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Iman

I received a notification for a social media account as I had coffee with my family, late in the night. I looked down and saw that Saad Bhai had left a heart and a fire emoji under one of my photos just now. It was the middle of the bloody night in Lahore, and he was checking out my photos.

I almost choked on my coffee and ended up gagging, spitting out coffee all over the laminated floor.

"Iman!" Mama cried out, jumping up to her feet to help me up, as Papa patted my back.

"S-Sorry, Mama." I said, tears spilling out of my eyes due to almost choking.

"You okay?" Papa asked, soothingly running his hand up and down my back.

I was shaken by my cousin's pervy behaviour. While Fariha Phupho and Zafar Uncle were absolutely wonderful people, as well as Omar Bhai and Zaid, I don't know how Saad Bhai had ended up so messed up.

"Papa..." I began to sob. "I'm scared." 

"Hani, jaan, bring a mop." Mama said to my sister. "Let's get this cleaned up." She gently took the mug from my shaking hand as Appi rushed out of the room.

As Hania Appi returned and cleaned everything up, Mama sat on my other side, wrapping an arm around me. "Iman, I've noticed that you've been quiet all evening. What's wrong?"

"Appi, can I just talk to them privately?" I looked at my sister, who nodded understandingly and left the room, closing the door behind her. The moment she left, I went into the messaging app, and pulled up my conversation with Saad Bhai. "Papa, read these and tell me what you think." I held up the phone so that they both could easily read it. 

Papa's jaw clenched and Mama looked horrified.

"He's behaving very inappropriately." I said. "I know he's Phupho's son, but he's making me feel very uncomfortable."

At the exact moment, there was another notification, and I clicked on it. Underneath the photo of me standing outside Edinburgh Castle, Saad Bhai had posted the 'flame' emoji, meaning 'hot'.

My parents had repeatedly warned me about the dangers of uploading photos on social media. They have also warned me that cousins were nevertheless non-mehram, and should be treated as such when it comes to certain matters. Today, I realised how right my parents had been to warn me.

"This was just now?" Papa asked. "What the hell is the time in Lahore?" He looked at the time on the corner of the phone screen. It was almost one here, so it must be almost five in the morning there, four hours ahead during summer times. "Give me the phone."

"Fawad..." Mama seemed to know exactly what he was about to do, because she shook her head.

He dialled Saad Bhai's number, leaving it on speaker. 

"Kya hua? Akhir baat karne ka dil kargaya, Iman?" Saad Bhai answered, sounding amused.

*"What happened? Felt like talking after all, Iman?"

"Assalam Alaikum, Saad." Papa spoke up.

He was silent for a few moments. "M-Mamu?"

"Yeh kya badtameezi hai?" Papa snapped. "Why are you sending such messages to my daughter?"

*"What insolence is this?"

"Mamu, I was just..." He cleared his throat. 

"Fariha's my sister, and I've always treated you all like my own sons." Papa started speaking in Punjabi, which he tended to do when he was furious. "But that doesn't give you the right to misbehave with my daughter. Hania and Iman are like your little sisters, and if you treat them as anything but that, you'll have to answer to me."

"I'm sorry, Mamu, it was nothing serious..." 

"Nothing serious?" Papa paced the room. "You were messaging inappropriate stuff to my nineteen-years-old daughter in the middle of the night, and you're saying that it was nothing serious? This is my first and last warning, Saad. Focus on your marriage, and from today onwards, you are not to call or message Hania or Iman at all. If you have anything to say to them, you can pass on the message through me or your Mumani. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Mamu."

Papa hung up, looking annoyed.

"You okay?" Mama asked me as I rested my head against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Papa." I whispered. "I swear, I've always treated him like a brother, and nothing else."

"I know, meri jaan." He sat back down. "Unfortunately, this is exactly what we mean about predators being everywhere in this world, even in our own families sometimes."

"Omar and Zaid are so respectful and caring." Mama looked thoughtful. "But Saad..."

"Fariha was always worried about the type of friends he hung out with." He shook his head. "She kept warning him repeatedly, but he didn't listen. He was a major flirt, and then he married the first girl he fell for. I guess that didn't work out."

"I'm glad we never considered marriage between him and Hania." Mama grabbed my hand, squeezing it in a protective way.

"I would never consider marriage for my daughters with one of their cousins." Papa said. "I know it's allowed, but I never agreed with the concept. Fine, they should still act like non-mehrams  around each other, but I disagree with them getting married." He looked at me. "If he ever tries to contact you again, let me know, okay?" 

I realised that as a father in the Pakistani culture, he was fully responsible for me and Appi until we got married, and that it was not an easy task. Based on that, me sneaking off in the middle of the night was not helping things at all, and I felt sorry for my parents. They loved us unconditionally, and I was doing things that would have humiliated them in society, if we lived in Lahore.

I gave my father a hug. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, jaan." He kissed the top of my head. 

****

"Appi, get lost!" I threw a cushion at her as she stood in my doorway the next day. She was teasing me, threatening to give me spoilers for Supernatural, a show that I've been recently trying to catch up on, as well as my usual binges. Hania Appi had apparently caught up with it already, and she knew how much I hated it when someone spoils my shows.

She giggled. "You know who..."

"Shut up!" This time I threw my pillow and it hit here squarely in the face, causing her to stumble back. This time I giggled.

"Oww! You cow." She muttered.

"Let me watch in peace." 

She came over and sat down besides me, instantly reaching for the large bag of Doritos Chilli Heatwave that I'd been munching on.

"Get your own." I protested, but I didn't pull the bag away from her.

We watched in silence for a while, chewing the snacks.

"Iman?"

"Hmm?" 

"I heard Papa yelling last night and I overheard stuff." She pursed her lips together. "Was Saad Bhai really bothering you?"

I nodded, without looking at her.

"Are you okay?"

I smiled at her. "You saw how Papa handled everything, so I have nothing to worry about. And besides, it takes much more than a creepy cousin to scare me." I was trying to pretend that I hadn't felt sick with fear last night, before I'd told my parents everything.

"That's my biggest worry, Iman." She whispered. "Ending up with a guy like him. He has a wife and he behaves like that." 

"Appi, if your future husband doesn't love you, he would need his head checked." I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I knew that unlike me, Appi dreamed of marriage. She adored our parents' relationship, and she wanted her future husband as loving and caring as Papa was towards Mama. I also knew that my sweetheart sister was very worried about her future, based on her shy and awkward personality. "Have faith in Allah, Appi. You're so good, so sweet that you'll only get the best. In Sha Allah." 

"In Sha Allah." She looked at me. "Do you want to get married?"

I laughed. "I mean, it's a huge part of our religion, and yes, eventually I will consider it. But my biggest dream right now is to work side by side by Papa, at least one time. I want to be a doctor, and he's my biggest hero and inspiration, and working with him will basically be all my wishes coming true."

"That's your only wish?"

I shrugged. "I'm a simple person."

"Says the girl who wears designer pyjamas."

"Hey, that's how I choose to spend my pocket money." I shrugged. "Unlike you, always buying new books." 

"Actually, speaking of pocket money, Mani." Legs crossed, she sat facing me. "What do you think about me getting about, as I discussed with Papa?" 

"You know, a job involves speaking to strangers?" I teased her, lovingly.

"I know, but that will also help me boost my confidence up a little."

"Well, I support you." I grinned. "And then you'll have to buy me junk food." I grabbed her hand. "Come on."

"Where?" She wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"It's been too long since we've teased Mama about something." I smiled mischievously.

"Papa's home. Let them have their time together."

"They had the whole year together." I rolled my eyes. "And besides, Papa's the best partner in crime when it comes to teasing Mama."

As we walked down the stairs, I spoke loudly to alert our parents, in case they were a little too cosy. "We're coming, just for your information!"

"You really have no filter, you freak." Appi sighed.

"I'm not in the mood to walk in on..." We froze.

Papa was on the phone, looking serious, while Mama stood nearby, her arm resting across her stomach as she anxiously bit her lip.

"What's going on?" Immediately, Appi and I rushed over to our mother, standing on either side of her, almost protectively.

"I'll come as soon as possible." Papa said, before hanging up. He turned to face us, looking a mixture of worried and tensed. "Girls, your Dada Jaan has been admitted to the hospital, and it doesn't look good." He looked at Mama. "I have to go, jaan." 

"We'll come with you." Mama said.

I felt tears forming in my eyes. In both sets of my grandparents, I'd been the closest to Dada Jaan. He adored me, and I was always his 'Laadli', as he always referred to me.

*Laadli: pampered one (feminine version).

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Papa knew how much Dada Jaan meant to me, and he came over and wrapped an arm around me. "You know that he'd been suffering from leukaemia, right?"

"But, I thought he was getting better..." My voice broke.

"That's what I thought, but apparently Ammi and Fariha haven't been honest with me." He replied. "The doctors don't even think he'll be going back home now."

"Mama's right. We'll come with you, Papa." Appi said. 

My tears dampened my father's shirt as I thought about my grandfather.

"How's Dado holding up?" Appi asked.

"Fariha Phupho and Zafar Uncle are with her." Papa replied. "And, obviously, it's very difficult for her. I need to be there for them, and I need to see him..."

I stepped aside and Mama gave him a hug. The height difference between them was adorable, but whenever they hugged, it was so intimate that Appi and I automatically turned away.

The two of us headed out of the room and into the kitchen.

"I guess we're going to Lahore." Appi whispered.

I looked at her, shrugging. "I guess we are." 

****

Hania

The heat of Lahore made me grateful that I was wearing a light blue summer kurta and white slim-fit trousers, along with white gladiator sandals. 

Normally, I get very excited about visiting Lahore, because I loved this city and I loved our culture. However, we were all anxious and worried about Dada Jaan today.

Papa only has one sibling, Fariha Phupho, and he is the older one, which meant that he felt extra responsible towards his parents. 

Throughout the flight, Mama had been constantly by his side, holding his hand or talking to him, because he always tried to bottle up his emotions and to remain strong for his family's sake. But she understands him so well, that words were not even necessary between them. 

Even Iman was very quiet. Dressed in black leggings and a grey dress, she looked more casual than ever. Without her usual eyeliner, she looked extra vulnerable and younger than her age. 

"Mama, you and Papa head out. Mani and I will get the luggage." I tried to be strong for my family, but Papa wouldn't hear it. He got the luggage himself, always a gentleman, and the four of us walked out together.

We spotted Omar Bhai immediately. He was tall, with a Sunnah beard, and was dressed in white shalwar kameez. 

*Sunnah is the teaching of Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him), including his acts and his behaviour.

"Assalam Alaikum, Mamu!" He hugged Papa. Polite and well mannered, Omar Bhai didn't even direct his gaze towards non-mehram females. "Assalam Alaikum, Mumani, Hania, Iman." 

We all replied to his greeting, and as he and Papa beganto discuss Dada Jaan's condition, we heard loud chatter and we turned to look. 

Our gang from Mama's side of the family was walking towards us, clearly having being told by the adults that we were coming. Leading the way was twenty-years-old, Ibrahim Arhaan Sheikh, our Arhaan Mamu's son, and also Iman's mischievous partner-in-crime. He was closely followed by our younger Mamu, Ahad Mamu's, children, eighteen-years-old twins, Bilal and Noor Ahad Sheikh. Noor was chatting to Arhaan Mamu's youngest child and only daughter, fifteen-years-old, Amara Arhaan Sheikh. Bring up the rear of the group were seventeen-years-old Armaan Arhaan Sheikh, and my best friend, twenty-one-years old Ismael Arhaan Sheikh.

"Phupho!" Noor and Amara immediately rushed over to Mama, their beloved only Phupho. They both were very close to her.

Once again, everyone greeted each other.

"Hania." Ismael smiled shyly at me.

"Ismael, how are you?" I asked.

"Alhumdulillah." He replied. 

Mama smiled at the two of us. She always says that our friendship was adorable, and truly reminded her of the strong lifetime friendship of Papa and Arhaan Mamu. 

"We came to meet you guys. We can take Hania and Iman with us, Phupho." Ibrahim said.

"Actually, Hania and Iman have to come to the hospital with us." Papa said. "I don't want to waste any time, and I want the girls to meet their Dada Jaan." 

"We'll drive straight over with you guys, Fawad Uncle." Ismael reassured him.

We all walked to the car park, to our own cars. As we walked, Ismael and I started talking. After discussing Dada Jaan's condition, we moved onto another topic.

"Did you read the book I recommended?" He asked. "The thriller."

I bit my lip, sheepishly. "Ismael, I fell asleep reading it. It was so boring."

"You're boring." He teased me.

Apparently, they had come over here in a minibus. I was surprised that Ismael was able to drive it, but he could. He was a careful and safe driver, which I was grateful for because the Lahore traffic always made me feel like my heart was constantly jumping in my throat, and usually I end up gasping every few seconds. I sat beside him at the front, and I still got scared, but Ismael didn't drive rashly, which helped a lot.

I got out of the car in the hospital parking lot, and my bracelet got stuck in my kurta . Trying to remove it, I slowly followed my cousins and sister towards the entrance of the hospital building, when I heard the screech of wheels, and from the corner of my eye, I saw a motorcycle zoom right up to me.

I barely had time to react when it stopped inches away from me. I stared wide-eyed at the rider, whose face was covered behind a helmet.

"Hania Appi!" I could hear Iman's voice somewhere in the distance, but I couldn't move or think.

"Are you blind?!" My sister snapped at the rider. I must point out here that my sister only spoke English, despite having Urdu/Punjabi speaking parents. I spoke mainly English as well, but she was worse than I was when it came to our mother tongue. 

This was when the biker removed his helmet and once again, I felt breathless. He had cropped dark brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, an attractive stubble on his strong jawline and he was the most handsome guy I'd ever seen in my entire life. He must have been in his late twenties, pushing thirty. "I think, it was your Hania Appi who was walking in the road without looking." He spoke in perfect English, with a Scottish accent.

My mouth felt too dry. Say something, you utter weirdo.

"If you don't mind, Miss Hania," The biker gestured towards the road behind me. "May I please pass by?"

"Hania." Gently grabbing my arm, Ismael pulled me out of the way.

"Nice leather jacket. Perfect for the weather." I spoke sarcastically, glancing up at the sun that was slowly rising. It was early in the morning, but it was already very hot.

The biker chuckled. "I apologise if my jacket is somehow causing you inconvenience, Miss Hania." 

Iman's jaw had literally dropped open as she stared at me. I didn't blame her. I was surprised myself. Where had I gotten that sudden boost of confidence from?

"You okay?" Ismael asked me as the biker rode off.

"Let's head inside. Everyone must be waiting." I headed inside before I realised that I had no idea where Dada Jaan was. I looked over my shoulder and saw Ismael grinning at me, nodding towards my left. 

****

"Hania!" Dado looked tearful as she saw me coming. Like Iman was closer to Dada Jaan, I was closer to Dado. She gave me a tight hug and kissed my cheek.

"Assalam Alaikum, Dado. How's Dada Jaan?" I asked.

"Walaikum Assalam. Beta, just pray to Allah for his good health." She wiped her tears away with a tissue.

"Assalam Alaikum, Dado." Iman said.

"Walaikum Assalam." Dado stiffened and gave her a formal hug.

Dado thought Iman was too overconfident and liberal, and her loudness came off as rude to our grandmother sometimes. It wasn't that Dado didn't love her; how was that even possible? She was still her only son's younger daughter, but her behaviour was not appreciated much by Dado. 

"There are my beautiful girls." Fariha Phupho stepped out of Dada Jaan's room and came towards us with her arms open, pulling us sisters in a group hug. She was tall, having inherited her height from both her parents. A general practitioner, she was Iman's female role model besides Mama. Phupho had maintained herself well, and in my opinion, was a very pretty woman, Ma Sha Allah. 

Mama and Papa were inside the room, and Iman and I had decided to give them some time with Dada Jaan.

We greeted our Phupho and she hugged us tightly.

"Go inside you two." Phupho said. "Bhai asked me to send you both in."

Iman and I entered the room quietly. Our frail looking grandfather, who once used to be the Head of Neurology at this very hospital, was lying unconscious in bed, with drips and machines attached to him. The room was completely silent apart from the low beeping of the heart beat monitor. Papa stood beside the bed, lost in thoughts, with Mama holding his hand, comfortingly. 

"Dada Jaan?" Iman walked forward, a tear sliding down her cheek. Her lower lip trembled as she saw how terribly weak our grandfather looked. "Look, it's me, Mani."

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. A weak smile appeared on his face and he raised his hand lightly. As I joined Iman, his gaze moved over to me, the smile remaining on his face. I swallowed hard, unable to see him like that. My own eyes filled up with tears of compassion and sorrow. A few moments later, he closed his eyes. Iman buried her face against my shoulder, sobbing. I wrapped my arm around her and led her out, not wanting to distress everyone in the room any further.

Mama followed us out of the room. "Babes, listen." She grabbed us each lightly by the arm. "You two should go home and get some sleep. But because we're all here, go to your Mamus' house, okay?"

"I want to stay here, Mama." Iman was crying.

"Meri jaan, you're already going to be jet lagged, and lack of sleep will make you unwell." Mama soothingly ran a hand over her head. "Go. Hani, take care of her, okay?"

With heavy hearts, Iman and I left with Ismael and the others. 

****

The Sheikh family home was grand, and it always awed me when I came here. Both my parents came from extremely wealthy backgrounds, and their family homes showed that clearly. I couldn't help thinking how my mother had grown up here, dreamt about her future here, and then had fallen in love with and married a guy who had regularly been a visitor here due to the strong friendship between the Ali and Sheikh family.

Zoya Mumani, Ahad Mamu's wife, greeted us at the door. She was a modern woman with shoulder length naturally curly hair and gorgeous almond eyes. "Hania! Iman! Welcome, sweethearts!" She was born and bred in London, and had only moved to Pakistan a couple of years before marriage, and she used to be a TV actress before marriage. She had quit after losing her mother, after which she had moved from Karachi to Lahore, to work for a charity that helped people suffering from brain tumour, which was the cause of her mother's death. She gave us a Dior scented hug. "Ma Sha Allah! Gorgeous ladies. And Hania? You're looking more and more like Jasmina each and every day." I knew that she sensed our sadness, and was trying to cheer us up. She led us by the hands. "Ahad! Your favourite bhanjis are here!"

*Bhanji: sister's daughter.

"Only bhanjis." Iman muttered, despite her sadness.

"Hence, favourite." Zoya Mumani smiled at her.

Ahad Mamu jogged down the stairs and we all greeted each other. Apparently, Arhaan Mamu was asleep as he'd been at the hospital all night so that Dado and Phupho could go home and rest. See what I mean, about his strong friendship with Papa? He treated Papa's family like his own, especially after Nana Jaan and Nano passed away.

"Where is Naz Mumani?" I asked. Naz Mumani was Arhaan Mamu's second wife, and the mother of Armaan and Amara. I had no idea why Sadia Aunty, Arhaan Mamu's first wife, got divorced, and left leaving her sons (Ibrahim and Ismael) behind. My parents were firm believers of keeping us away from family politics, and I suppose this was it.

"Nazia Bhabi is at work." Mumani replied. She put a hand on Iman'scheek. "You both need to go rest now, okay? You must beexhausted."

We both nodded, and shetook us upstairs to Mama's old room. It was strange to be here, to be a part of her life before she married Papa, before Iman and I came along. Throughout childhood, you just feel that your parents only belong to you, and it's almost surprising as you grow up and learning about their lives before you.

The wall was lined up withphotos, old family photos of Mama and her brothers, their parents. I saw an oldphoto that I had seen numerous times, and each time I felt amazed. It was aphoto of both the families, the Sheikh family (Mama's) and the Ali family(Papa's), when our parents and aunt and uncles were all teenagers or below.Papa and Arhaan Mamu were the oldest of their generation, and they both worePakistani cricket team shirts, with caps on backwards, as Papa held a bat. Ahad Mamu, Zafar Uncle andFariha Phupho were the same age, I believe. Ahad Mamu had his arms crossed overhis chest and looked bored, Zafar Uncle was also wearing cricket getup, andFariha Phupho was posing for the photo, pouting slightly. I had no idea poutingfor photos was a thing back then. Meanwhile, Mama looked adorable as she satcross-legged on the grass, grinning at the camera with one tooth missing, herhair in two braids. The parents stood to the side, with Nana Jaan's arm aroundNano's shoulder and with Dado's hands on Fariha Phupho's shoulder.

My gaze went from my Papa's photo to Mama's. "They never imagined back then that they would be married in the future, and parents of two adorable girls."

Iman finally laughed. "One adorable girl and a Hani, you mean."

I wonder who's out there for me. I sighed, before remembering why we were in Pakistan, and suddenly I felt guilty.

"You didn't even react at my comment." Iman slid her arm through mine. "Thinking of the biker guy? What in the world came over you back there? I was so impressed."

"I don't know." I shook my head, awkwardly. But I couldn't get his image out of my head. Astaghfirullah! I should not be thinking about a non-mehram guy like that. 

*Astaghfirullah: 'I seek forgiveness in Allah.' Often used to show one's disapproval over something.

I looked at my younger sister. "Let's go to sleep. I'm knackered."

After freshening up in the bathroom, I got into bed and immediately fell asleep. I didn't even realise when Iman came back from the bathroom and slid in beside me in the double bed.

****

"Hania? Iman?" 

"Mama?" I opened my eyes.

"No, sweetheart. It's Zoya Mumani."

I sat up, already knowing that something was wrong. I could hear it in her voice. When I looked at her, she looked sad. Dada Jaan.

Iman sat up as well. "Dada Jaan...?"

Mumani shook her head, pursing her lips together in sympathy. "I'm sorry. Jasmina just called. He's no more." 

"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un." I muttered.

*Translation: 'Verily we belong to Allah, and verily to Him we return'. Said when hearing about someone's demise.

Iman started crying and Mumani took her in her arms. 

Tears escaped my own eyes, but I tried to stay strong for my sister's sake. "Can we go to the hospital, Mumani?"

"No, your mother said to bring you both to your Dada Jaan and Dado's house." Mumani said. "They'll be bringing your Dada Jaan's body there. They are trying to organise the funeral after Asr prayers today." 

****

RIP, Dr Ali Mansoor. 

The updates are quick because the story is mainly edited, and I'm just adding things as I go along. Some parts I'm changing a lot, while others I'm keeping mostly the same.

Has Hania met someone very important? ;)

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote.