All out of love. Well, maybe.

Philadelphia, USA.

Their eyes met and they knew instantly, the search was over. That realization came from within, something just clicked and their hearts found a way together.
Those starting days of being inflicted with the wounds Cupid makes- they are insane. Insanely memorable. Anamika was taking up Psychology, Bilal- Business. They still met, only to immerse and sink deep within each other's eyes. Only to feel the warmth of one sweeping into another. Only to share a kiss or two that left a lingering joy, till almost forever! Life.was.beautiful!
It went on till three years. They realized it was time to go a step further.


Kabul, Afghanistan.

Anamika, covered in a hijab felt rather uncomfortable and shrugged and cringed. Not because of the attire, but because of the piercing gazes. She was sitting amidst Bilal's family members.

She intended to make them her family too but no one except Bilal's younger brother, Razi seemed to approve. She had thought she'd be scared of Afghanistan, but now she knew, she was scared of love. How amusing.The atmosphere only tensed further. Bilal was with his mother in the next room, trying to persuade her, and BANG, a utensil clanged to the floor. She heard loud sobs, and Bilal's mother stormed out and said- "THIS is who you want to marry? Forget her being an Indian or a Hindu, do we have any izzat (respect) in the society?

Bilal and Anamika took the blame on themselves. Maybe they'd been too pacy. Maybe they needed to think over themselves together. Maybe they really needed more time

Delhi, India.

"

This must be a joke?! What is this love bullshit?!? You're only smitten with the boy's good looks."
"You must be crazy? A Muslim?!"
"Not even Indian. AFGHANI?!"
"This is what we sent you to USA for?!"
"You bitch. Get over him or get out of my house."
They mentioned him, his religion, his country as if they all spelled out poison.

Repeated attempts.
Kabul.Delhi.Kabul.Delhi.Kabul.
End of attempts.

Philadelphia, USA.

New life. Yes, cut off with their respective families. Yes, still very much in love. Not "madly" or "blindly" in love, mind you.
Their friends joke around and quizzed if their child would bear a Hindu or a Muslim name. Anamika (still Anamika Khurana not Anamika Rafiq) replied, "Its rather filmy, Na Hindu banega, na Musalman banega .. Insaan ki aulaad hoga, insaan banega! "(Neither Hindu or Muslim, he'll only be human)

.

This is a true story. I know of an Anamika and Bilal who met. Who didn't care if they'd end up in a land of hijabs, ghoonghats, Diwali or Barawafat !

Dark truths.

I started putting red bangles on, while Ma started settling other things in the house. Was adorned in a red sari, and even after the sveltve figure, there was something the sari could not hide. Anyway, Pooja came into the room, and told me that the people had arrived. Papa was making them comfortable as they come out of their car.
I was seated at a wooden chair, and was staring into my own eyes, through my reflection in the mirror. Brown eyes, black kohl,red bindi with black outline,red sandals.. just worth satisfaction maybe. Whatever..I moved out of the room, and went straight into the kitchen. This was a usual routine for me,and I always knew the result, and was never excited about "new" people coming in. I still don't understand why Ma instills new hopes inside her, whenever she gets a recommendation about XYZ from Aunty ABC.
There was a smell of sumptuous servings filled inside the kitchen. They are no more pleasing to me..because I've smelled them..just to often, similar to how I've worn bangles seven times before, and hidden my face with a pallu and walked with shy steps to the people. Yes, you probably would have guessed what I'm talking about, and if you haven't you probably will, in some time.
Like always, I was handed a tray of this and that (food and yet more food) to carry to the drawing room. They were seated there. One aunt, who was scanning me from head to toe, and probably taking in every detail of me, maybe even how many stones are there in the ring I'm wearing. Its disgusting that a B.tech Topper is living like this, but whatever,family comes first. And then the dreaded part of the discussion starts, they make me walk ,why? to make sure that I'm not handicapped. *Yes why not, as if I came flying in front of them*, they make me write,eat and even speak.
And then they stand up after further argument or discussion, with finishing the plates f servings clear ofcourse. They'll walk down like burgalars, who're too scared to commit their crime. I care nonetheless, because I've seen people like these before.

They reject me for their son.
All because I'm dark.

Yes sir, being dark makes me a non-human right?
Thankyou very much.

Similar indifferences.

Someone sits with the fresh mehendi adorning her hands. The smell of incense prevails in the entire room, which is otherwise illuminated with golden bulbs all around. The red satin curtains draped on the antique windows, seem to be dancing along with the sound of the dholak outside. She sits and looks at her diamond ring, perched on her ring finger, looking as gorgeous as ever. There were giggles from her friends next door, all making parodies of something or the other. The outside is crowded with people, someone is making the sweets, and drowning himself in the jubilant and mirthful atmosphere which surrounded him. Someone was being critical of nealy everything her eyes met, and interrogated all about everything, and poked her nose in everything she could figure out as intriguing, and irrespective of the glances they got, enjoying every moment of it. Lightbulbs adorned every corner of the Manor House, and each part of it shouted with glee. Someone was all worried if the invitations had reached the right people, and someone was too involved in checking if the red bag or the black matched her dress. Squeals from adolescents and toddles alike, and a grandmother following them with a cane stick. They were common sights. Common but happy.








Somewhere, the walls of the house had grown numb, the white color had become even more pale, as the colors of someone's life were slowly fading away. An elderly woman shocked from the incident, sat with her lower half paralyzed, and slowly crawled from one end of the room to the other. The surroundings seemed to have been weeping with an abysmal misery. There were children here too, but even their impressionable minds had got the feeling that there was no good happening here, and even they refused to continue their game of Hide and Seek. Maybe because mirth, joy, and bliss, they had all hidden themselves somewhere, and made themselves to tough to be seeked. She was sitting on her bed, with absolutely no one around her. Just yesterday he was by her side, and she had kept her head in his strong arms, in which she could weep, she could laugh. Now, it was different, there were no comforting arms around her, just she, the stupefied her. She lost her husband. It had to happen with everyone, it was common but sad.


Life offers us complete contrasts, at times. Where someone sits happily, waiting for the wedding bells to knock on her door, someone is immune to the happiness, as her soul weeps to have to burn the corpse of the same man who she loved from her heart.
People say we're responsible for our own happiness and sadness, but at so many instances, we have no way out to get out of such times. Maybe..life's too weird .