Chapter 9: Suffocating Walls
The shadows of evening were deepening, and in the kitchen, Shanzeh's endurance was reaching its breaking point. Following a biryani recipe from YouTube, she was painstakingly trying to harmonize the rich aromas she had prepared. On one side, the chicken tikka had finished marinating, while on the other, tomatoes sat waiting to be sliced for the karahi. Without an exhaust fan, the stifling heat and smoke had begun to suffocate her, making her feel faint. Suddenly, Shama Begum's harsh voice pierced the air. "Shanzeh! Oh Shanzeh! Have you gone deaf? I've been calling you forever." Shama Begum stood at the kitchen door like an executioner, her brow furrowed in a fierce scowl. Her tone was so sharp that the knife almost slipped from Shanzeh's hand. She knew all too well that in this house, her silence was mistaken for weakness.
Shama Begum loomed over her, demanding to know if she had any shame, claiming she had been calling for ages. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Shanzeh replied softly, "Ammi Ji, I couldn't hear you over the kitchen noise. Arifia was right there with you; you could have asked her." This was enough to send Shama Begum's temper through the roof. "You dared to talk back to me today, but don't you ever do it again, or I'll cut that scissor-like tongue of yours," she threatened. "No one talks back to me. Remember, everything must be ready in an hour; move your hands faster! I don't know what Jamila saw in this 'wildling' that she foisted her upon us. They say she's a big man's daughter, but what did she bring? A cheap jewelry set? No dowry worth bragging about. Did your father give you a car? People spend millions. My son is one in a million, and girls like you flock around him." Shanzeh's heart was wounded. She said, "Yes, I know. In fact, I know all of you very well now."
Seeing the bitterness in Shanzeh's tone, Shama Begum glared at her, grabbed the fruit basket, and stomped into the room. Just then, Arsalan arrived, asking why his mother was screaming loud enough to be heard on the roof. Slicing an apple, Shama Begum continued to spew venom. "I thought bringing a wife for my son would bring me peace, but look what Jamila has brought. I don't think she can keep up with us; she's so lazy that the food isn't even ready yet." Arsalan replied, "Amma, she is working. It's only been a few days; let her settle in." Shama Begum stopped mid-slice and silenced him. "You keep quiet! You were the one who spoiled the first one, too. Keep her suppressed and tell her clearly that I want everything on time. I haven't kept her here as a showpiece, nor did I bring her here for free meals." Arsalan watched his mother's temper silently, realizing that if he had no say in this house, Shanzeh stood no chance.
Arsalan then told his mother, "Amma, tell Arifia to stop calling me 'wife-devoted' (Zan Mureed) all the time, or I'll speak up. And why is Adeel always loitering here? Uncle Khawar told me he's often here when I'm away. Put a leash on him or tell Aunt to send a formal proposal. She's always chatting with him on the phone. You don't let me talk to anyone, but she has total freedom. Is she your real child, and I'm a stepson?" The weariness in Arsalan's voice showed his frustration with the deteriorating home environment, but Shama Begum's maternal love was limited only to her own interests.
Seeing Arsalan's mood, Shama Begum shifted her tone. "Adeel is your uncle's only heir; the shops and the house will all be his. I married Jamila into a good home where she controls her in-laws. She gives me money behind her husband's back every month—money you use for luxuries with your friends! I got you married so that whatever belongs to your wife becomes yours. You should keep an eye on her father's factory and property. In-laws should stay suppressed, and Shanzeh's father, Hammad, is a decent man who will sacrifice everything for his honor. Just keep her intimidated so she never speaks up against you."
She added more poison: "Arsalan, make her understand that if I could discard someone like Nowsheen, she is nothing. Educated girls try to rule over you; keep her in her place." She added regretfully, "I wish her father had given a maid instead, someone to massage my feet and oil my hair. No one serves me, and my children turned out useless." Disgusted by his mother's words, Arsalan went to the kitchen, where the tempting aroma of food sharpened his hunger. His mother's words felt like poison, yet he lacked the courage to break free from her grip.
The house was momentarily quiet as Arifia spoke with Adeel in her room. In this three-room house, there was no sign of order; everyone took their plates to Shama Begum's bed to eat, and the noise of the TV echoed until 2 AM. Compromising in such an environment was a great trial for Shanzeh, but she was determined to endure everything for her father's honor. Working in the kitchen, she wondered: Will these people ever accept her? Will she ever get the respect she deserves? She didn't know that for these cruel people, no matter how much she did, she would never receive a single word of gratitude.
Lost in thought, Shanzeh felt someone behind her. Arsalan was watching her closely; even in her simple look and without makeup, she looked very beautiful to him. "What are you making?" he asked, coming closer. Startled, she told him the biryani, tikka, and karahi were ready, and only the dessert remained. Arsalan was surprised. "You know how to cook all this? Arifia never did; Amma usually ordered from outside." As he lifted the lid of the biryani pot, the roasted aroma filled the kitchen. Instead of a compliment, he gave a mocking look. "We'll know the taste once we eat."
Arsalan noticed Shanzeh's phone on the shelf, which was on. "Are you fond of dramas too?" he asked. Shanzeh replied with a faint smile, "No, I've never seen dramas in my life; I'm only seeing them now that I'm here." Understanding the underlying meaning, Arsalan grew angry. "What are you trying to say? Do my mother and sister look like a 'drama' to you? Get one thing straight: I loved Nowsheen very much, but I got rid of her only because she spoke against my mother. So, stay straight with me; you don't know my temperament yet." Shanzeh chose silence over an argument. She realized there was no room for logic or truth in this house. Arsalan's threat filled her with a strange numbness. She began tidying the dishes while the noise of the TV and Arifia's laughter drifted in from outside. She felt as if she were imprisoned in a fortress whose walls were closing in with every passing moment. Would she be able to break this fortress, or would she fall prey to a new storm like Nowsheen? This question consumed her from within.
To be continued...
Written by: Ishrat Zahid
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyrights © 2026 Ishrat Zahid. All Rights Reserved.