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Taqdeer: Destiny

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Fawad

The death of the patriarch of the family had shaken the entire family, not least me, his supposed successor and the new patriarch. 

I composed myself in front of the guests, and even my close family, but when I walked into Papa's study, I started to feel his absence. I realised that he was no longer in this world, my biggest support, my ideal, the man who was hugely responsible to make me the person that I was today. I sank down into his chair, took my glasses off and placed them onto the table before  resting my elbows onto the desk and burying my face in my hands, shedding silent tears. No matter how old you are when you lose your parent, it isn't easy.

And then she came along, my love, my lady, my Mina. The woman who had understood me even thought I hadn't publicly shed a tear. The one who knew about my internal anguish without me having spoken a word about it. She stood beside me, resting her hands on my shoulders, letting me grieve for the most important man in my life. 

I composed myself a few minutes later and looked up at her. "I can't do it, Mina. How am I supposed to handle all the responsibilities?" 

"The way you have always done, jaan." She whispered. "I know it's hard, but for Ammi's sake, and even Fariha's sake, you'll have to stay strong. You have to be a pillar of support for them, especially for Ammi." She kissed the side of my head. "I know the pain, I've felt it, so I can understand, but Ammi needs us all right now." 

I nodded. 

"And I'm here." She sat down on my lap, leaning down to rest her head against my chest. "If you want to grieve in private, I'm here for you. Talk to me, cry in front of me. I'm your life partner. I'm not just here for love, romance and happiness. I'm here in your darkest and saddest moments as well." 

I kissed her forehead and held her in my arms, thanking Allah for this wonderful life partner, who had been there for me through thick and thin. I was blessed to share daughters with this remarkable woman. 

****

"Papa!" Fariha was sobbing hard, losing herself in grief. Being the only daughter, she had also been a Papa's Girl. She was absolutely inconsolable. 

Ammi sat on her bed, staring blankly out of the window.

Hania was trying to console her Phupho, but to no avail. She got up when she saw me enter Ammi's bedroom.

"Hani, jaan, get some water for Dado and Phupho." I told her.

She nodded and immediately rushed out. 

I went and sat beside my Ammi, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm here, Ammi. I know that it's not enough, but I can try my best to take good care of you. You're not alone and you never will be as long as I am alive." I then turned to Fariha. "And I know that I can't take Papa's place in your life, but I will be there for you the way he would be, as much as I could." I ran my hand over her head as she sat at the foot of the bed, clutching Papa's sweater. 

Mina was right. They both needed me right now. I could grieve in private with my wife, but I had to remain strong in front of Ammi and Fariha.

It was my new role of patriarch of this family as well that I had to fulfil. I had very large shoes to fill.

****

Hania

Papa was trying to be strong, but I knew him to well. Dada Jaan's death had hit him hard. He was trying his best to remain composed and strong. After Dada Jaan's death, hewas responsible for everything after all: dealing with the family matters and,most importantly, Dado.

Even after Dada Jaan had long been buried, there were a lot more people gathered at the Ali family home. I was inside the house, helping Nazia Mumani organise everything, while Mama took care of Dado and Phupho. Zoya Mumani looked after an inconsolable Iman. 

As everyone began to leave, I joined Papa in the garden, where he stood lost in his thoughts again, hands clasped behind his back in a father pose, staring up at the sky.

"Are you okay?" I slid my arm through his.

He looked down at me, giving me a sad smile. "I'm okay, meri jaan. Don't worry."

"I'm old enough, Papa. You can talk to me." 

He pulled his arm free and wrapped it around my shoulders instead. "Your mother's right, beta. I know how she feels now. You never realise the importance of someone in your life until they're gone."

"Well, if it helps, I value you greatly, as does Iman." I rested my head against his chest. "I'm sure Dada Jaan knew how much you valued him, Papa. We saw how much you respected him, how much you cared about him, so of course he would know."

He kissed the top of my head. "Aren't I meant to be consoling you and Iman?"

"I don't know about sons, but when a daughter grows up, she becomes an emotional support for her parents." 

"Acha? Itni wise ho gayi hain aap, meri jaan?" He teased me, lightly.

*Translation: 'Is that right? Have you become this wise, my life?'

I smiled back at him. "I don't know about being wise or not, Papa. All I know is, without doubt, that Dada Jaan was proud of you. You were a brilliant son, from what I've seen, a brilliant doctor, an unrealistically perfect husband, according to Mama, and an amazing father. Everyone who's associated with you is proud of you, so how could your own father not be proud?"

He gave me a hug. "I hope he was even half as proud of me as I am of you and Iman. Even that would be good enough for me." 

Suddenly, we heard a car horn, and the guards opened the gates to let a silver car through. A driver exited the car and opened the back door, from where a middle-aged man stepped out.

"Who's that?" I whispered curiously, covering my head with my dupatta out of respect.

*Dupatta: the scarf that goes along with shalwar kameez, the national dress of Pakistan.

Papa looked a little surprised to see the man. "Daniyal Sahab?" 

*Sahab: Mister, used respectfully.

"Assalam Alaikum, Dr Fawad. I was in Lahore, and I heard about your father's demise." The man looked sorrowful. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Walaikum Assalam. Thank you for coming, Daniyal Sahab." Papa glanced at me. "Beta, this is Mr Daniyal Muneeb, a former patient of mine from a couple of years ago, and now a friend. We both discovered that we were Lahoris, and here we are." He turned to face the man. "This is Hania, my elder daughter."

"Assalam Alaikum, Uncle." I nodded my head, moving behind my father.

"Walaikum Assalam."

"Hania, sweetheart, get someone to make us some tea, please." Papa had to speak over his shoulder to talk to me.

"Yes, Papa." I headed into the house, and asked one of the maids to make tea, while I headed upstairs to check on Dado.

****

Iman and I had come downstairs late at night for our usual coffee. Mama usually told us off if she realised that we drank it every day before bed, but since we didn't see her around, we assumed that she would be asleep. 

The two of us fell asleep on the sofa.

I was woken up by the sound of quiet voices.

"...Iman and Hania are asleep on the sofa..."

"What? Are they?"

My eyes flew open as I realised that the voices that I was hearing belonged to Saad Bhai and Zaid. I glanced at Iman, feeling protective of her all of a sudden. I sat up on the sofa and glanced towards the doorway, where Zaid stood frowning. Saad Bhai appeared behind, his gaze immediately travelling to Iman, who wore a white t-shirt and navy blue flannel pyjama trousers.

I stood up, relieved that I was wearing a loose full-sleeve shirt because I felt cold in air-conditioning while refusing to turn it off. "Can you guys not be here, please?"

"Relax, kitten." Saad Bhai chuckled.

"If you don't leave right now, I will scream." I warned him.

"Can you imagine this kitten screaming?" He sounded so condescending that it made my blood boil.

"Just remember, Saad Bhai, Papa's home." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Bhai, let's go." Zaid tugged at his arm. "Hania, we really don't want any trouble. Come on, Bhai!" He dragged his older brother away, and up the stairs.

"Iman." I reached down to wake my sister up. "Wake up!"

She opened her eyes. "What?!" 

"Let's go upstairs. It's not right to sleep down here." I told her.

"Appi!" She groaned as I led her upstairs. As long as I was around, I wasn't going to let any creep eye my little sister the wrong way. This little kitten had a protective side. 

****

"Log bhi hadd karte hain, Fawad." Mama was talking quietly to Papa as I was heading to the dining room the next morning.

*"People are the limit, Fawad!"

"What happened now?" 

"Another lady approached me about Hania's rishta yesterday." 

"At the funeral?" Papa sounded as bewildered as I felt. 

"After you all left for the cemetery, this lady started asking me questions about Hania, and whether you and I were considering her marriage." 

"Khuda ka khauf nahin raha logon main." Papa muttered.

*Translation: "People have no fear of God left."

I entered the dining room and saw that my parents were alone there. "Assalam Alaikum."

"Walaikum Assalam." They both replied as I took a seat. 

I didn't even pretend to have heard their conversation this time. We'd already made a deal, and I knew that my parents wouldn't go back on it. If I wanted to wait, they would wait.

"Hania, I was just telling your Papa that there was another rishta for you, straight after the funeral. Unbelievable, right?" Mama shook her head. "But don't worry, bothing will happen until you're ready for it. And I'm not sure if I'm ready for it either. You're just twenty-one."

"She'll never be ready, just for your information." Papa winked at me, playfully.

I giggled, as Mama lightly slapped his arm. I then noticed that the breakfast food was left untouched, and Papa was just having coffee. "Why aren't you eating, Papa?"

"I just don't feel like it right now, Hani." He stared down into his mug, his temporary amused mood disappearing. 

"Allah! Mama, isn't he meant to be a doctor?" Shaking my head, I grabbed some toast and put it onto a plate, along with scrambled eggs. "Here."

Papa smiled at Mama. "Bilkul tumhari tarhan ho gayi hai yeh."

*Translation: "She's become just like you."

"Good." Mama nodded in approval, as Papa gave in and started to eat.

We had breakfast in silence for a while.

"Mina, you remember Daniyal Muneeb Sahab?" Papa broke the silence.

"Name doesn't ring a bell, no." Mama shook her head after thinking about it for a few seconds.

"I introduced you to him at that charity event, remember? The property magnate?" 

"Oh, right." She nodded. "Yes. What about him?"

"He came over after the funeral yesterday, and he insisted on bringing over some dinner later tonight. I refused, as it would cause him inconvenience, but he was insistent." He took a sip of his coffee. "He's bring his son with him."

"Okay, I'll sort everything out." Mama glanced at me. "Hania can help me. Iman's too upset, I don't want to ask her."

"That's okay, Mama. We can manage."

****

Iman decided to help out a little, to distract herself, and the two of us were helping Mama in the kitchen when the guests arrived. Although they were bringing over dinner, there were other arrangements to be made, including the snacks to go along with the mandatory after-dinner tea, and the dessert. 

Mama rushed into the kitchen a while later, bringing in the dishes wrapped with aluminium foil. "We need to empty this out into plates and bowls and take it all inside."

Daniyal Uncle had brought chick pea pilao, a chicken curry, some kebabs, and even gajar ka halwa (carrot pudding). Leaving the dessert behind in the kitchen, we headed inside with the main course.

We were just setting the dining table, where Papa was seated with Daniyal Uncle and a young guy that I didn't pay much attention to, until I was opposite him. I looked up, straight into familiar chocolate brown eyes.

"Whoa." Iman muttered, noticing him as well.

"Miss Hania." The biker from the hospital car parking smiled.

"You?" I whispered.

"You both know each other?" Papa looked at me, surprised.

"He almost ran Appi over with his bike." Iman smirked, sitting down beside Mama.

"He what?" Papa raised an eyebrow at the biker.

"I'm sorry, Fawad. My son rides like a lunatic." Daniyal Uncle said. "Hania, beta, this is Hamza. Hamza, this is Hania, Fawad's elder daughter." He looked at my sister. "And you've already met Iman just a while ago."

"No leather jacket this time." Hamza grinned, gesturing towards his blue shirt that was rolled up almost all the way till his elbows.

I was too lost for words. "Excuse me." I just ran out of there, my cheeks red.

I hated how awkward I was. Why was I like this? Why couldn't I have Iman's confidence? Why couldn't I have even the tiniest bit of confidence, full stop?

I stood in the kitchen staring blankly out of the window, when Mama appeared by my side.

"Hania?" She put a hand on my arm. "Come in, meri jaan. Everyone's waiting for you, so that we can start eating."

"You guys go ahead." I couldn't look at her.

"Is this only because you have difficulty speaking to new people, or is there something else that I don't know about?"

"You know how I am, Mama."

"Come." She grabbed my hand. "We're here, sweetheart. I know it's hard, and you don't even have to talk during dinner. Just come with me, okay?"

I nodded and followed her inside.

Was this taqdeer? How did I tell my mother that I couldn't stop thinking about Hamza since yesterday? That made no sense. I didn't know him at all. This was just pure attraction, that's all.

Yet, for the first time in my life, someone had sparked a little bit of confidence in me, and that had been Hamza.

And why am I freaking out anyway? Although we were going to be in the same room, it would be in the presence of the first and most important mehram in my life, my father. It's not like we were going alone on a date.

But the moment I met Hamza's gaze, I was lost. I came to a realisation that fate was playing a dangerous and tempting game with me. I had to remind myself of my culture, my values and my religion, to avoid falling into the warm abyss of his beautiful eyes. I lowered my gaze.

'The purest of love is achieved by following the path set by our religion.' I remember reading this quote in a British Muslim novel that I'd discovered in a bookshop a long time ago. That book had described the importance of marriage and love found after Nikah.

I will stick to the right path, and I will let my parents choose my life partner. Until then, I should not be checking out non-mehram males. I should not be checking out anyone at all right now.

As I took a seat at the table, between Mama and Iman, I kept my gaze lowered, as far away from Hamza as possible. I answered Daniyal Uncle's questions politely, but remained silent throughout the dinner otherwise. Iman, on the other hand was chatting to Hamza openly. 

"Cool motorcycle. Can I ride it?" Iman winked in Papa's direction, clearly teasing him.

"For the love of Allah, Iman." Mama looked at her, but there was a small smile on her face. Clearly, she approved of Iman teasing Papa. It was the perfect revenge for the years our father had teased her.

I excused myself after dinner to help Mama clear the table, as well as starting to make tea. 

But just before I left the table, my eyes clashed with Hamza's, sending butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. 

Astaghfirullah, Hania! I told myself off.

****

You know how desi families say goodbyes, right? Walking the guests outside and chatting for half an hour, before getting in the car and chatting through the window some more? Well, Papa seemed to be outside for ages, saying goodbye to Daniyal Uncle and Hamza.

Uncle had told us that he was divorced, and that his ex-wife still resided in Scotland. If Aunty had been here, my parents would have been saying goodbye to them half of the night. That's how it worked in desi families.

And then both my Mamus arrived, along with my Mumanis, Phupho and Zafar Uncle. The adults all sat down in the garden, for more tea. Meanwhile, I was helping Dado as she prepared to go to bed. The rest of the cheeky gang seemed to be in the living room, messing around. Omar Bhai and Saad Bhai weren't here, because the former, who was also a doctor, was at work, whereas Saad Bhai was God-knows-where (not that I cared).

"Go to sleep, Dado. You must be exhausted." I told her, pulling her duvet over her. Because Dado was in her Iddah, she hadn't come down for dinner, and I had brought it up for her. I bent down to kiss her forehead. My heart ached for her. I couldn't even imagine how she must be feeling, losing her husband of over five decades.

"Bless you, my sweetheart Hania." She said. "Allah tumhe khush rakhe, sehat aur lambi zindagi ataa farmaye. Ameen."

*"May Allah keep you happy, and bless you with good health and a long life."

"Appi! Mama is calling you!" Iman yelled from downstairs, making Dado wince.

"Sorry on her behalf, Dado." I squeezed her hand. "Allah Hafiz. Let me know if you need anything, okay? If you want, I can come back and massage your legs." 

"Nahin, uski koi zaroorat nahin hai, mere Fawad ki pyari si jaan." She said, lovingly. 

*"No, there's no need for that, my Fawad's lovely life." 

I headed out of the room and downstairs. When I stepped out into the garden, I felt awkward. Whenever the elder couples were together, I felt like I was interrupting a group date or something. 

I wonder why Mama has called me.

"There's our sweet little Hani Jaani." Ahad Mamu called out. 

"Mamu, I've grown out of that name." My cheeks were warm. I hated being the centre of attention.

"You'll never grow out of a name that your Mamu has given you." He mock-scolded me.

I gave him a small smile, my cheeks probably a deeper shade of red now. "Mama, did you call?" 

She was leaning against Papa, his arm casually resting on the two-seater outdoor sofa behind her. Again, it felt like I was interrupting a date.

"Hania, actually, I wanted to talk to you." Zoya Mumani said. "I have to go shopping tomorrow for an event that I am organising at work. Would you like to give me company?" 

I looked towards my parents, automatically.

"Babe, we've asked Mama and Papa already." Mumani told me, smiling, making everyone laugh.

"Okay." I nodded.

 "Where has the time gone?" Arhaan Mamu asked, rubbing his greying beard. "It feels just like yesterday that a toddler Hania was pulling my beard and giggling."

"Papa used to play with her so much." Fariha Phupho said, sadly, her hand clasped in Zafar Uncle's. "His first granddaughter, his laadli." 

Zafar Uncle squeezed her hand, and their gazes locked as he gave her a reassuring look. Papa tangled his fingers through Mama's hair, and she snuggled closer to him, placing her hand on his stomach. Nazia Mumani leaned her head against Arhaan Mamu's shoulder, and Ahad Mamu wrapped his arm around Zoya Mumani's shoulder. Clearly, everyone was finding comfort in their spouse at a time like this. 

"I need to go and massage Dado's legs." I got up, blushing again, and rushed inside. 

At times like this, I was really glad whenever Iman was around. 

****

That night I realised how fragile life is and I broke down. 

Seeing my Phupho's tears, Papa's sadness, I thought about how we could lose anyone at any moment. And then I started fearing the thought of losing Mama or Papa, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to bear it. 

And as I cried, I made a promise to myself to always keep my parents happy with me. I would never do anything to disappoint them, at least not intentionally. My parents meant everything to be, and if I wanted to please Allah, I had to give my parents the respect, regard and love that they deserved. 

I cried for my father and my Phupho, I cried for my Dado and I cried for my departed Dada Jaan. This was the biggest loss I'd faced in my life so far. 

There was a light knock on my door. "Appi?" 

"Come in, Mani." 

She entered, her eyes filled with tears. "Are you okay?" 

I shook my head, bursting into fresh tears as I saw my sister. I was sitting on the floor, my knees pressed against my chest, with my arms wrapped around my legs. Mani came over and sat down beside me, wrapping both her arms around me and we both cried. 

"I miss him, Hani Appi." 

"I know, Iman. I miss him too." 

She pulled back, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Coffee? And we can put on some drama on TV and endlessly make fun of it." 

"Mama will kill us for having coffee so late." 

"She's too busy comforting Papa tonight, probably." She stood up.

"Oh my God, Iman!" My eyes widened, and I was embarrassed yet again.

"What?" She shrugged and looked down at me, before she gasped. "Oh my God, Appi! What the heck? I didn't mean in that sense! I meant literally comforting him! Good God, you're not as innocent as everyone thinks!" 

Oops.

I stood up as well. "Come on. Coffee time." I walked past her to hide my blush and to avoid further embarrassment.

"Why did Hania Mind behave like Iman Mind tonight?" She teased me as she followed me.

"It's your influence."

"You should be proud of yourself then. At least you got some cheekiness from me." 

I just rolled my eyes. "I would never want even one percent of your cheekiness, Iman Fawad." 

She just laughed.

****

Ismael

"Hania ke baare main soch rahe hain?" Ibrahim asked me that night.

*"Are you thinking about Hania?" 

I was busy on my laptop at my desk, and he had just come to my room to 'hang out', even though it was almost two in the morning. We'd just gotten back from the Ali family home, and I wanted to do some research for summer classes.

"Main kyun sochon ga Hania ke baare main?" I frowned at him.

*"Why would I think about Hania?"

"Oh, come on. Everyone knows that you have a crush on her." He laughed, his gaze on his phone as he lay on my bed on his back. 

"Astaghfirullah! I have no such thoughts. Hania and I only chat through messages, and when we talk in real life, it's generally about books." 

"So, you really have no such feelings about her?" Ibrahim sounded dubious.

"Ibrahim, please respect our religious and cultural limits!" I snapped at him. "Please leave." 

"But..."

"Go!" I ordered him.

"Whatever." Shaking his head, he got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

I continued focusing on my work, but my mind was stuck on what my brother had said.

I'd always considered her my sister, but she wasn't my biological sister. Papa and Naz Mama had always reminded me of this, because they'd raised us to respect our limits. We chatted through messages, but our parents were fully aware of it, and I knew that Hania discussed our conversations with Jasmina Phupho. I didn't mind, because our chats were generally about random topics. 

But then I thought of her wide eyes, her sweet smile. She was beautiful, no doubt. And she was sweet, kind, compassionate and caring. She was an embodiment of her parents' values. 

Oh Allah! I groaned. I have a crush on Hania!

And as soon as that thought entered my mind, I knew that things couldn't remain the same again. I had to either maintain distances between myself and Hania, or I was going to have to ask Papa to talk to Fawad Uncle and Phupho.

I had to do the right thing.

****

I'm glad I'm re-writing this book, because I originally wrote it with a different mindset, but as I had further developed the world of FOL (through LSF), I have realised that I had to write about this generation in a way that you can believe is raised by the couples of LSF. 

Obviously, that's not always going to be the case, but I would explain my reasoning for everything as the story goes on.

Do you think Ismael will take this one step further, and speak to his father about Hania, or is something else written in the taqdeer for our Hani?

I added the brief LSF character moments for you fans out there.

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to vote!