by Sara Naveed
‘Ma’am, may I speak to you for a minute?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Zynah’s friend, Rehaan. I don’t know if she has ever mentioned my name . . .’
‘Yes, of course, she has told me about you. How can I help you, son?’
‘It’s not me who needs help, Aunty. It’s your son.’
‘What?’ A slight frown appeared on her face. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know very well what I’m talking about. Being a mother, you should accept your son for who he is and let him live his life. You thought marriage would change him but it hasn’t. This has not only ruined Zynah’s life but his as well.’
She opened her mouth to explain, but I interrupted her. ‘I know it must be hard for you to accept that your son is gay. But think for a moment, apart from being your son, he is also a human being, a separate individual who has the right to choose his own life partner.’
‘Look, son, I think this is . . .’
‘Aunty, please, I request you to not make things difficult for Aariz and Zynah. Please accept him the way he is. Understand him. Respect his choices and let him be happy. Because of fear of rejection, because of you and Uncle, the societal pressure, Aariz and Zynah are not able to live the lives they want. They’re compromising for a relationship which does not even exist. Please help them get out of this mess. Please.’
She considered my words for a moment. But then her husband called her, and she was forced to walk away. I sighed, wondering if my words had any effect on her.
I went back to my spot and continued to wait for Zynah. She, along with her parents, came out after an hour. I noticed that they were arguing—her father was asking her to come home with them but she wanted to go back with Aariz. This really annoyed me. Why did she still want to go back to him and his family? Now that her parents knew everything, she could easily end her relationship with Aariz and move on.
My heart skipped a beat when her eyes finally met mine. Slowly and tentatively, she made her way towards me. From the corner of my eye, I could sense that Aariz was looking at us.
‘Zynah,’ I whispered as she stood in front of me, looking into my eyes.
But she didn’t say anything. When a few minutes passed and neither of us spoke, I decided to break the uncomfortable silence.
‘I know what I did was not right but my intention was not to hurt you. What I did will hopefully set things right,’ I said, my voice steady.
She bit her lower lip and looked away.
‘You cannot live with that person any more, Zynah. He is not meant for you. You will just end up getting hurt.’ I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. But she did not respond. I could see the hurt in her eyes, which were now filling up with tears.
‘Forget about me, forget whatever happened between us, forget that we shared something special . . . but . . . but don’t forget your self-respect, your life, your happiness,’ I said. ‘You deserve so much better.’
She choked back her tears.
‘I know what I want and I know what I deserve,’ she finally said. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’
I was reduced to silence.
‘Zynah, we’re getting late. We should leave now,’ Aariz cut in.
I was dumbfounded.
‘I’m coming,’ Zynah said.
‘Zynah?’ I asked, looking at her.
‘I have to go, Rehaan,’ she said.
‘With him?’ I shot a quick glance at Aariz and then back at Zynah.
She nodded.
‘After everything? You’re still going with him? Why?’ I asked, holding her shoulders.
‘Because he’s my husband!’ She pushed me away and took a step back. I was shocked.
‘Rehaan, look,’ she said, sighing. ‘I don’t want to complicate the situation. I have made up my mind. I just . . . I just need to go right now. Please understand,’ she told me.
I took a step back, my body feeling numb.
‘You’re my friend, right? My best friend? You are supposed to support me, strengthen my decision. Please do not weaken me, Rehaan, please don’t!’ She reached for my hand but I pushed her away. ‘Rehaan?’ she whispered, her pain-stricken eyes searching for mine.
I didn’t look up to meet her gaze.
‘Rehaan?’ she said again.
‘You’ve always walked out on me, Zynah, but this time I won’t let you do that,’ I said, my voice low but determined.
‘This time I’m walking out on you,’ I declared. ‘And I’m never coming back.’
‘Rehaan? Please don’t,’ she said as tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘All the best,’ I said and walked away without looking back, and she didn’t stop me.
PART FIVE
Rehaan
A Year Later
London, UK
When I was a kid I always used to wonder if I’d ever get a chance to showcase my work, my photographs, to the rest of the world. Shifting to London for my higher education had changed my life in many ways. After years of struggle, I finally had my own photography studio in London and was among the most popular contemporary artistes of the metropolis. And now I was finally having my own photography exhibition at The Photographers’ Gallery. I had done exceptionally well as far as my professional life was concerned. My family was also happy with my progress. Azaan had shifted to London to complete his bachelor’s programme and was staying with me.
Last month, I had surprised my parents with flight tickets to the UK. It was a family reunion and I was happy to see everyone I loved in the same room. Everything was going fine until Amma brought up the topic of my marriage. I bought time by telling her that I wasn’t ready for a long-term commitment. She was not convinced but did not pursue the matter as she knew it would just lead to an argument.
It was the day of the exhibition. Some of my best works till date were on display. Except for one—a candid shot of Zynah riding a bicycle. The picture was quite close to my heart, and I did not want anyone to own it, except for me. She might have chosen someone else over me, but the truth was, I was still not able to forget her. At first she had lived in my memories, but now she dominated my thoughts, overpowering every aspect of my life.
‘Rehaan, do you have a minute?’ Hassan, my co-worker, asked, bringing me back to the present.
‘Yeah, sure, what is it?’ I asked.
‘I think we have a problem. There’s a customer who is insisting on buying the picture which is not for sale.’
‘What?’ I asked, frowning.
‘Yes, I did explain that it wasn’t for sale but he’s not listening. He said he’s willing to pay double the price.’
‘Double or triple, who cares? Just tell him it’s not for sale,’ I said with a wave of my hand.
‘I did but he’s still insisting. Why not consider it? He’s paying double,’ Hassan said.
‘Who is he? Send him in. I’ll deal with him,’ I told him.
‘Sure.’ Hassan walked out to get the guy.
I was curious to see who this person was. Why would anybody want to purchase Zynah’s picture at double the cost unless they knew her? I gulped down my coffee and prepared myself to meet this person.
‘Rehaan?’ someone called out.
I was taken aback to find Aariz standing in front of me, looking as handsome as ever in a light grey dress suit.
‘Aariz?’ I asked, furrowing my brows.
‘I’m glad you recognized me,’ he said, smiling.
‘How could I ever forget you?’ I mumbled.
‘Your work is amazing. I was actually quite impressed. You have an eye for detail.’
His presence reminded me of Zynah. Had she also come along? Where was she? Was she outside, looking at the pictures? Did she and Aariz insist on buying her portrait together?
‘Is that why you came here? To praise my photography skills?’ I raised a brow.
‘Actually, I have been meaning to meet you. I didn’t know how to contact you but then
I read about your upcoming exhibition in the newspaper.’
‘Why were you so keen on meeting me?’ I asked, folding my arms. ‘Why are you here?
He looked at me for a split second and then turned his gaze. I noticed a twinge of uneasiness on his face.
‘I want to buy her portrait,’ he finally said.
‘It’s not for sale. I believe you already know that.’
‘But I really want it.’
‘Has Zynah come with you?’ I asked, changing the subject.
He became silent for a while, looking at his hands.
‘Where’s Zynah?’ I asked him again.
‘Don’t you know?’ he asked, looking at me.
‘Why should I bother?’ I shrugged. ‘She never cared for me, so why should I?’
‘You were her best friend, Rehaan. You should be by her side. You should support her more than anyone else,’ he said.
‘What?’ I stifled a laugh. ‘Support her more than her husband?’
‘I’m not her husband any more, Rehaan. She left me,’ he declared, sighing.
The words gave me a jolt of shock.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘What do you mean she left you?’
‘It was a mutual decision. We got divorced a couple of months ago.’
As my brain processed the sudden revelation, Aariz asked me to sit with him so he could fill me in on the details. He ordered himself a cup of coffee but I was too dazed, confused and furious to drink or eat anything.
‘I can’t believe this,’ I said, continuing the conversation. ‘How did this happen?’
‘It was I who had forced her to continue in that meaningless relationship. I took advantage of her feelings and pleaded with her to stay. But the truth was she did not deserve a person like me who could not reciprocate her feelings. Yes, I did love her but not enough for a marriage. I had those feelings for someone else,’ he explained.
‘But how did things change?’ I asked.
‘In the beginning I was afraid to tell my family the truth. I didn’t know how they’d react. I thought they’d not understand me and hate me forever. The night you and Zynah came home and found me with my boyfriend,’ he paused, ‘that’s when Zynah decided to leave me.’
This was news to me.
‘Zynah had made up her mind to leave me even before you called her mother. She told me she was going to file for a divorce.’
I looked down, recalling that night.
‘I did not defend myself and agreed. I knew I had been lying to her all these months. I could never change myself. I could never give her what she deserved. It was better if we called it quits.’
‘Does . . . does your father know about you?’ I managed to speak.
‘Yes. After Zynah’s mother recovered, she came to our place with her parents. She asked me to tell my parents everything, especially my father. I hesitated at first, but she encouraged me. She said she would support me no matter what. I went up to my parents and told them the truth. I told them I was gay; that I was involved with someone else; that I had agreed to marry Zynah because of societal pressures. My mother was not convinced and said I should give my marriage another shot. But I stood my ground and told her that I couldn’t be with any woman, let alone Zynah. I apologized to them and her family for lying, but I did not apologize for being homosexual. Because that’s who I am. And I am not ashamed of it.’
‘What happened next?’ I asked, curious.
‘My parents didn’t know how to respond. So, they put the matter in Zynah’s hands. She took the right decision and said we should get a divorce. Thanks to her, my parents are not angry with me any more. They eventually accepted me for who I am.’
‘Where is she?’ I asked.
‘She has moved to Manchester. She got a job with a leading design firm and they wanted her to join as soon as possible.’
‘Manchester? But what about her family?’ I asked.
‘They’re still here, in London.’
I bit my lip, wondering how she did it all alone.
‘You should have been there for her, Rehaan. You should not have abandoned her. You weren’t there when she needed you the most.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I snorted. ‘I’ve always been there for her, but she never wanted me. She always pushed me away.’
‘Because she was in a relationship with me. She had her limitations.’
‘I asked her . . . when I saw her outside the hospital . . . I asked her what she wanted but again she chose you . . . She wanted to be with you. I told her I would never come back . . . but that didn’t change her decision,’ I said, my voice trailing off.
‘She had to settle things with me first, that’s why she stayed back. You should have understood her,’ Aariz said.
With my elbows resting on the coffee table, I covered my face with my hands to hide the tears streaming down my cheeks.
‘She was a totally different person around you, Rehaan. You made her so happy.’
I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and looked away.
‘I’m glad she has someone like you in her life. You’re her anchor, her support, her best friend. What you share with her is immeasurable.’
‘I cannot be there for someone who doesn’t want me. I cannot,’ I snapped, and stood up.
‘She needs you, Rehaan. Perhaps, you won’t realize this now but one day you will. And I hope it’s not too late when you do.’
I folded my arms across my chest as I considered what he had said, my eyes still moist.
‘Anyway, thanks for your time. I wish you all the luck. I should take your leave now.’
‘No, wait!’ I said, turning around.
‘Yes?’ he asked, looking at me.
‘Can I . . . can I have her address?’ I asked, my voice low.
His face lit up with a grin.
‘Only on one condition,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I want you to sell me her portrait.’
‘I’ve already told you it’s not for sale,’ I said.
‘Fine, then I’m not giving you her address.’ He turned his back on me.
‘But why are you so keen on buying her picture? Why now?’ I asked, irritated by his behaviour.
‘Well.’ He looked at me again, folding his arms. ‘I want to buy this portrait on your behalf and send it to her so she knows it’s taken by the person who deserves her the most.’ He smiled.
I took in his words and then heaved a sigh. As I smiled back at him weakly, a tear of relief escaped my eye.
Zynah
Aariz and I parted ways a couple of months back. I was happy it all ended on a good note. I wouldn’t say the conversation with his parents was easy. They felt ashamed, embarrassed, but I told them to stay strong. Aunty Raima apologized for rebuffing our earlier attempts to tell her the truth. I asked his parents for only one thing—to accept Aariz for who he was. He was still their son who had made them proud by securing a gold medal at his university; he was still the son who gave up his promising career in Canada to look after his family business in London; he was still the same son who gave up the person he loved to marry the girl of his parents’ choice because he couldn’t make them unhappy. I told them that I could not spend my life with someone whose feelings were divided. I gave our relationship another chance after I found out about him, but later realized we were just fooling each other.
Uncle Kamran, Aunty Raima, and even Aariz wanted me to resume working in their company but I politely refused. I wanted to get away from all this to explore my options and contemplate my life. So when an opportunity to work in a leading design firm in Manchester presented itself, I could not say no. I moved to Manchester as soon as the divorce was settled. Leaving my past behind paved way for a better future, for better days, where there was no darkness. I could breathe freely. I was only responsible for myself and that feeling was liberating. I was happy that I had stood up for myself, that I had mustered up the courage to start afresh and become self-reliant. I felt li
ke my old self again—light-hearted and happy-go-lucky. The episode with Aariz had brought a great deal of pain, but I had bounced back. I didn’t know I had it in me to live independently. There was a time when Aariz meant the world to me; when I couldn’t even think about a life without him. But that had changed. I still loved him but I was no longer in love with him. Perhaps, I never was. Rehaan was right about one thing. I did not love him. I only loved the idea of him.
As far as Rehaan was concerned, I was not in touch with him. He had blocked my number on his cell phone as well as on WhatsApp. Later I realized that I had not even added him on Facebook. I did try to get in touch with him but in vain. I tried to look up his studio on Google to get an address or a landline number but then I realized I’d never asked him the name. I missed him terribly. He’d always been there for me but I had always pushed him away. After this episode, I realized he was more than just a friend. I realized I had feelings for him. But I was glad he had decided to break all contact and stay away. A selfish, self-centred person like me could only bring unhappiness. I’d always broken his heart, belittled his emotions. I didn’t deserve his friendship, let alone his love. I knew he had made no attempt to look for me in all these months. This pained me but I didn’t blame him for it. I respected his decision.
I had finally moved on and settled in my new life. I shared an apartment with a girl named Julia who worked in a bank. She was sweet and usually kept to herself. This gave me plenty of time and space for self-reflection.
After a busy week, I finally found some time to unwind. It was a Saturday but Julia had to work overtime, so I had the apartment to myself. I’d already decided how to spend my weekend—wear pyjamas, make myself fettuccine Alfredo and then binge-watch all the episodes of Game of Thrones. That’s what my ideal weekend usually looked like. As I was preparing the white sauce for the pasta in the kitchen, the doorbell rang. I rinsed my hands and walked up to the door to unlock it. There was no one outside. I was about to close the door when my eyes fell on a large package kept against the wall. I craned my neck to see who had left it and caught a fleeting glimpse of someone rushing down the stairs. Might have been the delivery guy, I thought.