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As the whispers of an engagement between the Fayyads and the Ahmads spread through the city, yet another Ramadan approached and left.
In between, the Rahman's annual party came and went. The Ahmad's were due their pre-Ramadan barbecue as well; but chose to opt out of it since Nargis Khatun wasn't in the best of condition, and her health seemed to be just deteriorating with time. The Fayyads hosted only an intimate iftaar party as opposed to the large gathering they usually invited.
It was a weekend after Eid when all the families gathered together, for the first time in the year, at Neela Bashir's invitation for her father's eightieth birthday.
General Jalal Ud-din Osmani, the grandfather of the Bashir children, was a man with a demanding presence. He was born and raised in one of the biggest slums in the country, joined their country's Liberation war whilst still a young man, emerged from it as a hero, and then played a significant role in the country's political scene until he retired.
Now he lived comfortably in his house on the outskirts of the city, nestled amongst acres of lands. Tales of his ruthless ways were passed onto all his children and grandchildren. The children grew up knowing he wasn't a man to mess with, and his hard gaze and sharp tongue, he was still a man that could cause trembles with just his name.
During every visit to the Osmani Residence, it was a mandatory custom for the men to sit with the old man and listen to him bark at them. He always sat in his easy chair at the veranda that stretched to the entire length of the house, with his freshly-squeezed orange juice and a decorative ashtray which was no longer in use.
"You industrialists have ruined the country, ruined it," it was one of his favorite things to hiss out at Arshad Fayyad. "I earned this land with my blood, and you have destroyed it with your greed."
No one ever dared to speak against him, of course. They just quietly drank the tea served and swallowed every bitter word with endurance.
Salman Bashir greeted his friends with his infamous lopsided grin on his lips, and a multi-colored children's sunglasses sitting on his nose - something his little cousin put on him and he never bothered to take off.
"Look who's finally back from the dead," Ibrahim said in a snide tone at his sight.
"My little birds have been whispering to me, and they tell me you've been asking about me," Salman replied, his smile turning sly. "Did you actually... secretly miss me, Sasquatch?"
"Don't flatter yourself." Ibrahim made a face. I was just asking out of courtesy."
Malika rolled her eyes and stepped in. She embraced her brother before he could retort, putting an end to their bickering. She handed Aisha to him, and the little girl immediately took a liking to him as he did to her. For the rest of the afternoon, Salman went around showing off his little niece to all their cousins, eyes brimming with joy.
