Page 21 of First Comes Marriage
He hadn’t done any of that before, but he could do it now. Go back to basics and give Reshma and their marriage the time they both deserved. Maybe then she’d be able to see past this blunder of his so they could find a sense of harmony with each other. Strengthen their bond, as Daadi had said. As for love … well. They’d cross that bridge when – and if – they ever got to it. Many a relationship stood the test of time on the basis of mutual respect and affection. Love wasn’t an essential ingredient for a successful marriage. It wasn’t a need or necessity, more a nice-to-have kind of thing.
As Fate would have it, on his walk, Zafar had found himself at Uncle Jawad’s villa, where the man himself had been standing outside, tapping away on his phone.
If he was a believer of signs, then this would have been a big fat one. Reshma was right there and that’s where he’d ended up as well.
Uncle Jawad had flipped closed the cover on his phone, offered Zafar a cup of coffee and led him into the villa. He’d then pulled out a deck of cards while he suggested they wait for the ladies to finish with their business and had proceeded to wipe the floor with him, though Zafar reckoned that if his brain had been firing on all cylinders and not distracted by his opponent’s niece, the result wouldn’t have been so one-sided.
‘Woah, earth to Zaf. You there, mate?’
‘Huh?’ He turned to look at Shoaib, who had a puzzled look on his face.
‘I’ve called your name twice now. The prayers are done, dude. Everyone is heading outside. You coming?’
Zafar looked around the room, tuning back into the present. Almost everyone had got up and moved aroundwhile he’d been in his own head. How long had he zoned out for? He got up and tried to cover his embarrassment at being caught by Shoaib by clapping the other man on the shoulder as he turned towards the patio. ‘Yeah, yeah, let’s go out.’ Even his voice sounded croaky, like he’d just woken from the kind of nap that left you questioning what day of the week it was.
The atmosphere outside was as vibrant as it had been the day before. The catering team stationed just beside the patio door had fired up the barbecue and Zafar could hear faint music in the background. There seemed to be more people present than there had been the previous day. He’d heard from Khalil that guests would start trickling in on a daily basis now, some to stay and some who would come for the day and go back either to their own accommodation arrangements or their own homes.
Uncle Jawad introduced him to people he wasn’t familiar with, some of whom knew his father and some who had known his grandfather as a young man. It was strange hearing stories about him from people he didn’t know and while some sounded true to the man he knew, others made him wonder if they were talking about the same person.
‘It is odd, isn’t it?’ Uncle Jawad said when Zafar told him as much. ‘Everybody sees the same person in a different way. We all see different facets of each other and sometimes some people’s accounts of someone we’re familiar with sound alien to us. I mean, take my younger brother, for instance.’ He shook his head as he spoke. ‘Everyone sees a dynamic, life-of-the-party type who comes into a room and lights it up, making me look like dead wood in comparison. The most boring man in the world. But ask Reshma. She sees someone completely different in him, and in me for that matter.’
Zafar followed Uncle Jawad’s line of sight and found Reshma sitting with a group of people. She was talking to a woman with a small child in her lap, while a few kids ran around them, looking relaxed and at ease, though he knew that wasn’t how she was feeling deep down, adding further credence to what her uncle had just said.
‘Uncle Jawad? Zafar? Come on, the first round of meats and veg are coming off the barbecue.’ Khalil started making his way around the gathering, telling people to help themselves to the feast.
Zafar excused himself to check on his grandmother and found that she had moved to the dining table inside with a few others and was already eating. He went back outside and decided to look for Reshma. She was sitting in the same place she had been before, a plate of food now in her hand. She caught sight of him looking at her and she pressed her lips together before looking away.
Not letting that small rebuff put him off, he loaded a plate with food and picked his way across the space towards her, pleased to see a few empty chairs around the area. He pulled one up right beside her and sat down.
‘Hello, ladies.’ He smiled at Haniya and the other woman sitting with them and then he looked at Reshma, whose eyes were firmly on her plate.
‘Hey, Zaf. How are you finding being surrounded by your in-laws? You ready to run for the hills yet?’ Haniya grinned at him.
‘Actually, it’s anything but. I’m having a great time, they all seem to think of me as royalty. All because of your cousin here.’ He bumped his shoulder against Reshma’s and was rewarded with a flaring of her nostrils. ‘She’s their golden child, so I automatically get to pass go and collect two hundred.’
Haniya laughed, as did the other woman beside her, who was breaking off small pieces of chicken and putting them into her baby’s mouth. Said baby was more interested in playing with the bangles on the mother’s wrists. Reshma stretched her lips but refrained from reacting or saying anything.
‘Oh, this is Uncle Imtiaz’s niece, Fatima, by the way. Fatima, in case it wasn’t obvious, this is Reshma’s husband, Zafar Saeed. That firecracker of a lady you met earlier? She is his grandmother.’
‘Oh God. Please tell me she didn’t say anything outrageous. I apologise on her behalf if she did.’ Zafar hung his head jokingly.
Fatima laughed. ‘Nothing of the sort. She’s amazing. She was talking to my four-year-old son, Haroon, telling him that she has a grandson with the same name and that he’s an absolute menace, though he can’t use age as his excuse anymore.’
‘I can attest to that.’
They spoke about inconsequential things while they all ate, Reshmahmmingnon-committally here and there. When they had finished, Fatima left to clean her baby up, Haniya offering her the use of one of the rooms and leading her to it.
A waiter came around with a tray bearing tea and coffee and they each grabbed a hot drink, as he took the empty plates away on the same tray. As soon as the waiter moved away and before Zafar had the chance to utter a single syllable, a little boy raced towards them, a piece of paper held in one hand and a few crayons clutched in the other.
‘Reshma! Reshma!’ He came full pelt towards her and landed against her knees as she moved her cup of tea to the side to avoid spilling it. ‘Look. I drew a picture.’ Hepushed the heavily crinkled piece of paper towards her and, smiling down at the child, she took it in her other hand.
‘Let’s see what you’ve drawn.’ She held the paper in front of her and Zafar saw nothing more than colourful streaks and odd shapes, certainly nothing he could make out.
‘That’s lovely, Haroon. Who is it for?’
So, this was Haroon.Zafar watched their interaction with amusement, as he took a sip of his coffee.
The boy smiled at her shyly. ‘You.’ He pointed at the big blue blob on the page. ‘That’s me. And this is you.’ He pointed to a slimmer and longer yellow blob. ‘When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.’
