The Longest Autumn

After Two Days. 

“Can we talk?" After returning from the office Danish was sitting in the hall. His eyes were red and face looked dull. Maybe he was tired or maybe sad. 

"Wow, do you really want to talk? I thought you only wanted to run away from me.” sitting with straight back he looked in my eyes and I took a deep breath.

“I have already decided what I want." I could see a small smile my statement brought on his face. 

"What's that?” He leaned a bit forward, his hand slowly grabbed mine. "Today, you're looking happy, relaxed, and confident." 

“Hmm, because I already have made up my mind so I'm no longer confused.” Pulling my hand from his grip I nodded my head. “Danish, I want you to be happy. I really do." 

“You're my happiness, Fayra." 

“Well..." I sighed and shrugged. "We both are obsessed with each other. At least I was obsessed with you. You know what Danish, I was struggling…”

"Cut the crap and come to the point. What's your decision?” The smile and calmness of his face suddenly disappeared. 

“I don't want to ruin your life. I can't be a good wife for you.”

"That's what you have decided?" He stood up with a jolt and walked towards the stairs, maybe not expecting this decision from my side. 

“Meri baat suniye Danish." 

(Listen to me Danish.)

“Tumhe faysla sunana tha na, suna diya tumne. Ab kya hai sunne ke liye?" I was ready to see him broken but he was aggressive instead. I wasn't ready to see an angry Danish. 

(You had to announce your decision, you've already done it. What's left now?)

"Main ye feysla aapki khushi ke liye hi kar rhi hu." I stated the truth but he gave me a questioning eye. 

(I'm making this decision for your happiness.)

“Meri khushi ke liye? Sach me?” I know, digesting my reason wasn't a cup of tea but that was true. 

(Oh really? How come?)

“Danish maine bohot socha…” he didn't let me complete. 

(Danish I have been thinking about it a lot.)

"How much can one think in two days?” I hadn't seen him more frustrated ever.

“Aap meri baat samajh nhi rhe ya samajhna hi nhi chah rhe?” I shouted because I couldn't tolerate his high voice.

(Aren't you understanding what I'm saying or you don't want to?)

“Jab se aapse shadi huyi hai main har rooz khud ko manati hu ki is rishte ko qubul kar lu, lekin nhi kar paa rhi. Aapko maine shohor ki nazar se na hi kabhi dekha tha na hi kabhi dekh paungi. Sab ne mujhe force kra ki main is rishte ko qubul kar lu, lekin main kya karu agar mera dil nhi maan rha? Aur aap keh rhe hain do din mein main kese feysla kar sakti hu… to suniye… Main apne ghar walo ki khushi aur force ke aage jhuk gyi thi, maine soch liya tha ki agar sab ko lagta hai ki ye hi theek hai to main maan jaungi lekin phir mujhe aapka khayal aaya, Sach me Danish, aapko mujhse wo khushi kabhi nhi mil payegi jo aapka haq hai, aap akele reh jayenge is rishte me. Agar aapko ab bhi lagta hai ki apni zindagi barbaad karne ke liye tayyar hain to theek hai, main tayyar hu rukhsati ke liye lekin meri taraf se koi ummeed nhi rakhiyega ki main dil se is rishte ko qubul kr paungi.”

(Ever since we got married, I have tried every single day to accept this relationship, but I just can't. I have never seen you as my husband, and I never will. Everyone pressured me into this, but I cannot force my heart. You ask how I can decide in just two days? Listen—I initially gave in to my family’s pressure for the sake of their happiness. I thought if everyone wanted this, I would accept it. But then I thought about you. Truly, Danish, you will never get the happiness you deserve from me; you will only end up lonely in this marriage. If you are still willing to ruin your life, fine, I am ready for the farewell. But do not expect me to ever accept this relationship from my heart.)

“Kya ho rha hai ye sab?" I didn't realise when my voice became too high to attract everyone from the home. Bade papa and badi Mumma were standing at a distance and my parents were standing on the doorstep of their bedroom. Not only they but Chamu and Fiza chachi were also standing on the doorway of Dadi Jaan’s bedroom. 

(What's going on here?)

"Fayra tumahara dimag kharab ho gya hai kya?” mummy came closer to me, I didn't want to involve the elders in this discussion but I was too late. 

(Fayra are you mad?)

“Aap sab mujhe aese kyu dekh rhe hain jese mene bohot bada gunah kar diya ho?" Detecting every eye on me I asked my family. 

(What you all are watching me as if I committed a huge crime?)

“Gunah hi hai bibi, agar shohor me koi kami na ho to talaq mangna gunah hi hai. Nikkah hua hai tumhara, rishte nibhana seekho, shadi bachho ka khail nhi hoti ki jab chaha kar li jab chaha tood di." For the first time in my whole life I heard a loud voice of Dadi jaan for myself. I was the most pampered grandchild of her but suddenly I became the least favourite. Just because of this marriage. People get support from their family, unfortunately I was getting nothing but criticism. 

(Oh girl, Yes it's a sin to ask divorce if the husband is not troublesome in any way. You're married to him, learn to respect relationships. Marriage is a sacred bond, not drama… join whenever you want, and leave when you're done with it.) 

"Dadi Jaan, you too?” I did not deserve all these gazes. My eyes dropped two tears as I looked everywhere, everyone was against me. 

“Ise thoda waqt dijiye, bachhi hai, samajh jayegi. Rishta nibhana inti asani se to nhi aata na." Fiza chachi was the only person to come ahead as a shield and embrace me. 

(Give her some time, she is not mature enough to understand the sensitivity of relationships.)

“Itni chhoti bhi nhi hai. Bewajah himayat le ke use bigadi mat." Dadi Jaan bursted out on Chachi and I broke the hug. 

(She’s not that little and immature either. Don't spoil him by taking her side unnecessarily.)

“Badi Ammi, please." Fiza chachi was the only one who was defending me, not even my papa came ahead. 

“Kya please? Bas bohot ho gya ye laad pyar, har cheez ki zidd puri nhi kari jati, agle mahine hi rukhsati hogi. Ye bhi koi baat huyi bhala, nikkah ko ek saal hone aaya aur rukhsati hi nhi ho rhi.” 

(What is this, please? Enough pampering; every whim cannot be met. The rukhsati happens next month. This is ridiculous—a year since the nikkah and still no rukhsati.)

"But Badi ammi…" before chachi could say anything I jerked my head and stepped ahead. 

"Ji kra dijiye rukhsati bhi zabardasti, jese nikkah karaya tha. Aap sab ke saamne us waqt bhi kuch nhi keh payi thi, aaj bhi nhi keh paungi. Kathputli hu na main, jab chahe nikkah kara do jab chahe rukhsati kara do." I shouted from the top of my lungs, but cried out helplessly. 

(Yeah sure, do the farewell forcefully just like you all got me married. I accepted that nikkah so as of today I'll accept this farewell, just like a puppet.)

“Zabardasti? Tumhe nikkah ke liye kisne force kra tha Fayra?” papa came forward with a few caresses on his forehead and I shrugged. 

(Forcefully? Who forced you for the nikkah, Fayra?)

"Meri marzi kisne puchi thi papa? Main to kuch samajh hi nhi payi thi ki ho kya rha hai.” 

(Papa, who asked for my consent? I couldn't even understand what was happening.)

"Wo situation hi aesi thi Fayra, ham sab bhi kya karte?” 

(The situation itself was such, Fayra, what could we all have done?)

"Aapko kuch nhi mila karne ke liye to meri shadi us insaan se kara di jise main bhai kehti thi? Danish bhai kehti thi main unhe, bade bhai ki tarha dekha tha mene unhe sari zindagi, friend ki tarha nhi, cousin ki tarha nhi sirf aur sirf bade bhai ki tarha. Aur aap sab ne hamari shadi karadi? Ise forceful decision nhi kehte to kya kehte hain?" I was enraged, maybe for the first time I pointed out their fault in all this matter.

(Did you find nothing else to do, so you got me married to the person I used to call my brother? I used to call him Danish bhai, I looked at him like an elder brother my whole life, not as a friend, not as a cousin, but solely as an elder brother. And all of you got us married? If this isn't called a forceful decision, then what is?)

“Us situation me ham kya karte Fayra? Bahar 100 log intezar me bethe the. Tumhari barat nhi aayi thi, dulhe ne last moment par shadi karne se mana kar diya tha… kaha se koi ladka dhundhte us waqt?” Papa asked me, he was shocked as well as disappointed in me and unknowingly my lips pulled into a  smile. An intake of a deep breath and a pearl of laughter came out of my lips but soon my laughter turned into tears. 

(What would we have done in that situation, Faria? There were 100 people waiting outside. Your wedding procession hadn't arrived, and the groom had refused to get married at the last minute... where would we have found a groom at that time?)

"100 log intezar me the? Kis cheez ke intezaar me the, papa? Khane ke intezaar me? Log shadi me aate hi kyu hain? Khana khane? Khila dete aur bhej dete un logo ko ye keh ke ki wo ladka aapki beti ke laayaq nhi tha, aapki beti ek galat rishte me bandhne se pehle hi bach gyi. Agar barat nhi aayi thi to kisi aur se shadi karana zaruri tha kya? Kya beti dulhan banne ke baad bojh ban jaati hai jise baap apne kandho se utaar k phaik dena chahta hai? Kya aap bin-biyahi beti ko nhi apna sakte the papa?" I was in a mess of tears and emotions. Maybe I never let anyone know the condition of my heart. I would never accept this nikkah if I was in the right state of mind. 

(100 people were waiting? What were they waiting for, Papa? Waiting for food? Why do people even come to weddings? To eat? You could have just fed them and sent them away by telling them that the boy was not worthy of your daughter, and that your daughter was saved before getting trapped in a wrong relationship. If the groom's procession hadn't arrived, was it necessary to marry her off to someone else? Does a daughter become a burden after becoming a bride, whom a father wants to get off his shoulders and just throw away? Couldn't you have accepted your unmarried daughter, Papa?)

“Fayra, mera bachha, tum bojh nhi ho mujh par." Papa came ahead and embraced me lovingly just like he had been doing since I hain my senses. I couldn't help but cry while hiding my face in his chest. “Shhh… stop crying.” I heard his hushed voice and looked up. 

(Dear, You're not a burden on me.)

“Papa," 

"Yeah my baby?” He had tears in his eyes but cleaning my tears and before I could say anything we all heard a faint voice. "Ad-naan…" followed by a thud. 

“Mummy…" my breath hitched. 

“Sara!” papa literally ran towards her. “Sara… Sara” he patted her cheeks, someone sprinkled some water on her face and someone rubbed her hands and feet but I… I was standing dumbfounded, wondering what to do?

“Sara… ankhe khol yaar, har baat ki tension nhi lete hain, kese samjhau tujhe…" papa was patting her cheeks again and mumbling. His love blended with stress and I only watched my mother unconscious on the floor. Even after trying, my hands and feet didn't move to go near her.

(Sara, wake up, buddy. You can't stress over every little thing. How do I get through to you.)

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Next Morning.

Last night was stressful for everyone, especially for Fayra because she was considering herself the reason behind her mother's health. And that was true. 

Fayra knew that Sara had vasovagal syncope since her teen age but being a child she has never seen her mother passing out this way. Sara passed out a few times during both pregnancies as well as after the death of her newly born son, Fayra was too young to recognise and understand all those situations. And after that Adnaan made sure to take away every worry from his wife. If she ever felt stressed he took her either on a trip or worked on the reason behind the stress to finish it. 

Last time Sara fell unconscious when Arsh refused to marry Fayra when she was already waiting for him as a bride, and last night she passed out when Fayra was ready to dig one's own grave. 

Unfortunately, Adnaan was unable to do anything to the one becoming the reason for this stress.

Whom Sara loved the most? Of course Fayra, her only child. But this girl’s decision opened the doors of If and But. 

What if she divorce Danish? Will she be able to get a better life partner?

But what if she decides to spend her life with Danish and is unable to love him back? Will they be able to live an ideal married life?

All these questions created a mess in Sara's mind, resulting, she being on the hospital bed since last night. The local doctor refused to handle this case and she was taken to the emergency ward of the nearest hospital. After a few minutes she regained senses but her condition wasn't absolutely fine. Fayra tried to contact Adnaan a few times but he didn't answer her calls. 

With a madly beating heart and swollen eyes, this girl was sitting in the hall, looking towards the door. 

“Fayra, beta kuch khaa lo, ya thodi dair soo jao, raat se yahi bethi huyi ho." Fiza came to the hall with a tray of breakfast for Momina, but instead of going to her room she was stopped near a crying Fayra. 

(Fayra, dear either have breakfast or sleep for a while. You've been sitting here since last night.)

"Chachi… Mummy… is she fine? Papa isn't taking my call.” she cried out and Fiza placed the tray of the breakfast on the coffee table before embracing Fayra. 

“She will be fine. Do dua." 

“What happened to her? She has already regained senses, so why isn't she coming back home?" Fayra asked with tears, frustration and helplessness. She had no-one to explain her mother's condition in front of her. 

Adnaan, Maizah and Danish were in the hospital with Sara. Anzala wasn't talking to Fayra, Momina was angry with Fayra and blaming her for her mother's condition. Fiza was not telling her anything. 

"Nothing, just pray for her." Fiza caressed her head and walked to Momina’s room to serve her breakfast. After a few minutes the middle aged lady went to her portion and came back with a sandwich as well as her husband because she knew Afnaan could handle Fayra better than her. 

“Come on Faru, have it.” Lifting the sandwich to her mouth he asked politely but Fayra shook her head. 

“Mujhe mummy ke paas le chaliye na Chamu, mujhe ek baar dekhne to dijiye unhe kya hua hai." 

(Please take me to mummy, Chamu. Just let me see what has happened to her once.)

"Pehle kuch khao phir le ke jaunga. Chalo jaldi muh kholo." And Fayra opened her mouth as if she was a little girl who can be tricked to feed anything. 

(For that you've to eat something. Come open your mouth.)

"You're not fooling me. Right? You'll take me to the hospital. Promise?” She asked while grabbing the sandwich and Afnaan nodded. She finished the sandwich very soon and stood up. 

“Let's go." 

“Not now. After lunch." 

“Chamu, please." 

“Fayra, try to understand. Sara is under observation. No one is allowed to see or meet her. Only Adnaan bhai got a chance to meet her for ten minutes. They all are standing outside the ICU." 

“ICU? Why is she in the ICU? What happened to my mummy?" 

“Stroke." Afnaan told what Fiza was hiding, "Her right leg and right arm are hard to move. There are some complications in speech too." 

Fayra felt her heart sinking, she breathed heavier than usual and tears rolled down her eyes. 

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Stress is no less than a poison for her. 

Take care of her medicines. 

Don't miss physiotherapy sessions and make sure to massage her face muscles. 

The doctor's instructions were ringing in Adnaan’s head when he took his wife back home after almost 50 hours. No one lets Fayra visit the hospital in these stressful hours. Momina named her grief crocodile tears. She called Adnaan countless times but every time he just told her to stop crying and praying nothing else and now she was seeing her mother walking with one hand on Adnaan's shoulder and one leg dragging on the floor. 

“Mummy." Fayra muttered and stepped down the stairs but Maizah stopped her in the middle. 

"Don't give her more stress, go to your room.” 

"At least let me meet her.” Fayra demanded, 

"Don't remind her of the reason behind her stress. Stay inside your room for a few hours until Sara starts to feel a little bit better.” Fayra silently turned back to go but a weak voice grabbed her attention. 

“Fay-ra" 

“Mummy." The crying girl ran towards her mother who just landed on the sofa of the living room with great efforts. “Mummy, what happened to you? I'm so sorry mummy. I'm not a good daughter." Kneeling on the floor, Fayra placed her head on her mother's knees. Anyone could see her tears weren't crocodile tears but real ones, but for Momina it was all a drama.

“Mummy, please, become fine soon." Cupping Sara's face Fayra muttered and kissed her cheeks one by one. 

“Th- th- theek hu main." For the first time in her life Fayra saw her mother struggling to utter such small words. Using her fine hand Sara wiped away the tears of her daughter and shook her head. 

(I- I am f-f-fine)

“i have cleaned your room, take a rest. And I have made soup for you." For the first time in her life Fayra cooked something just because she knew, this time her mother needed her the most. 

"Sara, No stress.” Adnaan slowly caressed her head and cheek, he could see some stressed muscles in her face. 

“Mummy aap stress na lijiye, aap jo kahengi main wo hi karungi, aap chahti hain na rukhsati karana, theek hai, bas aap stress na lijiye, aap jaldi se theek hi jaiye.” 

(Mummy, please don't take any stress, I will do exactly what you say. You want to hold the farewell ceremony, right? Alright, just please don't stress, and get well soon.)

“Let her take a rest." Adnaan supported Sara to take her to the bedroom and Fayra noticed every eye on herself. 

“Waah, 900 chuhe khaa ke billi haj ko chali… pehle hi maan leti ho wo chahti thi, aaj tumhari wajah se Sara ki ye halat hai Fayra." Momina was bitter for Fayra for the first time in her life. 

(Wow, after doing everything now you're ready to accept what your mother wants. Only you're responsible for Sara's condition.)

“Dadi Jaan, why would I do so if I knew it will happen? I… I just…” Fayra didn't know how to explain her condition. "Now I'm ready to do whatever you all want.” After all she gave up, Adnaan came out of the room after giving medicines to Sara and saw his daughter standing like a culprit among the Family. Only Fiza and Afnaan were standing beside this girl. 

“Now you're ready for what?" Danish uttered the only sentence in these two days, and Fayra looked at him. 

"For farewell." She shrugged.

“Main kisi par apni mohabbat thopna nahi chahta. Agar tum is rishte se khush nahi ho, to main bhi tumhe majboor nahi karunga. Hamein rukhsati ki nahi, is rishte ko yahin khatam karne ki zaroorat hai.” 

(I have no desire to force my love on anyone. If you are not happy in this relationship, I won't force you either. We don't need a rukhsati; we need to end this marriage right here.)

"Ab tumhe kya masla hai Danish. Allah allah kar ke to wo maani hai, ab tum kyu peeche hat rhe ho? Tum logo ne shadi ko mazakh bana diya hai kya?” asked Momina with disappointment.

(Now what's wrong with you Danish? She has accepted this relationship after all this mess and now you're taking a step away. What do you think of marriage? Is this a game for you?) 

Danish look directly at Fayra—not with anger, but with intense, quiet pity. “I wanted a wife who chose me. Not a wife who traded her decision for her mother’s health. I am out.” He walked out, leaving Fayra caught between a mother who is paralyzed and a husband who has completely given up on her. 

This was exactly what she wanted till a few hours ago but now, she was stuck. 

“Danish… Danish…” Momina called her grandson who didn't look behind while going upstairs, little the old lady know, he was hiding his emotions from his family. 

"Ammi, don't force my son, he has already suffered a lot. Let him move on from this hollow marriage." Anzala walked after his son after defending his decision. 

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