Life went on. Month after month. Year after year. Time is a weird notion to exist. It never stops, never takes a break. It's monotone, constant. And yet often it feels like it's dragging over your heart, and other moments feel like flying like a ballistic missile away and further away from you. Out of your reach. Forever out of your reach.
Mirha's uncle was sick. It wasn't tb, rather old age that was eating him raw. Now on a wheelchair, unable to walk with his weak legs, Mirha often took him to a nearby park, or to different restaurants every weekend. Nobody in her family had ever lived in a city, and she wanted her uncle to see the glimpse of the world outside the village, to experience it, to know what the world outside the bubble was like.
Her brothers were now in college on scholarship yet again, earning for themselves as they grew older. Aqsa was completing her senior year, teaching Maths in a Turkish school.
It was late in September, a mundane day, when she finally resigned from The Maher Enterprises.
Owais was surprised, asked if she was getting a better opportunity. By his way of probing, it was clearly evident that he wanted to stop her, but didn't really say anything. A subtle effort.
Mirha said there wasn't, she just needed a break now that there wasn't much she was supposed to do, except for maybe marry off her sister, the right time was coming. Though she didn't say the last part, Owais said he understood, and approved her resignation, looking pensive all the while.
Her project was coming to an end anyway, whatever more she was required to do for her family, could easily be compensated with the money she'd get from her program
---
"She came to me today."
Hadi looked up from the laptop screen. He was in his room, working. Owais was home late. His daughter had thrice come running into his room, asking if he knew when Owais was getting home. Hadi of course didn't.
"Who?" Hadi said, eyebrows bunched up in feigned confusion.
"Don't play with me." Owais crossed his arms over his chest, as he leaned a shoulder against the door frame.
"Your point?" Hadi said, keeping his face flat.
"She wanted to resign."
He gave a slight nod. What else could he say? He didn't want to be reminded by anyone of what he was trying to forget himself.
"I let her."
Hadi paused, glanced down at his laptop before meeting his gaze. He wasn't sure if he liked the new development. As long as she worked with Owais, Hadi was at least sure of her well being. Now what? "You did good." Hadi said nevertheless, his voice came out unusually quiet.
Owais sighed. "Hadi, you know mother wants you to marr-"
"I know. But not now." He felt a flicker of extreme annoyance seeping into his heart. He hated this subject of conversation, though unfortunately it was all his family could talk about over the dinner table.
"Then when?"
"Don't waste your breath, Owais, please."
"It's been six years."
"I can count."
Owais gave up. Hadi wasn't one to listen.
---
Life isn't always entitled to have a title. It's a mix of emotions, feelings, experiences and tragedies. Like a mashup of several songs. A whirlwind of disappointments, achievements, motivations. You keep moving through it all. For every stage, there are different people you work with, different people you leave behind, different people you say goodbye to.
And not every time you end up with the person people had put a bet on, that too for life. Every day that comes is never the same as before, it is unpredictable, it has twists and surprises.
Islamabad though, is a small city. You run often into people you know, you've seen once. The person who visited your office, turns out to be a friend of your friend. The guy whose concert you went to, is there in the restaurant. The person in the party is the one your parents want you to marry.
Life might be hard, and unfair, but it's also full of pleasant surprises.
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