by Zeenat Mahal
Zoella nodded meaningfully.
Swaba changed tack as it registered, “So yeah, we should both find jobs as soon as possible. The longer you stay out of the house the better for you, I say.”
“So glad we agree on that. Finally!”
It was not her mother’s fault, really, Zoella thought. She had been weak and defenseless when Zoella’s father passed away. Her point of power had been her son, and he couldn’t help being who she made him into, could he?
“It’s not so bad, Ess…” Zoella began but Swaba interrupted her.
“Yeah, I know, they’re not to be blamed, they’re saints waiting for their halos to fall from heaven and shine around their heads and you have to bear the burden of the world. Really Zoella, wake up to the realities of the world and your life.”
Wanting as always to escape just that, Zoella went headlong into another favorite dream.
“Yeah, let’s talk reality. Let’s plan. What I want is to be a reporter or a feature writer. Maybe eventually go into broadcasting. What do you think? Do you think I can cut it?”
Then just like that, with no warning, she felt drained, as if all hope had flown from the world. She said weakly, “No wait, don’t answer that.” Zoella looked away, stared out of the car window and said in a small far-away voice, “It’s just another dream. It’s never going to happen.”
Understanding that the cause of this uncharacteristic fall in her friend’s spirits was Fardeen’s upcoming engagement, Swaba said with forced cheerfulness, “Okay first of all, hallo? If you’re not going to cut it, who will? And since when do you doubt, my perky little friend?”
Zoella gave a lop-sided smile.
“I think I may be growing up at last. Academic achievements don’t mean a thing in the real world. Nothing is going the way I thought it would.”
“Huh! So says the gold-medalist? You ungrateful wretch! You Little Miss Perfect, you!.”
Laughing Zoella stemmed Swaba’s ire, “Hey, calm down. I was just being modest. We both know who has the brains in this partnership.”
Swaba opened her mouth feigning shock and said, “And the looks…”
“Fat lot of good any of that is to me. It’s money and social standing, that’s what matters.”
“Fat lot of good that’s done me!”
“Oh shut up, Ess. Rishtas are lining up for you even as we speak. You have everything Ma’sha Allah, looks, brains, education and you belong to the higher echelons of society.”
“I belong to the what?”
Zoella laughed and shook her head. “You silly goose.”
“You silly duck,” countered Swaba.
They sat in companionable silence for a bit. Old Chacha Bahadur, who’d been faithfully driving Swaba for the past twenty years, cleared his throat a few times. Then he coughed.
“Are you okay, Chacha?” asked Zoella, concerned.
The old man smiled and answered, “Jee, Zoella beti. Just a sore throat. Nothing to worry about.”
“Last time you said that you ended up with pneumonia. Turn the air-conditioning off Chacha.”
“Zee! It’s a million degrees out there!” Swaba exclaimed.
Giving Swaba a stern look, Zoella replied, “I assure you, we’ll remain solid.”
“Huh!” Swaba caved in with a pout. “Okay, Chacha, turn it off, or your favorite will kill me with her big brown eyes.”
“Oh…er…I love you both equally beti.”
“Liar. Why is it that good people cannot lie, hmm? Why does the art of fine lying escape people with good hearts?”
Chacha Bahadur laughed heartily, now that he had his breath back.
“It’s ‘cos they have a conscience,” replied Zoella.
“I have a conscience and I can lie pretty damn good.”
Zoella turned towards her friend and arched her eyebrows, “That, right there, tells you that you have no conscience.”
Swaba punched Zoella’s shoulder lightly and said, “Anyway, back to important matters. You must find a job in broadcasting. It’s your dream. You have to try at least. Ask Professor Ghani. You’re so lucky, you know exactly what you want to do. I just did journalism because you were doing it. Why would you not pursue it? Look at me, I have no idea what I want to do now.”
Zoella looked back at her friend and teased, “You want to get married and have a blissful sybaritic life.”
Laughing Swaba said, “Yeah, I do.”
“Well then, we’ll plan yours after we’ve enjoyed the two upcoming weddings. And I’d rather not think about the battle I’ll have to do at home, for me to be able to get a job. Let’s focus on weddings. So much to look forward to. First my brother’s and then, uh…Fardeen’s. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. We’ll have to think of our future soon enough.”
Attuned to the slight catch in her best friend’s voice at the mention of her brother’s upcoming nuptials, Swaba started chattering away about all things girly.
***
Soon after her brother’s marriage though, Zoella realized the truth of Swaba’s words. Nothing she did or did not do, pleased the three people who were her family. Her sister-in-law declared soon after her marriage that she was expecting and that her doctor had advised bed rest. Her mother was already ill. Consequently, all the responsibility of running the house fell on Zoella. Farwa Bhabi required special attention. The maid was always in her room, so that Zoella ended up cooking almost every day.
Zoella didn’t mind. This was her family and she helped in every way she could. In any case soon she’d have a job and a new life. Despite evidence to the contrary, she just knew that she’d have her own life one day. Cheerfully, she went to Farwa Bhabi’s room and knocked.
“It’s falsa juice for you Bhabi. I went to the market and saw some, so I got them for you. It’s good for your morning sickness.”
“How thoughtful of you Zoella, thank you. Can you make me some pakoras as well? I have a craving.”
“Sure, Bhabi.”
Coming out of her room, Zoella saw Swaba enter their home, looking harassed.
“Hey, you!” Zoella greeted her friend.
“Zoella Khan, I am going to kill you. Do you know what date it is? Do you? There’s just one week left to Fardeen Bhai’s engagement and there are a million things to do. A million! And where are you? Nowhere. Nowhere, Zoella Khan. I am hurt. Yes. Hurt and…and shocked…and—”
“Take a deep breath.”
Swaba glared.
“Deep breaths don’t cut it anymore. The time for deep breaths has come and gone. Some friend you are! Ami is driving me up the wall with her awkward suggestions. She wants laddoos! Fardeen Bhai has no interest in the proceedings. All he did was select the ring for Neha with us and then poof. ‘I’m not a girl’, he says every time I ask him for any suggestions. As if I’d missed that!”
“I’ve been busy at home. Farwa Bhabi’s expecting.”
“Ooh! Congrats! A baby! How adorable is that? Aunty must be so excited. She’s going to be a grandmother! I’m going to go say salaam and steal you away from her.”
They both knocked and entered Zoella’s mother’s room.
“Salaam Aunty. I heard the great news. How wonderful.”
Zoella’s mother gave a half-hearted smile and said, “Yes, yes. I hope my son has a son.” Then she sniffed, wiped her eyes and said, “Who needs me now? No one needs me. If Zoella’s father were alive—”
Zoella hugged her mother and said, “I need you, Ami.”
“Huh. You’re going to get married and leave. A woman’s place is with her husband. Husbands don’t let their wives see their families too often. Your father, may Allah give him a place in jannah, didn’t let me see your grandmother for days.”
“Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.”
“Watch your mouth. He was your father. He was the kindest man I knew.”
Zoella rolled her eyes, thinking that didn’t say much about the rest of the men, but desisted from saying it.
Swaba sai
d, “Auunnttyy. I’ve come to take Zoella. Please let her stay with me for this week. Fardeen Bhai’s engagement is next week and I can’t manage without her. You know that!”
Her mother smiled and said, “Hmm, and what about me? How will I manage without her? Farwa is expecting as you know. We need her here.”
Swaba grinned and said coyly, “You have a new daughter to get to know. I’ll borrow this one. I’m sure you guys can manage without her for a week? I mean it’s only Bhabi’s first trimester.”
Her mother’s smile vanished.
“Daughters are daughters. No daughter-in-law can ever come close.”
Just then Zoella’s brother entered the room with his new wife hanging on his arm like an invalid, and her mother changed her tune like a chameleon.
“Come in, come in. We were just talking about you. I was just telling the girls how lucky I am to have two daughters instead of one now.”
Zoella’s brother beamed and said, “That’s true, Ami.”
His mother’s face glowed at his response, and she said, “Swaba wants Zoella to stay with her for the week because her—”
“A week? Why?” he asked.
“It’s my brother’s engagement, and Bhai, you know I can’t do without Zoella—”
Zoella’s new sister-in-law spoke up. "Yes, yes, that’s all very well but we are responsible for Zoella’s welfare and her reputation. See, I told you it would be something like that, didn’t I?” Farwa said glaring at her husband. When he didn’t reply, she continued, "I need Zoella here. Who will look after me? Ami’s too ill. In any case, we can’t have Zoella staying out at night. What will people say?”
There was utter silence in the room. Zoella and Swaba exchanged looks.
“I’m not staying ‘out’, Bhabi,” Zoella said. “I’m staying at Swaba’s home. I’ve known her nearly all of my life and I’ve stayed at her house before. It’s a special time for her family.”
Farwa shot her mother-in-law a look and said, “Just because things were managed badly before, doesn’t mean they should continue that way.”
Zoella’s brother laughed nervously.
“That’s…ah…haha…that’s….”
“I think we should take Zoella’s responsibility more seriously,” Farwa said.
Zoella opened her mouth to say something again but her mother interjected, “Yes, of course you’re right, Farwa. We should. I’m sorry Swaba, this time Zoella won’t be able to come.”
Swaba’s lips trembled. Her eyes watered. She was used to having her own way in everything, it was true, and she could be considered spoilt by some, but this was more than that. This was Zoella. Swaba couldn’t remember doing anything in life without Zoella. No birthday, no exam, no Eid, no celebration was complete without her. No tragedy, miniscule as it may seem to others, was bearable without her.
“Aunty…,” Swaba whispered in a voice as loaded with tears as a dark cloud in monsoon with rain.
Zoella glared at her family.
“Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made her cry!”
“I’m so…sorry.” Swaba sobbed.
Zoella shook her head at her family again and hugged her friend. She put one hand on Swaba’s exposed ear, crushing the other against her right arm, and whispered, “You don’t know Swaba, Ami. When she starts crying she can fill river basins. Never ever make her cry. She doesn’t stop and I have to…”
“Hey! I can hear you.”
Zoella’s mother smiled and looked at her son. He gave a nervous smile and then looked at his wife. Knowing she was beaten, Farwa went out of the room in a huff.
“See? Now she’s angry. She doesn’t need this at this delicate time,” pouted Zoella’s brother.
“It’s not such a big deal Bhai. Maybe you should tell Bhabi not to interfere in my life at this delicate time.”
Her brother glared.
“If Swaba weren’t here, I’d tell you exactly what it means to talk back to me.”
He left the room too.
“Zoella, you shouldn’t have said that,” her mother complained.
“It’s my decision Ami, and you are my mother, not her. She can’t tell me what to do.”
“It’s just that, you know she was interested in you for her cousin. He has a good job and if we don’t accept Jamila Phupho’s proposal, he…”
“Oh dear God, Ami! Not now. I’m going with Swaba. I’ll try to be back in time for dinner. I can go again the next day.”
Zoella had had no intention of staying at Swaba’s the entire week. However, that’s how things transpired. Zoella’s mother received a call from Swaba’s and they talked until Swaba’s mother convinced Zoella’s mother to let her stay.
“Thank you Aunty,” shouted Swaba from the background and the mothers laughed and hung up. Zoella and Swaba ran off grinning, to decorate the room for the engagement ceremony. It was already bedecked with flowers. The girls thought adding a few ribbons and candles would give a touch of contemporary that was sadly lacking in the minds of the professional decorators Swaba’s parents had hired.
All week, Zoella watched Fardeen—laughing, walking out or walking in, oblivious of his little sister’s best friend pining away after him. Then a week later, Fardeen and Neha got engaged. Zoella watched him put a ring on Neha’s finger, smiling happily into the eyes of his fiancée, laughing as they chatted, unmindful of the rest of the world. Zoella laughed and danced, even as she mourned the loss of her first, and probably only love. There was a part of her that berated her and said, what did you think? Fardeen was going to play Prince Charming to your Cinderella? Boo hoo, poor Zoella!
Swaba’s parents had insisted on dressing Zoella up like their daughter. She really did feel like she was part of their family. She watched her best friend fall in love with Omer, one of Salaar’s best friends, and Zoella smiled and celebrated with Swaba. She knew she’d have to leave her smiles behind when she went home. This was her sanctuary. She knew no matter what happened, she’d always be able to smile and laugh with her best friend.
TWO
On a perfectly ordinary afternoon a month later, Zoella received Swaba’s hysterical phone call, “Zoella…oh, Zee, it’s Fardeen Bhai, he was in an accident…”
Zoella’s heart shrank, becoming a heavy weight in her chest. She forgot to breathe. Her mind churned out image after image of a dead Fardeen. She managed to make some incoherent noise to acknowledge her friend’s pain. He was alive? Please, please let him live.
Horror and pain seemed to be constricting Swaba’s throat, her breath coming out in short gasps, as she whispered, “He’s in critical condition. Someone crashed into his car last night. His face is badly damaged. The doctors say he might lose sight in one eye. Oh, Zoella, nearly half his face…it’s like a melted wax mask…it’s just burnt tissue. Oh my poor brother.”
Swaba broke down again.
“I’m coming over,” said Zoella.
When she reached the hospital, Swaba ran, sobbing, into her arms. They waited together outside the ICU. Zoella patted and soothed and cried with her friend. Swaba’s parents were devastated. Salaar looked shaken. She’d never seen him this quiet. Swaba was heartbroken. Zoella tried to be their source of comfort. She brought them food, made sure they ate a little. She stayed at the hospital when anyone needed a break, or when no one else was available. She stayed with Swaba because her friend couldn’t bear to be alone. She prayed with Swaba’s mother to comfort her and keep her faith. She talked with Salaar and Swaba for hours on end. It was a long month of despair and a hard battle for the family.
“He might never be the same, Zee.”
“Salaar…”
“I know him. I know my brother. He’s a brilliant lawyer because he’s…he’s got a precise world-view. Everything is in a certain place and he…he’s always been at the center of things. He’s the eldest. He’s the responsible one. He’s the successful one. He’s never had a door closed in his face. He’s...”
“Salaar, don’t. Don’t do
this to yourself. He’ll be fine.”
“I am so afraid,” said Fardeen’s mother. “Even as a child, he was such a good baby. Looking after everyone, even children his age. He was always a leader. His teachers loved him. Even now they call him up. I was always so afraid for him because, who has everything? And he did. He really did, until now.”
She broke down and Zoella hugged her, crying with her, while Salaar tried to keep his tears at bay.
***
After five weeks, Fardeen was allowed to come home from the hospital. The doctors warned them that he was still in shock. He’d be depressed, perhaps even suicidal, they cautioned. His injuries were severe. His recovery would be slow. There was a long battle ahead for them all, especially for Fardeen himself.
Everyone watched him like a hawk. They tried feigning cheerfulness.
“Home sweet home, eh, Fardeen?” said his father in a falsetto tone that fooled no one.
Fardeen didn’t respond. He’d become uncharacteristically detached and silent.
“Of course it is,” said his mother in a mock-angry tone. “As if it needs to be said.”
Fardeen’s face remained impassive, half-turned away from the world. That seemed to be his state of mind too. His parents didn’t say anything to him but they were on tenterhooks. For days his food was taken upstairs to his room by his mother, Salaar or Swaba. But whoever spent any time with Fardeen came back almost in tears.
“He’s changed,” wailed Swaba.
“He’s angry,” replied Salaar.
“He needs time. Give him time,” their mother soothed.
“Has Neha called? Visited? Has she made any contact since that day at the hospital when she first came?” inquired Fardeen’s father.
There was a moment of silence and then his wife stammered, “She must have…I mean she didn’t call me but she must have called him.”
“Hmm.”
Swaba exchanged a scowl with Zoella and gestured for her to leave the room. Zoella followed, worrying why all this was happening to her favorite family in the world. Gradually, they were finding gratitude and joy that Fardeen was alive, and life was returning to a semblance of normalcy. Or what, Zoella realized, would be the new normal for them. The pall that had descended on the household was unfamiliar and it made her sad to see them like this. She crept around their tragedy, trying not to step on their mutual sadness, of which she was a part and yet not.
