Omar
That day was finally here. With just hours left the usual chaos of a wedding was complicated by this becoming a literal global event. The original list of 50 households on both sides had some how expanded to over a hundred, as family members kept forwarding the Zoom link to others. At some point we had to draw the line at who we could deliver meals to, but contrary to my fear people were simply excited to be a part of this unique arrangement.
"What if someone doesn't know how to use Zoom?" I asked on the group chat with Sehr, Saima, Maliha, Salman and Noor. Madi was conveniently left off the group. Which was might as well because she still had to do a shift in the hospital.
Saima: Every kid even knows how to use Zoom these days. Don't worry about it.
Noor: Yeah, literally the only benefit of e-learning.
Salman: I am pretty sure Ayah knows how to use Zoom too 🙂
Maliha: Isn't Ayah not even a year yet? You Pediatricians start your kids on computers early!
Sehr: Haha...yeah. I thought no screen time till 2 years of age?
Noor: Unfortunately its the only way my daughter can keep in touch with her family. This pandemic has taken so much away from us.
Salman: Things will get better. I promise.
It was true, the switch to online schooling as soon as COVID hit, meant that every child was now a computer expert. But that is not what caught my attention in the group chat. It was the seemingly innocuous conversation between Noor and Salman.
If I weren't aware of Salman living alone, afraid to return home to his wife and daughter, Noor's text messages and Salman's immediate responses wouldn't have triggered any alarms. Yet, knowing about their struggles, I now felt ashamed for being engrossed in my own challenges and not reaching out earlier. Perhaps today wasn't the ideal day to make up for it, but I picked up my phone and called Salman anyway.
"Hey, don't worry about me today, dude. Noor and I will be fine," he reassured the moment I brought up the subject. I might even have believed him if it weren't for his achingly poignant words whispered at the end.
"We have to be. She is all I have."
"Salman, listen -"
He cleared his throat, "No man, you listen. It's your wedding. And as much as I feel sorry for Madi being stuck with you for the rest of her life, I am more afraid of her sister right now." Chuckling, he said he needed to get back to ordering food for family and friends. The switch in demeanor was instant, jarring and troubling. But he never even let me put in a word before he hung up.
All I could do is text him later.
Me: You and I are going to talk once I get back.
Salman: You and Madi are going to be too busy 'talking' after you get back.
Me: Shut up!!
Salman: You shut up!! And get back to your wedding.
He wasn't wrong about Madi and I. Unfortunately, I wasn't wrong about him and Noor either.
*******
"Shaadi wala ghar lug na chahiye hai", Ami was telling the catering company, when the nurse bought Abu out of the house for the first time in almost 3 weeks. (It should like a wedding is happening in this house)
His breathing had become much better, and he hadn't required the BiPAP machine for the last four days now. He was still coughing and felt very weak, but for now he seemed to be on the mend enough to be a part of this Nikah.
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Mending Broken Hearts
Romance#2 in the desi medical romance series He couldn't get over his ex-fiancé who had unceremoniously broken off their engagement just five days before their wedding. She was engaged to a man who did not respect her or her work. Neither were looking for...
