Puranay Rastay ✓

chapter ‣ 6

I was tempted to scold Khaled for not seeing me off at the rukhsati, but Aqib kept me busy throughout the Walima, keeping me on his arm as we made rounds around the hall and thanked all guests for coming.

We also went to individual guests according to how close they were to us. Aqib did most of the talking while I stood next to him in my pastel pink abaya and niqab, smiling at appropriate parts of the conversation.

"My feet are killing me," I whispered as Aqib guided me away from one of the tables. I was wearing ballet flats instead of heels, yet all the walking was getting tiring.

"Let's sit over there," he said, pointing to two vacant chairs at a table near the buffet.

I let out a sigh of relief as soon as I sat down, getting a chuckle from Aqib.

"You better get used to walking, dearest," he said. "I'll show you the whole of New York city on foot."

"I thought America had cars and trains," I teased, massaging my ankles.

"Rida, you always leave me speechless." He shook his head at me. "Not many have learned to do that."

"Then be prepared to be amazed," I smugly announced, looking around the hall while still massaging my feet.

I could see several familiar faces in the guests, mingling with each other, laughing, eating and enjoying themselves. At one corner of the spacious hall was a portion sectioned off by dividers for women who wished to remain segregated. My mother and sisters were in there, I would have been there too if I wasn't the bride.

In the distance, on one of the couches near the empty stage, I saw my father laughing with Aqib's father, getting along well with each other. Sara's father was with them too, but he was hunched over a plate of hot food.

My stomach growled as I looked on at the steam rising off the chicken korma and fluffy naan. I hopped up, adjusted my feet and laced my arm through Aqib's.

"I don't know about you dearest-" I imitated him "-but I need to get something to eat."

"Let's get it together then."

Aqib was a bit of a picky eater, but I was glad to see that he didn't waste food. It was my biggest pet peeve when someone wasted anything that could have benefitted someone else if it weren't for their greed. Buying expensive clothes that they didn't intend to wear more than once, piling up plates that they knew they couldn't finish, shopping at expensive stores for the sake of clout, yet fighting for each penny when paying domestic workers, buying from street hawkers or giving in charity.

It puzzled me how humans made of dust attempted to act high and mighty just because they were blinded by greed and had pockets lined with currency.

"Is it difficult eating like that?" Aqib wondered, pointing at my niqab as we ate.

"Yes and no." I shrugged, sucking off a bone. "I just have to-" I plucked the cloth away from my mouth, slid my hand in with a morsel of the naan between my fingers. "-and done."

"That's seriously impressive." I grinned at him, chewing the food. "To be honest, I didn't expect you to be so modern despite dressing like that."

"That's offensive," I teased. I had heard the same question in different words enough times for me to not find it offensive anymore. I had learned that people were curious because they were ignorant, not because they had a grudge against me or how I practiced my religion.

"I apologize, I should have phrased it better," he apologized, catching his mistake. I waved at him, conveying that it wasn't a big deal.

"Tell me, how do you define being modern?" I asked him, polishing off another chicken bone.