MAQAAM - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Inara paced the area of the kitchen, checking on the Idli she steamed on one stove and another where her sambhar brewed. She had been craving some South Indian breakfast for a while and had made Afreen step out taking over the kitchen for the breakfast today.
Not that the sweet lady she was blessed as her mother-in-law ever let her spend her mornings cooking as she hurried for office. Today being one such day, Afreen had assured her that she would cook her anything she craved but it wasn't only the dish she wanted.
Inara wanted to cook.
She had taken up cooking in her home later than Iram. While her twin was being trained as the ideal wedding material, Inara was getting her master's in Marketing and job searching before their father dropped this N-bomb.
In the 3 months that followed their alliance, Inara had gotten serious with cooking and learning dishes she enjoyed cooking. She feared that if she didn't like what was served to her, one should know enough to satisfy their hunger.
While brides shopped, Inara was busy taking a crash course in cooking.
So fast forward 3 months, and by the time of her Mehendi day, she had learned a maximum of her favorite dishes and some more to please her in-laws after marriage.
Not that she had to.
Her in-laws were great people who never once made her work in the kitchen, if not for her intruding Afreen's dinner preparation each day for 2 months of her marriage, she was sure she would have forgotten every little dish she had made so much effort to perfect.
9 weeks and 3 days later, it was her alone in this warzone battling vegetables, throwing spices as her weapons, and conspiring to take over the craving fort.
She laughed at her weird analogies but it soon faltered as she glanced at the clock and back at her phone which was yet to ring with a notification.
She was supposed to leave for the office in another hour lest she wanted to be right on the dot. It wasn't the time but it was the stupid cab service her office offered that seemed to have been ambushed by the local protestors. The public transport drivers were protesting the rise in fuel prices, making her anxious with a lack of travel means.
Why had they chosen a work day? Shouldn't be protesting on a Sunday for the government?
Why bother people like her who rely on public transport to reach their work? This wasn't an occasion she could ask for a leave as well. She had taken 8 days just for her wedding day and was tight on future leaves for the next 4 months in this calendar year.
"Tell me you have spoiled the sambhar and waiting for a delivery to replace it." Rahil's comment made her roll her eyes.
"I know how to cook." She reminded me for the tenth time in the past 24 hours that she had announced her special breakfast.
"I can hardly smell anything here." Why was he up so early? It was only some minutes past 6:30 that she had started preparing the meal.
In her excitement to cook, she dropped sleeping in after fajr and came straight here, along with the big frown she carried.
"You should visit an ENT in that case." Inara stirred her sambhar and breathed into the spicy aroma. "I can smell the brew and to your knowledge, it smells amazing."
"I should check myself." He crowded her space and leaned in to check the dish, humming as if thinking deeply after a proposal was presented to him that he had to approve. "Doesn't look bad."
"Bad? It will be the best you will ever eat." She goaded huffing, she cooked less but she made tasty food. Her family went crazy every time she cooked them a meal. Her father and brother used to eat until they were ready to pass out.
"I doubt that." He mused removing the lid from the Idli maker and poking one to check if it was cooked.
"I can do it myself." She protested as he switched the stove and swatted her hands away before she could touch the hot lid.
"Garam hai!" His eyes turned into slits as he chastised her. "And, I am helping so you can hurry. I need to drop you before I go to my place."
"Why will you drop me?" She asked placing her hands on her hips, pointing him with a look. "I didn't ask you to."
"To kya aap Doraemon ka anywhere door use karengi?" This man and his taunts, she groaned. (Will you be using Doraemon's anywhere door?)
"Of course, not." She stated scowling. "But I will manage. I am a big girl."
"I can see very well. Thank you for reminding me, Mrs. Sohail."
The reply she had thought was smacked back in her throat at his use of her married name. He had never called her that before today.
"You...you don't get to call me that." She mumbled averting her face, she could feel a flush on her neck and ears.
"How long before your sambhar is ready?" He asked filling another portion of batter in its molds, placing the trays with a steady hold, and closing the lid back.
"5 minutes?" She checked its consistency and took a spoon. Dipping a full, she blew on it and got ready to taste it when her wrist was held back, guided in another direction. "Rahil!"
He licked the spoon clean still holding her hand and tasting it as if he was a world-renowned chef. Making faces, closing eyes, and humming. "Bana to accha hain." (It is good.)
"Ese kon khata hain?" She glared at him, yanking her wrist from his hold and dumping the spoon in the sink. (Who eats like this?)
"I do." He declared shamelessly. "Do you want me to set the table while you call Ammi? Last I checked, she was reading the Quran in her room."
"Going." Huffing, she walked towards Afreen's room knowing Rahil was very capable of handling the kitchen, setting the table, and licking it clean at once. He was a perfect example of a man raised by a strong woman. Her husband knew how to cook more than she did.
The next morning of their reception, he had surprised her and Afreen cooking Aloo parathas and masala tea for breakfast before announcing his urgent meeting with an investor in Ooty.
Though a bribe for them, he did manage to impress her for cooking.
Their reception was an uneventful night. While Iram and she had shared the same stage, Rahil's annoyance towards the crowd of guests who came to greet them and took their own sweet time to pose with the two couples had kept her busy.
For the world, he was a man of few words. Keeping his face bare of emotions he felt or traded around, he had a lot to speak.
And he did speak to her. Giving a peek at his thoughts, providing actions that backed them, and never again meaning what he had said to her that one time.
As Afreen told her, he often lost his calm when angry. He was quick to get angry but equally fast to get back to room temperature. When he had returned from his short business trip, he waited for her to get home and apologize again, this time explaining his reasons. He promised to never disrespect her, that day he was trying to protect her dignity from all those lurking eyes to uphold his word. Maybe his way was incorrect and his words were hurting, but he wasn't wrong.
Now that Inara thinks back to their drive home, she realizes how stupid it was for her as a new bride to step out in the middle of nowhere.
She may have forgiven him for that day but not the night. He had called marketers as beggars and she made sure he was reminded each day. Giving him a hard time, she made him read and explain the marketing concepts until he was ready to drop dead.
Not that he complained. He had something to speak and question her each day which either riled her up or left her sulking. There was a planned debate each night she managed to win until now.
Not that she would be losing any time soon.
Knocking on the door, she opened it slightly and peeked inside to find Afreen looking up at her. Head wrapped, eyes covered in glasses, and Quran in hand. His mother was religious yet this son of her mother-in-law seemed to run away from the word 'Allah.'
"It is ready, Ammi." She earned a hum with an excited smile. "Me and Rahil will wait for you."
Closing her room door, Inara made her way to find him balance cutleries with one hand while fetching mats with the other.
Shaking her head, she gently nudged him away and took hold of the mats. "Don't drop them."
"Doing that for years now." He declared smugly.
"Doing that for years now." She mumbled to herself mimicking his voice, or try doing it. There was no way she could put that depth and gravel in her tone that Rahil Sohail used daily.
She laid out the mats around the table, two at one side and another one opposite to them. Most mornings, it was Afreen and her who would sit side by side and a groggy Rahil would plop alone wordlessly.
They would hardly set a table for breakfasts, it was always served and placed. But today called for a good preparation.
"Ammi, kha hain?" He asked setting the table. While she placed the idli container on the heating pad, Rahil was back with a dish filled with Sambhar that he had garnished with cilantro.
"She is coming."
"Come sit." Rahil pulled a chair for her. She stared at him and between the chairs, remembering the day of their reception when he had taken her to eat against their families when she shared how she was hungry.
While their mothers tried negotiating 15 more minutes of stage presence, Rahil had wordlessly guided her down and towards a halfway empty table.
His statement "My wife is hungry. We are eating" had earned wide eyes and frowns from Qadri, while her father had never looked so content with his choice.
"Earth to, begum sahiba." He flicked his fingers in front of her. "Your food is getting cold. Eat or you will whine about it all day."
"When did I even complain about food?" She dared him to point to one instance if he must.
"You were ready to cry because you didn't get to eat kababs in our reception." Arms crossed. He stood facing her in the same stance.
"That was because Bhaijaan lied to me. I have never whined for food." She raised her chin defiantly.
"Just yesterday you sat pouting when there was no ice cream left for you." He chipped with a mocking smile.
Another scenario and she thought to back down, but Inara never loses. "So? You ate my share before dinner without me knowing. It was because of you I was upset."
"I did compensate by bringing you a cone later at night."
"Because you lost the bet. I told you would yawn before the chapter ends."
"I had a long day at work." He rolled his eyes averting his eyes. He would never admit that he was bored to death after 2 pages of her book.
"Excuses, excuses." She sang tauntingly. Smirking as he scowled and glared at her. "What? Why are you looking at me as if you would eat me raw?"
"You are having a lot of fun, aren't you?" He gritted taking a threatening step towards her.
"Are you jealous because you can't win from me?" Her smile faltered seeing him entering her space. "Y...you know what, I... I will be late for office."
"Don't change the topic, Mrs. Sohail."
"I would never." Inara shook her head innocently. "I am hungry and this looks delicious."
Quickly she nudged him away and sat down. Feeling him glare, she overturned the plate near her and served his portion.
"You should eat too. You will also get late." Stammering, she pushed the adjacent chair back and yanked him to sit, realizing the blunder she made as he yelped in suddenness. "I... I am s...sorry?"
He rolled his eyes. Turning he sat back comfortably and took his spoon glancing to see her stuff her face like a starved little puppy. "Eat slowly. It won't run from your plate."
"So...wry" She smiled bashfully.
Rahil bit back a remark but joined her in eating, not stuffing but slow eating to enjoy the breakfast she had taken so much trouble cooking.
Small hums of appreciation passed him making Inara flush with happiness.
"Subah-ba-khair, Baccho!" Afreen joined them cheerfully, her smile widening slowly as she watched them sitting side by side, eating peacefully. She raised her palm for Rahil to serve her and helped herself, taking a small bite and singing in appreciation. "This is so tasty. I think I should delegate dinner to your wife, no Rahil?"
"You two can decide whatever you want." He left the decision to Inara, indirectly giving her a choice again.
She completed her meal and got ready to stand back with her plate. "I will go get ready."
Two nods from the mother-son duo and she rushed to get ready for the first day she would be dropped to her office by her husband. How did she think she would marry him in name? Not interfering in his life like he won't in hers but look at them, can they go without fighting and talking if left together?
They had never been quiet for more than 10 minutes when together, that is if one is busy working and the other has found something to latch and pass their time.
Taking a plain lavender long shirt and wide-leg pants, she paired it with its light dupatta. With some oxidized bangles and earrings, she was ready to go to work.
While she was brushing her hair, he had stepped inside the washroom and changed into his customary button-down shirt and charcoal trousers that he had been pairing with his tenth shirt in 2 months.
Being her curious self, she had peaked in his closet to find a few blazers, many t-shirts, ten plain shirts, and a few jeans and trousers.
This man lived the definition of 'simple.'
There was hardly a display of extravagance in his life, a reason why most of her extended still believed how little he earned. Not that she would ever tell them, this man was brilliant with his finances. He was preparing for a future keeping his present stark.
They had called him a pauper, and it would be right for her to slap them with his success.
"You ready?" He asked standing behind her, eyes locked through their reflection.
She nodded passing him a watch that irked him on a regular basis.
With a twist of lips in distaste, he tied it around his wrist and showed it to her with a tight smile. "Happy?"
"Yes. Ab Chaliye."
He guided her through the flight of stairs that took them directly to the basement where his bike was parked. Placing his laptop bag in the side bag attached, he handed over the helmet.
"Wear it, Mrs. complaint box." His smirk would definitely earn a smack from her someday.
"Don't call me that." She shot a funny glare and secured the strap on her neck, holding her handbag to her chest she waited for him to climb his little monster.
"Careful." His murmur made her nod as she climbed behind him. Placing a hand on his shoulder and using another to hold her bag, she pursed her lips now unsure of this bike ride.
Inara had ridden a scooter, driving it a lot of times too but never a bike.
"You won't make me fall, right?" She asked in a scared tone, clutching onto his shoulder and wiggling on her seat as he ignited the engine.
"Have some trust in me." He pulled her palm around his torso and patted it twice. "Hold me tight and I promise to drop you in one piece."
"Should I have sat side-legged?" She asked as he exited their apartment building and watched the road crowded with more personal vehicles than before. Hyderabadis relied on public transport more than they realized.
"Are you uncomfortable?" He asked taking a soft turn, stopping at the traffic light. He glanced at her through the side mirrors, their eyes attaching like two opposite poles of a magnet. "Afraid?"
She shook her head. "Not yet."
"Good." He pipped and zoomed through the roads, maneuvering through the traffic like a biker in those video games but on the speed limit.
"When did you get a bike?" She asked before they stopped into another throttling traffic. She hid her face with her scarf in one hand with her bag dangling from her elbow.
"When I was 17." He answered her above the blaring horns.
"Means two decades of driving this one?" She asked biting her lips to stop grinning at his frown.
"I am only 30, Inara." He reminded her. "And no, I sold my first bike before Abbu. This I purchased after my internship."
"So, you earned this?" She asked feeling proud of this man.
"Yes." He hummed. "Do you take this right or the next one? Which is faster?"
"The next one." She instructed him. "You can drop me at the backdoor and will be able to find a U-turn in less than 20 meters from my building. The first right has no U-turns. You will waste another 5 minutes looking for one."
"Don't worry about me. You need to be on time."
It was warmth she had started feeling for this man, his need to keep his family above him had made him acceptable in her life.
"No, we are taking the next right." She shot him a pointed look through the side mirror.
"Fine. Your wish." He drove through the turn and took the next one as instructed. She could see the back of her building.
"You can drop me." Her voice fell on dead ears as he rounded the complex and stopped at the front entrance. "Rahil, yaar, kabhi to suna karien."
"Get down, complaint box." He ushered her and she followed begrudgingly. She hated that nickname.
Passing him the extra helmet, she stood beside him with a scowl on her face. "You will be late now."
"Don't worry about me. I know a shortcut." He proclaimed.
This man with his jet-black helmet and those aviator shades on looked no less than a movie star. His black blazer acts no less than a leather jacket but oozes a formal vibe from those chinos and tight-fitting trousers.
"Give me a call half an hour before you get off work. I will pick you." He instructed breaking her checkout session of her own husband. "Don't take a lift or play smart. Got it, Mrs. Sohail?"
She blushed at her new nickname, nodding in consent. "You should go. Allah hafiz, Rahil."
He nodded glancing behind her for an ephemeral second, eyes narrowing in the slightest frown. "Take care, Inara."
While he drove off in the same direction she wanted him to avoid, she shook her head and turned towards the entrance. A little bit curious to know the reason for his shift of attention, she glanced at the mirror wall of their cafeteria where work colleagues stood staring at the space Rahil emptied not long before. Three girls, one from her team and two from the customer relationship stood with two other men who she had seen working on the same floor as her, must be the IT department.
Finding it awkward, she waved at her team member, Samiksha, and smiled politely at the other four people she didn't remember the names of.
Punching in her attendance a minute before the last time, she exhaled in relief. She trudged to her desk with a smile and greeted her team. They had bonded over lunches and cab rides they had often shared after work.
"Good morning, Mr. Iyer." She wished her team leader, a man in his mid-forties who could anytime get nominated for best team leader around the globe. He was a cheerful man who believed in laissez-faire arrangements and had a very talented Tamilian wife who made the best payasum in the building. She worked in the finance section and often joined them in lunch breaks.
"Morning, morning. Did you lose your hair too because of the strike today?" He asked her jesting.
"A lot of them." Inara joked laughing.
"Who dropped you then?" Samiksha joined the conversation. "Was he your brother?"
"Of course not," Inara stated with a snap in her voice she didn't realize it had until she saw the raised brows of her senior. "N...No, he was my husband. Rahil."
"I apologize for presuming things." Samiksha shot her a tight smile.
"You should." Mr. Iyer quipped with a mirthful smirk. "You don't proclaim a couple as siblings, Sam. And definitely not when they are married only a few months back and so in love."
"Sir." Inara gaped flushing at his comments. She didn't want to contradict him, not when Rahil was getting female appreciation in her workplace. Who knew how long the strike would continue? "I...I will go work."
"Yes, please, Mrs. Rahil." Her boss chuckled seeing her sprint to her desk and get to work.
Like an alarm clock, Rahil texted her reminding her about informing him before she was off work an hour after her lunch.
She shot him a reply with a thump. Like clockwork, she texted him at 6:30 pm exactly half an hour before her pack up. He replied after 25 minutes saying he was in the parking of her building. Smiling like a fool, she packed her things and punched out at exact 7 before anyone else, taking the elevator and speed walking outside to see him talking to the two men who had watched them in the morning.
Before she could reach them, his eyes found her and he stopped talking bringing the attention of the two men too.
"How was your day?" He pulled her to his side surprising him, keeping her at a distance from his attention seekers.
"Good." She swallowed replying. Glancing at his arm around her shoulder and him standing so close to her had her lick her dry lips. She inched closer to him and mumbled in his ears. "Who are they?"
"Inara, meet Eshan and Tahir. They were my juniors in college." He introduced her to them who nodded at her. "She is my wife, Inara Sohail."
"Assalam-o-alaikum." She mumbled a Salam and stood back at her place as the two men replied to her.
"We should get going." He hinted towards the end of their conversation. "It was great catching up with you."
"Please think about our request, Rahil sir," Tahir said parting.
"See you later." Rahil smiled politely, patting him on his back as a farewell before turning towards her.
Again, he passed her a helmet before fixing him, this time she sat holding him from behind as they exited the parking.
"What was he talking about?" Her curiosity would get her trapped in worst scenarios one day, she knew but didn't care right now.
"They want to work with me." He replied without hesitation.
"And?"
"I said no." He stopped at the signal.
"Why would you?" She asked leaning to hear him above the traffic.
"I won't be able to pay them the same amount as their current jobs, Inara. Mine is a small start-up. I can't afford to hire them just yet." He let out his concern not meeting her eyes.
"But they want to work with you."
"Want is not enough to feed stomachs." He meant them and he wasn't wrong. Want alone did not suffice. Either one has to be crazy rich or have reserves of never extinguishing passion to create something for oneself. "They will work for a month or two until their saving would start getting exhausted. Then, I will be the first one they will detest."
"No one would detest you." She rolled her eyes at his jest.
"No one would or you don't?" He asked locking eyes with her, looking at him through these side mirrors couldn't mute the world, would it?
She could stare at him and forget they were in the middle of blaring traffic. The dust didn't choke her, and the shouting of people could give her a headache after a long day of work. It couldn't be just the bike ride only, right?
"Khushfehmi nahi paalte." Realizing the light was turning green soon, she stopped distracting him or letting him distract her, was it that?
"Galat fehmi se Khushfehmi behtar."
If Inara thought it was her tick to have the last word in a conversation, Rahil seemed to have overtaken it somehow, somewhere that they had lived together.
Enjoying the evening breeze on her face, unknowingly leaned on his back. Keeping her head against his shoulder, she stared at the passing vehicles, people taking an evening walk, returning from work, children rushing home, and street vendors flagging patrons.
Hyderabad is not too fast-paced nor does it support latency, it was just what you could think of living around. Developed yet not pressurizing. Calm yet somehow chaotic in its own way.
"What do you feel like eating?" He asked making her stray her eyes away, realizing they had taken a detour from their route to enter DLF cybercity, Gachibowli.
Her eyes widened seeing them passing the narrow street that was packed with people snacking away on all the street food they could grab. He parked in a secluded parking spot and nudged her to step down.
"Why are we here?" She asked him while he dangled their helmets and carried his laptop bag with him.
"I thought it would be a good idea to stare at people while they eat." He was biting back a mocking grin.
She scowled. "Not funny."
"Stop with that face. Waqt se pehle buddhi dikhogi." He pressed his palm on her back to get her moving. "Keep your bag close and stay with me."
"But what about dinner? Ammi must be waiting." Voicing her thought had his eyes soften at the mention of his mother.
"She is at Irfan's." He informed her before they stepped into the herd of people waiting for their orders. "Tell me your top three choices quickly."
Three? How could someone choose only 3 from a buffet?
But he did say top three, which meant there was a possibility she could get to try a lot more of them. If he took notice of her turning around and sweeping the place like a maniac high on food and drugs, he didn't voice out his opinion.
"Shawarma, noodles, and cold coffee." She listed thoughtfully. "No, Kabab. Cancel cold coffee, I want Kabab."
"I knew that much." His laughing lines showed. He took her towards his tried and tested places, placing an order of each of her items at a time. They occupied two plastic chairs almost immediately before the others could latch onto it.
"What are your top 3?" She asked watching the server place the paper plates in front of them. He had ordered her favorites, along with two cold coffees that made her beam with happiness.
"Keema paratha. Fried chicken, and..." He pressed his lips thinking and counting on his fingers.
She waited for him to decide the third one.
"Idli sambhar after today."
If there wasn't a lack of light and lost sun, she would have got all the curious and worried eyes on her as her face burst into flames. Suddenly, her stupid heart was pumping blood that she could feel rushing in her ears. Has someone ever collapsed after blushing? No, has someone blushed that hard?
"I...I am hungry." She stuffed her face to stop talking, or looking at him, hearing him too. This man had been acting, unlike the man she was introduced to.
He was supposed to speak less, express nothing, and give her a hard time by continuous brooding and sulking.
Rahil Sohail wasn't supposed to be teasing her, dropping or picking her up from the office, and definitely not bringing her to impromptu food dates.
He watched her in amusement as she gobbled her kababs one after another, leaving an equal part for him before switching to her shawarma. Surprisingly, the food quantity was more than she had expected. Delicious too.
"Anything else, Bhai?" The man asked them.
"1 Keema paratha." She beat him, not meeting his raised eyebrows.
"I cannot eat more." His protest made her wave it away.
"I can."
Ten minutes later, they were served a giant Keema paratha that could feed 3 people to the brim. With wide eyes, she stared at the plate and gulped realizing how another few bites and she would pass into a food comma.
"You look scared." He commented tearing it into a bite and dipping it into the green chutney.
"I can't eat more." She pouted confessing.
He shook his head in defeat. "We will get it packed. Don't look so bothered."
"Really?" She was back to her beaming.
He passed a nod before enjoying his dish.
Not that the sweet lady she was blessed as her mother-in-law ever let her spend her mornings cooking as she hurried for office. Today being one such day, Afreen had assured her that she would cook her anything she craved but it wasn't only the dish she wanted.
Inara wanted to cook.
She had taken up cooking in her home later than Iram. While her twin was being trained as the ideal wedding material, Inara was getting her master's in Marketing and job searching before their father dropped this N-bomb.
In the 3 months that followed their alliance, Inara had gotten serious with cooking and learning dishes she enjoyed cooking. She feared that if she didn't like what was served to her, one should know enough to satisfy their hunger.
While brides shopped, Inara was busy taking a crash course in cooking.
So fast forward 3 months, and by the time of her Mehendi day, she had learned a maximum of her favorite dishes and some more to please her in-laws after marriage.
Not that she had to.
Her in-laws were great people who never once made her work in the kitchen, if not for her intruding Afreen's dinner preparation each day for 2 months of her marriage, she was sure she would have forgotten every little dish she had made so much effort to perfect.
9 weeks and 3 days later, it was her alone in this warzone battling vegetables, throwing spices as her weapons, and conspiring to take over the craving fort.
She laughed at her weird analogies but it soon faltered as she glanced at the clock and back at her phone which was yet to ring with a notification.
She was supposed to leave for the office in another hour lest she wanted to be right on the dot. It wasn't the time but it was the stupid cab service her office offered that seemed to have been ambushed by the local protestors. The public transport drivers were protesting the rise in fuel prices, making her anxious with a lack of travel means.
Why had they chosen a work day? Shouldn't be protesting on a Sunday for the government?
Why bother people like her who rely on public transport to reach their work? This wasn't an occasion she could ask for a leave as well. She had taken 8 days just for her wedding day and was tight on future leaves for the next 4 months in this calendar year.
"Tell me you have spoiled the sambhar and waiting for a delivery to replace it." Rahil's comment made her roll her eyes.
"I know how to cook." She reminded me for the tenth time in the past 24 hours that she had announced her special breakfast.
"I can hardly smell anything here." Why was he up so early? It was only some minutes past 6:30 that she had started preparing the meal.
In her excitement to cook, she dropped sleeping in after fajr and came straight here, along with the big frown she carried.
"You should visit an ENT in that case." Inara stirred her sambhar and breathed into the spicy aroma. "I can smell the brew and to your knowledge, it smells amazing."
"I should check myself." He crowded her space and leaned in to check the dish, humming as if thinking deeply after a proposal was presented to him that he had to approve. "Doesn't look bad."
"Bad? It will be the best you will ever eat." She goaded huffing, she cooked less but she made tasty food. Her family went crazy every time she cooked them a meal. Her father and brother used to eat until they were ready to pass out.
"I doubt that." He mused removing the lid from the Idli maker and poking one to check if it was cooked.
"I can do it myself." She protested as he switched the stove and swatted her hands away before she could touch the hot lid.
"Garam hai!" His eyes turned into slits as he chastised her. "And, I am helping so you can hurry. I need to drop you before I go to my place."
"Why will you drop me?" She asked placing her hands on her hips, pointing him with a look. "I didn't ask you to."
"To kya aap Doraemon ka anywhere door use karengi?" This man and his taunts, she groaned. (Will you be using Doraemon's anywhere door?)
"Of course, not." She stated scowling. "But I will manage. I am a big girl."
"I can see very well. Thank you for reminding me, Mrs. Sohail."
The reply she had thought was smacked back in her throat at his use of her married name. He had never called her that before today.
"You...you don't get to call me that." She mumbled averting her face, she could feel a flush on her neck and ears.
"How long before your sambhar is ready?" He asked filling another portion of batter in its molds, placing the trays with a steady hold, and closing the lid back.
"5 minutes?" She checked its consistency and took a spoon. Dipping a full, she blew on it and got ready to taste it when her wrist was held back, guided in another direction. "Rahil!"
He licked the spoon clean still holding her hand and tasting it as if he was a world-renowned chef. Making faces, closing eyes, and humming. "Bana to accha hain." (It is good.)
"Ese kon khata hain?" She glared at him, yanking her wrist from his hold and dumping the spoon in the sink. (Who eats like this?)
"I do." He declared shamelessly. "Do you want me to set the table while you call Ammi? Last I checked, she was reading the Quran in her room."
"Going." Huffing, she walked towards Afreen's room knowing Rahil was very capable of handling the kitchen, setting the table, and licking it clean at once. He was a perfect example of a man raised by a strong woman. Her husband knew how to cook more than she did.
The next morning of their reception, he had surprised her and Afreen cooking Aloo parathas and masala tea for breakfast before announcing his urgent meeting with an investor in Ooty.
Though a bribe for them, he did manage to impress her for cooking.
Their reception was an uneventful night. While Iram and she had shared the same stage, Rahil's annoyance towards the crowd of guests who came to greet them and took their own sweet time to pose with the two couples had kept her busy.
For the world, he was a man of few words. Keeping his face bare of emotions he felt or traded around, he had a lot to speak.
And he did speak to her. Giving a peek at his thoughts, providing actions that backed them, and never again meaning what he had said to her that one time.
As Afreen told her, he often lost his calm when angry. He was quick to get angry but equally fast to get back to room temperature. When he had returned from his short business trip, he waited for her to get home and apologize again, this time explaining his reasons. He promised to never disrespect her, that day he was trying to protect her dignity from all those lurking eyes to uphold his word. Maybe his way was incorrect and his words were hurting, but he wasn't wrong.
Now that Inara thinks back to their drive home, she realizes how stupid it was for her as a new bride to step out in the middle of nowhere.
She may have forgiven him for that day but not the night. He had called marketers as beggars and she made sure he was reminded each day. Giving him a hard time, she made him read and explain the marketing concepts until he was ready to drop dead.
Not that he complained. He had something to speak and question her each day which either riled her up or left her sulking. There was a planned debate each night she managed to win until now.
Not that she would be losing any time soon.
Knocking on the door, she opened it slightly and peeked inside to find Afreen looking up at her. Head wrapped, eyes covered in glasses, and Quran in hand. His mother was religious yet this son of her mother-in-law seemed to run away from the word 'Allah.'
"It is ready, Ammi." She earned a hum with an excited smile. "Me and Rahil will wait for you."
Closing her room door, Inara made her way to find him balance cutleries with one hand while fetching mats with the other.
Shaking her head, she gently nudged him away and took hold of the mats. "Don't drop them."
"Doing that for years now." He declared smugly.
"Doing that for years now." She mumbled to herself mimicking his voice, or try doing it. There was no way she could put that depth and gravel in her tone that Rahil Sohail used daily.
She laid out the mats around the table, two at one side and another one opposite to them. Most mornings, it was Afreen and her who would sit side by side and a groggy Rahil would plop alone wordlessly.
They would hardly set a table for breakfasts, it was always served and placed. But today called for a good preparation.
"Ammi, kha hain?" He asked setting the table. While she placed the idli container on the heating pad, Rahil was back with a dish filled with Sambhar that he had garnished with cilantro.
"She is coming."
"Come sit." Rahil pulled a chair for her. She stared at him and between the chairs, remembering the day of their reception when he had taken her to eat against their families when she shared how she was hungry.
While their mothers tried negotiating 15 more minutes of stage presence, Rahil had wordlessly guided her down and towards a halfway empty table.
His statement "My wife is hungry. We are eating" had earned wide eyes and frowns from Qadri, while her father had never looked so content with his choice.
"Earth to, begum sahiba." He flicked his fingers in front of her. "Your food is getting cold. Eat or you will whine about it all day."
"When did I even complain about food?" She dared him to point to one instance if he must.
"You were ready to cry because you didn't get to eat kababs in our reception." Arms crossed. He stood facing her in the same stance.
"That was because Bhaijaan lied to me. I have never whined for food." She raised her chin defiantly.
"Just yesterday you sat pouting when there was no ice cream left for you." He chipped with a mocking smile.
Another scenario and she thought to back down, but Inara never loses. "So? You ate my share before dinner without me knowing. It was because of you I was upset."
"I did compensate by bringing you a cone later at night."
"Because you lost the bet. I told you would yawn before the chapter ends."
"I had a long day at work." He rolled his eyes averting his eyes. He would never admit that he was bored to death after 2 pages of her book.
"Excuses, excuses." She sang tauntingly. Smirking as he scowled and glared at her. "What? Why are you looking at me as if you would eat me raw?"
"You are having a lot of fun, aren't you?" He gritted taking a threatening step towards her.
"Are you jealous because you can't win from me?" Her smile faltered seeing him entering her space. "Y...you know what, I... I will be late for office."
"Don't change the topic, Mrs. Sohail."
"I would never." Inara shook her head innocently. "I am hungry and this looks delicious."
Quickly she nudged him away and sat down. Feeling him glare, she overturned the plate near her and served his portion.
"You should eat too. You will also get late." Stammering, she pushed the adjacent chair back and yanked him to sit, realizing the blunder she made as he yelped in suddenness. "I... I am s...sorry?"
He rolled his eyes. Turning he sat back comfortably and took his spoon glancing to see her stuff her face like a starved little puppy. "Eat slowly. It won't run from your plate."
"So...wry" She smiled bashfully.
Rahil bit back a remark but joined her in eating, not stuffing but slow eating to enjoy the breakfast she had taken so much trouble cooking.
Small hums of appreciation passed him making Inara flush with happiness.
"Subah-ba-khair, Baccho!" Afreen joined them cheerfully, her smile widening slowly as she watched them sitting side by side, eating peacefully. She raised her palm for Rahil to serve her and helped herself, taking a small bite and singing in appreciation. "This is so tasty. I think I should delegate dinner to your wife, no Rahil?"
"You two can decide whatever you want." He left the decision to Inara, indirectly giving her a choice again.
She completed her meal and got ready to stand back with her plate. "I will go get ready."
Two nods from the mother-son duo and she rushed to get ready for the first day she would be dropped to her office by her husband. How did she think she would marry him in name? Not interfering in his life like he won't in hers but look at them, can they go without fighting and talking if left together?
They had never been quiet for more than 10 minutes when together, that is if one is busy working and the other has found something to latch and pass their time.
Taking a plain lavender long shirt and wide-leg pants, she paired it with its light dupatta. With some oxidized bangles and earrings, she was ready to go to work.
While she was brushing her hair, he had stepped inside the washroom and changed into his customary button-down shirt and charcoal trousers that he had been pairing with his tenth shirt in 2 months.
Being her curious self, she had peaked in his closet to find a few blazers, many t-shirts, ten plain shirts, and a few jeans and trousers.
This man lived the definition of 'simple.'
There was hardly a display of extravagance in his life, a reason why most of her extended still believed how little he earned. Not that she would ever tell them, this man was brilliant with his finances. He was preparing for a future keeping his present stark.
They had called him a pauper, and it would be right for her to slap them with his success.
"You ready?" He asked standing behind her, eyes locked through their reflection.
She nodded passing him a watch that irked him on a regular basis.
With a twist of lips in distaste, he tied it around his wrist and showed it to her with a tight smile. "Happy?"
"Yes. Ab Chaliye."
He guided her through the flight of stairs that took them directly to the basement where his bike was parked. Placing his laptop bag in the side bag attached, he handed over the helmet.
"Wear it, Mrs. complaint box." His smirk would definitely earn a smack from her someday.
"Don't call me that." She shot a funny glare and secured the strap on her neck, holding her handbag to her chest she waited for him to climb his little monster.
"Careful." His murmur made her nod as she climbed behind him. Placing a hand on his shoulder and using another to hold her bag, she pursed her lips now unsure of this bike ride.
Inara had ridden a scooter, driving it a lot of times too but never a bike.
"You won't make me fall, right?" She asked in a scared tone, clutching onto his shoulder and wiggling on her seat as he ignited the engine.
"Have some trust in me." He pulled her palm around his torso and patted it twice. "Hold me tight and I promise to drop you in one piece."
"Should I have sat side-legged?" She asked as he exited their apartment building and watched the road crowded with more personal vehicles than before. Hyderabadis relied on public transport more than they realized.
"Are you uncomfortable?" He asked taking a soft turn, stopping at the traffic light. He glanced at her through the side mirrors, their eyes attaching like two opposite poles of a magnet. "Afraid?"
She shook her head. "Not yet."
"Good." He pipped and zoomed through the roads, maneuvering through the traffic like a biker in those video games but on the speed limit.
"When did you get a bike?" She asked before they stopped into another throttling traffic. She hid her face with her scarf in one hand with her bag dangling from her elbow.
"When I was 17." He answered her above the blaring horns.
"Means two decades of driving this one?" She asked biting her lips to stop grinning at his frown.
"I am only 30, Inara." He reminded her. "And no, I sold my first bike before Abbu. This I purchased after my internship."
"So, you earned this?" She asked feeling proud of this man.
"Yes." He hummed. "Do you take this right or the next one? Which is faster?"
"The next one." She instructed him. "You can drop me at the backdoor and will be able to find a U-turn in less than 20 meters from my building. The first right has no U-turns. You will waste another 5 minutes looking for one."
"Don't worry about me. You need to be on time."
It was warmth she had started feeling for this man, his need to keep his family above him had made him acceptable in her life.
"No, we are taking the next right." She shot him a pointed look through the side mirror.
"Fine. Your wish." He drove through the turn and took the next one as instructed. She could see the back of her building.
"You can drop me." Her voice fell on dead ears as he rounded the complex and stopped at the front entrance. "Rahil, yaar, kabhi to suna karien."
"Get down, complaint box." He ushered her and she followed begrudgingly. She hated that nickname.
Passing him the extra helmet, she stood beside him with a scowl on her face. "You will be late now."
"Don't worry about me. I know a shortcut." He proclaimed.
This man with his jet-black helmet and those aviator shades on looked no less than a movie star. His black blazer acts no less than a leather jacket but oozes a formal vibe from those chinos and tight-fitting trousers.
"Give me a call half an hour before you get off work. I will pick you." He instructed breaking her checkout session of her own husband. "Don't take a lift or play smart. Got it, Mrs. Sohail?"
She blushed at her new nickname, nodding in consent. "You should go. Allah hafiz, Rahil."
He nodded glancing behind her for an ephemeral second, eyes narrowing in the slightest frown. "Take care, Inara."
While he drove off in the same direction she wanted him to avoid, she shook her head and turned towards the entrance. A little bit curious to know the reason for his shift of attention, she glanced at the mirror wall of their cafeteria where work colleagues stood staring at the space Rahil emptied not long before. Three girls, one from her team and two from the customer relationship stood with two other men who she had seen working on the same floor as her, must be the IT department.
Finding it awkward, she waved at her team member, Samiksha, and smiled politely at the other four people she didn't remember the names of.
Punching in her attendance a minute before the last time, she exhaled in relief. She trudged to her desk with a smile and greeted her team. They had bonded over lunches and cab rides they had often shared after work.
"Good morning, Mr. Iyer." She wished her team leader, a man in his mid-forties who could anytime get nominated for best team leader around the globe. He was a cheerful man who believed in laissez-faire arrangements and had a very talented Tamilian wife who made the best payasum in the building. She worked in the finance section and often joined them in lunch breaks.
"Morning, morning. Did you lose your hair too because of the strike today?" He asked her jesting.
"A lot of them." Inara joked laughing.
"Who dropped you then?" Samiksha joined the conversation. "Was he your brother?"
"Of course not," Inara stated with a snap in her voice she didn't realize it had until she saw the raised brows of her senior. "N...No, he was my husband. Rahil."
"I apologize for presuming things." Samiksha shot her a tight smile.
"You should." Mr. Iyer quipped with a mirthful smirk. "You don't proclaim a couple as siblings, Sam. And definitely not when they are married only a few months back and so in love."
"Sir." Inara gaped flushing at his comments. She didn't want to contradict him, not when Rahil was getting female appreciation in her workplace. Who knew how long the strike would continue? "I...I will go work."
"Yes, please, Mrs. Rahil." Her boss chuckled seeing her sprint to her desk and get to work.
Like an alarm clock, Rahil texted her reminding her about informing him before she was off work an hour after her lunch.
She shot him a reply with a thump. Like clockwork, she texted him at 6:30 pm exactly half an hour before her pack up. He replied after 25 minutes saying he was in the parking of her building. Smiling like a fool, she packed her things and punched out at exact 7 before anyone else, taking the elevator and speed walking outside to see him talking to the two men who had watched them in the morning.
Before she could reach them, his eyes found her and he stopped talking bringing the attention of the two men too.
"How was your day?" He pulled her to his side surprising him, keeping her at a distance from his attention seekers.
"Good." She swallowed replying. Glancing at his arm around her shoulder and him standing so close to her had her lick her dry lips. She inched closer to him and mumbled in his ears. "Who are they?"
"Inara, meet Eshan and Tahir. They were my juniors in college." He introduced her to them who nodded at her. "She is my wife, Inara Sohail."
"Assalam-o-alaikum." She mumbled a Salam and stood back at her place as the two men replied to her.
"We should get going." He hinted towards the end of their conversation. "It was great catching up with you."
"Please think about our request, Rahil sir," Tahir said parting.
"See you later." Rahil smiled politely, patting him on his back as a farewell before turning towards her.
Again, he passed her a helmet before fixing him, this time she sat holding him from behind as they exited the parking.
"What was he talking about?" Her curiosity would get her trapped in worst scenarios one day, she knew but didn't care right now.
"They want to work with me." He replied without hesitation.
"And?"
"I said no." He stopped at the signal.
"Why would you?" She asked leaning to hear him above the traffic.
"I won't be able to pay them the same amount as their current jobs, Inara. Mine is a small start-up. I can't afford to hire them just yet." He let out his concern not meeting her eyes.
"But they want to work with you."
"Want is not enough to feed stomachs." He meant them and he wasn't wrong. Want alone did not suffice. Either one has to be crazy rich or have reserves of never extinguishing passion to create something for oneself. "They will work for a month or two until their saving would start getting exhausted. Then, I will be the first one they will detest."
"No one would detest you." She rolled her eyes at his jest.
"No one would or you don't?" He asked locking eyes with her, looking at him through these side mirrors couldn't mute the world, would it?
She could stare at him and forget they were in the middle of blaring traffic. The dust didn't choke her, and the shouting of people could give her a headache after a long day of work. It couldn't be just the bike ride only, right?
"Khushfehmi nahi paalte." Realizing the light was turning green soon, she stopped distracting him or letting him distract her, was it that?
"Galat fehmi se Khushfehmi behtar."
If Inara thought it was her tick to have the last word in a conversation, Rahil seemed to have overtaken it somehow, somewhere that they had lived together.
Enjoying the evening breeze on her face, unknowingly leaned on his back. Keeping her head against his shoulder, she stared at the passing vehicles, people taking an evening walk, returning from work, children rushing home, and street vendors flagging patrons.
Hyderabad is not too fast-paced nor does it support latency, it was just what you could think of living around. Developed yet not pressurizing. Calm yet somehow chaotic in its own way.
"What do you feel like eating?" He asked making her stray her eyes away, realizing they had taken a detour from their route to enter DLF cybercity, Gachibowli.
Her eyes widened seeing them passing the narrow street that was packed with people snacking away on all the street food they could grab. He parked in a secluded parking spot and nudged her to step down.
"Why are we here?" She asked him while he dangled their helmets and carried his laptop bag with him.
"I thought it would be a good idea to stare at people while they eat." He was biting back a mocking grin.
She scowled. "Not funny."
"Stop with that face. Waqt se pehle buddhi dikhogi." He pressed his palm on her back to get her moving. "Keep your bag close and stay with me."
"But what about dinner? Ammi must be waiting." Voicing her thought had his eyes soften at the mention of his mother.
"She is at Irfan's." He informed her before they stepped into the herd of people waiting for their orders. "Tell me your top three choices quickly."
Three? How could someone choose only 3 from a buffet?
But he did say top three, which meant there was a possibility she could get to try a lot more of them. If he took notice of her turning around and sweeping the place like a maniac high on food and drugs, he didn't voice out his opinion.
"Shawarma, noodles, and cold coffee." She listed thoughtfully. "No, Kabab. Cancel cold coffee, I want Kabab."
"I knew that much." His laughing lines showed. He took her towards his tried and tested places, placing an order of each of her items at a time. They occupied two plastic chairs almost immediately before the others could latch onto it.
"What are your top 3?" She asked watching the server place the paper plates in front of them. He had ordered her favorites, along with two cold coffees that made her beam with happiness.
"Keema paratha. Fried chicken, and..." He pressed his lips thinking and counting on his fingers.
She waited for him to decide the third one.
"Idli sambhar after today."
If there wasn't a lack of light and lost sun, she would have got all the curious and worried eyes on her as her face burst into flames. Suddenly, her stupid heart was pumping blood that she could feel rushing in her ears. Has someone ever collapsed after blushing? No, has someone blushed that hard?
"I...I am hungry." She stuffed her face to stop talking, or looking at him, hearing him too. This man had been acting, unlike the man she was introduced to.
He was supposed to speak less, express nothing, and give her a hard time by continuous brooding and sulking.
Rahil Sohail wasn't supposed to be teasing her, dropping or picking her up from the office, and definitely not bringing her to impromptu food dates.
He watched her in amusement as she gobbled her kababs one after another, leaving an equal part for him before switching to her shawarma. Surprisingly, the food quantity was more than she had expected. Delicious too.
"Anything else, Bhai?" The man asked them.
"1 Keema paratha." She beat him, not meeting his raised eyebrows.
"I cannot eat more." His protest made her wave it away.
"I can."
Ten minutes later, they were served a giant Keema paratha that could feed 3 people to the brim. With wide eyes, she stared at the plate and gulped realizing how another few bites and she would pass into a food comma.
"You look scared." He commented tearing it into a bite and dipping it into the green chutney.
"I can't eat more." She pouted confessing.
He shook his head in defeat. "We will get it packed. Don't look so bothered."
"Really?" She was back to her beaming.
He passed a nod before enjoying his dish.
End of MAQAAM Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to MAQAAM book page.