True Rising: Mark of the Defenders

by Tanishq Sheikh

  “Yes, my home,” he grins, “I grew up here. Come on, let’s get you inside.” He threads my fingers through his and leads me up to the veranda that borders the front entrance.

  Someone opens the heavy main door for us before we knock. Dressed in a crisp pathani and a skull cap, is an elderly man who greets Ajaz with a polite ‘salaam’.

  Ajaz greets him back. I’m suddenly aware of where I am. This is not just any home, it’s his ancestral home. He has brought me to the one place he knows we will be safe.

  The knowledge soothes my fears but it also makes me anxious. Is his family going to be here? I’m not sure I want to meet them after being rejected all those years ago. Especially his mother.

  He squeezes my hand sending reassurance. I fall behind a bit but he doesn’t let go. He leads me via a large hallway with high ceilings into a large room.

  The ornate opulence of the quarters stuns me. It has high walls covered with Persian carpets, intricate, carved wooden furniture, ancient lamps, exotic rugs, glorious portraits, artefacts and much more. It overwhelms me. I am a complete misfit here. As I am in his life.

  It takes me a while to realise the room isn’t empty. There are two men and two women gracing the various sofas and armchairs. One of the men is Asad, looking older and wiser. He throws me a wide smile and a naughty wink. The other one is the eldest brother. He looks like their older version with salt and pepper hair and a stern look.

  The Markos’ are clear descendants of a foreign blood. All brothers have hair that is a nutty shade of brown with blond streaks and their eyes are varying shades of deep, dark honey. The gorgeous women must be their wives. Even the women look more European than Indian.

  One of them rises with a warm smile. She’s wearing a green, embellished tunic with pantaloons and her hair hidden under a hijab. “Ajaz, bhaijaan! Welcome home!” Her embrace is chaste but filled with love for him. She turns her beautiful, kohl-lined eyes upon me. “Welcome, my dear.” Her hug warms my soul. The doubt that has been nagging me leaves. Maybe I’m not entirely a misfit. I see Asad’s smile widen. He gives me a secret look that tells me the young woman is his wife. He looks happy and I’m glad it worked out for him.

  “I’m Rinaz. Come.” She tugs me out of Ajaz’s hold. I can feel his reluctance to let me go. I realise then, he was as unsure, about this decision of his, as me.

  There is a round of ‘salaams’ before Asad approaches Ajaz. “Jaz,” he mutters enveloping his younger brother in a strong embrace. He thumps his back, clearly happy to see him.

  The older brother who has been sitting in a large armchair stands up to greet him in silence. They hug three times as is the physical Islamic greeting along with verbal ones. His look is far from happy.

  It’s my turn to be introduced. “This is Prisha.”

  His older brother nods at me, unsmiling. The other woman, who I’m assuming is his wife and Ajaz’s older sister-in-law, does the same, taking me in with a critical eye. Not everyone is as accepting of me as Asad and Rinaz.

  Rinaz leads me to sit on the sofa. I settle at the edge, feeling nervous. Ajaz keeps standing, looking unsure of what to do. The only place available to sit is next to me. I’m aware he doesn’t want to look brazen in front of his family. Indian customs can be liberal and yet conservative at the same time. Younger generations are now indulging in a defiant lifestyle but we are respectful of our adults.

  The irony in our case is glaring. Not only are Ajaz and I unmarried but we’re having a child together. Not a great situation for any family to accept, especially one as conservative as his.

  The doors to the room open once again and everyone leaps to their feet. Instinct makes me do the same. An old woman comes shuffling in with the help of a walking stick. She’s wearing a simple white cotton tunic with salwar and a white duppatta draped over her head and shoulders. It’s Ajaz’s mother.

  “Ammi. Assalaamalaikum.” Ajaz greets her immediately. He approaches her to take her hand in his before pressing it against both his eyes and then laying a kiss on top of it. She pats his bent head, allowing him to lead her to a comfortable armchair in one corner.

  Once she’s seated, Ajaz gets down on one knee before her still holding her hand. She again gives him a loving pat before leaning forward to embrace him. “Ajaz, my child. I’m so glad you’re home. Let me see you clearly. You’ve lost so much weight.”

  Ajaz lifts his head gazing at her with open adoration. The strong bond they share is enviable. The entire family is radiating an invisible bond that I have never experienced with my family. I wonder how much stronger it was when Ajaz’s father was alive. I know he passed on more than a decade ago.

  “He comes home after years and Ammi is worried he’s lost weight,” Asad sniggers though not in an unkind manner. They all share a soft laugh. I’m smiling too till I realise his mother is looking at me. She has no smile for me, just an assessing look.

  Ajaz follows her gaze sensing my discomfort. He rises immediately and stretches his palm towards me. I know he wants me to take it. I rise from the sofa and place my hand in his. His warmth immediately engulfs me, throwing insecurities aside.

  He sets me in front of his mother. “This is Prisha, Ammi.”

  Instinct makes me drop to the floor before her. I sit on my folded legs, supporting my weight with my heels. She leans forward to capture my chin in her fingers and tilt my face upwards to get a better look. Her scrutiny makes me uncomfortable. My face still has fading bruises with one scar near one of my eyebrows that I’m told will be permanent. Somehow I know Firion gave it to me.

  She peers at it, leaving my chin to trace it gently. Her eyes widen as she does and she looks at me in surprise. “He marked you, my child.” It’s a bold statement and it shocks me. How does she know? How can she possibly know?

  The family exchanges a worried look. They are more aware of what she meant than I am.

  “Tonight, you both rest,” Ammi declares, “Tomorrow we will seek answers.”

  Seventeen

  An eternal bond.

  After spending a restless night in separate rooms, I am keen to be with Ajaz again. I take a quick shower and wander down from my room on the upper level of the house. I soon find myself in a large dining room. The only occupant of the room is Asad, Thank heavens!

  He gets up to greet me with a huge smile. “Come, sit. Breakfast will be served shortly.” I take a seat opposite him. “You made it, Prisha. I knew Ajaz wasn’t going to let you go.”

  I look for sarcasm in his words but I find none. Wasn’t he the one who had warned me off Ajaz? “I guess we were meant to be together,” I say instead. “But you thought we wouldn’t, so how did you know we’d land up together?”

  His eyes twinkle as he leans forward like a conspirator. “I told you he loves Ammi more than I do. What I didn’t tell you is that she loves him just as much.”

  His words warm me. So I’m not a complete reject by his mother.

  Breakfast arrives ten minutes later, brought in by the elderly gentleman who had opened the door the night before and a middle aged woman who I assume is the cook. Scrambled eggs, toast, kheema paratha, egg rolls, orange juice and tea. How can a girl say no to this spread?

  I’m busy feeding my hungry self when Ajaz saunters in. He’s looking relaxed and content. Freshly showered, his hair is still wet at the edges and has my senses tingling. I bite on my tongue hard. Tears spring in my eyes and the carnal thoughts fly out immediately. I don’t want Raati here. Not till I have my answers.

  He gives me a knowing grin and takes a chair by my side. He is aware of the seriousness of our situation but we both want a happy, normal day for a change. “Slept well?”

  I nod, trying not to blush. Despite Raati, I can’t help my reaction to Ajaz. Even simply dressed in a white linen shirt and casual jeans, he is able to quicken my heartbeat.

  Asad butts in with a teasing grin. “I know, my bro’s a stud.” It draws a laugh out of Ajaz while I blush to the tip of my nose. “Ajaz, I h
ave made arrangements. Ammi has asked for the ceremony to be completed this afternoon.”

  Ajaz nods but I’m confused. What ceremony?

  Asad catches my surprise look and answers my silent question. “You both are to be married, Prisha. We need to act fast and get ready to find solutions.”

  My eyes mirror my hesitation. Marriage? I’m getting married? Ajaz hasn’t even proposed to me yet. Did he know? He had to know! Why is he treating me like an object without a say? Why didn’t he tell me?

  “We are aware this is sudden for you, Prisha,” Asad interjects even as I lay accusatory eyes upon Ajaz, “But we can’t go ahead with any protection until you are part of the family.”

  Protection?

  Ajaz takes my hand and brings it to his lips. Our eyes meet and I know it’s important. But I still need to know why he didn’t tell me.

  “Ahem,” Asad clears his throat making Ajaz release my hand. He’s seen Azmath walk in and he’s indicating it’s improper for us to be this close in their older brother’s presence. The thought annoys me. I’m not archaic in my thoughts nor did I expect Ajaz to be. But he’s playing along and I know it is for a reason but his decisions still hurt.

  Sudden anxiety overwhelms me. I’m upset that Ajaz didn’t bother to discuss our wedding with me. I can’t imagine being a mute player in matters of my life.

  “Excuse me.” I leave the table to find the nearest exit that leads to an open terrace outside the dining room. I take refuge in a corner away from the probing eyes of the Markos brothers.

  Ajaz is behind me in an instant. I don’t resist when he places his hands on my shoulders to turn me to face him.

  “Prish, I’m sorry.”

  I raise fiery eyes that are full of hurt and accusation. “It’s my life! How could you agree without even discussing with me?”

  He has the grace to look ashamed. “It was sudden for me too but it’s the only way I can protect us all.”

  “Asad has said the same thing. Protect in what manner?”

  He looks uncomfortable. “These are family secrets, Prish. I can’t reveal them to you unless we’re married.”

  My look of outrage is enough to have him cringe. I turn away from him reeling under a siege of mixed emotions. My love for him is unwavering but this is not what I had envisioned for us.

  What had you expected? One more elaborate wedding? No!

  Ajaz’s insistent hands turn me back to face him. “Do you trust me, Prish?”

  There’s pain in that simple question. He doesn’t have to ask me, he knows I do.

  I get teary eyed, making him curse and draw me in his arms. He lets me cry out my uncertainty. When I calm down, he cups my face in his hands to peer into my eyes.

  “Prisha, I never told you how I found you the night you slit your wrists.”

  My pupils dilate in surprise. Yes, we never discussed it. Why is he bringing it up now?

  His thumb traces my lower lip as his eyes take on a distant look. “I have often walked back on that night, trying to make sense of what happened. I had been keep tabs on you during and after your release from the hospital.” Ajaz leaves me to stand beside me, facing away into the sprawling grounds surrounding the mansion. “I wished with every breath to be by your side but I knew I had to give you time to mourn Nik in your own way. It was late night, I remember falling asleep on my couch. I dreamt about you. I saw you clearly, the sadness that enveloped you, the desolation you felt.”

  The honey of his eyes are brighter, clearer against the morning sun. They pin me with a look that tells me of his ache. “I saw you, Prish. I saw you slit your wrists. I saw the streams of blood draining your life.”

  I stare at him in disbelief even though I know he isn’t lying.

  “Prish, you came to me and asked me to let you go. You said as long as I was holding on to you, you weren’t able to cross over.” Ajaz hangs his head down trying to mask the waves of pain that wash over him. I can feel it. “I woke up knowing that your life was in danger. I drove like a crazed man to your place. I banged on the doors and windows and in the end I broke in.”

  His eyes are brimming with tears. “I found you on the bed in a pool of blood. I think I died a thousand deaths that night. Your pulse was faint. I called 911. Before they came, you opened your eyes and smiled at me. ‘You didn’t let go’ that’s what you said to me.”

  He takes me in his arms, I can feel a faint quiver running through him. “I don’t want you to do anything against your wishes. If you need time to think about it, I’m okay with that. I’ll make my family understand. But I’m never, ever letting you go. You get that?”

  I believe him. If anything, Ajaz has always been sincere with me. We have a connection that surpasses our earthy existence. I reach up to touch his face. “I’m sorry for everything. For the trouble I’ve caused you.” My eyes drop ashamed. I have been so caught up in my own emotions that I never once gave his feelings a thought. I always took him for granted.

  “Prish, I would’ve asked you to marry me a long time ago but I wanted to give you time to heal and accept me.”

  We stand with each other, our heads close. He holds my hands against his strong chest. “Prisha, you’re the only one I’ll ever love. I’m not marrying you because of the baby. It’s you I want with me for the rest of my days. I want to be your strength and I want you to be mine. I want to do this right. Prish, will you marry me?”

  Will I? I’m afraid of losing him. I’m afraid Raati will hurt him as she hurt Nik. But something tells me we’ll be stronger together. I gaze into his eyes seeing his heart in them. I know it beats for me and always will. We’re destined to be together. My heart constricts with a painful realisation. Love isn’t a one way street. Love is a reflection. It is a celebration. I’ve always loved and will always love Ajaz.

  I move in to kiss his lips. It’s the most heartfelt kiss we have ever shared. It has my trust, my hopes, my dreams, my beliefs and it’s all for him. “Yes. Ajaz Elias Markos, yes, I will marry you.”

  His smile reminds me of his younger self. The one that was carefree. I hope he will always have a reason to find this smile. I know there are dark clouds waiting on our horizon threatening us in ways we don’t understand.

  We walk back hand in hand. We’re in this together.

  ~ ~ ~

  The rest of the family joins us, leaving no time to garner further details of the ceremony in the afternoon.

  There are children who join us. Ajaz’s nieces and nephews. They are adorable, chatty and noisy. Ranging from nine to two years, they are curious about me but respectful enough not to ask embarrassing questions. I fall in love with them immediately. Maybe it is the mother in me for I never thought of myself as a children’s person.

  The Markos family keeps me busy all day. I can’t get a minute alone with Ajaz. At some point in the day, the women move me away from the men although we’re in the same room.

  Rinaz busies herself applying delicate strokes of henna on my palms. Now and then she cautions me to stay still. I’m restless. I keep glancing at Ajaz who’s busy in deep dialogue with his mother and brothers. They’re seated but hunched over in a close-knit circle. Their bond makes me envious.

  Closer to the time of the wedding ceremony, Rinaz takes me upstairs to her room. Over an hour has passed by since the application of the heena designs and she reluctantly allows me to wash my hands. We know the colour won’t be as strong but we’ve run out of time. The designs are a bright orange against my pale palms. Not very attractive but it’s the best that could be managed given the short time.

  Rinaz has laid out a striking creamy-white, embroidered, pure georgette tunic with a matching floor length skirt for me. She gives me time to put it on. When I let her back in, she adorns me with subtle jewellery, earrings, exquisite neckpiece and dozens of delicate metal bangles. She even manages to tame my tresses into an attractive hairstyle. A bit of gloss, a dark stroke of kohl and I’m ready. She leads me down the stairs with my heart in my mouth.


  I’m getting married to Ajaz!

  Ajaz walks out of a room at that moment, right across the bottom of the staircase. My heart all but drops. He’s wearing a simple, white, linen pathani that highlights his masculinity as no western clothes ever could. I have never seen him in one and it bowls me over. He looks up, surprised to have come across me. His eyes widen as they take me in. They speak volumes of his love, his desire for me. He beams me his seductive, lopsided grin before sending me an audacious wink.

  I blush while Rinaz laughs and shoos him away. The light, brief flirtation has unleashed butterflies in my stomach. Something begins to stir but I bite down hard on my lip and keep the growing sensations away.

  I’m taken to a smaller room that is bare of furniture. It has solid walls on two sides, a door on one and an intricately sculpted wall on the opposite side. It allows light to filter into the room filling it with a peaceful quality. This is their prayer room.