"Meherjan?"The sound of my name pulled me back to reality. The chatter and clinking of dishes from the family gathering inside the flat faded into the background. Yes, my full name is Meherjan. My relatives, family, and people who know me call me Mehru as it's my nickname . Honestly, I hated my name. It reminded me of school bullies and their mocking laughter. People who met me for the first time often mispronounced it, and whatever they said instead of my name's real pronunciation was funny to them. They made fun of my name, and I hated it. Why did Baba give me this name? Did he not like me? When I was born. Meherjan was already a pretty ancient name from the Mughal-e-Azam era. So, Mehru was better, simpler.
The cool breeze from the balcony was a welcome relief from the stuffy, crowded flat. I leaned against the railing, watching the chaotic traffic below. It's a family gathering. We gather on occasions usually, and since EID is going on, it's our home's turn for a dinner party. They are all here—Muazam's family, my aunt, grandmother, and Muazam's sister who recently got married. My aunt and grandmother live in the flat next to us, and other people come from different areas. Somehow, I don't like family gatherings. Whenever they come together, they make up things and gossip, which is really annoying. They speculate that someone might be having a baby even though she's not yet married. They think she's pregnant because they believe it? Really? Why would you assume something that hasn't even happened? This is the quality of my family's women—they make up things as they like for time pass.
I couldn't sit there for long. I get bored sitting in the same place continuously, so I came here. It's pretty nice here; even the traffic noise is okay for me now, and there's fresh air. A plane is flying overhead too, and I can see it. I really like the view of flying planes. Suddenly, When Muazam appeared beside me, my heart skipped a beat. His presence was both a comfort and a source of anxiety. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. We just stand still, neither of us speaking. Silence fills the space between us. What an awkward situation. He stands quietly beside me, stealing glances at me. I can see his sharp jawline because he is tall, so I have to look upward, and he is facing forward. What brings him here? Doesn't he know I'm here and now we are alone? Please, talk...
"I had a pigeon once," Muazam said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the traffic below. He turned to look at me, his eyes searching for a reaction. "A wild cat got it." His gaze shifted back to the street, and I saw a flicker of sadness in his expression. Ahh, what is this feeling in my stomach? Are there butterflies? Are my eyes sparkling? Does he understand? Ahh, it's annoying. I looked away from him and gazed at the sky. He told me a story about a pigeon he had and how he lost it when a wild cat ate it. I felt sad for him, but does it make any sense to talk about his beloved dead pigeon in this type of atmosphere? Classic Muazam, as usual. All the time, he just wants me to speak, and that's why he brings up such topics.
As he knows, neither of us will talk until one makes an excuse to start a conversation. After that, we talked about several things. It's been 20 minutes that we've been here together, and no one has seen us. Actually, because of the ongoing situation in our families, we avoid talking to each other. In front of any family member, we just ignore each other as if we don't know one another. It's awkward, right? All of a sudden, two grown people end up like this. At gatherings, we are mostly not in the same place at the same time. If one of us is here, the other is somewhere else. Without even saying a word, we understand and adjust our presence according to the situation.
"Meherjan?" We look back. It's Muazam's sister's voice. Why is she calling my name from inside the room? Does she know we're here alone? No way! Even though nothing has happened between us, she will misunderstand. She called my name on purpose; she knew we were here, and now she is making it pretty obvious.
"I'm going, Meherjan. Khuda hafiz," she said. What is this now? I looked at him and moved to the other room where everyone was gathered to see her out. The atmosphere here is strange, and what I feared has happened. She made everyone know that Muazam and I were alone on the balcony. Shick shock scandal.
I stood in the corner of the room, resting my back against the door, and waved everyone off. He was also leaving, and our eyes met for a moment before he disappeared through the main outside door. Finally, I can rest now. It was pretty hectic what I went through. And where can I find peace when even my own people pay attention to hearsay about me?
She sat beside me, placing a reassuring hand on my lap—my sister. She considered my feelings first, at least asking to be sure of the real situation. She told me that Wania said, "They say there's nothing between them, yet look at them standing together on the balcony alone. How does that make any sense?" Somehow, I felt pity for myself. Had I committed any sin? I feared God more than them. After hearing that, my face fell. Then my sister tried to relieve me, counseling me.
"Meherjan, look at me," she said. It took strength to look at her, even though I'm innocent. Those words made me feel like a sinner. She said, "If you guys want to talk or be together, do it in front of everyone, like I'm doing. I see sincerity in her green eyes and felt sympathy. You know, I also talk with his other brothers, but we sit in the center of our families, so no one can point fingers at us. Okay? Did you understand me, Meherjan?"
I wanted to tell my sister everything, to defend myself, but I couldn't find the words. Nodding silently, I let her believe what she wanted. Explaining felt exhausting.