Chapter 13 - Engagement and Court Marriage - Part II
3021 Words
Part III — The Engagement
The next morning began very differently.
Burhan woke before Fajr with an uncomfortable heaviness in his stomach.
At first he ignored it.
The previous day had been filled with food.
Katakat.
Nihari.
Ice cream.
Tea.
More tea.
Then snacks he couldn't even remember agreeing to eat.
Karachi seemed determined to ensure nobody remained hungry for longer than ten minutes.
He sat up slowly.
The room spun slightly.
A sharp pain twisted through his stomach.
He closed his eyes.
"Not today."
Especially not today.
The engagement was tomorrow.
This was not the time to become sick.
After Fajr he attempted to behave normally.
By breakfast he was struggling.
The smell of food alone made him uncomfortable.
Rizwana Aunty noticed immediately.
She always noticed.
"Burhan?"
"Hmm?"
"You didn't touch your breakfast."
"I'm not very hungry."
The answer alone was enough to alarm everyone.
During the past few days, refusing food in Rizwana's house was considered a medical emergency.
Burhani Ismail lowered his newspaper.
Zehra looked up from her tea.
Rizwana narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'm just tired."
Five minutes later he was rushing toward the bathroom.
After that, nobody believed him anymore.
Within an hour Burhani Ismail was driving him toward a nearby clinic while Zehra sat quietly in the back seat holding a bottle of water.
Every few minutes she leaned forward.
"Are you okay?"
Burhan nodded weakly.
"No."
She folded her arms.
"Stop lying."
Even sick, he laughed.
The doctor examined him carefully.
Asked questions.
Listened patiently.
Then smiled.
"Food poisoning."
The entire room seemed to exhale at once.
Not because food poisoning was pleasant.
Because it was far less frightening than all the possibilities everyone had imagined.
Soon medicine was prescribed.
An IV drip was attached.
And for the first time that day, Burhan relaxed.
The exhaustion finally caught him.
His eyes closed.
Sleep arrived quickly.
When he woke up later, the clinic room was quiet.
Burhani Ismail sat nearby reading messages on his phone.
The moment he noticed Burhan awake, he handed him the phone.
"Someone wants to speak to you."
Burhan looked at the screen.
Farzana Aunty.
The moment he answered, her worried voice filled the line.
"Burhan beta!"
He smiled immediately.
"Aunty."
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay."
"No, you're not."
"A little better."
"Did you eat?"
"Aunty..."
"I'm serious."
"I just woke up."
"Good. Then eat something."
Burhan laughed softly.
For nearly ten minutes she continued asking questions.
Had he eaten?
Was he drinking water?
Did he need anything?
Was the doctor competent?
Was somebody staying with him?
The concern felt strangely comforting.
Real.
Motherly.
After ending the call, he remained quiet.
Burhani Ismail smiled knowingly.
"She has called three times already."
Burhan looked surprised.
"Three times?"
"Maybe four."
And somehow hearing that touched him more than he expected.
A little later, while Burhan was still resting, Farzana called Rizwana directly.
"How is he now?"
"Better."
"Alhamdulillah."
Then she hesitated briefly.
"Actually, I wanted to ask something."
"Yes?"
"If you don't mind..."
Rizwana listened carefully.
Farzana's voice softened.
"I would like to take Burhan with me."
Rizwana remained silent.
Farzana continued.
"This is such an important occasion in his life."
"He is alone here."
"He has no parents beside him."
Another pause.
Then quietly:
"I don't have children of my own."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"But I see Burhan as my son."
Rizwana's eyes immediately filled with tears.
Farzana continued.
"Let me handle everything from his side."
"I will take care of him."
"I will make sure tomorrow becomes a happy memory."
For several seconds Rizwana could not respond.
The words had touched her deeply.
Not because help was needed.
But because love had arrived without being asked.
Finally she smiled.
"Take him."
And then added softly,
"Thank you."
Later that afternoon Farzana called Burhani Ismail.
Then she spoke directly to Burhan.
"You are coming with me."
Burhan laughed.
"Aunty, I am fine."
"No."
"Aunty—"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"You will come here."
"You will rest."
"And tomorrow we will go to your engagement from my house."
Burhan smiled.
There was absolutely no point arguing.
By evening he arrived at Farzana and Shabbir Uncle's home.
The atmosphere felt different from Rizwana's house.
Yet equally warm.
Farzana refused to let him lift a finger.
Soup appeared.
Tea appeared.
Fruit appeared.
Medicine appeared.
Blankets appeared.
Everything appeared except the opportunity to protest.
For the first time in years, Burhan understood how it felt to be cared for by two mothers at the same time.
That night Farzana checked on him repeatedly.
"Do you need anything?"
"No."
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yes."
"Do you need another blanket?"
"Aunty, it's Karachi."
She laughed.
Then left.
Only to return fifteen minutes later asking another question.
By morning he felt considerably better.
And Friday finally arrived.
The day they had all been waiting for.
The house woke early.
Excitement seemed to exist in every room.
Farzana moved around giving instructions.
Shabbir Uncle disappeared repeatedly and returned carrying mysterious packages.
Relatives called every few minutes.
Messages flooded phones.
And somewhere in the middle of all the activity sat Burhan, trying to process the fact that he was getting engaged.
The realization still felt unreal.
Late in the afternoon, there was a knock on his bedroom door.
Farzana entered carrying something folded carefully in her arms.
A maroon silk kurta.
Freshly ironed.
Perfectly prepared.
For a moment she simply stood there looking at him.
Then smiled.
"Mashallah."
She placed the kurta on the bed.
A few minutes later, after he had changed, she returned.
This time she walked directly toward him.
Adjusted the collar.
Straightened the sleeves.
Smoothed invisible creases.
Then held his face gently between both hands.
The way only mothers do.
The way only love does.
Her eyes became emotional.
"Mashallah."
She leaned forward.
Kissed his forehead.
And whispered it again.
"Mashallah."
For a brief second Burhan could not speak.
His throat tightened unexpectedly.
Because thousands of kilometres away another woman would have been doing exactly the same thing.
His mother.
Farzana seemed to understand.
Because she simply smiled and patted his cheek.
No words were necessary.
On the drive toward Rizwana's home, another unexpected moment occurred.
Halfway through the journey Shabbir Uncle suddenly pulled the car over.
"What happened?"
Burhan asked.
"I forgot something."
He disappeared into a flower shop.
Several minutes later he returned carrying two large red rose garlands.
The fragrance immediately filled the car.
Burhan stared.
For some reason that simple gesture affected him deeply.
Nobody had to do this.
Nobody was obligated.
Yet they were doing it anyway.
Because somewhere along the way he had stopped being a guest.
And started becoming family.
As the car continued toward the engagement venue, Burhan looked out the window quietly.
Unable to fully express the gratitude he felt.
Unable to find words large enough for what these people had given him.
A family.
And perhaps that was the greatest gift of all.
Part IV — Court Marriage
When they finally arrived, the house was already glowing with celebration.
Strings of lights hung across the entrance.
Children ran through the courtyard carrying plates and laughter in equal measure.
Relatives filled every available corner.
Voices overlapped.
Tea circulated endlessly.
Photographs were already being taken before the ceremony had even begun.
The moment Burhan stepped inside, curious eyes immediately turned toward him.
"That's him."
"The boy from Abu Dhabi."
"No, no... the Indian boy."
"The one who came all the way for Zehra."
Within minutes he was shaking hands with people he had never met before.
Uncles.
Cousins.
Family friends.
Neighbours.
Everyone seemed determined to welcome him.
The attention would have overwhelmed him if it had not been softened by genuine affection.
For the first time in his life, Burhan understood how quickly strangers could become relatives.
Yet despite the conversations around him, despite the smiles and introductions, his attention remained fixed on one thing.
Or rather, one person.
Zehra.
Who had not arrived yet.
Every few minutes his eyes drifted toward the entrance.
Someone noticed.
A cousin laughed.
"Relax."
Burhan looked embarrassed.
"What?"
"She's not running away."
The room erupted into laughter.
Even Burhan couldn't stop himself from smiling.
Before the ceremony began, he quietly stepped outside.
His heart had been pulling him toward India all evening.
He took out his phone.
Dialed home.
The call connected almost immediately.
"Burhan?"
His mother's voice.
Familiar.
Comforting.
Suddenly the distance between Karachi and home felt enormous.
"Ammi."
"Everything alright?"
For several seconds he simply smiled.
Then looked back toward the decorated house.
The lights.
The guests.
The celebration.
And finally said softly,
"Ammi... today is my engagement."
Silence.
A long silence.
The kind created when unexpected happiness arrives without warning.
Then came her voice.
Slightly emotional.
Slightly shocked.
"You only went there to meet her."
Burhan laughed.
"I know."
"And now engagement?"
He smiled.
"It has been two years, Ammi."
His voice softened.
"If not now, then when?"
On the other end he heard her sigh.
Not disagreement.
Acceptance.
Understanding.
The sigh of a mother realizing her son had grown up.
"Mubarak."
His eyes closed briefly.
"Thank you."
"Khuda umeed puri kare."
May Allah fulfill your hopes.
The blessing settled directly into his heart.
A few moments later his father joined the call.
The news delighted him immediately.
"Burhan."
"Ji, Abu."
"You have done one of the bravest things a young man can do."
Burhan smiled quietly.
His father continued.
"You believed in something."
"You took a risk."
"And Allah rewarded your sincerity."
For a moment emotion prevented Burhan from speaking.
Then both parents asked to speak with Zehra.
Later with Burhani Ismail.
Then Rizwana.
Congratulations crossed borders.
Blessings crossed borders.
Love crossed borders.
And somehow every political line drawn on a map felt insignificant compared to what was happening.
Before ending the call, Burhan smiled.
"There is something else."
"Hmm?"
"Farzana Aunty has taken care of me exactly the way you would have."
His mother became silent.
Then asked to speak with Farzana.
The conversation lasted several minutes.
When it ended, Farzana's eyes were moist.
And Burhan understood exactly what had been said.
One mother thanking another.
A moment later, the room suddenly became quieter.
Heads turned toward the entrance.
And Burhan instinctively followed everyone's gaze.
Then forgot how to breathe.
Zehra had arrived.
Wearing a soft pink jora.
Elegant.
Graceful.
Radiant.
The room seemed to blur around her.
Conversations faded.
Sounds disappeared.
Everything became distant.
Because all Burhan could see was her.
She walked slowly into the room.
Surrounded by relatives.
Yet somehow appearing completely alone in his vision.
Beautiful did not feel like a sufficient word.
Neither did stunning.
Neither did breathtaking.
She looked like every prayer he had made over the past two years suddenly taking human form.
Then her eyes found his.
And stayed there.
For one endless moment.
No words.
No smiles.
Just eyes.
And somehow entire conversations passed between them.
Her eyes asked:
How do I look?
His answered immediately:
You have no idea what you are doing to me right now.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
Small.
Private.
Only for him.
Burhan felt his heart surrender completely.
Years later, many details of that evening would fade.
The decorations.
The food.
The speeches.
The photographs.
But that moment would remain untouched by time.
Because some memories never age.
The engagement itself passed in a blur of happiness.
Rings were exchanged.
Garlands were placed.
Prayers were offered.
Photographs were taken.
Relatives celebrated.
And somewhere in the middle of it all Burhan looked around and realized something beautiful.
He had arrived in Karachi knowing one person.
Now he was standing surrounded by family.
---
The following morning felt quieter.
The decorations remained.
But the excitement had softened.
Life had begun returning to normal.
After breakfast, Burhan approached Rizwana Aunty respectfully.
"There is something I wanted to discuss."
She immediately sensed the seriousness in his tone.
"What is it?"
Burhan sat down.
Carefully choosing his words.
"Aunty, Allah made things easy this time."
She nodded.
"I received a visa."
Another nod.
"I came to Karachi."
Silence.
"I met Zehra."
Still silence.
Then his voice softened.
"But nobody knows if I will receive another visa."
The room became very quiet.
Burhani Ismail looked toward him.
Burhan continued.
"If you allow it... I would like us to complete a court marriage."
Nobody spoke immediately.
He wasn't demanding.
He wasn't pressuring.
He wasn't rushing.
He was simply thinking ahead.
Thinking responsibly.
Thinking about a future neither borders nor politics could easily separate.
"I am not asking because I am impatient."
His voice remained calm.
"I am asking because I want to protect our future."
The sincerity in his words filled the room.
Finally Burhani Ismail nodded slowly.
"This is an important decision."
"I know."
"We need time."
"Take all the time you need."
And Burhan meant it.
Over the next two days discussions took place.
Between husband and wife.
Between mother and daughter.
Between sisters.
Rizwana spoke to Zehra privately.
"What do you think?"
Zehra smiled softly.
"I trust him."
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Rizwana spoke to Farzana.
Farzana answered immediately.
"He is thinking responsibly."
Burhani Ismail listened carefully to everyone.
And slowly a consensus formed.
Burhan was not rushing.
He was planning.
Karachi had a sweetness that made such decisions easier.
Neighbours who behaved like relatives.
Relatives who behaved like parents.
Food shared without invitation.
Doors left open.
Affection expressed freely.
The city wrapped itself around people until strangers became family.
A few days later approval came.
The court appointment was scheduled.
Three days away.
Burhan checked his leave balance.
Only fifteen days.
Time suddenly felt precious.
The court building was far less romantic than either of them had imagined.
Files.
Paperwork.
Queues.
Officials.
Signatures.
Fans spinning lazily overhead.
Yet somehow neither could stop smiling.
At exactly two o'clock, Burhan, Zehra and Burhani Ismail sat before the magistrate.
Questions were asked.
Documents reviewed.
Witnesses confirmed identities.
Then came the memorable moment.
The magistrate looked at Burhan.
"Haq Meher?"
Without hesitation Burhan answered.
"Seven hundred and eighty-six rupees."
The magistrate removed his glasses.
Slowly.
Looked directly at him.
Then laughed.
The witnesses laughed.
Even Burhani Ismail smiled.
Zehra immediately lowered her head to hide her laughter.
"You are serious?"
Burhan nodded.
"It is symbolic."
"This is a marriage, not a lucky number competition."
The entire room burst into laughter.
Eventually a more reasonable amount was agreed upon.
The paperwork continued.
But Zehra continued smiling every time she looked at him.
When everything was completed and signatures finally placed on paper, they stepped outside together.
Husband and wife.
Officially.
Legally.
Quietly.
The same roads remained.
The same traffic remained.
The same Karachi remained.
Yet everything felt different.
Zehra folded her arms.
"Seven hundred and eighty-six?"
Burhan grinned.
"It was romantic."
"It was cheap."
"I prefer symbolic."
"I prefer expensive."
Both laughed.
And continued walking side by side.
As naturally as breathing.
That evening during dinner, Burhan looked toward Rizwana Aunty.
A mischievous smile appeared.
"You know."
She narrowed her eyes.
"That expression worries me."
"I am officially your son-in-law now."
The table laughed.
Then he pointed toward Zehra.
"And Zehra Burhani is now Zehra Burhan."
Zehra nearly choked on her water.
Everyone burst into laughter.
Even Burhani Ismail struggled to remain serious.
Rizwana shook her head.
"I refuse."
"What?"
"I will not accept this as a real marriage until every religious wedding ritual is completed."
More laughter followed.
Warm.
Comfortable.
Family laughter.
The best kind.
After the dinner,
That night Burhan and Zehra sat together talking long after everyone else had gone to sleep.
They spoke about the past two years.
The distance.
The waiting.
The uncertainty.
The nights when neither knew whether they would ever meet.
The dreams they had built together despite never knowing if those dreams would become reality.
At one point neither spoke.
Both simply sat smiling.
And finally Zehra whispered,
"Our prayers were answered."
Burhan looked at her.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
For once, there was nothing more to add.
Because some moments are too full for words.
And somewhere beyond the engagement, beyond the court marriage, beyond visas and borders and paperwork, a future was already beginning to take shape.
Neither of them knew exactly what it would look like.
They only knew one thing.
For the first time in two years, they were no longer walking toward each other.
They were finally walking together.
Later that night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Burhan stood alone near the balcony window.
The city was quieter now.
Only distant traffic and the occasional barking of a stray dog drifted through the warm Karachi air.
A few days earlier, he had stood in this same city carrying uncertainty.
A visitor.
A stranger.
A young man hoping that the family of the girl he loved would simply give him a chance.
Now everything felt different.
Somewhere inside the house slept people who no longer treated him like a guest.
Rizwana Aunty worried if he had eaten.
Burhani Ismail trusted him with his daughter.
Farzana Aunty had cared for him like a son.
And Zehra...
He smiled.
Zehra was no longer a distant voice crossing borders through phone calls and messages.
She was his wife.
The word still felt unreal.
For two years they had measured love in waiting.
In prayers.
In visa applications.
In missed celebrations and postponed dreams.
Now, somehow, they were standing on the same side of life.
Looking back years later, Burhan would remember many things about Karachi.
The food.
The traffic.
The crowded streets.
The evening rides.
The laughter.
But more than anything, he would remember the feeling.
The feeling of arriving with a suitcase and leaving with a family.
And as he looked out toward the sleeping city, he realized that the borders that once seemed impossible had not disappeared.
They still existed.
Challenges still waited ahead.
But for the first time, those challenges no longer felt frightening.
Because whatever came next, they would face it together.
And sometimes, that is all love really asks for.
- Writer
