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Ifra Emaad

My dark blue glitter nail polish sparkled in the lights of the airport terminal as I quickly typed the email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Project Khwabpur! 

Dear Mr Ali,

Thank you for your email. I look forward to working on this project with you. I'm about to board my flight. Fortunately, I was able to find a direct flight to Islamabad. I will be arriving there at 06:30am local time, In Sha Allah.

Kind regards,

Ifra Emaad

Content Creator
StarLite
London, United Kingdom

I imagined Mr Huzaifa Ali to be a grumpy old man with a frumpy style and a moustache that was thick enough to be considered a house broom. I'm not ageist or mean, and I would not express these thoughts out loud, but yes, this is who I was expecting.

A grumpy, frumpy man.

*

Huzaifa Ali

The sound of the Adhaan created a beautiful sense of peace. 

Even Alishba, my ten-year-old niece, stopped crying as she heard the sound. She had just woken up from a nightmare and had been crying non-stop in the arms of her mother, a.k.a my elder sister Zarnish Appi.

"See? The call for prayer, the name of Allah, will make all your nightmares go away." I leaned down to speak to my niece, who sat on the charpai in the veranda of my home. "Because no matter how scary or bad something is, it can always be defeated by Allah and His power." 

Alishba nodded, smiling at me. 

"I'm going to the mosque." I told Zarnish Appi. "Lock the door, please." 

"Okay." 

I headed out to the mosque, joining the countless other men walking down the roads towards it.

Wearing my white shalwar kameez, I greeted the crowd around me, a few elderly man patting me on the back.

There was a lot of peace at this time. Fajr, before the world is fully awake, except mainly those dedicated to perform their duty of worship. 

*

I came back home and checked the email on my phone. The new content creator, the one from the StarLite branch in London, was arriving this morning for our project in Khwabpur, a remote but peaceful village in Punjab. She was the cousin of one of my team members here in Islamabad, Syra Amir- the one who had introduce Khwabpur to us.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Project Khwabpur!

To Miss Emaad,

We will further communicate later during the day when you're all settled in.

Kind regards,

Huzaifa Ali

Senior Manager for Digital Content and Social Media
StarLite
Islamabad, Pakistan

I had no idea what I was expecting with this new girl. Syra was mature and hardworking, and her photography and work was brilliant. She had managed to earn my respect since she started.

But, as always, I was hesitant in taking on new people on my team.

I went back to bed for a couple of more hours of sleep before work. 

*

"We are going back home today." Zarnish Appi announced over breakfast.

"Already? You just came a few days ago." Abba Jaan, our father, said just before loudly slurping his tea.

"It's been five days, Abba. I need to go home. Allah knows what a mess the house must be with Khalil on his own." Zarnish Appi laughed, referring to her postman husband.

The morning was still cool as we sat in the veranda for breakfast. 

"Yes, I agree. Poor Khalil must be having trouble." Amma Jaan nodded.

Alishba chewed on her jam sandwich as she watched videos on her mother's phone. "Do we have to go home, Ammi?" She looked up at her mother. "I like it here."

"One must always return home, beta." Zarnish Appi told her. "And Baba must be missing you."

"When will you go?" I asked. "Will you be still here after I get back from work?" 

"No. I will drop Alishba off to school and then go home." Zarnish Appi said. "But, Amma, Abba, I will come again in a few days." 

I glanced at my watch. "I have to go. Appi, I can drop Alishba off to school?" 

"Can you do that?" My sister looked grateful. "This way I can quickly cook another dish for you guys. You can freeze it for now, if you want, and take it out another time."

"You don't have to do that, Appi."

"I want to ease the load from Amma's shoulders, Huzaifa." 

"Come on, Lish." I said to my niece.

"I get to go in the cool car!" My niece jumped up excitedly.

I smiled, patting the top of my head.

People asked me that I earned really well, so why did I still live in Laal Baksh Mohalla, the middle class area of Islamabad.

They asked me how I could drive a car that would make a politician jealous, yes it was almost being insulted while parked in the street outside- the words of the people, not mine.

But my parents refused to leave this two-storey home that they had built together, and I refused to leave my elderly parents alone. And frankly speaking, I've only known this neighbourhood. I loved it and I was comfortable here. As for my car, it was the one thing that I had allowed myself to purchase. It was a necessity, but also something I'd truly wanted for myself.

Alishba chattered eagerly beside me as I drove her to school, and the car suddenly felt too quiet once I'd dropped her off. 

*

Wearing my black formal trousers, a button down white shirt, and a dark blue tie, I stepped into the lobby of the building that housed the StarLite offices. The doorman greeted me, as well as the receptionist.

I headed straight to the lift and headed up to the fifth floor. 

The office staff greeted me, and I greeted them back as I walked towards my office. 

To my absolute surprise, I saw a girl leaning on the wall just outside my office, yawning. Her eyes were closed as if she was exhausted, and she wore black jeans, and a maroon knee-length dress with a black belt around the midriff, along with black ankle boots. She had straight black hair that hung all the way down her back.

"May I help you?" I asked.

She straightened up, her eyes opening. Her blue eyes. 

Damn.

"I was just waiting for Mr Huzaifa Ali." She blinked at me.

"You are...?"

"Ifra Emaad. I came from the London branch of StarLite."

"Right." I unlocked the door of my office. "Come on in." I stepped aside to let her in first.

She came inside, yawning. "Sorry. I barely slept on the flight."

"You do realise that you were not expected to come to the office straight from the airport, right?" 

"Yeah, I know, but I was eager to see the place." She glanced around my office.

I headed to the other side of the desk and set my laptop bag down. "Please, have a seat."

She sat down opposite me and started tapping her dark-blue glittering nails on my desk. 

"The team isn't here today, so I can't introduce you to them. What I suggest you do is to go to your hotel, or wherever you're staying, and get rid of this jet lag. You can come back in tomorrow morning." 

"I'm staying at a hotel. Syra asked me to stay at her home, but it's her in-laws' home, and I'm like, I wouldn't be really comfortable." She replied before pursing her lips. "I realise that this was too much information, and you probably don't even care."

A smile automatically appeared on my face, but I composed my expressions. "I will be leading a team to Khwabpur in a few days. Obviously, you know your cousin won't be able to come. But it will be me, you, Hassan, who is our camera man. Then there's Robin, our editor. Finally, Soraiya, my PA, but she's quite good with the camera and editing as well."

"Cool."

"But I'll give you the details tomorrow." I said. "Now, if you can please excuse me? I have a Zoom meeting in a few minutes." 

"Okay. Thank you." She stood up and yawned again. "Sorry. I promise that there will be less yawning tomorrow." With that, she rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"My cousin is a little bubbly, a bit of a chatterbox, but she's a sweetheart and she's really good at what she does." Syra had told me.

I couldn't help chuckling as I logged into my account on my laptop.

*

Ifra

<Ifra: I disown you, Syra.>

I headed towards the exit as I messaged my cousin.

She replied immediately.

<Syra: What did I do? 😧>

<Ifra: You didn't tell me that your boss was not a grumpy, frumpy old man.>

<Syra: Umm... when did that topic even come up?>

<Ifra: You could have hinted it?>

<Syra: So, what is he, if not grumpy and frumpy?🤔>

Hot. 

Oh, for Allah's sake, Ifra. Shut up.

<Ifra: He seemed a tiny bit grumpy, but not frumpy. And he certainly didn't have a moustache that could act as a household broom!>

<Syra: What. Is. Wrong. With. You?>

<Ifra: I'm jet-lagged. Ignore this conversation. Bye!>

*

The moment I got into my hotel room, I fell onto the bed and fell asleep. For hours.

I only woke up when my phone rang. Groaning, I reached for it.

MAMA.

I answered the call. "Assalam Alaikum, Mama."

"Walaikum Assalam! Have you reached?" Mama asked. "Is your hotel close to Syra's house, just in case?"

"I have reached. I just woke up. And yes, the hotel isn't too far from Syra's."

"Your Dania Khalla will try and visit on the weekend." Mama said. "I was freaking out so much, but Rumaisa Appi reassured me that Syra managed, and so will you. In Sha Allah."

I grinned, even though she couldn't see me. "Syra managed so well that she stayed behind, Mama." 

"What are you implying?" 

I giggled. "Nothing, chill!" 

"No love shmove, okay? Just do your work and get back." 

I laughed harder. "Love shmove? Mama, this isn't DDLJ that I will find my SRK and have this epic romance with him, leading him to sneakily enter our family while Papa is getting me married off to some random dude." I had a certain love for  Bollywood films. "And to be fair, Syra found a good one. Ma Sha Allah."

"Ifra!"

"Okay, okay. I won't shmove. Happy?" 

When the call ended, I realised how hungry I was. But then I noticed the email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Welcome to StarLite Islamabad!

Miss Emaad,

Please find attached the details of the Khwabpur trip, and more information on our branch here in Islamabad.

Would it be possible for you to come into the office tomorrow at 09:30 am?

Kind regards,

Huzaifa Ali

Senior Manager for Digital Content and Social Media
StarLite
Islamabad, Pakistan

I sent a simple one word reply to the email: 'Sure'.

*

Huzaifa

One day, there might be a day, when 'marriage' is not a mandatory topic in a desi family.

But lately, my own parents were hell-bent on marrying me off. 

And that's why I found Shazia Jameel opening the door for me when I got home. The daughter of our neighbour, she always moved comfortable around our home, almost as if she lived here. But currently, her parents had been giving the vibes that hinted that they wanted her to live here permanently.

"Assalam Alaikum." She nodded, dupatta draped over her head.

"Walaikum Assalam." I entered the house. I could smell kebabs and I inhaled deeply.

"Woh, maine shaami kebab banaye thay, to woh layi thi aap ke liye... mera matlab, aap sab ke liye." She spoke quietly.

*"I made shaami kebab, so I brought them for you... I mean, for you all."

I heard her parents' voices in the living room. "Did your parents accompany you to give us the kebabs?" 

She laughed like I'd told an epic joke. 

Bemused, I shook my head and walked towards the living room. "Assalam Alaikum."

"Walaikum Assalam!" Everyone greeted me back.

"Ma Sha Allah, your son is so hardworking!" Mrs Jameel praised me. "His car shows that he earns well." 

"Yeah, drug dealing makes me a lot of money." I shrugged.

Mr and Mrs Jameel looked shocked, while my parents looked exasperated.

"He's joking." Amma Jaan said. "His sense of humour isn't very humorous though."

Mr and Mrs Jameel laughed...clearly a forced laugh.

"I'm going to go and change." As I turned around, I almost bumped into Shazia, who giggled.

I sighed. I had no issues with Shazia. She seemed like a sweet person, and I didn't want to mock her or make fun of her. She deserves someone who could love her and ensure her happiness. I just didn't want to be that person.

"When you marry someone, it has to feel right. It felt right with Khalil." Appi always told me. 

After I'd freshened up and changed, I stepped outside my room, where Amma Jaan seemed to be waiting for me.

"Shazia is a lovely girl." She began.

"And that's why, don't call them over here repeatedly and give her hope." I said. 

"She'll be a good match for you." Amma Jaan said. "Huzaifa, how long will you wait?" 

I shook my head. "I'm not forcefully tying myself and Shazia in this relationship, when I know that neither of us would be happy." 

"How do you know? Can you see the future?" 

"I don't want to, Amma Jaan. And I don't want to tie an innocent girl in a relationship that I don't want."

"Te phair khud hi kuri pasand karle! Bas shaadi karle tu!" She said in a pleading tone.

*"Then find a girl yourself! Just get married!"

"Jadon waqt aawayga, karlawanga main shaadi." I placed my hands on her shoulders.

*"When the time comes, I'll get married."

"Galli de saray mundeyan diyan shaadiyan ho gaiyan ne. Kuch munde te panji saal de ne."

*"All the boys in the street have been married. Some boys are just twenty-five."

"Menu thoda arsa haur dedo. Kuch meenay. Agar na labbi koi, te thaudi marzi di kudi nal veya kar lawanga." I had no interest in finding someone to marry. I was too focused on my career. But if this is what made my mother happy, so be it.

*"Give me some time. A few months. If I don't find anyone, then I'll marry the girl of your choice."

"Jis raftar te tu jaareya ay, Alishba de veya da waqt aajawega." She said sarcastically, before walking.

*"The speed you're going at, it will even be time for Alishba's wedding." 

I looked up at the sky. Tea, cricket, politics and weddings. Desi lives revolved around these subjects. 

How do I explain to my parents that my life revolves solely around work, and I had no interest in finding a life partner.

But, some things are inevitable. Unavoidable.

And I was going to learn that very, very soon.

♡♡♡

Yeah, I know, each of my stories discuss parents pressuring kids for marriage. That's because it is a common desi thing. It's based on reality.

Will Khwabpur play a part in another love story?

Thoughts and comments?

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