Chapter( 2): The Immaculate Poem of Love
He didn't linger for another second after speaking. Stepping quickly onto his bike, he ignited the engine and sped past Maira.
Maira placed her hands on her hips and screamed at his retreating figure, "You bribe-giver! You definitely got your license by bribing someone. And now you're out on the streets breaking the backs of kids like me and trying to touch me! You ill-mannered brat!"
Irfan likely caught the first two words. He revved the engine harder. A part of him wanted to turn the bike around and run over that girl. Ugh! He couldn't handle this much pressure.
The encounter had completely ruined Maira's mood for food. She began to limp away, muttering curses under her breath.
"The girl is good. I've heard it from many people. She's a bit restless, but well-behaved. She has no father, so you can imagine—even though she's young, she's quite mature for her age."
Irfan was sitting on his bike next to a roadside tea stall. His maternal cousin, Shuddho, stood before him, trying to reason with him. Irfan's grim expression didn't change. He remained focused on scrolling through his phone. Shuddho let out a frustrated sigh, brought two cups of tea from the shop, and offered one to Irfan.
"Get me a black coffee," Irfan said in a cold voice.
Shuddho narrowed his eyes. "Where am I supposed to import 'Zamidari' black coffee from in this village? Just manage with this."
Irfan said nothing. Realizing he wouldn't drink it, Shuddho finished both cups himself. Setting the cups down, he said, "Look, the wedding is happening regardless, and the girl is just a kid. Why don't you cut your hair? Otherwise, the poor child will be terrified."
Irfan glared at Shuddho. In the darkness of the night, the dim light from the tea stall flickered across Irfan's face. Shuddho saw a look in Irfan's eyes that seemed ready to devour him.
Shuddho gave a fake laugh. "Mistake, my mistake! You look like a hero from a Tamil movie. The kid will probably have a crush on you. Seriously."
Irfan grabbed Shuddho's collar with his right hand and spoke with a flared temper, "I am not marrying any kid. If you say one more word, I'll bury you right here in the sand of your own village."
Shuddho put on an innocent face. "Okay, okay! Let go of my collar. You don't have to marry anyone."
Irfan released him, kicked his bike into gear, and sped off. Shuddho looked on, annoyed. Where is he going now?
Irfan stood up after saying "Qubool" (I accept). His body felt like it was radiating steam from pure rage. He had almost driven halfway away, but news of his mother's illness brought him back. She really was ill—her blood pressure had dropped. He couldn't understand why his parents were so desperate to get him married. They had forced it through.
If he stayed here any longer, something bad would happen. Without looking back, he stormed out of the house. Tarek Nawaz and Ruma Nawaz felt deeply embarrassed by their son's behavior.
Maira's mother frowned. The boy hadn't even spoken to her once. Had she made a mistake? But when her eyes fell on Tarek Nawaz, those thoughts vanished. He was more than just her late husband's friend; he was like a brother. Her daughter was now the daughter-in-law of this household. She felt relieved of a great burden.
Maira, meanwhile, had cried until her eyes were swollen. Why did her mother marry her off so early? Just because her father wasn't around, was she such a burden? They didn't even let her finish her SSC exams.
She heard from her sisters that her husband was much older than her. How could her mother do this? Just because she lacked a father, they gave her away to an "old man"? As she spiraled into these thoughts, her mother entered the room and placed a hand on her head. Maira sobbed. The lady kissed her daughter's forehead.
"I am your mother. I don't wish ill for you. I am finally at peace knowing your responsibility is in good hands. Maintain my honor in that house, okay? Live in harmony with everyone. I want to see your happy face. Accept this marriage and focus on your home."
Tears streamed down Maira's face. She whispered in a broken voice, "If my own Abbu were alive, I wouldn't have to see this day, right Ma? Do step-fathers always try this hard to kick daughters out?"
Maira's mother had no answer. Maira wiped her nose. "Don't worry, Ma. I won't be a burden on your household anymore. You stay well."
With that, she walked out. Her mother watched her with tearful eyes. Two years after Maira's father died, she had been remarried by her family. Maira was in fourth grade then. She had mentioned her daughter before the marriage, and things were fine at first. But as time passed, her husband's irritation toward Maira grew. Despite being a mother, she couldn't keep Maira happy. Now, in the midst of her own pain, she felt a sense of relief knowing her daughter was with a good family. What more could a mother want?
"You blackmailed me into this marriage, fine. But keep in mind, I cannot live with her. You wanted a daughter-in-law? Fine, both of you can live with her. I don't want to see this kid anywhere near me. I repeat, stay away from me."
After spitting those words, Irfan Nawaz stormed into his room and slammed the door shut. Ruma and Tarek Nawaz stood there, stunned.
Maira stood with her head bowed, her veil pulled low. Her heart felt heavy with pain. She hadn't even seen the face of the man she married, yet she had to hear such bitter words.
Tarek Nawaz stared at his son's closed door for a moment, then turned to see his wife glaring at him. He cleared his throat. "Your son is stubborn. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ruma Nawaz hissed, "Satisfied now? You got your son married. Is your wish fulfilled?"
Tarek sighed. "No, it isn't."
"What? Have you no shame? Your son is rejecting his bride, and you're dreaming of more?"
Tarek replied blankly, "The formal ceremony hasn't even happened. How can I be satisfied? And why would I marry him off a second time?"
Ruma stared at him blankly before stomping off toward her room in a rage. "Do whatever you want! Keep your daughter-in-law wherever you like. Don't involve me!"
Tarek sighed again. Maira was still standing nearby. He approached her. She was wrapped in a red saree with a matching hijab. He placed a gentle hand on her head. "Are you scared, Ma?"
Maira shook her head 'no' without looking up. Tarek Nawaz felt conflicted. He knew his son's temper. If he had another son, he wouldn't have bothered Irfan, but he only had one. It had been his lifelong dream to make his friend's daughter his daughter-in-law. How could he forget that just because his friend was gone?
"Forget all this," he said softly. "From now on, you are my daughter. You will stay in my house. Don't worry about anything else—just focus on your studies, okay?"
Maira was surprised. While others' behavior was cold, this man's kindness was a thousand times better. She knew him; he had visited their house several times and asked about her well-being. She knew he was her father's friend. She wiped her eyes. Her life had changed since her father died, but she had managed to stay cheerful in the village. How would she survive here?
Inaya had come to her cousin's house for a visit. She loved the village. When her cousin and friends planned a tour, she couldn't miss it. Her parents and brother didn't agree, but she insisted she was only going to her aunt's house. She had secretly gone on the tour. Now, as long as no one found out, she was fine.
Her father called to tell her that her brother had gotten married. She couldn't digest the news. On the other end, Tarek Nawaz kept saying "Hello," but Inaya was in shock. Her cousin, Zahara, walked in and saw her sitting like a statue.
"What happened? Your father is calling you on the phone, why aren't you answering?"
Inaya snapped out of it. Since the phone was on speaker, Zahara heard Tarek's voice. Inaya hurriedly said, "I got it, Baba. I'm coming back tomorrow with everyone. Bye!" She hung up.
Inaya grabbed Zahara and started spinning her around, laughing. "Apu! Something impossible has happened! I can't believe it!"
"Tell me what happened! Did you get engaged?" Zahara asked, annoyed.
"No! Someone else already got married! Irfan Bhaiyya got married! Can you believe it? My stubborn brother actually married someone! I'm so excited to see my Bhabi!"
Zahara froze. Irfan got married? It felt unbelievable. Inaya immediately tried to video call Irfan. She wanted to see what kind of "strong" girl managed to marry her "Number One Stubborn" brother. The call went unanswered.
"It's their first night, maybe I shouldn't have called," Inaya muttered, disappointed.
Suddenly, her phone rang. It was Irfan. Before she could say anything, he asked coldly, "How was the tour?"
Inaya's smile vanished. She swallowed hard. How did he know? "That was your last time leaving the house," Irfan continued over the phone while organizing papers on his laptop. "And tell that idiot next to you she's getting a beating from me. Tell her to be ready."
Inaya kept swallowing. Why did she call? She tried to change the subject. "Bhaiyya, congratulations!"
"Why?" Irfan asked without looking up.
"I want to see Bhabi. Can you turn the camera?"
Irfan froze. "Whose Bhabi?"
"My Bhabi! Your wife!"
At that, Irfan slammed his laptop shut. Inaya jumped. Zahara had already turned away and laid down. "Apu, he got angry," Inaya whispered. "Maybe he only said 'Qubool' but won't accept her. What will happen?"
Zahara suddenly looked up. "Really?"
"Why do you look happy?" Inaya asked. Zahara quickly looked away. "Nothing. Go to sleep."
For the last two hours, Irfan had been pacing the balcony. His head was on fire. He had been so busy he almost forgot a "kid" was now tied to his life. Inaya's call reminded him. He stripped off his shirt, his body slick with sweat from agitation. He went into the washroom and stood under the cold shower for 30 minutes like a statue.
He tried to calm down but ended up punching the wall twice. After dressing, he decided to leave. It was 12:30 AM.
Maira had been given a room by her father-in-law. She had changed into a salwar kameez and prayed. Her head throbbed from crying. She reached for a Tafenil (painkiller) in her bag but realized she had no water.
She crept out toward the dining room. The house was dim, lit only by a nightbulb. She found a pitcher of water and felt relieved. As she turned to leave, she bumped into something hard.
Her heart hammered. In the dark, she didn't dare look back. She gripped the pitcher with one hand and covered her mouth with the other to keep from screaming.
Irfan was heading out when someone bumped into his back. He turned around. In the dim light, he saw a girl. He knew instantly it was her. His anger, which had cooled slightly in the shower, flared up again.
"I told you not to come near me. Is that why you came behind me?" Irfan hissed.
Maira trembled. It was her "Yama" of a husband. "Answer me!" he barked.
He grabbed her long ponytail, winding it around his hand. Maira lost her balance and hit his chest. Irfan shoved her away but didn't let go of her hair. "If I see you in front of me, behind me, to my left, or my right again, I'll slap all your teeth out. Damn it!"
He shoved her away. Maira stumbled, spilling water on her clothes. Her fear turned into rage. She had just wanted water! She watched his silhouette walking away and, in a fit of temper, threw the remaining water in the pitcher at him.
Irfan stopped in his tracks.
Maira didn't wait. She grabbed her salwar and bolted for her room. As she ran, she shouted back, "I have no desire to go near you! God knows how such a gentleman father ended up with such an ill-mannered son!"
She slammed her door and locked it, gasping for breath.
Irfan was fuming. He had just showered, and this brat had drenched him and called him ill-mannered. He wanted to break down the door and throw her to a pack of wild dogs. He stomped out of the house, got into his car, and sped away.
"I'll just kill you, idiot girl," he hissed to himself.
Inside, Maira looked at the empty pitcher. She was still thirsty and her head still ached. She realized she might have overdone it. What will happen tomorrow? She swallowed hard, then remembered her kind father-in-law. That gave her a bit of courage. She lay down, her head throbbing, wondering if she'd get any sleep at all.
Shuddho was tossing and turning at the sound of a persistent doorbell. "Which drunkard is this at midnight? Go away!" He eventually dragged himself out of bed. When he opened the door and saw Irfan, his sleep vanished.
"Who are you, young man?" Shuddho joked, rubbing his eyes. "Did your wife kick you out? Already? A kid kicked you out?"
Irfan reached for Shuddho's collar, but Shuddho dodged. "I'm not wearing a shirt, no collar to grab!"
Irfan grabbed Shuddho's hair instead. "Not another word. Stop."
Irfan threw his damp shirt on Shuddho's bed and lay down.
"Hey, that's my bed! Go home!" Shuddho protested.
"Don't disturb me," Irfan muttered, eyes closed.
Shuddho grumbled but eventually lay down on the floor. A few minutes later, Irfan went to the washroom, splashed water on his face, and came back to poke Shuddho with his foot.
"Go sleep on the bed, you'll catch a cold," Irfan said.
Shuddho grumbled about "fake affection" but got onto the bed and hugged Irfan like a pillow. Irfan threatened to kick him, but eventually, the room went quiet.
Irfan couldn't sleep. The memory of the water hitting his back kept his temper at a 360-degree boil. That little brat. He got up and went to the balcony. The spring breeze hit his bare chest. He punched the balcony wall. He wished that punch had landed on her face instead.
His rage wasn't going away anytime soon.