Until We Meet Again in Jannah

by Laki Khan

  ‘Hey, did I mention Kareem?’ he said to me, diverting my attention back to where we were.

  ‘What’s happened to him?’ I asked with concern.

  ‘No, no, he’s okay, he is currently in Bangladesh with his father. It was his father’s wish to travel to his native land and stay there for a few weeks,’ Omar explained.

  ‘We never did go round for that dinner,’ I said.

  ‘They will be back in a few weeks, we can arrange it for then,’ he said. Kareem resembled Omar in many ways; he was the epitome of the perfect son so it did not surprise me at all that he had accompanied his sick father all the way to Bangladesh, leaving his business unattended.

  I continued to enjoy my evenings spent with Omar, although every day he made a point of suggesting we dine in the smartest restaurants or to shop in the variety of malls that most women back in our village would be captivated by. Materialism held no significance for me, though; I much preferred to enjoy Omar’s company and was content with the moments shared in our home. In the mornings I would watch him prepare for a busy day at work, and had even assigned myself the task of choosing a tie that best suited his itinerary for that particular day; I found happiness in those small things. The irony was that although we did not marry in a way that was traditional – we did not even host the lavish feast that most people do according to societal expectations – here I was serving Omar as my husband according to the traditions held by most in our village. The inescapable reality was that in doing this I found joy, peace and serenity. I smiled as I thought of Sumayah and imagined what she might have said if she were to see me like this; I pictured her mischievous loving face and smiled in remembrance.

  A few months passed, made up of busy mornings and lazy, love-filled evenings.

  The much-detested British winter had arrived bringing with it cold, mist, wind, rain, hail, and even colder mornings and grey skies, with the days short and the nights long. Omar had told me many stories about the snow, about how picturesque it looked as the rooftops and everything else beyond shone, beautifully covered in white. He told me about the gale-force winds and blizzard of December 1990 when many parts of the United Kingdom became covered in almost four metres of snow. This fascinated me and was a sight I eagerly anticipated as I looked out of the window at the grey and cold foggy day, while the inside was filled with warmth from the open fireplace. I missed the warm humid heat of my native land, especially the golden early mornings. I reminisced about the joyous exchanges between villagers in comparison to the hurried gestures of tolerance here, as people were generally far too busy to engage in anything more than a smile if even that. I pictured little Jamal’s angelic face as he dived into the water, splashing all the other children. Gradually I was becoming accustomed to this cold weather as well as my new environment, which Omar helped me with. I was even on first name terms with my neighbours, who we had hosted for dinner, and just like Omar they too had enjoyed curried papaya, in turn complimenting my culinary skills.

  It was early evening as Omar returned from work one gloomy day; it was almost dark now. ‘Assalamualaikum,’ he said, walking into the lounge. I smiled and enquired about his day. He took off his hat and his short curly hair stood up with static, making me laugh. He sat next to me, and I held his cold hands trying to warm them up.

  ‘You look cold and tired,’ I told him and he laughed.

  ‘Is it ever warm in this country?’ I said humorously. I listened as he talked about his day; his business was doing extremely well, allowing him to employ another worker, which lightened his burden, and he had begun to appear less tense and overworked. He informed me about Kareem’s return from Bangladesh, and I was ecstatic to hear this news. ‘How come he stayed that long?’ I asked. Omar was unsure why, and said that Kareem wanted to host a dinner for us at his house.

  ‘Think about what day you would like to go,’ he said, resting his tired head on my shoulder.

  ‘You need to take some time off work,’ I told him, and he laughed. ‘Omar, you work way too hard,’ I protested, which was one of the things I admired most about him.

  Not a day passed when I did not think of Ammu, only now I was able to remember her with the light of joy as opposed to the darkness of pain. I guess I had finally let go of that inescapable pain I had been holding captive inside. I looked over at Omar; how composed and content he was with his life. He had not had the blessing of being raised by his parents and one could only imagine the devastation and sadness he must have suffered throughout his life. Yet he had turned into the most remarkable man I had ever known – the love of my life. He caught me looking at him. Inevitably my thoughts were transparent to him and he smiled knowingly, bringing me out of my daze. I did not possess the words to praise him; all I was positive about was that he was truly a godsend for me: an angel sent from the heavens.

  We were sitting opposite the fireplace after dinner as he played with my hair. ‘Do you want to go tomorrow to Kareem’s?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure, I will let him know,’ he replied. Kareem later confirmed the arrangement by text message. The next day was Friday, which made me feel happy, as the weekend was approaching and that meant more time with Omar. I concealed my loneliness from him during the week as I did not want to become a hindrance in his work. We sat together, and I told him about the voluntary work I had arranged for myself. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked. I explained to him that I would be in the play bus for a few hours every morning and it was something that I was looking forward to. My rationale was that teaching was a little different in this country so the voluntary work would provide me with a starting point, as if I was setting myself some expectations and goals. I was grateful that he allowed me the space to grow and develop in the form I deemed best, without hindrance. He elevated me and allowed me to become the best version of myself that I could be.

  The next day Omar arrived from work a little earlier than expected, just as I walked out of our room all ready to leave. He stared at me, looking slightly baffled. ‘What’s wrong,’ I asked him. He smiled and walked me over to stand directly in front of the mirror, standing beside me as the warmth from his body radiated towards mine. ‘What is it?’ I asked in confusion, turning around to face him.

  ‘Absolutely nothing, because your beauty is beyond my comprehension,’ he said to me.

  I smiled and mocked him. ‘You’re biased.’

  He turned me around to look directly into the mirror once again and said, ‘Look, see for yourself, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.’ For a moment I stared into the reflection. I wore a long floor-sweeping dress, the colour of plum and made of a soft chiffon fabric. The dress was beautiful and simple, decorated with an intricate line of silver beads at the neck. My make-up was simple, yet my face glowed like never before.

  I looked towards him and said, ‘You beautify me,’ to which he just laughed.

  This dinner had been long awaited. I recalled the first time Kareem had asked to host us, which had been months ago, and I had declined many times out of self-isolation. A part of me felt guilty as Kareem had always treated both me and Omar with such kindness and generosity. It was just after dark now and we had arrived at Kareem’s house as he lived nearby. Their house was large, larger than what was required for two people. He greeted us at the door with a gigantic smile across his face, welcoming us into the house through the wide hallway and into the front reception room, which again was larger than our little apartment.

  ‘Omar, Bhabi please come inside,’ he said joyfully. They shook hands and for a moment it seemed that they could be biological brothers.

  ‘Kareem, how are you and your father?’ I asked. He replied that they were both very well; his father was currently resting upstairs. There was something different about him, something unidentifiable, as if he was happier and more content. Omar and Kareem chatted together, mainly about his trip, and I listened attentively.

  ‘I have to say, Omar, that it’s so nice to see you guys together and smil
ing. I pray that God keeps you like this for eternity,’ he said, and I glowed inside with happiness.

  ‘I hope so,’ Omar added, looking in my direction.

  ‘Do you want a hand with dinner, Kareem?’ I said to him, standing up and starting to walk towards the kitchen.

  ‘No, Bhabi, it’s fine,’ he said, startled.

  ‘I absolutely don’t mind,’ I assured him.

  ‘Kareem, you would be pleasantly surprised with Saira’s culinary skills,’ Omar added in encouragement.

  ‘Okay, guys, so there is a reason why I don’t need help,’ he muttered. Omar and I were perplexed. ‘I have an announcement to make,’ he continued now, his face beaming with delight. Omar and I looked at each other in suspense. He then disclosed that his fiancée was in the kitchen helping him with dinner preparation.

  ‘You’re engaged – that’s brilliant news,’ I blurted out in excitement. Omar congratulated him, standing up at once to give him a hug of approval. He told us that he was very excited to introduce her to us today, which just made this evening even more memorable and special.

  ‘How did this all happen so quickly, Kareem? You are a dark horse,’ Omar joked with him. He explained how, for some time now, his father had expressed a desire to see him betrothed and settled in life. While they were visiting Bangladesh he began to receive many proposals, one of which he had decided to pursue further. He then got to know the lady and chose to extend his trip, and then they became engaged. He told us that she was from a small village near his, and that she was also willing to undertake some of the caring responsibilities for his father, which Kareem was delighted about. This truly captivated me, and I felt overjoyed as did Omar. Kareem added that his father was not coping well with the village heat and consequently they had postponed the wedding. He then applied for a fiancée visa, which miraculously was accepted on the grounds of his father’s ill health, and the three of them had travelled back to the UK together.

  ‘Oh, Kareem, what wonderful news, and now you have a wedding to plan,’ I said to him.

  ‘I would like for both of you to be involved as well,’ he said kindly.

  ‘Goes without saying. We can also tell her all your bad points in case she wants to rethink her decision.’ Omar teased him, and we all began to laugh.

  ‘Shall we sit at the table,’ he said, and we followed his lead. I sat next to Omar and Kareem walked into the kitchen. He returned to the room saying, ‘Guys, this is my fiancée.’ I saw a young girl who hesitantly walked behind him; she was dressed in a very pretty emerald green floor-length kameez, with matching bangles and a green hijab with small silver stones scattered all over her head.

  She raised her head slightly, still looking down to the floor, and in a very timid voice greeted us both saying, ‘Assalamualaikum.’

  I stared at her face while a rainbow of emotions overtook me, paralysing both my mind and my body; first shock, then horror, followed by pain, grief, sorrow and anger. My suspicion was confirmed: as I observed her walk into the room I had noted that her posture resembled that of Sumayah. I continued to stare at her face and whispered, ‘Sumayah,’ as Omar turned to look at me, holding my hand beneath the table, subliminally asking me to compose myself. I was in disbelief at the sight of her right here in front of me. That round face, big, beautiful eyes and small frame I would have recognised anywhere. Omar squeezed my hand, trying to tell me everything was going to be fine. My eyes were welling up and I battled to conceal the expression upon my face.

  Kareem was standing close to her, his face radiating joy as he said, ‘Sumayah, this is Omar and Bhabi, almost like family to me.’ She looked up at us both and my eyes met hers. She then looked at me and then Omar and then back down to the floor again. I witnessed the same rainbow of emotions overtake her as she looked up at me for a third time in confirmation. Part of me wanted to embrace her and ensure that she was well, while another part felt betrayed as I recalled past events.

  ‘How are you, Sumayah?’ said Omar, attempting to keep it all together for us both.

  ‘I am very well, thank you,’ Sumayah answered hesitantly.

  ‘Shall we eat now?’ said Kareem, and they both walked back into the kitchen.

  ‘Omar, I can’t breathe,’ I told him as panic began to set in.

  ‘It’s okay, take some deep breaths, you will be fine. I am here with you,’ he assured me, holding my hand tightly. I began to take deep breaths. ‘I promise we won’t stay long.’ Just then Kareem and Sumayah walked back in, carrying what seemed to be a variety of different dishes reminiscent of the culture of my native land.

  ‘Please, guys, try a little of everything,’ he said.

  ‘Saira, what would you like to try first?’ Omar asked me in a soft voice.

  Before I could answer, Sumayah said, ‘Please try this papaya chutney first,’ placing a few spoonfuls onto my plate. She looked into my eyes apologetically. She knew all too well that I was fond of papaya.

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied submissively. Both of us remained quiet throughout dinner as Omar and Kareem talked, mainly about the climate in Bangladesh. I was distressed, and Omar nudged my hand, encouraging me to eat. I noticed Sumayah look at me time and time again, almost as if she had so much to divulge but something was holding her back. I began to feel as if time had stood still.

  Dinner and the serving of tea and desserts finally came to an end, marking the end of my agony. However, my anxiety seemed to heighten and I felt a build-up of moisture between the palms of our hands. Omar conjured up an excuse, saying he needed to prepare a work-related report for first thing in the morning so we could be excused immediately. We thanked Kareem for his wonderful hospitality and once again congratulated him. Just as I was about to open the door to leave, I noticed Sumayah standing there. Placing my hand on her shoulder I said, ‘Thank you for a lovely dinner, Sumayah.’

  She momentarily held my hand and whispered, ‘Saira,’ as I walked out, choking back the uncontrollable tears. The touch of her hand had brought forth a paradox of memories that I had fought within my inner being, not having been able to lock them away somewhere as deep and dark as the depths of the ocean. This box of memories was one I did not want to open. Most of all I did not want to grieve anymore, because I had found Omar who was my solace for all the things I had lost and grieved for.

  I just about managed to climb into the car as Omar followed. My breathing began to escalate along with my pounding heart. ‘I can’t breathe, Omar,’ I said again, sobbing uncontrollably.

  He pulled me into his chest, embracing me with both arms. ‘Just breathe nice and gently. I promise you it will be fine,’ he said holding my face. I looked into his big brown eyes and began to breathe slow and deep.

  ‘I don’t know what happened to me in there. Everything just came flooding back and it hurts really bad, I’m so sorry,’ I continued.

  ‘It’s okay, shh,’ he said, placing his finger slightly over my lips. ‘I don’t want you to cry anymore, I’m here with you and I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you. We’re going home and we are going to put this evening behind us just like we did with everything else,’ he said.

  We reached home, and he sat me down in our usual spot beside the warmth of the fire. I felt safe here, shielded in his arms. We sat in silence as he gently held me. ‘Omar, I never mentioned this to you, but before I arrived here I sent for Sumayah,’ I said quietly, and he listened with undivided attention. ‘My last day in the village, I sent Abdullah to collect Sumayah just so I could see her one final time and bid her goodbye. Only she never came because her father had forbidden her.’ He appeared shocked. I explained how deeply hurt and betrayed I had felt. ‘You know me and Sumayah grew up together, we were almost like sisters, we were inseparable, and to think that she never came to see me one final time. That was unimaginable pain,’ I whispered in tears. I held on to his supportive shoulders.

  ‘Saira, please don’t upset yourself anymore. I wish I could erase this evening out of our memory,’ he sai
d. My mind took me back to those days when I was so absorbed with pain and sadness, and Omar had brought light back into my life with great struggle and difficulty. I felt afraid that I would regress into that dark and sad place once again where everything hurt and my heart ached with inconsolable pain.

  ‘Omar, I’m really scared. I don’t want to turn into that person I was a few months ago. I don’t want to put you through all that again,’ I told him, frightened.

  ‘I’ll never let you go back there, I promise. We have come this far and we will deal with this together, just as we have with everything else.’

  I felt unsettled, as if something unresolved had reared its head again causing waves in still waters. This was something I knew I had to resolve and perhaps that was the reason fate had once again orchestrated for me and Sumayah to meet in this mysterious way. I stood near the window staring out into the pitch dark, cold, windy night, reflecting on the turbulence of the evening. Later I lay next to him as he caressed my hair, telling me to rest and sleep, but this was the furthest thing from my mind. I was grateful that he was beside me, strong and courageous and ready to triumph every battle I had to contend with. Wide awake I contemplated sleep for a short while and then fought with an unsettled mind that refused to subside. The only thing in my mind was Sumayah. I could not help but think of her sad face. I had been hurt by her actions, but I found myself slowly succumbing to the memory of our lifelong friendship, and a love I was unable to deny. I found myself wondering if she was okay and whether she was happy with Kareem; the sadness I had witnessed on her face made me doubt that.