9th March, 2017

Alhamdulilah, keeping to my word and here's an early update. 

Happy reading! And don't forget to vote and comment if you enjoy the update. :)

Note: The picture and the story in this chapter is taken from GMB Akash's page on facebook. He's a street photographer and he's, truly, amazing. May Allah guide him to do what pleases Him. <3

"O' you who have true faith! Keep away from all sorts of conjecture since surely some types of conjecture may lead to sin. In addition, do not spy on and do not back-bite one another. Do any of you (who back-bite) love to eat the flesh of your dead brother? Rather, you detest this act, therefore have consciousness of Allah. Certainly Allah is the One who is Oft-Turning to you in Repentance, Merciful." 

[Qur'an] 

Chapter 18:

Perception

"I've already selected my wedding ring and when I showed it to dad, he was just like,

My dear, in that much money you can get ten poor couples married."

Seeing Mariam chuckle, Shamaaz found himself smile.

"Why do all women love expensive jewelry?"

"It makes us happy," Mariam shrugged. "We relate ourselves to exquisite jewels, they're unique, beautiful and totally worth it."

"A materialistic comparison, don't you think?" Shamaaz teased and even before Mariam could get offended, he corrected, "But that's alright. I wouldn't expect anything less. It's a girl thing I suppose."

The two were having lunch at a Chinese restaurant in a mall, and at three months, Shamaaz would say things were great between them.

"So about yesterday..." Mariam started.

Almost great.

"What about it?" Shamaaz questioned, looking oblivious.

"Why did your mood go from good to bad in just a few seconds?"

Twirling his folk around the spaghetti, Shamaaz met Mariam's eyes and wondered if he should tell her what was going on in his mind.

However, there was one thing that was stopping him. See, during the time Shamaaz had spent with Mariam, he had realized for all those looks of hers, she was also quite intelligent and smart when she wanted to be.

Conversation with her was fun and she even liked cricket, so that was a huge huge plus. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. They just clicked together, and were like a house on fire.

However, there was one thing about her that he disliked. It didn't take much for her to get offended. And slowly, that was becoming a big issue and plaguing their relationship.

He could be stating his opinion and the girl would take it to a whole new level.

"Oh come on, babe, just tell me already."

"Ok so," Shamaaz started, not hesitating any more. "Has it ever occurred to you that, you know, maybe you should..." Shamaaz sighed, not sure how exactly to frame the sentence.

"I'm waiting," Mariam stated, throwing a curious glance his way.

"Fine," he said, throwing his hands in the air, "I didn't like the way Hamad hugged you yesterday."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mariam shot back, taking offence.

"Exactly what I meant. I've never said this about any of your guy friends before, but something about Hamad didn't sit well with me."

"You never said anything the past three months, then what's this all of a sudden?"

"The other guys, I found them decent and friendly. But Hamad," Shamaaz shrugged, his statement hanging in the air.

"Wait a minute," Mariam said, trying to make sense of the nonsense Shamaaz was uttering. "I'm supposed to maintain a safe distance from guys while you are allowed to hug all those stupid girls who go gaga seeing you?"

Now it was his turn to get offended.

"That is not what I meant."

"Yeah? Because right now, what I see is that you getting away from rules you're trying to impose on me because you're 'a guy'."

"I really don't mind your other guy friends. All I said was Hamad is not the kind of guy you'd want to be close to, his intentions aren't good. I've never said anything about your friendship with other guys. Just like I have so many friends of the opposite sex, so do you. There's no harm in it. In fact, I didn't mind you getting your best friend Abhishek to the party last week. I can't believe you aren't seeing the point."

"Nope. You always start acting weird when I speak to my guy friends. You have a problem, so accept it."

"I do not," Shamaaz protested. "You're the one generalizing the whole thing. All I did was speak about Hamad."

Mariam rolled her eyes, and said, "Look, Shamaaz, if you're trying to make me like Anabya, then all the best but you aren't going to be successful."

"Hold on a sec. How in the world did the girl I don't even speak to anymore land in this conversation?"

"Ask yourself."

"You were the one who got her into this so I'd rather you explain."

"I'm starting to believe that you like her."

"How so?"

"When you saw her in campus yesterday, your gaze kept following her. And that girl didn't even know you were there."

Guilty as charged was what he was about to say.

"That's a lie. That girl is so weird and completely different, you'll be mad to think I like her."

"Exactly my point. You two are a complete mismatch, she does not fit in your life at all, then what's the point chasing her?"

"I'll be the last one to chase her, please," Shamaaz laughed at the idea. "You know I can get any girl I want, and I don't want her, that's the end of it."

Lie. He could get any girl he wanted but not Anabya.

Definitely not Anabya.

She was way out of his league.

If he ever proposed to her, he'd have the ring thrown at his face and a black eye, courtesy her brother.

Not like he would, but just saying.

"Are you shoving that in my face?" Mariam asked, annoyed.

"No. I'm just saying that despite any girl I can get, I choose to be with you," he replied cockily.

Give it up for Shamaazi. This guy puts the smoothness of butter to shame. And it works, the way Mariam's heart flutters and with the smile that graces her face, it definitely works.

And with his charm, with ease, the issue was resolved.

Had he known that it was this easy to get things his way with girls, he'd have probably dated a long long time ago.

Then again, he didn't know that some girls were immune to butter.

They'd rather prefer Nutella.

***

In Anabya's psychology class, the professor projected an image on the smart board for all but five seconds before changing the slide.

"What did you see?" He questioned as the students uttered different answers all at once.

"OK OK. So from that corner I heard someone say vase, how many of you agree to it? Raise your hands."

Half the class, including Anabya, raised their hands.

"And how many of you think the picture was of two men facing each other?"

This time, the other half raised their hands.

"Anyone who says both?"

There was only one girl who raised her hand at this, earning an impressive look from the professor.

"And now, is there someone who has other views?"

From the last bench, Varun raised his hand.

"Yes, Varun, what's your observation?"

"Sir, you changed the slide too fast. Except for black and white, there's nothing else I could figure out."

"But I've figured out something," The professor replied, "And it's that, you need to sleep less and be more alert in class. Come on, sit in the first bench."

"But, Sir..."

"I'm not listening to excuses."

"If you make me sit in the first bench, I won't be successful. "

"What kind of psychology is that?"

"It is believed that first benchers score well in exams but the last benchers succeed more in life."

"And from which journal did you read this?"

"Tomorrow I shall definitely let you know the name of the journal in which this survey was published," he answered, sheepishly.

"Till then you can sit in the first bench," the professor dismissed his excuses.

"But sir-"

"First bench or you lose your attendance for this class," he stated with an air of finalty.

And needless to say, that did it. He all but ran to the first bench, and Anabya pretended to cough while hiding the grin on her face.

The Professor then went on to display the image once again and only now did Anabya see the vase from one angle and the other observation from a different angle.

"So, class, as you must have guessed," The professor started, "Today's topic is perspective. How many times in life have we assumed certain things, fought with those close to us, and completely messed up our relationships based on a misunderstanding? All of us our guilty, aren't we? And that's where perspective comes into play. The ability to understand the other person's view, and for a moment at least, let go of 'I am right' attitude and think, 'Yeah, he could be right too'."

And with a bang on start, needless to say, Professor Robert's lecture had every student absorbing his words with passion.

Towards the end, he said,

"Next week, same time, I would like to see all your assignments in a hard copy on my table. And this is all you have to do.

Find a stranger. It can be the rag picker guy on the road, a random person in a restaurant or a child you see begging near the traffic lights. It can be anyone. Observe him for two minutes and frame your thoughts and what you think his life story could be. And then, you walk ahead and approach him. Get him to talk about his story, from where he comes, his thoughts on life, the hardships he's faced; get to know him in general.

Once done, compare your previous hypothesis to the reality. The objective of this exercise is simple, you may think you know, but you don't. Every person has a story; a baggage he's carrying. If you can't lighten it, at least don't add on to it. Always think good of others, they have a perspective you aren't aware of."

So this was the assignment? Well, to Anabya, it was more like a life lesson, an experience from which marks was the least of the benefits.

***

"Sulaiman, you can't go out without shoes."

Holding a pair of tiny crocs, Anabya walked out of the apartment, purposely ringing the door bell on the way so as to alert her brother and Bhabhi to hurry up.

Much to her surprise, she found her nephew with Shamaaz, who had kneeled down to the baby's height as he listened to Sulaiman in rapt attention.

"We avzbc outh advvbfrh with Bee Phop. Abdy I keam and cake buy. You come with us Maazy?"

Sulaiman had begun to speak in full sentences from the past two days and the comical part of it was he spoke to himself half the time and only the last few words made sense.

Like in this case, he was inviting Shamaaz over for ice cream.

The kid had no idea, like no idea at all.

"Ah I'd love to, Champ." He answered, not aware that Anabya stood behind him. "But you sure Bee Phop won't mind? You sure your dad won't mind?"

He dramatically tapped his index finger on his forehead and replied, "Yeah, come to think of it, they'd definitely mind. So I guess you should carry on with your ice cream plan without me. Ok?"

Since Sulaiman did not understand a word, he simply nodded and grinned, "Ok! Donnne."

"Have fun!" Shamaaz chuckled and headed home while Sulaiman ran to Anabya.

"Soos?" He asked, pointing to his crocs, not sure why his Bee Phop was smiling so much.

He had simply had a serious conversation with Maazy, hadn't he? What was so amusing then?

"Right! Time to put on your shoes," Anabya smiled, and after placing him on the top of the shoe cabinet by the door, she knealed down to help him with his crocks.

Once seated in the car, Aamina turned to Anabya and asked, "Bee, were you able to complete your assignment yet?"

"Nope," she answered guiltily.

"When is it due?" Furqaan asked, stopping the car at a signal.

"Day after."

"And you plan to do it the night before the submission? When will you change, Bee, when?" He sighed dramatically.

"I've learnt procrastination from you, Bhai," she answered cheekily.

"That's why it's said, the elders at home must leave a good impression on the younger ones," Aamina Bhabhi teased her husband.

"It's sad that you only learnt the negatives from me, Bee. Had you tried, you could at least manage to be half as smart as me, if not smarter."

"And here we go again," Aamina said, shaking her head. "But seriously, Furqaan, you need to learn to be more organised in life. I can't believe you wasted five minutes in the morning looking for the socks thay lay right where I had kept them."

"That's the issue, Aamy, you women come up with a right place for every article which us men are unaware of, the whole problem lies in that."

"Woah, Bhai, stop the car, stop the car," Anabya cut in, her eyes widening at the sight of an old woman rummaging through a pile of garbage.

"What's going on?" Furqaan asked, slowing down before finally halting to the left.

"I've taken your advice and I'm not going to do my project the night before the exam."

"While that is very nice and it calls for celebration, can I drive now?" Furqaan asked, giving her a why you acting stupid look.

"I'm going to do it now," Anabya smiled. "Bhabs," she said, pointing out to the lady in front. "What do you think of her?"

Since Aamina knew of Anabya's assignment, she said,
"I'd say she has worked hard all her life, put in her sweat and blood for her children's education and now when it was time for her to reap the rewards, the children abandoned her, leaving her homeless."

"Furqaan Bhai, what do you think?"

"What's this about?"

"Just tell me what you think of her."

"Aamy's thoughts are convincing, I think along the same lines."

"Wonderful. Bhabhi, ask her please," Anabya prompted, giving her the best puppy dog eyes. She had no idea how to approach and question her.

What if she'd just walk off?

Or shout at her for asking a personal question?

Bee was horrible at it, and she hoped someone else would help her with it.

However, it looked like Aamina was equally hesitant.

"Bee, you ask."

"Bhabs, you ask."

"No, Bee-"

"I'll ask," Furqaan interrupted, throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration. As he unbuckled his seat belt, he said,

"What exactly do you want me to ask her?"

"You're the best, Bhai," Anabya smiled and went on to explain the assignment.

Once done, they followed him out of the car and Anabya loved how casually Furqaan greeted her and started conversation. He gave off such a friendly and positive vibe that you couldn't help but want to simply chat with him.

Her brother was a charmer! But the best thing about him was, he didn't try to be one. It came effortlessly to him. His ability to make people around him happy was one of his best qualities.

After five minutes of conversation, the old lady, her wrinkled skin a testimony to years of struggles, got to the part Anabya was waiting for.

Little did she know, the words that were uttered broke her heart into two, leaving her with only one question.

What is love?

She had remained distracted for the rest of their little drive. She hardly even enjoyed her strawberry ice cream, and not denying the offer of her brother, she asked for the Nutella cheesecake to be parceled, not in he mood to stomach any food.

That night, upon reaching home, she found herself involuntarily crying in prayer, her lips quivering as her heart cried empathizing with the various degrees of tests, trials and pain people go through.

This is my prayer for you

If you ever fall in love

May he love you too.

All your life you've been told

Love will heal

It'll be the warmth in cold

You've dreamt of a fairy tale

Of a prince and his love

That'll help you sail 

But this is dunya, oh my dear

Your dreams of a perfect life

To reality, aren't even near

This world is full of heartbreaks,

Stories of sacrifices and loss

That makes your heart tare 

The sun that rises high

Must eventually dip

Darkening the night sky

Brace yourself, my darling

For all its glitters

This dunya isn't all that sparkling

Don't attach your heart to it

Save yourself from disappointment

Don't love those who aren't worthy of it

Your Creator knows you in and out

Tune your life to His terms

He'll never leave you in doubt.

A single tear slid her cheeks, and closing her journal, she finally fell asleep.

***

Two days after her submission, Anabya stood in front of an audience of more than one thousand students along with two of her counterparts. A renowned psychologist was conducting a session for students of all streams, and Professor Robert had selected his three students to share the incredible stories.

Facing the audience with a fluttery heart and confident smile, Anabya projected the picture of the old lady and shared her story.

"I move from places to places. From villages to villages. Everyone calls me beggar Kulsum. You can call me too. No one knows from where I have come from. I never tell anyone who am I. I had a mansion, surrounded by three ponds and four gardens. It was always hard to fall in sleep because the smell of the flowers was so strong at night. Often times I felt heaven is my home. And there was always my supportive husband. Every morning I prepared uncountable cakes for him and he never let me to wear same saree more than a few times. I never allowed my maids to clean our in-houses; they were responsible for only outhouse. I had passed forty seven years of our marriage life by making cakes, watering trees and wakening up at nights alone when he left for business in far places. I got married when I was ten; my husband was the only friend I had. I had passed my married life by making cakes and wondering at our beautiful gardens. My husband never let me feel alone in our child less life. I remained happy in his light. One day I went to see one of my sick maids, there I accidently met a woman who was wearing the same wedding bangle I had. Eventually by my maid I found out that my husband kept his second marriage secret from me for twenty years. There he had two daughters and a son. I spent my nights by looking at his face and realized how much he had loved me. May be every day he thought to leave me, may be in every festival he wanted to spend his time with his new family, maybe he felt guilt when I put my right hand every night on his chest. ..Because he had loved me and I was his only friend too. I wanted him to be happy without regret. I also wanted a happy memory of my very loving husband with our all ponds and gardens...I convinced one of my loyal maid to spread the news that I accidentally fell in river and swept away. She did it by the exchange of all my gold ornaments. You are talking to dead Umme Kulsum. She died twenty years ago. No one cried for her, neither I. Sometimes people ask me what they will do when I will die and what my last wish is. I said it to no one before you. If ever he arrives by searching me tell him I missed our home, gardens and him every single second of my life. But I wanted him to be free from my love. His happiness is what I wanted if required by my life. And I do not regret what I had done. Sometimes in love you have to leave.

- Umme Kulsum"

As a closing line, she looked up to the audience, and they roared in applause as she said,

"Love is not about receiving, it's about giving. If we all could follow it, we wouldn't have such stories of loss."