, Mr. Sohail."
How she was still sitting glaring at him instead of standing and pacing the lengths of the room huffing was a mystery. She was panting like a she-wolf ready to eat her prey.
"I bring attraction to business, not beg for attention. Do you understand? I do not butter them as you put it."
"Of course, you do not." He was ready to agree with her if she said he was a citizen of America at this point.
"Are you being sarcastic with me?" She was on her knees challenging him, hands on hips, and trying to intimidate him. "Don't even try. I have thousands more arguments to prove you wrong. Marketing is an art. So much, much, more than what you think."
"I am sorry." He raised his hands in surrender. "Frankly speaking, I have no idea about it. I am an engineer you see; I know nothing about that."
"That's the lamest excuse I have heard." She snorted distastefully, blowing her hair flicks back. "You know what, I will prove it to you. Close that dabba of yours and let me explain more."
"Now?" He mused, glancing at his unsaved work and the wall clock behind her.
"No, after a hundred years."
"No, I mean I could learn some basics." He shrugged taking the opportunity. "But how about we start from tomorrow? Let me complete this piece and then you can help me explain your thousand reasons, one each day with some basic terms so I can change my mind. What say?"
"Fine." She announced huffing. "I will make you consider us marketers as God in the next few days."
Not that he believed in one but saying it loud out could result in another argument he wanted to delay. He had to show this coded part to his investors in a week.
She went back to her book grumbling and cajoling it as if his words had hurt its emotions, something that looked very amusing to him.
"When do you start work?" He asked as he saved his file and glanced at her.
Her eyes had started drooping yet like a stubborn kid, she kept turning pages muffling her yawns. With sleepy eyes, she looked up at his question and he repeated it for her.
"In 2 days. I took leave for 5 days for Nikah." Another yawn and he pulled the book away from her. "Hey!"
"Sleep." He answered her protest, placing his laptop and book beside each other on his desk, he switched the lights and heard her shuffling into bed.
She dropped her dupatta on the rug below and faced the other side snuggling into the comforter. Thinking it to be uncomfortable to share one, he fetched another one for himself and settled on his side.
"You can have it all." He mumbled to her and her sleepy eyes smiled as she created a fort out of all-her-now blanket. "Goodnight, Inara."
She hummed, mumbling in the air for him. "Shabba Khair, Rahil."
Her words rang in his head, until the morning when the first rays hit his eyes, and snuggled into the pillow to hide from them, even then it was her giggles that made him blink and sigh as the morning went to its peak.
"Uthiye, Barkhurdar."
How did her voice change into his mother's? The curiosity got the best of him and he opened his eyes to find her in person.
"Ammi." He frowned, groaning with the lack of sleep because of his new wife he didn't wish to think about yet ended up doing the exact opposite. "5 minutes more."
"No. Not all." Afreen stated and pulled him up in a sitting position. "Bhala accha lagta hain shadi shuda bete ko uski maa utha rahi hain?"
"To mat uthao." His revolt earned him a smack on his back.
"Haan aur kya karun? Should I let you sleep when your in-laws will be here any minute? Get up, Rahil. Now!"
"Why are they coming here?" He asked grumpily.
"Tumhe national award dene aa rahe hain." Afreen shot make taunting him. "For, you have surpassed the limits of being oblivion as a newly married man. Aree uth jao kumbhkaran ke bhatije. Kya ab dhol bajwau tumhare liye?"
If not for his balance, she would have thrown him down the bed and dumped a bucket full of water creating a mess that he would only sit cleaning.
Not her words, but it was the laughter that pushed the remnants of sleep away from him.
Blinking he watched her leaning against the doorframe, dressed in another pair of Anarkali that snugged to her frame like a glove, clutching her stomach as the cackle passed her lips and resonated in the air like a melody.
"Badi hasi aa rahi hain?" He sat upright peeking behind his mother to point her with a look.
"Kyu? Aap tax lagayenge?" Her eyes locked with his, the mirth dancing in them was refreshing.
"Filhaal to Inara ke parents aane wale hain." Afreen huffed glaring at him, "Get up and get ready. I want you out in the next 10 minutes."
"Fine, Amma!" He gave up and rushed towards the bathroom door, stopping for a brief second to look at her again. She was still controlling her chuckles that made him shoot a repercussive glare although he meant anything but.
Taking a hurried shower, he dressed into a plain white button-down shirt and charcoal trousers pants with his grey sweater hung beside the vanity. Combing his hair, he stepped out to find the women of his house setting the table with six chairs.
Her royal blue Anarkali danced as she walked around, creating a shuffle of lightweight fabric that attracted him. He stopped behind her and leaned forward. Her hair was a tangled mess left to air dry as she carried the dupatta around her shoulders.
"Coffee milegi?" He mumbled in her hair, taking an inhale of the shampoo he had seen placed near his.
"Aap?" She jumped in surprise almost dropping the plates she carried to the table. Her doe eyes met his, wide. "You scared me."
"Dar bhi lagta hain aapko? Interesting." He hummed sneaking the plates out of her fingers. "I will do this if I get some coffee in return."
"You don't have to." Her protest met his tilted head, telling her to follow. "Fine. I will get you that poison. Sit."
Inara's annoyed eye roll made him bite back his chuckle. Setting the plates and spoons around, he fetched the bowls from the cabinet and placed them properly, next were the heat pads and forks. Once satisfied, he took his place on the table by the time she brought him a freshly brewed mug of his daily poison.
"Here."
"Thank you." He breathed into the drink and sighed, almost if not for her pursed lips taking in the table.
"You knew where Ammi keeps her silverware?" She sat on his adjacent seat.
"Why do you look surprised?" He sipped and ignored his chiming phone, giving her and this coffee his entire attention. They deserved it.
Taking a quick glance around, her eyes rested on him. "My Abbu and Bhai wouldn't even know where we keep our main door keys. Setting a table this perfectly is an abnormal expectation out of them. After years that I have been with them, I thought men do not know these details."
"Not all men." He piped raising his cup and watching her through the rim.
She nodded with another of her smile. "Yes, not all."