EDITOR’S CHOICE AWARD
By Gul E. Zahra
The henna on my hands had barely faded, a souvenir from the last wedding I’d danced at, when I first saw him. Talim. A blush crept up my neck as I recalled the way his gaze lingered on me, a flicker of curiosity battling with the shyness in his eyes. Under the disapproving stares of the aunties, our stolen glances felt like a secret rebellion.
The last thrumming beats of the dhol echoed through the crowded wedding hall, a vibrant melody that vibrated in the soles of my feet. Twirling my ghagra, I weaved through the throng of guests, the colorful bangles on my wrists announcing my arrival with a melodic chime. Spotting my friend Anarkali by the refreshment table, I sashayed towards her, ready to trade gossip between dances.
Suddenly, I bumped into someone, the force almost knocking me off balance. A young man, his face flushed a charming shade of crimson, stood before me, his eyes wide with apology. His simple shalwar kameez, a stark contrast to the finery around us, seemed to announce him as a local farmer’s son.
“A thousand apologies,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. I held his gaze, the amusement bubbling within me threatening to spill over.
“No harm done,” I replied, my voice a playful lilt. “Though, next time, try not to be such a clumsy, handsome stranger.” A flicker of surprise crossed his features, quickly replaced by a shy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
“I – I’m Talim,” he stammered, extending a hand that was roughened by labor, yet gentle in its touch. My heart did a little skip at his flustered demeanor.
“Mahi,” I replied, returning his handshake, the lingering warmth sending a jolt through my arm. The air crackled with an unspoken awareness, a silent conversation that transcended words.
The cacophony of the wedding seemed to fade away, the boisterous music replaced by the frantic drumming of my own heart. Anarkali nudged me playfully, a knowing glint in her eyes. With a wink, she disappeared back into the crowd, leaving me alone with Talim.
“You dance beautifully,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. I let out a peal of laughter, the sound tinkling like the bells on my ankles.
“Perhaps you’d like a lesson sometime,” I teased, batting my eyelashes playfully. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, spreading from his neck to his forehead.
“I,” he stammered, at a loss for words. The awkwardness was endearing, making me want to prolong this stolen moment even further.
Just then, a booming voice called out, “Talim! Where have you been?” An older man, his face etched with worry, approached us. Talim’s shoulders slumped slightly.
“I must go,” he mumbled, his eyes lingering on mine for a fleeting moment. Disappointment pricked at my heart, but I forced a smile.
“Of course,” I replied, my voice light. “But remember, Talim,” I leaned in, my voice a conspiratorial whisper, “The offer for a dance lesson still stands.” His cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, a silent promise exchanged in that stolen glance. As he hurried away, I watched him go, a fluttering in my chest, a delicious echo of the encounter. The night, vibrant and alive just moments ago, seemed to lose its color with his departure. The melody of the dhol now held a melancholic tune, a reflection of the yearning that had taken root in my heart.
The crickets chirped their nightly symphony as Talim and I sat by the gushing canal, the cool night air a welcome respite from the unrelenting Layyah heat. We were a comfortable silence into our stolen meetings, sharing dreams and whispered hopes under the cloak of a million stars. Talim, his calloused fingers gently tracing patterns on my hand, spoke of building a small farmhouse, laughter echoing in his voice as he described the life we could build together. My heart swelled with a love both fierce and forbidden.
Talim paused, his gaze lingering on the colorful bangles adorning my wrists. “They look lovely, Mahi,” he said, his voice tinged with wonder. “Do they hold any special meaning?”
My breath hitched. This was it. The moment I had been both dreading and yearning for. Squeezing his hand, I took a deep breath. “They do, Talim,” I began, my voice barely a whisper. “They are a part of who I am.”
Talim’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “Who you are?” he echoed, his voice laced with concern.
“There’s something you need to know about me, Talim,” I continued, my voice trembling slightly. “Something important.” I hesitated, searching for the right words, the weight of societal judgment a heavy burden on my chest.
“Anything, Mahi,” he said, his voice gentle, his thumb brushing reassuringly against mine. Taking another deep breath, I blurted out, “I am not . . . what you might think I am.”
Silence descended, thick and heavy. The chirping of the crickets seemed amplified, the only sound in the vast emptiness. Talim stared at me, his expression unreadable. My heart pounded a frantic tattoo against my ribs, each beat echoing the fear that coiled in my gut.
“What do you mean?” he finally asked, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. Shame burned in my throat, choking back the lump that had formed there.
“I am…hijra,” I whispered, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. Talim’s grip on my hand tightened, his knuckles turning white. A million thoughts seemed to flicker across his face – confusion, fear, even a flicker of something akin to disgust.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the starlit sky above. “I know it’s not what you expected,” I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. “But this is who I am, Talim. This is me.”
He remained silent, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance. The weight of his silence was suffocating, a storm brewing behind his stoic facade. Minutes stretched into an eternity, each tick of the unseen clock a hammer blow to my already fragile heart.
Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Mahi,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. He looked at me then, his eyes searching mine. “Does this . . . change anything?”
Relief washed over me, warm and unexpected. Tears streamed down my face now, tears of gratitude and a flicker of hope. Squeezing his hand tightly, I whispered, “No, Talim. It doesn’t. I hope it doesn’t change how you see me.”
The night continued, the chirping of the crickets resuming its gentle melody. We sat there in comfortable silence once more, but this time, a silent understanding hung heavy between us. The path ahead might be fraught with challenges, but in that moment, under the vast expanse of the night sky, our love, fragile yet determined, flickered like a tiny flame, refusing to be extinguished.
“Mahi,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. We talked for hours that night, about our dreams, our fears. He spoke of his love for the land, his calloused hands testament to his life as a farmer’s son. I, in turn, confessed my longing for acceptance, a yearning that society seemed determined to deny.
The unforgiving Layyah sun beat down on the dusty marketplace, turning the air thick and shimmering. Talim haggled with a wizened vendor over the price of a sack of grain, his brow furrowed in concentration. Across the street, beneath the shade of a sprawling neem tree, I sat perched on a rickety stool, stitching a vibrantly colored shawl. The rhythmic clinking of my bangles was a familiar melody to Talim’s ears, a secret language only we understood.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the entrance to the marketplace. A stout woman, her face creased with disapproval, her burqa billowing around her like a storm cloud, barged through the crowd. Talim’s heart lurched. He recognized her instantly – Bibi Maryam, the notorious gossip of Layyah, known for her sharp tongue and even sharper eyes.
His premonition turned into a living nightmare as Bibi Maryam’s gaze landed on him, then flicked across the street to me. A knowing smirk twisted her lips. With a dramatic flourish, she threw her arms up in the air, her voice rising above the din of the marketplace.
“Look at them all! Look at the shame they bring upon Layyah!” she bellowed, pointing a gnarled finger at Talim. People turned, their curiosity piqued. Talim felt a cold sweat prickle his skin as whispers began to ripple through the crowd.
Ignoring the stares, he threw me a frantic glance. My eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with worry. With a resigned sigh, I gathered my things and began walking towards him, the rhythmic clinking of my bangles a mournful counterpoint to the rising tide of disapproval.
Talim reached the marketplace entrance just as I arrived. He grabbed my hand, his voice tight with urgency, “Go, Mahi. Please. I’ll handle this.”
I shook my head, my chin held high, “No, Talim. We face this together.” But before I could argue further, Bibi Maryam materialized before us, her face contorted in disgust.
“You! Wasn’t I clear, Talim? Stay away from that… that… creature!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. Shame burned in Talim’s throat, a bitter fire fueled by her hateful words.
“Mahi is not a creature, Bibi Maryam,” he retorted, his voice surprisingly steady. “She is a kind and decent person, far better than some I know.”
Bibi Maryam scoffed. “Kindness doesn’t erase shame, boy. Don’t be a fool. They’ll cast you out if they find out about this . . . this abomination!” Her words hung heavy in the air, a poisonous dart aimed at our fragile love.
Talim’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to scream, to defy the narrow-mindedness that choked the life out of Layyah. But a flicker of movement caught his eye. A group of men, his father among them, were approaching, their faces grim. The blood drained from Talim’s face. Bibi Maryam’s venomous words had found their target.
“Talim!” his father’s voice boomed, cutting through the crowd. The older man’s face was a mask of fury, his eyes blazing with indignation. He stopped just a few feet away, glaring at Talim, then at me.
“What is the meaning of this?” his father demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Have you no shame, disgracing our family like this?”
“Father, please,” Talim began, but his father cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“Enough! I warned you about this, Talim. This… this girl is nothing but trouble.” He spat the words out, his contempt palpable. “You will end this nonsense right now. Leave her, or you will no longer be my son.”
My heart clenched at his words, and I saw the pain flash across Talim’s face. He stood there, torn between love and duty, his fists still clenched at his sides.
“Father, Mahi is not just some girl. She means everything to me,” Talim said, his voice trembling but resolute.
His father’s expression hardened, a look of cold finality in his eyes. “Then you leave me no choice, Talim. If you choose her, you are no longer part of this family. You will be disowned, cast out.”
A murmur ran through the crowd as the weight of his father’s words settled over us. Talim’s eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of anguish and determination. I squeezed his hand, offering what little comfort I could.
“I love her, Father,” Talim said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I cannot abandon her.”
His father’s face twisted with rage. “Then you are no son of mine,” he snarled, turning on his heel and marching away, the crowd parting to let him through.
Talim stood there, the weight of his father’s rejection heavy on his shoulders, but his grip on my hand never wavered. Together, we faced the disapproving stares and the murmurs of the crowd, united in our defiance.
Next evening, I sat by the gushing canal, my heart heavy with the weight of the day’s events. Talim’s father’s anger and disappointment echoed in my ears. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the reflection of the star-studded sky in the water.
A twig snapped behind me, and I turned to see Talim approaching, his face etched with worry. He sat down beside me, a comfortable silence settling between us. I sniffled, wiping away a stray tear.
“I’m so sorry, Mahi,” Talim said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. For my father’s words, for the way things turned out.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, Talim. It’s this place, these narrow minds that can’t see past their own prejudices.”
Talim reached out, taking my hand in his. His touch, warm and calloused, sent a jolt through me. “But we can’t let them win, Mahi. We can’t let their hate extinguish what we have.”
Looking into his eyes, a well of determination and love, I felt a flicker of hope rekindle within me. “What do we do then, Talim?” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand gently. “We fight. We fight for our love, for our right to be happy. We fight for a life together, even if it means leaving Layyah behind.”
My breath hitched. The thought of leaving everything I knew, the familiar streets, the warmth of my community, was daunting. Yet, the thought of a life without Talim was far more unbearable.
Talim reached into his pocket, his hand emerging with a small, intricately carved wooden box. My heart hammered against my ribs as he opened it, revealing a simple silver ring nestled inside. The moonlight glinted off its surface, casting an ethereal glow on our faces.
“Mahi,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “You are the light in my life, the melody that fills the silence. You are my confidante, my friend, the love that defies definition. Will you, Mahi, run away with me? Will you marry me, not to spite them, but to celebrate the love that burns so fiercely between us?”
Tears welled up in my eyes, this time not of sadness, but of overwhelming joy. A love like ours, ostracized yet unwavering, deserved a chance. Taking a deep breath, I reached out and took the ring from the box.
“Yes, Talim,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “A thousand times, yes.”
As I slipped the ring onto my finger, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch, we sealed our promise with a kiss. The Layyah night, once a witness to our stolen moments, now echoed with the silent vow of two hearts, determined to fight for their love, even if it meant painting their own path under a different sky.
The ramshackle hut we called home offered little in the way of luxury, but tonight, it was a palace adorned with moonlight. A single flickering diya cast dancing shadows on the mud walls, painting our faces in a soft, golden glow. My heart brimming with a love that defied societal norms, I sat on a worn charpoy, unwinding the layers of my colorful ghagra. Talim, his eyes filled with an adoration that made my stomach flutter, watched my every move.
The silence was charged, a language only we understood. I finished with my ghagra, the silken fabric pooling at my feet. I met Talim’s gaze, a silent invitation shimmering in my kohl-rimmed eyes. He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow over me. Our breaths hitched in unison as he knelt before me, his calloused fingers brushing against the soft skin of my wrists.
“These bangles,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he gently removed the first one, the sound echoing in the still of the night. “They are beautiful, just like you, Mahi.” He continued, each bangle a silent farewell to the life I’d left behind, a life that couldn’t embrace our love.
With the last bangle removed, he cradled my hands in his hands, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down my spine. He looked up at me, his eyes reflecting a love that burned brighter than the flickering diya. “You are more than your clothes, Mahi,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You are the strength that holds me up, the laughter that fills my days, the love that makes my heart sing.”
My eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and joy. Reaching out, I cupped his face, my touch soft against his roughened skin. “And you, Talim,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “are the anchor to my soul, the reason my heart beats.”
As our lips met, the world around us faded away. The kiss was slow, tender, a promise whispered against the backdrop of a million silent stars. He traced the curve of my back, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. Our bodies, two halves of a forbidden whole, fit together perfectly, a silent testament to a love that transcended societal boundaries.
The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and gentle touches. We explored each other, not with raw passion, but with a reverence born of the preciousness of our stolen moments. The limitations of our humble hut faded away, replaced by a universe created by our intertwined bodies and the boundless love that bloomed between us.
Under the watchful gaze of the moon, we found solace in each other’s arms, a comfort that defied the disapproval of the world outside. As sleep finally claimed us, we held each other close, two souls intertwined, a testament to the enduring power of love in the face of adversity. Our first night together wasn’t a grand spectacle, but a quiet symphony played on the strings of our hearts, a melody that promised a future, uncertain yet beautiful, as long as we had each other.
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on Layyah, turning the dusty courtyard of our tiny hut into a furnace. I sat by the open window, stitching a vibrant tapestry, the rhythmic clinking of my bangles a constant companion. A frown creased my brow as I watched Talim pace restlessly, his face etched with worry.
“What troubles you, Talim?” I asked, my voice laced with concern. He stopped his pacing, his eyes filled with a turmoil I couldn’t decipher.
“My parents,” he finally blurted out, his voice heavy with emotion. “They… they want me to come back.”
My heart plummeted. A cold dread coiled in my stomach, a premonition of what was to come. “What did they say?” I whispered, already dreading the answer.
Talim sank down onto the charpoy beside me, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. “They miss me, Mahi. They . . . they’ve softened a bit on the whole situation. They say they’re willing to accept me back, but . . .” He trailed off, unable to voice the unspoken condition hanging heavy in the air.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as Talim finished his sentence. The midday sun beat down mercilessly, but I felt a coldness seep into my bones, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the dusty courtyard.
“They want you to end things with me,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the vibrant tapestry in my lap. This wasn’t just about acceptance; it was about erasing me, our love, our everything.
Talim reached for my hand, his touch a familiar anchor in the storm brewing within him. “They say it’s for the best,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with guilt and a conflict I understood all too well.
But this time, a different kind of fire ignited in my eyes. I squeezed his hand back, my voice firm despite the tremor in my heart. “Maybe for them,” I conceded, “but what about us, Talim? What about the life we’ve built together, the love that defies their narrow definitions?”
Talim looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a strength he might not possess. But I held his gaze, refusing to let him look away. “We can leave, Talim,” I continued, my voice gaining strength with each word. “We can build a new life, one where our love is not a burden but a celebration.”
The idea, radical and risky, hung in the air between us. Fear flickered in Talim’s eyes, but so did a spark of defiance. He looked around our humble hut, the place we had filled with stolen moments of joy and whispered promises. Could he leave his family, his roots?
I reached out, my touch tracing the worry lines etched on his forehead. “This isn’t about abandoning them, Talim,” I said softly. “It’s about choosing our own happiness. We can’t control their hearts, but we can control our own destiny.”
A long silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of our decision. The sun continued its relentless journey across the sky, a silent observer to our internal battle. Finally, Talim spoke, his voice hoarse but resolute.
“Maybe they’re right, Mahi,” he began, his eyes meeting mine with a newfound determination. “Maybe staying won’t change their minds. Maybe it’s time I stopped waiting for their acceptance and started living for myself, for us.”
A choked sob escaped my lips, tears of relief and joy cascading down my cheeks. I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. In that embrace, we found solace and strength, two souls choosing love over societal norms.
“We’ll face it together, Talim,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shirt. “We’ll build a life where our love can bloom, even if it’s under a different sky.” Talim held me close, the clinking of my bangles a comforting melody against the harsh backdrop of Layyah’s judgment. We knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be hardships, whispers, and stares. But in that moment, huddled together in our sun-drenched courtyard, our love, a defiant ember fanned into a roaring flame, promised to light our way, a testament to the enduring power of love in the face of adversity. Layyah might not accept us, but we had each other, and that, for now, was all that mattered.