The Samoosa Runs

July 20, 2025 The Muse Drop 1 Comments

The Samoosa Runs

by Halima bint Ahmed

Chapter 1

Farah Amir cowered as she saw her pretentious aunty charging towards her. Her third cousin had just given birth a few weeks prior and today they were throwing a huge celebration. Actually, it was meant to be an aqeeqah but her over-the-top cousin, Naafia, spared no expense and went all out.

The hall was decked out in white and pale blue, as if waiting for a bride to waltz down the aisle, claiming all the eyes in the room. Instead, her cousin had walked into the hall, pushing a huge carriage with a glass bassinet that held her precious little baby boy. Her husband strolled in next to her, a proud smile on his face and waved to the guests as if he were a member of the royal family. It was a rather gaudy affair and Farah felt mentally exhausted.

It had been a draining afternoon as each one of her seven aunties had tried to play match maker. She debated hiding under one of the tables. It was either that or suffer another “Can you make biryani?” interrogation.

Most of the aunties weren’t so obvious about it, but Zubayda Khala- or Aunty Zulz as she insisted on being called - was the worst. Aunty Zulz was nearing her sixties but refused to acknowledge her age. Instead, she tried extremely hard to act like she was a twenty year old but always failed so miserably. She was loud, obnoxious and always wore one size too small. Today she was wearing a shin length blue bodycon dress that was hugging her body a bit too tightly in all the wrong places. Long, shiny boots covered her legs and on her head, a sheer scarf was loosely draped. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, the scarf barely covering anything.

Farah tried to avoid eye contact as Aunty Zulz neared her. She could deal with all her other aunties as they tried to find a suitable boy for her. But she could not deal with Aunty Zulz. This woman was too much for her and Farah was convinced that she did not have the mental capacity to deal with her overly chatty aunty.

“There you are!” Aunty Zulz practically screamed in her shrill voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I just saw the most handsomest guy ever! He would be perfect for you!”

Farah tried to muster a smile but failed miserably. Her face betrayed her and she grimaced but Aunty Zulz barely noticed. She grabbed Farah’s arm roughly and began pulling her away from the corner that she had been finding some peace in.

“Ah! There’s Muneera! Muneera was my bestie in school. Her son is gorgeous! And I hear he’s looking for a wife.” She said - in what was meant to be a whisper.

Farah cringed as Muneera neared her. She was really not in the mood to smile and pretend to be interested in what this woman had to say. But she had no choice because in seconds, she was standing in front of the large woman.

“Muniiii!” Aunty Zulz screamed. “Here’s my niece, Farah. Isn’t she lovely? Now where’s that handsome son of yours?”

“Oh, she really is lovely!” Muneera replied as if she wasn’t even speaking about Farah, who was literally standing right in front of her. She moved out of the way and Farah noticed the young man who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. “Here’s Ammed!” She presented her son proudly. “Ammed, this is Farah.”

Farah looked at the young man standing before her. Ahmed - or Ammed - as everyone seemed to call him, was actually decent looking.

He mumbled a greeting and before Farah could even reply, he blurted, “Your toes are so pretty!”

Farah blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Toes? Did he just say TOES? Her mind reeled.

She turned pink and tried to hide her feet under her dress. “Ummm… Thanks?” She said uncertainly.

But Ahmed wasn’t listening. He was gazing at her feet, making her feel more awkward by the minute.

“They look so soft…” He murmured to himself. And then to her absolute horror, he knelt down to take a closer look as he pretended to fix his shoe.

Farah froze. This had to be some kind of joke. She looked towards her aunty but she was no longer there. Panicked, Farah looked around for someone familiar so that she could escape this weird guy.

He got up and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Your toes are even more beautiful than your face,” he said appreciatively.

Farah gaped are him in sheer shock. WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

“Look,” Ahmed said. “Look at my toes.” He pulled them out of his shoe and proudly gestured towards them. “If you like what you see… maybe I can come for a formal proposal.”

Involuntarily, Farah’s gaze fell upon his feet and she staggered back. His toes looked like claws. She shook her head and without another word, bolted from there. What on earth had just happened? That could not have been real. She closed her eyes and shook her head, half expecting herself to wake up from a very weird dream. But this was no dream. It was real life and it was just the beginning of one of many ridiculously weird encounters with the opposite gender.

Chapter 2

Apparently Farah’s cousin’s function was the gateway that led to an influx of eager mothers, all calling on behalf of their precious little boys. It shouldn’t have been surprising, though. After all, the town’s notorious gossip, Khala Jaan, had been in attendance.

Farah thought she had done a fine job in dodging Khala Jaan and her incessant questions. But when there are seven aunties, one of them is bound to get into a conversation with the old fart.

Khala Jaan was rude. Unprovoked, she would tell young girls that they were getting too fat, or too old, or too skinny. Truth be told, the woman acted as though she was perfect when she was the exact opposite. All the years of taking in the town’s gossip had clearly taken a toll on her. And the thing was that she thrived on gossip. Her stories were usually outrageous because she couldn’t help but add masala to everything she heard, unlike her flavourless biryani. If she needed to add spice to anything, it was the food she cooked and not the gossip she spread.

Farah sighed in defeat. She hadn’t been dreading any of the samoosa runs until she heard that Khala Jaan was planning on bringing her nephew. At first, Farah had been somewhat excited. She knew it was time to settle down, and now that she had graduated from university, albeit later than her peers, she was ready to find someone.

The nice guys on campus were already taken, or engaged and whoever was left… Well, they were just ridiculous beings. Unfortunately, the remaining guys were life-like trolls. Half of them were evil spawns of the most affluent families in the brown community and believed that their excretion was fancy Italian gelato, and the other half were somewhat faulty.

Farah glanced at her mother, Amina, who had just entered her room. “So, Khala Jaan just phoned again. She’s coming tomorrow with her nephew.”

Farah groaned. “Why does she have to come first?”

“Shame now, never mind. Let her bring her nephew. Maybe he’ll be the next gar jamaai.” Farah shot her mother a sharp look, and she burst into laughter. “I’m joking. We don’t want our future son-in-law to be gar jamaai. Shame. We not like that.”

•••

Khala Jaan proudly waltzed into the Amir household with what seemed like an entire nation behind her. Her strut was so confident, as if she didn’t know that she was reeking of Zambuk. It seemed like she had used a whole tin, surely she wasn’t oblivious to the scent that emanated from her…or was she? Behind her, there were multiple aunties and uncles all strolling in, each one chatting excitedly, almost as if they were attending a wedding.

Farah had to suppress a gasp. What was happening?

Their house was full - with about twenty people. Farah scanned the crowd, and her eyes fell on two guys that seemed like they were her age. They both looked relatively decent. Farah let out a sigh of relief. This couldn’t be too bad, could it?

But she was so, so wrong.

Moosa, the guy that had come to see her looked completely normal. He was slightly short and pretty skinny, and he had glasses. Apparently, he was managing his father’s clothing shop.

The conversation started off as any other. Introductions were made, and they engaged in some small talk.

Then Moosa cleared his throat. “So I just want to let you know that I identify as white.”

Farah gaped at him. “Huh?”

“I identify as white.”

“But you’re Indian.”

“Yes, but I do not identify as Indian. I identify as white.”

“That’s not a thing.” Farah responded in confusion.

“It is. I don’t eat anything spicy. In fact, that milk tart I had, had too much of spice in it.”

Farah scratched her head, clearly perplexed. “That had cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon is a spice. I’m very sensitive to strong spices. I prefer foods that are balanced.”

“So you don’t eat roti?”

“No, I do. I’m very passionate about roti. Speaking of which, can you make roti?”

“I’m confused. You said you identify as white but you very passionate about roti? How does that work?”

“White people like Indian foods. So I guess it’s like that. So… Can you make roti?”

Farah sighed. “I can, but not very well.”

“What do you mean?”

“They never come out round.”

“Oh no, that will not do. After we get married, you can go for cooking classes.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is imperative that my wife can make me round rotis.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Stop discriminating against me!”

“What?”

Moosa got up angrily. “If you cannot accept me as I am, I refuse to marry you!”

“I didn’t agree to marry you, Moosa.” Farah said in exasperation. What was wrong with this dude?

When Moosa and Farah returned to the lounge, Khala Jaan looked at them expectantly. “So?” She asked in excitement.

Moosa shook his head. “She won’t accept me for who I am.”

Farah rolled her eyes as Khala Jaan groaned.

“Why don’t you go chat to her?” Khala Jaan said as she turned to the young man sitting several seats away.

“I’m fifteen!” He protested.

“Age is nothing. Go!” She urged.

Farah stared at Khala Jaan in shock. Was this woman delusional or just plain crazy?

Chapter 3

For Farah’s next samoosa run, the guy asked her if they could meet at a restaurant. Farah’s parents agreed, on condition that her brother, Muhammed, chaperone the meeting. Farah expected nothing less, she had half expected her parents to chaperone her.

Muhammed brought along his wife, Tasneem, and four-year-old daughter, Muaaza.

“We won’t sit with you guys when you want to chat. I’ll ask the waiter to move the table slightly away from us so you can chat in private,” Muhammed told her.

Farah nodded. “That’s fine.”

When they got to the restaurant, Farah followed her brother and his family to a table. They sat down, and she impatiently began to tap her foot. She was nervous and she hoped this meeting would go better than the last.

Luqmaan, the guy that Farah was meant to meet, called her brother, and he explained where they were seated. When Luqmaan walked in, he walked in with a rather large crowd. But Farah didn’t realise until an individual from the noisy group made his way towards their table.

He introduced himself to Muhammed and then said, “My family decided to join me today. Why not come out for a lovely supper and a samoosa run, right?” He winked at Farah.

Farah looked away and felt her cheeks warm. She didn’t know how to act around strange guys.

Muhammed explained the seating arrangement to Luqmaan, and he agreed. Behind them, Luqmaan’s family was making a racket as they loudly spoke to one another.

Luqmaan pulled out a chair for Farah and she awkwardly took her seat.

The conversation started off like any other. Luqmaan seemed to be an intelligent man and for the most part, seemed pretty decent. That was until he crossed the fine line between confidence and arrogance.

Farah had been explaining to him that she had studied economics but was planning on becoming a teacher. Luqmaan seemed disinterested as she spoke about her future plans.

“Okay, that all sounds well and great,” Luqmaan interrupted. “But do you plan on working after getting married?”

“Well, yes. After I complete a teaching course, I’d like to work. A woman’s place is not the kitchen-“

“Okay, I need you to stop talking.” Luqmaan said.

Farah stared at him in disbelief.

Noticing the look on her face, he quickly added, “Sorry, I just want to explain my thinking. You’re right. Women don’t belong in the kitchen, but I do think a woman should stay at home and look after the kids. I also think her place is at home. She can choose to cook and clean because she’d be better at it. Women don’t really thrive in the workplace. I work in corporate, I would know.”

“I don’t agree-“

He held up his hand. “You might disagree, and that’s probably because you haven’t been exposed to much in this world. You’ve only been to school and university and being from a small town, you don’t have a lot of experience in this world. Although there are many women in corporate, they’re just not very good at their jobs, you know. Any intelligent person would agree with me.”

Farah gaped at him. She had been sorely mistaken when she had thought that he had sounded intelligent. He was an arrogant jerk, and Farah couldn’t wait to get out of there.

When the receipt came, he handed it over to Farah. “Here you go. I assume you’re paying? I mean this is a samoosa run. And the girl usually offers the boy something.”

Farah looked at him in confusion. “I thought we’d pay for our own meals?”

“Nah. I think your family needs to pay for my family.”

Her jaw dropped open. “You not only want us to pay, but you want us to pay for your whole family?”

“It’s only right.”

“You don’t even want women to work and now you expect a woman to pay?”

“Your brother can pay.”

“I’m sorry, but no. Maybe if you were less rude I would have felt more inclined to pay.”

“I’ve been nothing short of a gentleman!”

“For the last twenty minutes, you’ve been sitting here and bashing women. That’s not okay.”

“Maybe you’re just sensitive because it’s that time of the month.”

Farah pushed back her chair in anger. “I’m done here. My brother will pay for my meal but there’s no way I will let him pay for your meal. You’re so rude.”

With that, Farah turned away from Luqmaan and headed towards her brother.

Chapter 4

Farah felt like she was done with samoosa runs. She couldn’t sit through another torturous session, trying to get a guy who seemed normal but was pretty faulty.

However, her father, Essop, refused to listen to her protests. She was getting “old” and she needed to “settle down”. But Farah knew that she wasn’t old. She was only twenty-five. Why settle when you know you deserve better? After all, Essop had old school mentality and trying to argue with him or make him see reason was harder than convincing one of her aunties to stop dipping EVERYTHING in their tea - including tuna sandwiches - where half of the filling falls into the tea and then sadly floats to the top and looks something like a two year old’s vomit.

Farah sighed in frustration as she slipped on her flip flops. Another family was downstairs, waiting for her to make her entrance. Farah was wasting time and she didn’t care. She grabbed a nail file and listlessly began to file her nails.

“What on earth are you doing?” Her mum whisper-yelled. “Get downstairs now! They waiting for you.”

Farah looked up and blinked, slightly dazed. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard her mother enter her room. She dropped the nail file and grudgingly stood up. “I’m coming,” she mumbled.

She followed her mother as they made their way to the lounge. Her eyes flitted around the room quickly as she tried to ascertain who came to see her. She gaped when she saw the young man perched on his seat. He had muscles for days and he was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen. There was absolutely no way that he had come to see her. For a minute, she regretted not spending more time on her appearance.

The young man caught her staring at him and gave a lopsided smile. Farah had to grab the chair to stop herself from swooning.

He couldn’t be here for her, right? I mean why on earth would a guy like that be going on samoosa runs? He probably had women lining up for his attention.

After a few basic introductions, Farah learnt that muscle man’s name was Mahmood and he did, in fact, come for the samosa run.

“Salaam Fah-rah.” He casually drawled. “How are you?”

Farah swallowed hard. “I’m fine,” she managed to squeak.

After a few minutes of awkward conversation, Farah noticed that Mahmood’s chest seemed to bounce. She looked at him in confusion.

“You like what you see?” He asked with a wink. Staring at her directly, he slowly began to make his pecs bounce. First his right, then his left, almost as if he were making them bounce to some sort of rhythm.

“Huh?” She asked in confusion.

“You staring at my pecs. They pretty cool, right? I’m known for my pecs. Oh, and for this.” He carefully rolled up his sleeve and Farah almost fell off her seat. Perched on his bicep was a tattoo of an old lady. “This here is a tat of my granny. She died a few years ago but now I feel like she’s always with me.”

“That’s haraam!” Farah blurted out.

“I know. But I got it done when I was in a bad space. I don’t regret it because I love it but I’m sad that it’s actually haraam.”

“But… That’s like haraam haraam! Like extremely haraam.”

Mahmood shrugged. “I know. But look at this!”

He flexed his arm “Can you see how she smiles when I flex?”

Farah blinked, she was at a total loss for words.

“Look look look! Flex. Smile. Unflex. Neutral. Flex. Smile. At least I can say that I still make my granny smile.”

Farah swallowed hard, afraid that she might pass out. She took a deep breath. “I feel sick.” She managed to whisper.

But Mahmood didn’t hear her. He was too busy gazing at his bicep and grinning like a moron. “You happy, ma?” He casually drawled, speaking to his bicep as if he was speaking to a person. “I see you smiling at me.”

Farah finally found her voice. “This is joke, right? You’re just joking with me. That’s not a real tattoo, is it?”

Mahmood looked at Farah and tilted his head. “I’m not joking. This is real, babe.”

“I’m not your babe.”

“Well, if we were to get married, I’d call you babe. So why not start now?”

“No. No. No. We aren’t getting married.”

Mahmood tuned to his tattoo again. “Haaaah see this, ma. This girl doesn’t want to marry me. You always said I’m a catch but I just can’t seem to get any girl.”

Farah blinked slowly again. Was he seriously speaking to his tattoo? Of his dead grandmother? Was she in some kind of twisted nightmare or was this man just delusional?” She shook her head, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her.

“Are you SPEAKING to your tattoo?”

Mahmood glared at her. “Speaking to my tattoo? Do I look crazy? No man! I’m speaking to my granny.”

“But she’s…”

“Dead? Yes. She’s dead. But I keep her alive on my arm. And look. She’s not smiling at you because she’s not happy with you.” Mahmood said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Farah sighed. It was a sigh that came from deep within, filled with complete helplessness. This was a dream. It had to be. Because no one in their right mind would speak to a tattoo. Of their dead grandmother. No one.

But unfortunately, it was no dream. It was some kind of warped reality. Maybe it was the town she lived in. Or maybe it was her, and she was the problem because she kept unintentionally attracting complete weirdos.

Chapter 5

Farah was tired. Shed already been through three very awkward samoosa runs and one very awkward meet up at her cousin’s function. Maybe it wasn’t her time right now. Maybe she had to wait a couple of years and revisit this whole samoosa run thing in her thirties. After all, it was becoming more and more normal to get married later in life.

She didn’t want to settle. She didn’t want to get married for the sake of it. She didn’t want to wake up in ten years time next to a man that continued to speak to his dead grandmother who was tattooed on his arm. Or to a man that believed women were lesser beings than men. Or to a man who identified as white. Or to a man who was so obsessed with toes that she was sure that he would insist on sleeping with his face by his wife’s toes.

Farah sighed. She felt like that’s all she had been doing lately. Sighing out of sheer helplessness. She was exhausted. Meeting weird guys made her physically and mentally exhausted. She felt like she had aged in the last couple of weeks. She really didn’t want to do this anymore.

Yet, here she was. Waiting for the next family to show up. She impatiently tapped her foot. She just needed this samoosa run to be over with so she could get back to the book she was reading.

When the doorbell rang, Farah got up and made her way to the front door. The guests walked in and she looked around, wondering who had come to meet her. There wasn’t a single guy around that was her age. There were a lot of uncles though. Perhaps they came on behalf of some guy who was too shy to come himself.

When the guests were settled in the lounge, Farah waited impatiently. She just needed this to be over. She wasn’t even sure why she had agreed to yet another samoosa run.

The whole ordeal started to play out in a painfully awkward manner. After a long silence, an old lady started to speak to Farah’s mother. But Farah was far from interested. Her mind began to wander, she allowed herself to indulge in her own thoughts while the awkward conversations around her stretched.

She imagined she was in a beautiful house, nestled between lush evergreen trees. It was quiet, quaint. The laughter of children filtered through the air and the trees bristled in response. Farah was-

“Farah!” She jolted out of her daydream and turned to her mother who had called her.

Her mother looked somewhat nervous. “Yaseen is here to see you.” Her mother gestured carelessly.

Farah glanced in the direction her mother waved in. “I don’t see Yaseen.” She whispered.

An old man stood up and cleared his throat. “I’m Yaseen.” He pulled off his thick glasses and wiped them with his shirt which was too tight, especially around his protruding stomach.

Farah felt like she would throw up. The man looked like he was almost seventy. She looked at her mother pleadingly. “No!” She mouthed.

Her mother shrugged helplessly so she turned to her father. He refused to meet her eyes. Farah desperately wished that her brother, Muhammed, had come today. But he couldn’t make it. She looked around desperately, but everyone seemed to avoid her eyes.

“You can go speak in the dining room.” Her mother said quietly.

“No, I don’t-“

“Just go!” Farah’s mother said.

Farah wanted to cry. She slowly made her way to the dining room, the old man slowly trailing behind her. He was barely able to walk properly. She would have to put her foot down. How could her parents do this to her?

Farah sat down and glared at the uncle in front of her. He was bald, except for the few grey strands on the sides of his head. She grimaced, trying to keep her disgust to herself.

“Farah?” The uncle said.

Farah grunted.

“I’m looking for a young wife. How old are you now?”

This could not be happening. How was this her life? Was it normal? Is this what every girl had to go through? Or was she just being tested?

“Farah?” The uncle said again.

“What?” She responded, trying hard to sound polite. Instead, her words came out in a sneer.

“How old are you?

“Uncle, I’m twenty-six. I’m clearly too young for you.”

“No. No. You’re not young enough. You too old.”

Farah gaped at him. “I’m what?”

“You too old. I want a twenty-one-year-old. They said you twenty one.”

Farah smiled to herself. “Well, I’m not. So I guess this meeting is over.”

“No. Sit. Let’s see. I was married before but my late wife passed away last year. I need companionship. But I want a young springbok who can make me feel alive.”

Farah felt like she was about to regurgitate her large breakfast which refused to digest. “But I can’t-“

“All you have to do is look after me nicely. Cook, clean, look pretty.”

“No, I don’t think I can do that.”

He ignored her protests. “In your free time, you can go shopping and buy yourself nice things for me. I’ll give you money and look after you financially. I’ll give you R1000 a month.”

Farah couldn’t do this anymore. “Uncle. I am not interested. I want someone I can grow old with. I don’t want a man who is older than my father. And R1000 a month? Uncle, this isn’t the nineteen hundreds! No one can survive off R1000 a month!”

He ignored her again. “You can come see your family twice a year. That’s more than enough.”

Farah slumped in her seat and remained silent. She didn’t have the energy to argue with this old fart. He refused to even acknowledge her opinions.

“You must be a nice, homely girl. But you will need to look pretty every day. You will need-“ He stopped mid sentence and made a face. “Sorry, I need to sneeze. Ah…ah…ah…ACHOOOO!”

The next few seconds happened in slow motion. He sneezed three times in a row, each sneeze getting louder than the last. But that last sneeze traumatized Farah to her core. He sneezed hard. His glasses flew off his face, snot shot out his nose, and to Farah’s absolute horror, something flew out of his mouth with vengeance. It flew across the table and knocked Farah on the lip, before clattering to the table. Slowly, Farah looked down. And to her absolute disgust, there lay his false teeth. It was still wet and slimy with his saliva.

He shook his head. “Sorry.” He plucked his false teeth from the table and popped it back into his mouth.

Farah screamed and ran out of there.

Chapter 6

Farah had sworn off samoosa runs. She couldn’t do this again. There was no way that she would sit through another one of these samoosa runs and go through the trauma that she was sure would follow.

After her last ordeal, she was so disgusted. She had scrubbed her lips in anger, trying hard not to replay the whole scene over and over again. She had freaked out completely, screaming and crying and asking her parents why. Her parents were both extremely apologetic. They hadn’t known about Yaseen and had been completely blindsided. The old lady was Farah’s grandmother’s best friend’s stepsister (yes, that’s a real relationship, apparently) and had told Farah’s mother that Yaseen was in his early thirties.

But Yaseen was not in his early thirties. He was sixty-eight. Farah could not believe that she had gone through so many unbelievable situations. This couldn’t be normal. It was a warped reality — one that she was not a fan of.

Farah decided that she was done with samoosa runs forever. She couldn’t go through any of this again.

And so, a couple of peaceful months went by. To Farah’s absolute delight, it was uneventful. Every time anyone would phone for a potential samoosa run, Farah’s mother, Amina, made up an excuse. Even she didn’t want her daughter to go through any of that again.

But as fate would have it, the samoosa runs were not actually over.

Because on a fine Saturday morning, Farah and family made their way to Aunty Zulz’s house for brunch.

“Salaam. Salaam. Come in everyone!” Aunty Zulz greeted. Today she was decked out in leopard print from head to toe. Her scarf, dress and boots all matched a little too perfectly. If you stared too long, she looked like a slightly overweight leopard, but without any of the gracefulness.

“Ah! Farah! Aren’t you looking as lovely as ever! You have to borrow me those shoes sometimes! They’re gorge!” She air kissed Farah, practically suffocating her in the overpowering scent of a Chanel No. 5 knock off. Farah gagged. She wasn’t really feeling so great today. Her stomach was unhappy and the strong scents around her made her stomach turn. She made a mental note to give those shoes away.

Aunty Zulz led them into the fancy dining room. Food covered every surface of the table. Farah took a deep breath. She needed to go home. She shouldn’t have come because with each passing second, she felt more and more sick.

Brunch went off without too much drama, except for Aunty Zulz being her usual, loud self. But then the doorbell rang.

Aunty Zulz clapped her hands together “Farah! Darling! I have a surprise for you! I know you’re in the market at the moment and since your mother has been making too many excuses, I decided to host a samoosa run here today. You can thank me later.”

Before Farah had a chance to respond, she whooshed out of the dining room to welcome her new guests.

“I don’t feel good,” Farah told her mother.

“I know. She ambushed us. I didn’t know about this.”

“No, mummy. I mean I really don’t feel well.”

Before Farah’s mother could respond, Aunty Zulz came back in with a small entourage behind her. “Come Farah.”

“Aunty Zulz, I don’t feel well,” Farah said weakly.

“Nonsense! Just come!” Aunty Zulz yanked Farah from her seat and pulled her towards the lounge. “You and Adam can talk here.”

Perched on one of the large couches was a skinny young man. He wasn’t bad looking but Farah did not have the energy to sum him up. Aunty Zulz practically threw Farah onto the opposite couch and Farah had to take a few deep breaths to hold herself together.

“Yall chat. Have funnn!” She walked away and Farah was left facing Adam.

Adam watched her intently. “Farah, is it?” He asked

Farah nodded weakly, unable to really speak. She wanted to hurl. She could feel the heat rising up her neck. She needed to go home and lie down.

“I’m Adam. You’re a pretty girl.”

He pulled out a lunchbox from his backpack. “I hope you don’t mind but I brought my own samoosas. I only eat my mother’s samoosas. No one else can make it like her. Would you like one?”

“No, thanks,” she whispered, trying hard to steady herself.

“Whoever I marry needs to accept that I will only eat my mother’s food. She has to learn how to cook like my mother.”

Farah barely heard a word he said, she was too busy trying not to vomit. She really needed to lie down.

He continued to speak, mindlessly munching on his samoosas. And then he raised his finger and shoved it into his nose.

“Sorry, my nose is feeling funny. Ah. There we go.” He pulled his finger out of his nostril and showed Farah the large booger.

“Nice big one. No wonder my nose was hurting.”

Farah gagged loudly. “HUUUGH! I’m going to vomit.”

“Please don’t make vomit sounds,” Adam said. “I’m very sensitive and I’ll vomit.”

Involuntarily, Farah gagged again, even louder than before “HUUUUUGH!”

Adam covered his mouth “HUUGH!” He gagged loudly too, completely involuntary. “Please. Stop.”

But Farah barely heard him. She grabbed the candy jar that was perched on the table next to her and hurled the contents of her stomach.

Barely five seconds later, Adam threw up into his lunchbox.

Just then, Aunty Zulz walked back in. To her horror, Adam had managed to get vomit on her fancy new couch.

“I need a doctor.” Farah groaned. “I feel horrible.”

Chapter 7

As Farah recovered from food poisoning, her mother got a call from Adam’s mother.

“Amina! How are you?” Adam’s mother asked. “It’s me. Fareeda. Adam’s mother.”

“Adam’s mother?” Amina asked uncertainly.

“Yes. We met at Zulz’s house.”

“Ohhh! Sorry. How are you, Fareeda?”

“I’m ok. Listen my son’s answer is yes.”

Amina was gobsmacked. “Yes?” She repeated, barely able to form more words.

“Yes! We can start setting dates soon.”

“Can I call you back?” Amina asked in confusion.

“Sure. Don’t take too long though. My son is in high demand.”

Amina made her way to Farah’s room. She was lying in bed, reading a book.

“Farah? How are you feeling?” Her mother asked.

“I’m ok. Almost back to normal.”

“Good. Listen, Adam’s mother called.”

Farah groaned. “I don’t know who’s Adam and I don’t want to know him!” She put the book over her face.

“He’s that boy you met at Aunty Zulz house.”

Farah grimaced. “Ew.”

“Did you like him?” Amina asked.

“What? No! Yuck! He was picking his nose! He brought his own samoosas because he only eats his mother’s samoosas. He vomited when I did. He was gross! I know I was also gross because I vomited but the man picked his nose and SHOWED ME HIS BOOGER! Ewww!”

Amina made a face. “Ok, but his mother called and said that Adam said yes.”

Farah gaped at her mother. “What do you mean? We didn’t even talk. And it’s a big NO from me.”

Amina laughed. “I thought as much. But I had to ask you to be sure.”

“Mummy, the guy was so gross. Thinking of him is making me feel sick again and I just recovered.”

“Let me call his mother back.” Before Amina even pulled out her phone, it rang again. “Speak of the devil. Looks like Fareeda is calling again. You sure you don’t like Adam, right?”

“I’m a thousand percent sure.”

“Ok. Hello? Wa-alaikum Salaam… No. Sorry, but she said she’s not interested… Hmmm…Hmmm. I understand. No. Ok. Assalaamualikum.”

Amina hung up and turned to her daughter. “Apparently, Adam is very high in demand. And Fareeda said that you’re going to regret not marrying him.”

Farah rolled her eyes. “Mummy, he was being disgusting. I don’t think any woman will want to deal with that. And if he finds someone that’s ok with his grossness then I’m sure they’ll have a problem with him only eating his mummy’s samoosas.”

Amina laughed. “I believe you. I’m just telling you what his mother told me.”

Farah sighed. “Why did Aunty Zulz even plan this whole meeting?”

“Well, she thinks that I’m not allowing anyone to come see you. She thinks I’m the problem. She very rudely implied that I am an unfit mother.”

“Don’t listen to her. She’s a bit delulu.”

“Delulu?”

“It means delusional.”

“Ey, I can’t keep up with these new terms.”

Farah giggled. “That’s ok, mummy. Just know, that I appreciate you having my back.”

“You’ve been through the most with all these samoosa runs. If I didn’t witness it, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“But I’m still mad that you allowed that old fart to come see me.”

“I didn’t even know he was the one that came to see you! I was equally upset.”

“But you still let him see me!”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

***

Farah spent the next couple of weeks relishing in the silence of normality. She felt like after one too many stressful situations, she was finally stress free.

Maybe she needed all the crazies to come so that she could be more specific with her duas. Now she knew that she had to pray for exactly what she wanted.

But sometimes we need to be tested before our prayers are answered.

So when she met Saahil at a wedding, she was overjoyed. Saahil seemed like the whole package. He was smart, handsome and relatively normal. Or so she thought.

“So are you from around here?” Saahil asked her.

Farah nodded. “I’ve been here my whole life.”

“Nice. I’ve been looking to move here. Somewhere quieter than the city. But then it would be difficult to travel for work.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’d actually like to move out of here though. Maybe when I’m married.”

“Oh, are you not married?”

“Nope. I’ve had my fair share of crazy people I had to deal with.”

“Are you looking to get married?” Saahil asked.

Farah gulped. “I am. If I find someone normal.”

Saahil winked. “I’m normal.”

Farah blushed. But before she could respond, they were interrupted by a gorgeous girl that looked about her age.

“Oh! There you are! Who are you busy speaking to?” The girl asked, before turning her attention to Farah. She stared at Farah coldly.

“This is Farah.” Saahil said.

The girl turned to her. “So what are you doing speaking to my husband?” She asked, her tone laced with irritation.

Farah gaped at the girl. “Husband?” She asked.

Saahil turned red. “Oh. Ummm. I was just speaking to her. Maybe we can find her someone. Or maybe she would like to be my second wife.”

“WHAT?!” The girl shrieked before swinging her small purse at Saahil’s head. “A second wife?”

Farah watched the scene unfold in front of her and slowly started to back away. The girl had claimed an audience after her shriek had pierced the hall. And Farah did not want to be a part of that drama.

“Sorry, babe. I was joking. Ouch! Don’t hit me!” Saahil cried.

But the girl was not interested in his apologies. She was crying, and swinging her hands and bag at her husband. Farah did not stick around to witness it. She ran outside, welcoming the fresh air.

She almost bumped straight into her brother’s wife, Tasneem.

“You ok?” Tasneem asked, pulling a crying Muaaza behind her.

Farah groaned. “Let me cuddle my niece.”

“She’s in a terrible mood.”

“So am I.”

“What happened?”

“As if I didn’t have the worst samoosa run stories ever, guess what just happened. Wait, don’t guess because you won’t even believe it.

Chapter 8

Farah swore off the male species. She decided that she would just be a spinster. It would be better than dealing with crazy males who made her question the entire human race. She was mentally exhausted. She could no longer remember even meeting a normal male - except for her father and brother.

Maybe males WERE crazy. Maybe it was part of their genetic make-up. Maybe her father and brother just hid it well.

Farah closed her eyes, exhausted from her own thoughts. She shook her head. No, she would not allow her recent experiences to plague her mind. She feared that she would lose her sanity if she dwelled on her last few samoosa runs.

“Farah?” Her brother, Muhammed, called. Farah opened her eyes lazily.

“Hmmm?”

“Tasneem and I will be leaving soon. You have Muaaza, right?”

Farah was staying over at her brother’s house to help out with her niece. Her brother and his wife were invited to two weddings so she had volunteered to look after Muaaza. “I’ve got her. I just put her down for a nap.”

“Ok, you need anything?”

“I’m good.”

Tasneem popped her head into the room. “Please call me if you need anything.”

Farah waved her hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll be ok.”

“Are you sure?” Tasneem looked worried.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll call you if we need anything. And I mean ANYTHING. So don’t you stress. Go and have fun!”

•••

“Oh no! I can’t find Muaazaaaaa!” Farah said in a sing-song voice. They were playing hide and seek.

A muffled giggle came from behind the curtain.

“Hmmm… Where is she?”

“Awa! I’m here!” Muaaza whispered, still giggling. Muaaza called Farah “Awa”.

Farah slowly moved the curtain. “GOTCHA!”

Muaaza shrieked in delight, and just then, the doorbell rang.

Farah opened the door.

An extremely handsome guy was standing at the gate. “Assalaamualaikum, um, I’m looking for Muhammed? I’m not sure if this is the right house. Muhammed Amir.”

Farah stared at the guy. She had never seen a man more handsome in her entire life.

“Umm, hello?”

Farah snapped out of it. “Huh?” She asked in confusion. She was clearly drooling over this stranger.

“I’m looking for Muhammed. Muhammed Amir.”

“Muhammed Amir?” Farah murmured in a complete daze. “Oh! I’m… Right. That’s my brother. He’s not available. Can I help you?”

“I needed to drop this off. He bought it from me last week.” Farah barely even looked at the parcel he pulled out from his car. She was too busy staring at his face. How could any human have such a perfectly symmetrical face? Did his symmetrical face make him so attractive?

“Excuse me?” He waved his hand in her face. “I can come back?”

“Huh? No. Wait. Give me a moment. I’ll call it. I mean him. I’ll call him.”

Farah pulled out her cellphone and called her brother, finally looking away from the man.

An anxious Tasneem answered her husband’s phone. “Salaam. What’s wrong? Is Muaaza ok?”

“Tas! She’s fine. I promise. Is Muhammed there?”

“One sec.”

“Assalaamualaikum?” Muhammed answered.

“Wa-alaikumsalaam. There’s some guy here who needs to drop something off for you.”

“Oh! I completely forgot! Is that Yusha?”

Farah shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Ask him!”

“Oh. Right.” She turned to the man again. “Is your name…” She trailed off as she gazed into his mesmerising eyes.

“Yusha.”

“Yusha.” She repeated, more to herself than to her brother.

“Please tell him I’m so sorry! I completely forgot he was going to drop off my order. Tell him that he can leave it with you and he needs to come visit me properly. I haven’t seen him in years!”

“Um. Ok.”

Farah hung up and tried not to look at the guy. “My brother said you can leave it with me and you must visit him.” She mumbled quickly.

“Awaaaa!” Muaaza came running out, shrieking in excitement. “Is this yours?”

Farah glanced at her niece and almost fainted in embarrassment.

Muaaza had taken one of Farah’s bras that she had popped into her bag at the last minute before coming to stay at her brother’s house. Muaaza had it wrapped around her, trying to wear it. To make matters worse, it had a giant hole in the right cup. It looked tattered and old and to put it frankly, pretty disgusting.

“Take that off!” Farah said, gasping.

Yusha looked up and his eyes widened.

Farah closed her eyes. Things could not possibly get any worse, could it?

“But you call it your sad bwa!” Muaaza said proudly. “You said it’s been through a lot. Like those shamoosas you was running behind.”

Farah wanted to die. She was mortified! She had lived her life. She didn’t need another second on this earth. How did Muaaza even hear this conversation? She had been asleep when Farah was telling Tasneem about her “sad bra”, or so she thought.

And then, as if her embarrassment wasn’t enough, Muaaza pulled off the bra and started swinging it around.

Farah tried to speak but she couldn’t.

To her absolute horror, the tattered bra flew from Muaaza’s grasp, into the air, and landed on Yusha’s head.

Chapter 9

Farah gasped, Muaaza giggled, and Yusha froze. Very, very slowly, he pulled the bra off his head. Time stood still. There was silence.

Farah stared at the bra in Yusha’s hand. Why couldn’t the earth just swallow her up now? Did it really have to strip her of all her dignity? Leaving her completely bare - to humiliation?

Then, very slowly, a gorgeous smile spread across Yusha’s face. He looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

“Soooo… what should I do with this? Should I chuck it out or do you want it back?”

Farah squeaked. Words failed her. She was a blob of mortification and humiliation.

She lunged for the bra, tripped, and landed in his arms. He quickly steadied her before letting go.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you. But you fell straight into me.”

Farah could barely breathe. She was completely unsteady. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. And then, to put the cherry on top, Muaaza grabbed her phone and started to press buttons.

A voice note started to play. Farah had sent it to her friend.

“Girl! I’m so tired of all these samoosa runs! Maybe I’m ready to be a spinster. I thought I could land a guy that was tall and handsome and NORMAL! Maybe someone with beauty and brains, you know? But I’m done. I think I’m ready to be alone forever. Maybe that’s my fate.”

“Awa! Is that you speaking?” Muaaza asked.

Yusha’s smile had widened, and his large shoulders were shaking as he tried to hold in his laugh.

Farah finally found her voice. “It’s usually not this chaotic,” she barely managed to squeak.

Yusha nodded, still smiling. “I think I’ll come another time.” His voice was laced with amusement.

Farah nodded meekly.

“Tell your brother I’ll drop this off when he’s home.” He gestured to the parcel. “I can see you have your hands full.”

•••

Farah could not believe that her perfect niece had created one of the most embarrassing situations of her entire life.

Even her terrible samoosa runs hadn’t left her feeling like THIS. She couldn’t describe the feeling.

She was horrified. She was mortified. She was angry. And she kept replaying the situation over and over again in her head. And with each replay, the situation seemed worse and worse.

So when Muhammed came home and asked for the parcel, Farah stared at him for a full five minutes as if she didn’t understand what he had just asked.

“Hello? So did Yusha come?”

Farah finally heard her brother. She nodded.

“Yusha?” Tasneem asked. “He’s married, right?”

Muhammed nodded. “I think so. He was engaged the last time I spoke to him. We reconnected recently, and I didn’t ask him about his wife.”

A foreign sound escaped Farah’s lips. He was MARRIED? The first guy she was actually attracted to, albeit the awkward situation… and he was MARRIED? She fell into a married man’s arms? Quite literally too!

“What’s wrong?” Tasneem asked.

Tears sprang to Farah’s eyes. “It was terrible!” She wailed.

“What happened?”

She had replayed the situation over and over again, and she had finally exploded. She poured out the story, explaining what had happened.

Muhammed gasped, his eyes wide, and Tasneem could barely keep her jaw off the ground.

“None of that sounds… REAL!” Tasneem finally said.

“I know! I wish it wasn’t! And to make matters worse, I find out that I fell straight into a married man’s arms!”

“If it was anyone else, I would have never believed it,” Muhammed said. “But for some reason, my sister has a knack for attracting these situations.”

“I’m so sorry, Farah!” Tasneem said. “I had no idea Muaaza would have done any of that!”

“It’s not her fault. She’s perfect. I’m the problem. Like my brother said, I attract problems. That’s the only thing I attract. I don’t attract normal bachelors. Just mummy’s boys, and women haters, and booger pickers, and old dadas, and tattooed freaks, and of course, married men!”

“I’ll give him a call, and apologise.” Muhammed said.

“No. Just leave it. Don’t say anything about me. Just ask for your laptop or whatever that parcel was. From now on, I’m going to live quietly at home. I’m done with men. I’m done with strangers.”

Chapter 10

The rest of the week was uneventful. Farah was still staying at Muhammed’s house, but she was planning on going back home today. She had moped around the house, listlessly helping her sister-in-law with the chores.

Maybe she was just not meant to get married. She had prepared for it her whole life and yet, here she was, countless failed samoosa runs later, and still single.

Farah groaned to herself. She was packing her bags and drowning in self-loathing.

Muaaza came in. “Awa going?” she asked sadly.

Farah nodded. “But you’ll see me again! You know Awa comes to see you all the time!”

“But Awa not here when I wake up!” Muaaza pouted.

“I know baby. But don’t worry, I’ll come stay over again soon, ok?”

Muaaza nodded before planting a sloppy kiss on Farah’s cheek.

She bounded out of the room and a second later came back. “I think mummy calling.”

“Who? Me?” Farah asked.

Muaaza shrugged and left.

Farah sighed and made her way to the kitchen. Tasneem was humming to herself as she worked in the kitchen.

“Were you calling me?” Farah asked.

“Yes, sorry. I wanted the recipe for your vanilla cake. I want to make it.”

“I’ll give it to you but do you want me to make it?” Farah offered.

Tasneem smiled. “Yes, please! I’m so busy with these scones.”

Farah grabbed a large bowl and a sieve, ready to measure out the flour.

Muaaza came running into the kitchen. “Can I help?” she asked.

Just as Farah was about to reply, Muhammed walked in. Trailing behind him was Yusha. The measuring cup fell from Farah’s hand.

The next few seconds played out painfully slowly. He greeted her, but she was in mismatched pyjamas, her hair in a messy bun and wearing fluffy pink slippers that looked more brown than pink. Muaaza had grabbed the flour and had poured it out onto the cutting board.

Tasneem gasped. “Muaaza! Nooooooo.”

Farah grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself, but instead, her hand went onto the cutting board which was half off the counter. The cutting board flung forward and a cloud of flour danced into the air, covering Farah’s hair and face.

Tasneem stared at her sister-in-law in horror. “Muaaza!” She chastised. “What did you do?”

Muaaza gave her mother a toothy grin. “Sowwy!”

Muhammed stared at the situation and just shook his head. Farah blinked, trying to dust the flour off her face but failed miserably.

Yusha was the first one to break the silence. “Are you sure it’s not always like this?” he asked with a laugh.

Muhammed grimaced before answering. “It’s never like this. But it looks like when you and Farah are in the same vicinity, chaos ensues.”

“I have to go!” Farah said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

Here she was again, embarrassing herself in front of a very attractive, married man.

•••

Farah showered and slowly made her way back to the kitchen. She peeped in. Tasneem was there, cleaning up the mess.

“Sorry about that!” Farah said sheepishly.

“It’s not your fault. Muaaza thought she was helping.”

“Let me make the cake quickly.”

“Actually, Muhammed wanted to talk to you.”

“To reprimand me?”

“For what?” asked Tasneem. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ok, let me go find him.”

Farah started to look for her brother but could not find him anywhere.

“Where is this bro-oh, there you are!“ Her brother was in the garage fixing something in his car. “Heard you wanted to talk to me? Or did you just want to reprimand me for embarrassing myself in front of your precious friend again?”

“Farah-“

“No, listen. Why would you bring him here? After I told you what happened! I mean apart from my very personal items being displayed in front of him, I fell into a MARRIED MAN’S ARMS!”

“Farah?” Muhammed tried to interject but Farah was not interested in what her brother had to say.

“Imagine what he thinks of me! And then today, I get flour all in my face! I mean not that I care about what he thinks. The dude is married but it’s so embarrassing! He probably thinks I’m a hot mess. Well, not hot. He’s married. Why does this happen to me? Do I attract these crazy situations?”

“Farah!”

“I don’t think it’s normal! I mean the first guy I ever get introduced to, crouches next to my toes! The second identified as white. The third asked me to pay for his meal. The fourth was the guy with big pecs who spoke to a tattoo of his DEAD GRANDMA! Then the other one was a chacha. Because I’m that desperate, they bring a man who probably uses camphor as cologne because he’s his readying for his death. And that the vomit dude. Then the married dude and then this Yusha dude. Guy is handsome but that doesn’t mean he has the right to laugh at my expense! I need to have a word with his wife-“

“FARAH!” Muhammed said extremely loudly.

“WHAT?” Just then, Yusha slid out from underneath the car.

Chapter 11

 

“Oh my goodness.” Farah’s voice was barely above a whisper. Yusha was in a white tank top which was smeared with grease, but somehow he looked even better than before. His muscles glistened with sweat and she had to peel her eyes away. He looked like her had walked out of some kind of cologne ad, which was contradictory to the way he looked. Farah had to stop herself from ogling the man. He was married, for God’s sake! She was not a home wrecker. Wait. She stopped short. She had no chance with the guy in the first place. So technically, could she even wreck a home she wasn’t invited into?

 

“It’s me again,” Yusha said with a slight wave.

 

“Why is he still here?” Farah groaned, spinning around to face her brother. “I can’t stop embarrassing myself in front of him! Are you out to get me? Do you want me to physically die of acute embarrassment? Is that the plan?”

 

“Actually… I wanted to say something but then your brother said he’ll speak to you…” Yusha trailed off, awkwardly gesturing at Muhammed.

 

“If you’re not going to get to the point, then I am!” Muhammed said in exasperation.

 

“Right now? When I’m covered in grease and I’m sweaty?” Yusha asked, blinking in disbelief.

 

“Can’t be worse than your other run-ins.”

 

“Fair point. But maybe we should just wait-“

 

“Oh, for Allah’s sake! Farah, Yusha is interested in you!”

 

Farah gasped.

 

Yusha smiled sheepishly. Like a guy who knew he was stepping onto a rollercoaster with no seatbelt.

 

“He’s a married man! I don’t do married men!” she yelped. “I’m not like that!”

 

Muhammed rolled his eyes. “He was engaged way back when. But he never actually got married. Turned out the girl was in love with someone else. Tragic.” He rolled his eyes. “And even though he watched you descend into flour covered chaos, he’s still interested in you. And after your failed samoosa runs, I figured that it would be easier if I’d just tell you. I mean that would be better than sitting through another one of those torturous sessions, right?”

 

“I- Whyyy would you say that? In front of him!” Farah wailed.

 

“Like I said, I highly doubt it can get any worse.”

 

“But… This is a joke, right? He’s doing this to embarrass me further. No man in their right mind would want to be with someone who seems like the biggest mess on the planet.”

 

Muhammed sighed. “Do you really think I would have allowed him to come near you if I believed that?”

 

“I’m standing-well, lying-right here.” Yusha pointed out. “I feel like I’m witnessing a sibling intervention.”

 

“Well you had something very personal of mine thrown at your head-“ Farah’s hand flew to her mouth. She either had no voice around him or no filter.

 

Yusha stood up and wiped his hands on a nearby rag. The corners of his mouth turned upward. “So, what do you say?”

 

“About what?”

 

“Can I come over for a samoosa run?” he asked, raising one eyebrow and adding a wink that could have probably melted the polar caps.

 

Farah’s eyes narrowed. “You just want to make fun of me, right?”

 

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry. I’m kidding-“

 

“I knew it! Listen, don’t play cruel jokes on me. I’ve been through enough with your kind. You guys are all some sort of insane. Most of you are borderline unhinged and the rest of you are completely unhinged!” Farah was getting angry.

 

“I’m not playing a prank on you. I really do want to get to know you. Maybe without flying underwear and flour involved.” he said softly.

 

Farah blinked. “You mean… like a normal conversation? With no samoosas and preferably no formality?”

 

“Exactly.” Yusha chuckled. “Though I’m not opposed to some chaos. It seems like it’s a part of you.”

 

Farah narrowed her eyes again, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all some elaborate ploy to damn her to eternal ruin. “Fine. But no jokes. No tricks. No underwear, well, I mean wear underwear. I mean wear clothing. And underwear. Not that I’d know, but you know what I mean!”

 

Yusha laughed before adding, “No flour. No voice notes.” He held up his hands in mock defeat.

 

Farah sighed. “Okay. Maybe one coffee. But if something weird happens, I’m blaming you.”

 

Yusha smiled. “Deal.”

 

Muhammed, who had been pretending to check the cars tyre pressure, muttered under his breath, “Finally.”

 

Chapter 12

 

Farah was excited to really get to know Yusha. After much deliberation, he had agreed to come to her house, and under the watchful eyes of her mother and brother, have one conversation with her.

 

She woke up early that Saturday, in anticipation of Yusha’s arrival. She hoped that this was it. She truly hoped that he was the one. 

 

So she decided to put a lot of effort into her appearance, especially considering their previous run-ins.

 

Farah applied a thick turmeric mask to her face and busied herself with baking her special cake. Sure, she wasn’t going to offer him samoosas, but maybe she could offer him some cake? However, when she got to the kitchen, her mother had other plans. She had begun preparing a full-blown five-course meal, and of course, dozens of samoosas. 

 

“Mummy!” Farah wailed. “Why are you making a big deal out of this? We don’t want to scare him away!”

 

Amina sighed. “After everything he’s seen, do you really think it’ll be easy to scare him away? I mean, that disgusting bra of yours landed on his head! And I told you to get rid of it! It has holes and bleach stains!”

 

“You don’t have to remind me.” Farah could feel the nervousness creeping up on her, so she quickly got to work on the cake, hoping that she could forget about how nervous she was.

 

But Farah, being Farah, forgot that she had the turmeric mask on her face. So when she finally emerged from the shower two hours later, her face was stained a mustard yellow. 

 

She looked into the mirror and screeched. 

 

Amina rushed into the room and gasped in horror. “Your… your face! What did you do?”

 

“It’s the turmeric! How do I get it off? Why do I look so yellow?”

 

“Why did you even put it on? You’re not getting married!”

 

“The article said it would make me glow.”Farah cried. 

 

“Ok, put yoghurt and leave it on for an hour.” 

 

“But Yusha will be here in an hour!”

 

“Then leave it on for as long as you can.”

 

Farah left the mask on and started to get ready. But then, the doorbell rang. She screeched before peeping out the window. Oh, it was only Muhammed and his family. 

 

She continued to ready herself but left the mask on and went downstairs. To her horror, Khala Jaan was there.

 

Farah looked at Tasneem. “What’s happening?”

 

Tasneem motioned to Farah to follow her.

 

“Why is Khala Jaan here?” Farah asked in desperation.

 

“She said she’s doing her monthly visits.”

 

“What do you mean her monthly visit? She’s not a period! She’s Khala Jaan! Not Aunty Flo!”

 

“What happened to your face?” Tasneem asked incredulously, coming closer to examine the yoghurt mask.

 

“Turmeric mask.”

 

“No, you didn’t! Why?”

 

“Long story.”

 

•••

 

Farah’s mother had tried to persuade Khala Jaan to leave, but the old lady pretended to be senile and refused. She knew something was happening, and she wanted to be there for it.

 

Farah was about to make her way to the room when the doorbell rang again. But she didn’t hear it. So when Yusha walked in, she didn’t realise and walked straight into his view. The yoghurt mask had dried on her face, and it looked like dried baby vomit.

 

Farah gasped and sprinted away. She could hear Yusha’s soft chuckle in the background. Things could not POSSIBLY get any worse.

 

When she made her way back downstairs, her face was still shockingly yellow. Even makeup could not save her. She decided to play it cool and blame the terrible lighting.

 

She entered the kitchen, expecting to find only her mother. Instead, she was greeted by Khala Jaan, Aunty Zulz, and two other ladies she had never seen before.

 

Her mother stood in front of the pressure cooker, looking utterly flabbergasted.

 

“What’s going on?” Farah whispered.

 

“Out of all days, today Khala Jaan and Zulz decided to come visit. These other two ladies are Zulz’s friends,” Amina whispered.

 

“Get them out of here!” Farah said desperately.

 

“I tried, but now they’re invested.” 

 

“In what?”

 

“You and Yusha.”

 

Just then, Muhammed walked in quietly. “Farah!” he whispered. “Come! You’re coming to my house because it’s a circus in here.”

 

But before Farah could answer, Khala Jaan gripped Muhammed by his shoulder. “You. Go get that boy for me.”

 

“Who?” Muhammed asked innocently.

 

“What’s his name? That boy, man.”

 

“I think his name is Yusha.” Aunty Zulz said.

 

“YUSHAAAA!” Khala Jaan screeched so loudly that Farah was sure she had injured her eardrums.

 

Yusha made his way to the kitchen, and Farah wanted to cry. She could just not catch a break, could she?

 

“Handsome boy, he is.” Khala Jaan said as she peered over her glasses. “But he look like he don’t own property in Dubai. He look like he spends too much time in the gym.” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. 

 

Farah wanted to die. Why was this happening? Couldn’t she just have a normal encounter for once?

 

Aunty Zulz was ogling Yusha. “If things don’t work out with Farah, I have someone perfect-“ her voice was drowned out by the loud whistling of the pressure cooker.

 

Everyone’s attention turned to the stove. The pot began to rattle violently. Amina switched off the stove and pulled the pot off. As fate would have it, disaster struck.

 

The lid suddenly snapped off and flew high into the air. It spun twice before clattering to the ground with a loud clang. but that wasn’t the worst part. The boiling brown liquid that had been cooking erupted from the pot before raining down on every. single. person.

 

There was a moment of shocked silence before all hell broke loose.

 

Chapter 13

 

People started screaming and running. Khala Jaan, who had acted like she could barely walk, sprinted out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of dhal behind her. But not before quickly tasting the food. She had thought no one had seen her, but Amina had noticed how her finger had wiped the table before she popped it into her mouth.

 

The two other women ran out of the house, screaming more dramatically than needed, and Aunty Zulz was scream-crying as she clutched the million necklaces around her neck. “My gold jewelleryyyy!” She wailed. Even though people with even half a brain could tell that her “gold” was actually costume jewellery. 

 

Farah stood open-mouthed in the mess that had exploded around her. Yusha’s usual smile was replaced by sheer shock. Muhammed looked more irritated than before and Amina looked utterly defeated. 

 

“What was-?” Tasneem walked in, her question dying on her lips. “Oh. My. Gosh.”

 

The air was met with another bout of silence that seemed to stretch. And then, Yusha began to laugh. At first, it was a lighthearted chuckle, but within a few seconds, he was laughing hysterically. Everyone just stared at him at first, wondering if he was losing his mind.

 

But then, Muhammed’s irritation was replaced by amusement and he too, began to laugh. Amina and Tasneem joined in and then slowly, Farah also began to laugh. 

 

Just then, Farah’s dad walked in. “What’s so funny?” he asked. At first, he didn’t seem to notice that the kitchen was a mess. But when he stepped into dhal, he surveyed his surroundings in horror. 

 

“What happened here?” he asked incredulously. 

 

But everyone was laughing too hard to respond to him. 

 

•••

 

Aunty Zulz, Khala Jaan and the other two ladies had long disappeared, leaving Farah, and her family to clean up the mess. 

 

Slowly, they all began to clean up the kitchen. There was dhal everywhere! Farah looked at the ceiling, it was splattered with dhal as well. 

 

She sighed, trying to hide her yellow face. Why was Yusha still here? He was helping clean up the mess too, and Farah couldn’t understand why. 

 

“I can’t believe THIS is my life!” Farah muttered under her breath. She grabbed a mop, and tried not to make eye contact with Yusha, who was casually wiping the cupboard doors like he cleaned explosions every weekend.

 

She sighed for the umpteenth time that day. Slowly, she climbed onto a stool, mop in hand and started to wipe the ceiling. But as she leaned forward, the stool started to wobble.

 

“AHHH!” she screeched, before flailing her arms in an attempt to steady herself. Instead, she ended up smacking Yusha in the face with the mop.

 

He staggered backward, trying to keep his own balance. A mixture of dust and dhal streaked his face. 

 

He spluttered in disgust, before slowly wiping his face. “This is going… great. It’s going great.”

 

Farah wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?

 

But as she jumped off the stool, her foot kicked the bucket filled with a mixture of dirty mop water and dhal. 

 

The disgusting mixture covered the floor. Everyone stared at it in horror.

 

“Are you sure there’s no hidden camera around here?” Yusha managed to ask. “Is this ‘prank my guest’, or something?”

 

“I’m sorry!” Farah blurted out. But the whole debacle had taken away her coordination because she started to lose her balance.

 

In an effort to save her, Yusha lunged forward, trying to grab her hand. Instead, they both slipped in the dirty water before colliding in the puddle. 

 

“OWWWW!” Farah complained, trying to untangle herself from the catastrophe.

 

Yusha lay in the mess, too bewildered to move. After what felt like forever, he slowly got up into a sitting position. 

 

“Sooo, do you still want that conversation,” Yusha asked. “or should we just get married now?”

 

Chapter 14

 

Farah choked and spluttered.

 

“Do you still want to marry her?” Amina asked incredulously, unable to control herself.

 

Farah felt her cheeks warm. Did her mother really have to embarrass her like that?

 

Yusha laughed nervously. “Well, we’ve already been through a lot together.”

 

“You didn’t answer my mother,” Muhammed said pointedly.

 

“STOP! Can everyone just… STOP? I’m done. I’m just… done!” Farah announced, trying to blink back the tears that pricked her eyelids. Very slowly, she got up from the mess.

 

The kitchen went silent. “Everyone. Just. Leave. Me. Alone.” Farah said through gritted teeth. 

 

The silence grew around her as she walked away. As she did, her feet made awkward squelching sounds with each step she took. She inwardly cringed. This was not the exit she had wanted to make.

 

Maybe a hot shower and some alone time would do her good. Ideally, never having to face society again would do her good. But unfortunately, that was not an option… or was it?

 

Farah covered her face with her hands and groaned. Had she opened up a box of problems when she became of marriageable age? Was that the gateway that led to all of these horribly awkward situations? This couldn’t be normal, right? There was no way that this was her life. Because everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Marriage was supposed to be a “coming-of-age” story. Not a “coming-apart” story. 

 

Farah got to her room and banged the door shut. She winced when she caught sight of her appearance in the mirror. Her face was still yellow and specked with pieces of dhal. Her clothing looked absolutely ratchet, and was twisted weirdly around her body. Dhal had hardened in her eyebrows, making her appear slightly surprised.

 

She could smell the scent that emanated from her, and it was definitely not the perfume she had applied earlier. She smelled like an absolute catastrophe. 

 

Slowly, she made her way to the bathroom to clean herself up.

 

••• 

 

An hour later, Farah emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and clean. It had taken her a long time to remove the dhal from her body. The turmeric stains on her face had faded slightly. She sniffed the air, she could still smell the remnants of dhal that lingered in the air.

 

She put on some fresh clothing and threw herself on her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she asked herself, “HOW is this my life?”

 

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Go away!” she groaned. “I want to be alone.”

 

“I brought you some tea,” Amina said softly.

 

“I don’t want tea.”

 

“I also have some cake.”

 

Farah groaned again. “Fine. Come in.”

 

“Maybe this will make you feel better,” Amina told her daughter.

 

Farah looked at skeptically. “I don’t think anything can make me feel better. I thought the samoosa runs were bad. But this… this was the worst moment of my life.”

 

“It wasn’t THAT bad,” Amina said.

 

“Mummy. It was worse than bad.”

 

“Ok, fine. It was. But it’s not the end of the world.”

 

“Maybe I’m just meant to be single forever. I’m done. I can’t do this again.” Farah could feel her tears surfacing again.

 

“I don’t think so… You haven’t completely scared Yusha off just yet.”

 

Farah gave her mother an incredulous look. “How could I not have scared him off? He probably regrets reconnecting with Muhammed.”

 

“He walked out of here laughing and saying that he’s never been so entertained before.”

 

“That doesn’t mean he’s still interested in me! And I don’t blame him! Our family seems like a complete disaster. I seem like a disaster.”

 

There was another faint knock at the door. “What now?” Farah asked in annoyance.

 

Muhammed popped his head in. “So everyone has left.”

 

“Good.”

 

“And Yusha-“ he began.

 

“Never wants anything to do with any of us.” Farah completed her brother’s sentence.

 

“Actually, no. On the contrary. He still wants to talk to you.”

 

“So he can be more entertained?”

 

Muhammed laughed. “Yes and no. He seems to really like you, yellow face and all.”

 

“Why?” Farah asked in disbelief.

 

“Beats me. But he’ll be coming again. He just wants you to cool off first.”

 

“WHY?” Farah asked again.

 

Muhammed just shrugged.

 

Chapter 15

 

The week went by without any drama, but Yusha still didn’t call. Farah had been secretly hoping that he would call sooner rather than later, but she had been met by stone silence.

 

Maybe Yusha had realised that he didn’t want to get involved with Farah because all she brought was chaos. There was nothing else she had to offer. Maybe he realised that being around her meant being around problems. Maybe he actually came to his senses and ran far away.

 

But her heart didn’t like that explanation. Because Farah wanted Yusha to look past all of the craziness that came with her. 

 

So when the doorbell rang one fine Sunday afternoon, Farah listlessly went to answer the door. And when she did, she slammed the door shut again. Yusha stood outside, flowers in one hand and coffees in the other.

 

Farah gasped. She wasn’t prepared for visitors. She was in an old hoodie and sweatpants. 

 

“Who’s here?” Amina called.

 

Farah didn’t answer, so her mother came to the door.

 

“Why are you just standing there?”

 

“Yusha is here,” Farah whispered.

 

Yusha rang the bell again.

 

“So, open! Don’t leave him outside! If Khala Jaan sees him, she’ll come right over. That woman thrives off stories.”

 

Farah took a deep breath, and opened the door again.

 

“Assalaamualaikum,” Yusha greeted. “Sorry, to drop in unannounced but Muhammed told me to come through today.”

 

“Ohhh! I forgot! He did tell me you’re coming this weekend.” Amina smacked her head.

 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Farah asked in annoyance. 

 

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” Yusha responded. “I mean you might have wanted to use a turmeric mask again, or make dhal.”

 

Farah made a face before hiding a smile. So maybe Yusha actually had brains - unlike many others who had attended the samoosa runs. “Ok, come inside.”

 

“I came bearing flowers and coffee… You do drink coffee though, right?”

 

Farah nodded. “I do. Thanks.” She held out her hand.

 

Yusha was about to pass her the coffee and then stopped short. “Maybe let’s get you seated first. We don’t want to tempt fate.” He gave her a playful grin.

 

Farah narrowed her eyes. “Fine.“ 

 

“Both of you can go sit in the dining room. Farah, Dad and I will be here in the lounge.” Amina turned to Yusha. “Can I get you anything?”

 

“Some dhal, please,” Yusha said with a straight face.

 

“Huh?” Amina asked in surprise.

 

“I’m kidding!” Yusha smiled. “I can still taste the dhal in the air.”

 

Amina laughed and shook her head before walking away.

 

Farah and Yusha made their way to the dining room and each took a seat opposite the other. Yusha carefully handed Farah the coffee. “Be careful, it’s still hot. And here’s the sugar.”

 

Farah couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

 

“Sooo how do samoosa runs usually go?” Yusha asked.

 

Farah glared at him. “This is not a samoosa run. It’s coffee and a conversation.”

 

Yusha chuckled. “I’m joking. So Farah, tell me, what are you looking for in a man?”

 

She picked up her coffee and took a small sip. “AHHHH! HOT! HOT!” She fanned a hand in front of her mouth before regaining her composure.

 

“You ok?” Yusha asked.

 

Farah nodded and began to answer his question. What am I looking for?” She repeated. “Well, at this point, I just want someone NORMAL. You are normal, right? Or are you going to tell me something crazy and ruin the mirage of normality that you bring?”

 

“Well, I would like to see your toes. And I also identify as white.” Yusha said with a big smile on his face.

 

“Don’t test me.” Farah said, annoyance tainting her voice.

 

“Ok, ok, ok. But you do need to see this.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled for a couple of seconds before handing it over to Farah.

 

There was a huge tattoo of an old man plastered on someone’s back. Farah’s jaw dropped, and simultaneously, she dropped Yusha’s phone. It hit her coffee and the cup fell to the side. Farah quickly picked it up and slid Yusha’s phone away. 

 

Yusha burst into laughter. “Ok, that was my fault. I clearly didn’t think it through.”

 

Farah cleared her throat, she felt sick. “Do you… do you have a tattoo?” Why did this have to happen again?

 

Yusha shook his head. “No, sorry! It was meant to be a joke, but in hindsight, that was a terrible joke. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Whose back is that?”

 

Yusha took his phone and shrugged. “I don’t know. I googled it.”

 

“That wasn’t funny, Yusha.” Farah said softly.

 

Yusha grabbed a couple of tissues and walked over to Farah before he wiped up the coffee spill. “You’re right, I know I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I’m pretty normal, I think. I’m twenty-nine, I work in finance, I’ve never been married, I have my own place which I plan on moving into when I get married… What else? 

 

I’m generally a very calm person, and I used to attract calm until I met you. But I guess opposites attract and that’s why my calm attracts your chaos.” He gave a playful wink. 

 

“I enjoy working out - Not because I’m trying to look a certain way, but because discipline keeps me grounded.” He paused for a moment and then added with a smirk, “Unfortunately, I don’t own property in Dubai just yet.”

 

Farah nodded thoughtfully. “What are you looking for in a wife?” 

 

Someone who’s… real, I guess. Not performative. I don’t care about perfection. I just want someone who’s sincere, you know? For example, someone who will treat the waitress with kindness, even if she messes up her order. Someone who’s kind behind closed doors, not just when it’s convenient or benefitting. 

 

I’m looking for a woman who will grow with me, who will be by my side, be my partner. I want someone who will pray all of their salaah’s and who wants to grow closer to Allah - and that’s something we can do together. She must value her deen. That’s more important than whether she can cook five different types of biryanis. 

 

I want someone who’s sincere can laugh, and takes things in their stride, especially when things go wrong. Life’s too unpredictable not to have a sense of humour.

 

I want peace. But not boring peace. The kind of peace that feels like home.”

 

He paused, smirked slightly, and added,

“Someone who doesn’t get fazed when a pressure cooker explodes and she smacks a dirty mop in my face.”

 

Farah nodded thoughtfully. “Wow, you really thought that through. Can I retract my earlier answer?” She asked with a laugh.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“Well, I guess I want someone normal. And I mean that because I’ve been through my fair share of crazies so I’m entitled to say that. But not boring normal. Because then life would be boring.

 

I want someone who gets me. Not just someone that hears, but someone who truly listens. I want someone that makes me laugh and wants to laugh with me. Someone who can tame even the most serious situations with a silly remark. 

 

Someone who isn’t afraid of a woman with opinions; someone that won’t mute her but will challenge her and encourage her opinions.

 

I want a man who fears Allah, first and foremost. Who prays all of his salaah. Someone soft but not weak.”

 

Farah took a deep breath and looked away. “Someone who can be my calm in the chaos. Who will keep me grounded when my life is a whirlwind. Someone who will accept me as is, even when I’m A LOT. Someone not afraid of the chaos.”

 

Then she smiled. “Someone who preferably owns property in Dubai because according to Khala Jaan, that’s a non-negotiable.”

 

Chapter 16

 

Farah was falling for Yusha — hard. He’d been calling her almost every night, hoping to get to know her better. She was thrilled, she felt like she was on cloud nine. So when Muhammed called her to ask her if she’s serious about Yusha, she very eagerly said yes.

 

“Have you spoken to Mum and Dad about him yet?” Muhammed asked.

 

Farah fell silent. “Well, not exactly. It’s awkward. What do I say? I like a guy?”

 

Muhammed sighed. “No, just say you and Yusha are getting along and he’s going to officially come to propose.”

 

Farah froze.

 

“Are you there?” her brother asked after a full minute of silence.

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“Oh, he’s going to come to officially propose.” Muhammed said nonchalantly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, it’s pretty self-explanatory. I don’t know how else I should break it down for you.”

 

“Yusha wants to propose?” Farah asked incredulously.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wow! Ok, I can’t tell mum and dad. You speak to them for me.”

 

Muhammed laughed. “Fine. Only because Muaaza embarrassed you when you first met Yusha.”

 

“Not because I’m your little sister?” Farah asked, pretending to be shocked.

 

“Nope.” Muhammed said teasingly. “I’m doing it for Yusha.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Stop pretending to be a brother that doesn’t care. I know you care - a bit too much actually.”

 

“You got that right.”

 

•••

 

Before long, Yusha and his family were coming to propose. Farah nervously began to get ready, this time steering clear of turmeric and reminding her mother at least fifty times not to make dhal or use the pressure cooker.

 

“Mummy, are you sure you’re not using the pressure cooker?”

 

“For the last time, Farah. I’m not! I made chicken, leg roast and mashed potatoes, pasta and flatbread. In fact, I haven’t made any Indian foods today! Which goes against everything in me! I wanted to make a nice kalya but after all the drama, I was scared that we’d find mutton kalya on the walls.”

 

“Ok, good. That should be safe, right? Today needs to go well.”

 

Just then the doorbell rang. Farah’s eyes widened. “Who’s here? Who did you invite? she asked her mother accusingly.

 

“No one!” 

 

“Then why are your three sisters here?” Muhammed asked, walking into the kitchen.

 

“Who?”

 

“Aunty Zulz, Ruwi Khala and Shenoo Khala.”

 

“WHAT?” Farah asked incredulously. “Get rid of them!”

 

“I tried,” Muhammed said. “But you know how they are.”

 

“Aunty Zulz is the most judgmental lady out there! And you saw how she stared at Yusha last time? She wanted him for her niece — who’s like fourteen!”

 

“Farah.” Amina said in a sharp tone. “That’s still my sister.”

 

“Step-sister.” Farah corrected. “You’re not even blood related. And remember how she basically called you an unfit mother?”

 

“Shame. Never mind. Forget all that now, Farah.”

 

“Mummy, Yusha is coming for a proposal. I don’t want them here. Please.”

 

“Fine, let’s ask daddy to get rid of them.”

 

Amina left the room and returned fifteen minutes later. “Daddy sent them visiting a couple of people. Hopefully, they won’t be back until tonight.”

 

Farah breathed a sigh of relief.

 

•••

 

Farah paced the length of the lounge nervously. She was waiting for Yusha, hoping that nothing went wrong. 

 

But deep down, she had a feeling that something would go wrong, it always did.

 

She checked her reflection for the hundredth time, hoping a pimple didn’t magically appear on the tip of her nose.

 

Just then, the doorbell rang. Farah gasped softly. Tasneem looked at her sister-in-law.

 

“You ok?” She asked.

 

Farah nodded. “Let’s just hope things go smoothly.”

 

Tasneem smiled. “For your sake I hope that nothing crazy happens.”

 

People started streaming into the house, leaving Farah perplexed. Who were all of these people? Yusha was one of the last to walk in. Farah looked at him quizzically.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “My family sometimes lacks boundaries. They’re not always like this, but sometimes they really don’t think.”

 

Farah swallowed hard but remained silent. It was fine. It was going to be ok.

 

After mild introductions were made, Amina called Farah and Tasneem to help her in the kitchen.

 

“I didn’t cook enough!” Amina said worriedly. “I had no idea half the dunya was coming!”

 

Muhammed walked into the kitchen with Yusha in tow. “Don’t worry about everyone. They agreed to only have tea and samoosas and then they’ll all leave.” Yusha said.

 

“But it’s lunch time!” Amina exclaimed.

 

“Apart from my immediate family, everyone else ate. So please don’t worry.” 

 

Just as Amina calmed down, an old woman staggered in on a walking stick. “Yusha, beta. Who is the girl you marrying?”

 

“Fatima Ma, this is Farah.” Farah approached the lady cautiously and waited for Yusha to introduce her to the old lady. “Farah, this is my granny’s sister. The closest person I have to a grandmother.” He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “She’s a bit unhinged so please excuse her.”

 

The old lady peered over her glasses and summed Farah up. “Ey, this girl don’t eat, Yusha. She needs meat.”

 

Yusha looked at Farah apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

 

Fatima Ma then turned to Farah. “When you get married, if any girls come and look at my Yusha, you tell me. I’ll pour boiling water on them.”

 

Farah choked back laughter. “Umm, ok.” She managed to say.

 

“You don’t know the girls out there. They mad. They steal husbands straight from your bed.”

 

Farah giggled and looked at Yusha. He gave her a quick wink before steering his granny away.

 

Chapter 17

 

Farah had barely recovered from the boiling water comment when she heard the loud crash of crockery meeting tile.

 

“The jelly!” Tasneem gasped.

 

“Jelly?” Farah asked in confusion. And then she saw it. The broken dish had scattered in a thousand different directions, and the red jelly looked like a splatter of fake blood and flesh. 

 

Farah groaned. “Whyyy!” She wailed.

 

Tasneem looked at her apologetically. “It slipped from my grasp.”

 

Just then, Muaaza ran into the kitchen.

 

“Muaaza! Watch out!” Farah said loudly, just as the four-year-old ran full speed into her arms.

 

Farah staggered back and fell into the pile of jelly and glass, still holding Muaaza. 

 

“Oh no! Farah, you’re in the glass!” 

 

“I’m fine,” Farah said through gritted teeth. “Muhammed, take Muaaza.”

 

Muhammed grabbed his daughter and quickly left the kitchen, inspecting her to ensure no glass shards were on her.

 

Slowly, Farah got up. There was glass everywhere. She gingerly began to brush off the little shards, being careful not to cut herself.

 

Yusha walked back in and gasped. “What happened? Is that… blood?”

 

Farah groaned. “It’s jelly. Now excuse me, I need to clean this up.”

 

As Farah raced up the stairs, Yusha returned to the lounge, where things began escalating quickly.

 

Fatima Ma was loudly complaining about her gout, while Farah’s father was arguing with Yusha’s father about politics. Yusha tried to defuse the fires but both fathers ignored him, their voices getting louder and louder. 

 

Yusha looked at Muhammed. “Ignore them. My dad argues with everyone,” Muhammed said.

 

Yusha sighed and looked around. It was a full-blown circus. Multiple aunties were loudly gossiping about people they barely knew, his father and Farah’s father were having a screaming match, and two of his other uncles were sitting quietly, making snide remarks every now and again.

 

His mother sat quietly, observing the chaos around her.

 

The doorbell rang just as Farah came back down.

 

“You’re ok?” Yusha asked.

 

Farah nodded and turned her attention to her father. “Why is he screaming?” She muttered.

 

“They’re talking politics,” Yusha answered.

 

Muhammed walked back in with a grim expression on his face. “Farah…” he began.

 

But just then, Aunty Zulz, Ruwi Khala and Shenoo Khala walked in. Farah’s eyes widened. “No,” she whispered.

 

“What’s happening here?” Aunty Zulz asked loudly. Today she was wearing a cerise pink dress with a long slit and bright orange leggings. A green hijab was lazily draped around her head, and the strong scent of her famous Chanel No.5 knock-off engulfed her.  

 

Her eyes fell on Yusha. “Ah, it’s the handsome boy, again. Farah, you know I was just telling your mother that if things don’t work out with you and handsome boy, then I’ll introduce Shakira to him.”

 

Farah wanted to die. Why was her family so faulty?

 

“Shakira is fourteen!” Tasneem said as she walked into the lounge. 

 

“So what? Age is just a number, man! If I wasn’t married, I could’ve even gotten a young guy like Yusha.”

 

“I highly doubt that,” Muhammed whispered under his breath.

 

“So what’s going on here? Is this a proposal? Why Amina never invite us? You see, she keeps things so hush hush,” Aunty Zulz said loudly.

 

Fatima Ma, who was now sitting quietly, removed her shoes and planted her feet on the coffee table. “Anyone have a nail cutter?” She asked loudly.

 

This time, Yusha looked like he wanted to die.

 

But Fatima Ma’s request was drowned out by Aunty Zulz and her loud voice. “Ruwi, Shenoo, you see our sister. She doesn’t care for us. AMINA! Come here!”

 

Amina walked into the lounge and groaned. “Zulz, Ruwi, Shenoo… What yall doing here?”

 

“You never invite us,” Shenoo said.

 

“Why you hiding the proposal from us?” Ruwi added.

 

“We all heard of Farah’s samoosa runs. This one attracts problems,” Shenoo added.

 

“Listen, Farah’s been through a lot. Either you behave or you leave.” Amina hissed.

 

Aunty Zulz pouted. “We’ll behave.”

 

Ruwi Khala and Shenoo Khala decided to take a seat next to the gossiping aunties to find out more about Yusha. 

 

Fatima Ma looked at Aunty Zulz. “Come sit here.” She patted the empty seat next to her. “Tell me, you got a nail cutter in that bag?”

 

Aunty Zulz looked horrified. “No, aunty, I don’t. But tell me, who’s Yusha to you?”

 

•••

 

Yusha’s mother, Arifa, made her way to the kitchen, in an effort to escape the noise, with Yusha close behind her.

 

“Mum, what are you doing?” Yusha asked.

 

“We need your aunties and uncles to go. They’re just creating drama. This was supposed to be a quiet proposal. But your father doesn’t listen to me.”

 

Before Yusha could answer, Muaaza walked into the kitchen. She peered at Yusha, as if trying to remember who he was.

 

“I know you!” She finally squealed in delight. “You the uncle that came by my house!” She bounded away, singing to herself.

 

Farah walked into the kitchen. “Sorry, Aunty Arifa. I don’t know what’s going on right now, but it’s a madhouse back there.”

 

Arifa smiled. “Don’t you worry, these things are stressful.”

 

As if fate would have it, Muaaza returned. “Uncle! This is what you had on your head the last time!” Perched on her head was Farah’s bra. “But that was the yucky one. This is not so yucky. It’s pink! My favourite colour!”

 

Farah felt the colour drain from her face. 

 

“What?” Arifa whispered, her eyes wide. She glared at Yusha for an explanation.

 

Yusha buried his face in his hands. “She threw a bra on me the first time I met Farah,” he tried to explain. “I went to drop off something for Muhammed and she walked out with a bra and then flung it and it landed on my head.”

 

Farah couldn’t speak.

 

Chapter 18

 

Farah continued to stare at her niece, who was now twirling with the pink bra on her head like it was a tiara.

 

“I’m Awa! I’m getting married today!” she sang, holding the bra like it was a veil. “I’m going to marry this uncle!” She danced around Yusha.

 

Farah looked like she was reconsidering all her life choices. 

 

“Muaaza! Stop that!” Farah finally hissed. Tasneem walked in and, in seconds, assessed the situation before lunging for the bra and grabbing Muaaza.

 

Arifa blinked very slowly, still trying to comprehend what was happening.

 

Yusha cleared his throat and looked away, clearly contemplating whether jumping out the kitchen window would be dramatic or justified.

 

Before anyone could recover, a scream came from the lounge.

 

“AHHHH!”

 

It was Aunty Zulz. 

 

“YUCCKKK!” she screeched.

 

“What happened?” Amina asked.

 

“EWWWW! I’M GOING TO VOMIT! HUUUUGGGH!”

 

“What happened?”

 

Aunty Zulz pointed to Fatima Ma. “She just bit off her toenail and spat it at me! It went into my mouth! I’m going to die! Yuck!”

 

“Stop being so dramatic,” Fatima Ma said. “I told you it was painful but you never listen. I needed to get rid of it. You also, man. You speak so much, that mouth is always open. I just wanted to shut you up!”

 

“How did you even reach your toes?” Shenoo Khala asked in surprise.

 

“Who cares? She aimed it at my mouth and then spat it in my face! It landed in my mouth! I need mouthwash! YUCK! I’m going to die! I’M GOING TO DIIIIIE!” Aunty Zulz looked traumatised.

 

Farah tried to hide her smile.

 

“If you stopped speaking, maybe it wouldn’t have landed up in your mouth,” one of the uncles said.

 

“Uncle, I wouldn’t talk if I were you. You look like you twelve months pregnant.” Aunty Zulz retorted in annoyance.

 

Farah didn’t even know how she was feeling anymore. Either she had become numb to the chaos or she was experiencing an out-of-body experience — perhaps this was some kind of morphed reality which she was watching from a distance.

 

“EVERYONE, QUIET!” Yusha’s father suddenly bellowed. The room fell silent and wide eyes turned to face him. “Can we discuss what we came for?”

 

“We first want tea,” Fatima Ma said.

 

Farah turned on her heel and made a beeline for the kitchen. She needed to regulate her nerves before Yusha formally proposed to her.

 

•••

 

Farah came back with the tea and some biscuits. But before she could begin offering, Yusha’s father started speaking. “We came here for Yusha to propose to Fawzia.”

 

“Farah,” Yusha clarified.

 

“Same thing,” his father said. “Yusha, ask her if she wants to marry you.”

 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

 

“You wasting time boy. Fawzia, Yusha wants to marry you.,” Yusha’s father said. “You like him?”

 

“Uhhh…” Farah stuttered, the tray of tea still in her hand.

 

Muhammed looked at Farah. “Is that a yes?” he asked softly.

 

Farah just nodded.

 

“She said yes,” Muhammed answered on behalf of a bewildered Farah.

 

The room erupted in cheers. Aunty Zulz made a beeline for Farah and stopped at the very last second, causing Farah to stagger.

 

The tea splashed on Aunty Zulz as Farah tried to regain her balance. Fatima Ma stared Farah down until she made eye contact with her.

 

“Can I get some tea?” she finally asked. Farah nodded wordlessly and walked towards Fatima Ma. She handed her the tea with trembling hands, still unsure whether she’d just agreed to a marriage or accidentally sold her soul.

 

“Shukar,” Fatima Ma muttered, sipping loudly. “Now we can plan the wedding. I want biryani and no salad. Or maybe we must have dhal and rice.”

 

“NO!” Farah said loudly, causing the old lady to jump and spill a little tea on herself. “No dhal.”

 

Aunty Zulz, who had wiped the tea that had spilled on her, excitedly exclaimed, “Don’t worry, Amina. I’ll plan the wedding. We can maybe do butterflies and unicorns. It will look stunning!”

 

“Aunty Zulz, this isn’t a child’s birthday party,” Tasneem said.

 

“You shush. Your wedding was so boring. All silver and white.”

 

Tasneem rolled her eyes. “Aunty Zulz, don’t worry. I’ll help Farah plan.”

 

“Oh no, sies. I don’t trust your taste. You’ll think it’s classy, but it will be boring. We doing unicorns.”

 

“Leave the unicorns, Zulz. These young couples only last three months these days,” Shenoo Khala said.

 

“I give the couple three months,” one of the uncles muttered.

 

Farah felt the colour drain from her face.

 

Yusha smiled at her. “I give it a lifetime.”

 

Fatima Ma loudly placed her cup down with a clink. “We mustn’t delay. I know a good makeup artist. She did that girl’s makeup who looked like a potato. She looked so lovely on her wedding day. Imagine. Her husband must have thought it was the wrong woman when she took it all off.”

 

“That’s not very nice,” Amina said under her breath.

 

“Yusha, my shoulder is sore,” Fatima Ma said, as if she wasn’t talking about makeup five seconds ago. “I told you to study medicine. I don’t know why you studied finance. That’s not going to fix my heart problems. Chaal, never mind now.”

 

“Do you even know how to cook?” Shenoo Khala asked, turning to Farah. 

 

Yusha’s mother, who had been silent for most of the time, finally spoke up. “Does it matter?” she asked dryly.

 

“Oooh yes. Way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Ruwi Khala piped in.

 

“Shame, if that’s true then half of these men are already married to Nando’s,” Aunty Zulz said.

 

Chapter 19

 

Farah regretted EVERYTHING.

 

Her engagement was barely a week old, and her lounge was already packed with women who had strong opinions, loud voices, enough perfume to fumigate a place, and no concept of personal space.

 

Farah had not invited anyone to do wedding planning. The idea was that she, her mother, and her sister-in-law would do everything. The wedding was supposed to be small, with only important people in attendance — Well, that’s what Farah wanted. But what she wanted wasn’t always what she got.  

 

Because as soon as Farah said yes to Yusha, Aunty Zulz had alerted all of Amina’s sisters on the family WhatsApp group, and every single one of her seven aunties wanted to be involved. To make matters worse, Khala Jaan, who wasn’t even family, insisted that she, too, had to be involved.

 

Aunty Zulz had apparently broadcasted a “wedding meeting” invite to half the town, because Amina’s lounge was packed. 

 

“I brought my file!” Aunty Zulz squealed in delight. She dumped a huge pink binder onto the coffee table with a loud thud. Pink glitter puffed out the sides, decorating the coffee table. “It has everything in it! Pinterest pics, Instagram dresses, wedding inspiration, and even the contact details of some aunty that rents out peacocks instead of doves.”

 

“Peacocks? What do we need peacocks for?” Farah asked.

 

“Yes! Imagine a peacock standing behind you in all your pictures. Pair that with the unicorns and your wedding will be the talk of the town!”

 

“Yeah, they’ll be speaking about how tacky it was,” Tasneem said under her breath.

 

Farah covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. It was either that or she would burst into tears because she was so overwhelmed.

 

“Why are we still speaking about unicorns? I thought we agreed that this is not a children’s party.”

 

“They’re trending!” Aunty Zulz exclaimed. “The girls in my circle—“

 

“Are all very round,” Tasneem muttered.

 

Aunty Zulz huffed. “You think you know too much! You can’t even dress, Tasneem! I told Muhammed for your wedding you should have worn feathers, but he didn’t want to tell you. He said you had your mind set on that simple wedding dress of yours.”

 

Tasneem rolled her eyes and ignored Aunty Zulz. “Farah was thinking of green and gold.”

 

“That’s so boring. This is a wedding, not a janazah,” Aunty Zulz snapped.

 

Khala Jaan, who had been munching biscuits the whole time, piped in. “Have it at the community hall. My son-in-law’s sister’s husband’s cousin had it there.”

 

“The community hall has rats and smells like rotten fish,” Farah replied.

 

“Never mind all that. It’ll be nice.”

 

“It’s practically falling apart! The ceiling was leaking the last time I was there,” Farah said.

 

“Ey, you too fussy. No wonder none of those other boys wanted to marry you,” Khala Jaan said in an insulting tone.

 

“The first boy you brought thought he was white!” Farah exclaimed.

 

“So? Your children would’ve looked like whites. Not so yellow like you.”

 

“He wasn’t actually white,” Farah said in annoyance. “He was Indian.”

 

“Toooo fussy, man. You act like you Miss World,” Khala Jaan said as she smoothed a wrinkled hand on her dress.

 

Farah sighed. There was no use in trying to argue with the rude woman. She was something else entirely.

 

“In my day, we listened to the elders. I don’t know what everyone will say when I tell them how you acting,” Khala Jaan continued. “They’ll say you too modern. Ey. But you should have seen me when I got married. I was so lovely man. Perfect. All the men wanted to marry me.”

 

“That’s why your two husbands left you,” Shenoo Khala whispered.

 

Thankfully, Khala Jaan didn’t hear her.

 

“Ok, shhh now, Khala Jaan. Farah, I say you make an entrance on a horse,” Aunty Zulz said.

 

“This is supposed to be a wedding, not an animal farm. Peacocks and now a horse? What next? Flamingos and a tiger to bring the rings?” Tasneem asked sarcastically.

 

Aunty Zulz’s eyes widened in excitement. “Ooooh! A tiger! Yes!”

 

“NO!” Amina bellowed. “No peacocks. No horses! No tigers!”

 

“So boring.” Aunty Zulz pouted, and then she lightened up. “But you didn’t say no to flamingos!”

 

“No flamingos!” Farah said in annoyance.

 

Just then, Muaaza walked into the room. “Awa getting mawwied! Yayyyy!” She threw something into the air.

 

Tasneem groaned. “Muaaza, you can’t throw Corn Flakes around!”

 

“They not Corn Flakes. They rose petals, mummy!”

 

Farah stood up. “I need air.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” Tasneem added.

 

“No, you stay and clean up your child’s mess!” Aunty Zulz told Tasneem.

 

Farah walked out of the lounge and into the garden. She was frustrated beyond words. The only logical thing to do right now was scream. And so she did.

 

The wedding hadn’t even begun, and it was already on the brink of needing a trauma counsellor.

 

Chapter 20

 

Before she knew it, Farah’s wedding day had arrived.

 

She woke up early on her wedding day, a complete bundle of nerves. It had taken a lot to get here, countless arguments, countless meetings, and countless opinions eventually led to this day. Farah was nervous, but she wasn’t exactly sure where her nervousness stemmed from. Perhaps it was from finally marrying Yusha later in the day. Or perhaps it was from holding her breath, waiting for something to go wrong. 

 

She took a deep breath and looked at her shaking hands, willing herself to calm down. She hoped that today would go by without any drama. She just wanted a wedding day that would be memorable. And memorable it was.

 

Because within two hours, her house was in a flurry of busybodies. The makeup artist came earlier than expected. Farah was still showering when she was told that she had to hurry up because the makeup artist had to leave in another forty-five minutes. 

 

Farah finally sat down, ready for the makeup artist to work her magic. She closed her eyes, and allowed her to do her thing. 

 

About thirty minutes later, the makeup artist stood back and admired her work. “Ready?” she asked Farah.

 

Farah nodded. In a dramatic whoosh, the makeup artist turned the chair around to face the mirror. Farah gasped when she saw her reflection, and then a strangled scream escaped her lips. The makeup artist had made her look terrible! Her cheeks had two large red dots on them, her eyeshadow and eyeliner were so heavy and so dark, she could compete with a raccoon, her foundation was three shades too light, and her lipstick was a shocking shade of bright orange. If this was a rehearsal for a clown show, Farah would’ve won hands down.

 

Tasneem burst into the room. “What hap” Her question died on her lips when she saw Farah. “What on earth? Who did your makeup?”

 

“I did,” the makeup artist said proudly.

 

Tasneem blinked in confusion. “You’re not the makeup artist.”

 

“Yes, I am. Zulz hired me.”

 

Tasneem took a deep breath. “To do whose makeup?”

 

The makeup artist looked confused. “I’m not sure, actually. Let me call her.”

 

“Go and wash your face, Farah.” Tasneem said in an even tone, and then pulled out her phone. “Your actual makeup artist is on her way.”

 

The makeup artist, who was still in Farah’s room, hung up the phone and looked at Tasneem apologetically. “I think I did the wrong person’s makeup. I needed to do Zulz’s makeup.”

 

“This was the bride,” Tasneem said through gritted teeth. 

 

•••

 

Two hours later, Farah was sitting in front of the mirror, her makeup looking flawless. Eventually, her actual makeup artist had come to do her makeup, and Aunty Zulz’s makeup artist had disappeared. 

 

“Ok, I think it’s time for you to get into your dress,” Tasneem said.

 

Farah nodded. “Where is it?”

 

Tasneem handed her a dress bag. “Here.”

 

Farah took the bag and gingerly began to unzip it. She stared at the bag in confusion. “Ummm… This isn’t mine.”

 

Tasneem peeked into the bag and gasped. “What’s this?”

 

In the bag was a bright yellow princess dress. It had a million feathers, and it was truly hideous. “What is this supposed to be?”

 

“It looks like a duck’s wedding dress.”

 

Farah groaned. “WHERE IS MY DRESS?”

 

“Calm down. I’ll be right back.” Tasneem grabbed the bag and dashed out of the room. 

 

Farah took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, but failing miserably. The day had barely started, and everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

 

After what felt like forever, Tasneem came back into the room, a new dress bag in hand. “Here you go.”

 

“Are you sure this is my dress?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Aunty Zulz happened. She thought you’d look like a — and I quote — sun fairy.” 

 

“What is a sun fairy?”

 

“Only Allah knows.”

 

At the wedding venue, Amina was finalising everything. To her dismay, when she went to the kitchen, Khala Jaan was standing over the large degh of biryani.

 

“What are you doing here?” Amina asked in annoyance.

 

“I was helping them cook. I have to taste everything.”

 

“They don’t need your help!”

 

“They did. But ey. It’s hard to chew. I can’t find my false teeth.”

 

Amina’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you can’t find your false teeth?”

 

Khala Jaan just shrugged as Amina’s phone rang.

 

“Don’t go anywhere!” Amina warned. “Hello?”

 

“Where’s my bouquet?” a panicked Farah asked.

 

“It should be in my room. Don’t worry, it’s there.”

 

“No, it isn’t. Those are daisies. I’m allergic to daisies!”

 

“Wait. I’m coming.”

 

Amina rushed out of the venue, forgetting about Khala Jaan and her false teeth. 

 

•••

 

It seemed like things just weren’t getting better. Everything was going wrong and Farah was about to lose her mind. 

 

The nikaah was about to happen. All of the womenfolk in her family were sitting around her, eagerly waiting to listen to the nikaah. The women’s section of the mosque was completely detached from the men’s section, and the sound system was acting up. The crackling of the static and the loud screech of the mic had all the aunties make unattractive faces and rub their ears, muttering their annoyance.

 

Farah took a deep breath. They were finally here. It was about to happen. In a few minutes, she’d be a married woman.

 

The imam began to speak, and after ten minutes of advice and duas, he said, “Does Fatima, daughter of Ridwaan, accept Yusha, son of Ebrahim as her husband?”

 

There was a confused silence until Yusha spoke up. “Who is Fatima? I’m marrying Farah.”

 

In the men’s section, the imam looked up, confused. “That’s not what it says here. Is there a Ridwaan, father of Fatima, here?”

 

There was silence. The imam looked around. “Who is the father of the girl getting married? And who are the witnesses?”

 

Farah’s father, brother and uncle all identified themselves.

 

Back in the women’s section, the aunties were loudly whispering, and Farah felt like she was about to faint.

 

After ten minutes of further confusion, the imam finally began the nikaah again. This time, he used the correct names. Within a couple of minutes, Farah realised that she was officially married. After everything, she was finally married.

 

But that wasn’t the end of her drama.

 

Chapter 21

 

When Farah finally got to the wedding reception, the first thing she noticed was the three peacocks running around.

 

What was going on?

 

“Don’t come in yet!” Aunty Zulz ran out in her bright yellow dress, towards the car Farah was sitting in. 

 

“Why?”

 

Aunty Zulz was out of breath. “Yusha…just…got…here. He went to that rat-hole community hall first.” She panted as she held onto the car. “Muhammed, drive your sister around and come back in ten minutes.”

 

Muhammed sighed. “Ok. Farah, is it just me or has disaster been following you around since the first day you met Yusha?”

 

“It’s not just you. Maybe it’s us. I don’t know. But it’s too late now. We’re married.”

 

Muhammed shook his head. “Let’s go for a drive.”

 

Ten minutes later, Muhammed pulled up in front of the wedding venue again. It was quieter outside; it looked like most of the guests were inside.

 

Farah delicately stepped out of the car, careful with the train of her wedding dress. She slowly made her way to the entrance hall. Tasneem was waiting for her. 

 

“You ready?” Tasneem asked.

 

“Yip.”

 

“Ok—“ The sudden eruption of rave music rocked the halls. Farah and Tasneem jumped. “What’s happening?”

 

It ended abruptly, just as quickly as it had started. 

 

Tasneem led Farah to the doors. “Take a deep breath and walk in after Muaaza. When ‘For the rest of my Life’ by Maher Zain plays, that’s your cue.”

 

The doors opened and Muaaza was about to walk in when Farah noticed the door on the other side of the hall flung open. There was a pregnant girl decked out in blue. She started walking in and waving at the guests. Farah’s guests. Farah pulled Muaaza back. “Wait.”

 

The nasheed was paused and the sounds of loud whispering filled the hall. Who was this strange girl? 

 

Suddenly, the girl stopped. “Hey. This is not my baby shower! Where’s the diaper cake and the balloons?” she asked, turning in slow horror.

 

“Girl, this is a wedding,” someone muttered.

 

“Whose wedding is this?”

 

Yusha, who was waiting at the front of the hall waved two fingers at the girl before pointing to himself. “It’s mine. I think you’re in the wrong venue.”

 

Just then, five girls rushed in and grabbed the pregnant girl before steering her out. “Sorry!” they called over their shoulders. 

 

Farah just shook her head. At this point, nothing surprised her. Literally nothing. Not even the three peacocks who were lazily walking around the hall. 

 

This time when the nasheed started, Tasneem nudged Muaaza to walk in. The four-year-old happily waltzed in, throwing white petals in the air. Tasneem had to beg her to leave the Corn Flakes at home because that’s what she wanted to throw in the air.

 

Farah was about to walk in, when she saw Muaaza reach into her basket and pull out a piece of fabric. Farah’s eyes widened. 

 

Muaaza flung it into the air. It whooshed into the air, almost in slow motion before lazily landing on the boutonnière attached to Yusha’s lapel. The guests’ eyes widened in surprise. The aunties were whispering and the uncles were shifting uncomfortably.

 

It was Farah’s sad bra. The same one she had thrown in the bin. The same one that had landed on Yusha’s head the first time they met. How did it get back here? How was it in Muaaza’s possession? And why, oh why, was Muaaza obsessed with bras?

 

Farah felt the colour drain from her face. 

 

Yusha looked down and had to take a deep breath to keep himself from howling with laughter. He unhooked it from his boutonnière and it fell to the ground in a dull whisper.

 

Shenoo Khala, who was standing close by, grabbed it and tried to walk out inconspicuously, but it was nearly impossible. 

 

“It’s fine,” Farah told herself. “I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

 

She plastered a smile on her face and slowly started to walk down the aisle. But as she got halfway there, she felt a tug on the train of her dress. She tried to step forward, but it felt like it was caught on something. Slowly, she turned around. There was a little kid on it, happily drinking a bright green drink. 

 

The child’s mother tried to grab the child but she refused to move.

 

“Please can you move?” Farah asked through gritted teeth, as sweetly as she could muster. Inside, she was fuming. 

 

The child shook her head stubbornly. “No!” 

 

And then to the horror of absolutely everyone, she slowly poured out the contents of her glass onto Farah’s dress.

 

Farah screamed just as the mother grabbed the child. 

 

This was a nightmare, right? It couldn’t possibly get any worse from here, right? 

 

But, of course, it did.

 

Because the three peacocks rushed towards Farah’s dress and started pecking at the green liquid. Aunty Zulz, who watched the scene unfold in horror, summoned her husband to catch the peacocks and put them outside.

 

After what felt like years, Farah had finally made it down the aisle, albeit a ruined dress train. 

 

She collapsed onto the white couch, exhausted. Yusha walked towards her. 

 

“Assalaamualaykum, my wife,” he greeted, a smile on his face.

 

Farah looked up in surprise. “Huh, oh! I was supposed to greet you.”

 

“It’s ok. You attract disaster. And apparently, I’m a disaster. Because you attract me.”

 

Farah smiled. “I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

 

“I would never insult you.”

 

•••

 

Farah sighed. It felt like every single aunty of hers wanted to make a speech. It was mildly annoying. She was hungry and the guests were growing tired. 

 

She shifted uncomfortably, wishing that they could end the speeches. And then, someone familiar walked in front of the mic. 

 

“Is that some family of yours?” Farah asked Yusha.

 

Yusha shook his head. “I’ve never seen that uncle in my life.”

 

“I’ve seen him. He looks so familiar. But he’s definitely not my family.”

 

He started to speak. “Yusha grew up in front of me…” he began. 

 

Farah looked at Yusha. “You did?” she asked.

 

Yusha shrugged. “I have no idea who he is.”

 

“And I met Farah when I came to see her for a samoosa run.” Farah snapped her head towards the voice. The glass she had been holding slipped from her hands.

 

“Ya Allah!” she gasped.

 

The crowd gasped too.

 

“Who’s that?” Yusha asked.

 

“The uncle that came to see me! What the heck is he doing here? And why is he giving a speech?”

 

The uncle continued. “But Farah was too old for me. So I said no. I’m happy she has found someone good for her. And I’m happy to announce, I too, found my young bride.” He pointed to a woman that looked like she was nearing seventy. She was half bent over, unable to stand straight. Grey hairs peeked out of her hijab. The woman looked older than Khala Jaan. “I also wanted to say—“

 

Yusha’s father came to grab the uncle by his shoulders and led him away. 

 

“Is he that upset that I rejected him?” Farah muttered.

 

People were looking at Farah and pointing to the uncle, the whispers getting louder and louder. 

 

Aunty Zulz grabbed the mic and started concluding the speeches, hoping to get everyone’s thoughts off what had just happened. Although Aunty Zulz was a walking magnet of drama, her heart was in the right place.

 

Yusha’s father walked towards the bride and groom apologetically. “Sorry about that. I barely know him. We just acquaintances. Who invited him?”

 

Yusha’s mother shrugged. “We are so sorry, Farah. He said we invited him but we barely know him!”

 

Yusha shook his head, and Farah buried her head in her hands. This whole day seemed so surreal, and not in a good way. 

 

Twenty minutes later, the waiters and waitresses started bringing out burfee sojee, Greek salads, and steaming platters of biryani.

 

The guests started dishing out the food, and after a few minutes, a piercing scream filled the hall.

 

“AHHHHHHHHHH! SIES! SIES! SIES!” Fatima Ma started screaming dramatically. “WHAT IS THAT?”

 

Aunty Zulz peered into her plate. “What is that?” she asked more to herself. “Ruwi, go get the cook!”

 

“I don’t know! I touched it! It’s disgusting!” Fatima Ma squealed. “SIES!”

 

The cook rushed out. “Who dished out? This was not the pot you were supposed to dish out from!” the cook said in annoyance, casting an irritated look at the waitress standing nearby. 

 

Khala Jaan came to look into the plate. “Oh! There it is! She plucked the foreign object from the plate and popped it into her mouth. “I was looking for my teeth.” 

 

Fatima Ma took one look at Khala Jaan before fainting.

 

The cook shook her head. “I told them not to dish from this pot! This aunty was hovering over it and coughing in it!”

 

Khala Jaan looked at the cook, annoyed. “I was trying to help you fix the biryani. It looked so dry.”

 

“You put three liters of oil in it! It’s not fit for human consumption! Take all the biryani off the tables now! And replace it with the good one!” the cook ordered.

 

Fatima Ma began stirring slightly. Aunty Zulz was crouched over her.

 

“It’s you!” Fatima Ma accused. “Because my toenail flew in your mouth! You wanted me to eat your false teeth. SIES!”

 

“Calm down. It wasn’t me,” Aunty Zulz said.

 

“I’ll put your face in the biryani!” Fatima Ma was clearly irritated.

 

“I don’t even wear false teeth!” Aunty Zulz exclaimed.

 

“Then it’s jadoo! Who did jadoo? Finding teeth in biryani is funny business! They don’t want to see any of us happy. Take me now, ya Allah. Take me before the jadoo affects me!”

 

“Ey. What’s this old woman saying?” Khala Jaan asked. “Tell her it was my teeth. It fell off by mistake.” Then, to Fatima Ma’s  absolute horror, she took out her false teeth and waved it in her face.

 

Fatima Ma was fuming. She popped out her own false teeth and flung it at Khala Jaan. 

 

Khala Jaan gasped. “You old hag!” She took her own false teeth, which were still in her hand, and flung it back at Fatima Ma.

 

Farah and Yusha wordlessly watched the chaos around them. 

 

“What on earth is happening?” Farah exclaimed.

 

“Did someone drug the biryani?” Yusha asked.

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised. They’ve all lost it. This isn’t even a wedding anymore. It’s a damn circus. These clowns seem to be having fun, but I’m not!”

 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Yusha asked with a wink.

 

“Really?” Farah asked, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

 

Yusha nodded “You want to get out of here?”

 

“I sure do.”

 

And so, Farah and Yusha made a quiet escape, leaving the chaos and noise, far, far behind.

 

Epilogue

 

Farah slowly walked towards her husband of twenty years, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. “Can you believe we’ve been married for twenty years?” she asked, handing him a cup.

 

Yusha gave her that same playful smile he’d had since the first time they’d met. “On our wedding day, I was wondering if every day would be so chaotic. I’m glad things have calmed down.”

 

“Well, to be fair, we eventually escaped our own wedding. We literally snuck out!”

 

“Our parents weren’t too happy!”

 

“And neither was Aunty Zulz. But they couldn’t really fault us. After that false teeth fight, things escalated. I’m glad we didn’t stay any longer.”

 

“Me too. It was so chaotic.”

 

Farah laughed softly. “We had peace after that — well, mostly — I think we grew out of the chaos.”

 

“Alhamdullillah for that. I don’t think either of us had the strength to live through another decade with your family chaos.”

 

“Oh, please! Your mother is still traumatised by the bra incident at our wedding. And the false teeth fight. And basically our whole wedding!”

 

They both laughed.

 

“Although,” Farah said, raising a brow, “some chaos did follow us.”

 

“Like when Talha was five and told that uncle his hair wasn’t real… and then yanked his wig right off?” Yusha grinned, referring to their now fifteen-year-old son.

 

“Ya Allah,” Farah shook her head. “Or when Tahira asked that aunty why her moustache was ‘so thick like Nana’s?” Tahira was their now thirteen-year-old daughter.

 

“Or,” Yusha added, “when Talha announced to everyone you’re not having another baby, you’re just fat — when you were pregnant with Tahira?”

 

Farah choked on her coffee. “He shouted it!”

 

“They must’ve thought we had feral children.”

 

“Because we did!” Farah said, giggling. “Remember when Tahira finger-painted the lounge wall with Nutella and told everyone it was her ‘modern art’? Your mother nearly fainted. She thought it came from her diaper!”

 

Yusha was full-on howling with laughter now. “And Talha ran around with a fake mouse and wagged it in people’s faces because he ‘wanted to hear the people scream’!”

 

“Don’t remind me!” Farah said, still laughing. “I’m just glad those days are over. I want peace now. Peace and silence. No more surprises. No more—”

 

“—samoosa runs?” Yusha asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t joke like that.”

 

“Well, what are you going to do when you’re the one going on samoosa runs with Talha?”

 

Farah gasped. “No! Make serious dua that he finds someone with zero complications so there’s no need for any samoosa runs. In a halaal way, of course.”

 

Yusha sipped his coffee, amused. “And what about when it’s Tahira’s turn to accept samoosa runs?

 

Farah groaned and covered her face. “Don’t remind me! I already dread it. In-Sha-Allah, both of them will marry peacefully. No drama. No aunties. No bras on heads. No peacocks. No biryani incidents.”

 

Yusha chuckled. “That’s a lot of hopes.”

 

Farah looked up at him with a smirk. “After what we went through? Allah will definitely accept all my duas!”

 

He smiled. “Ameen.”

 

They gave each other soft smiles. 

 

And somewhere in the distance, a chair crashed, a teen screamed, followed by more shouting, and Farah sighed.

 

“…Or maybe we’re not done just yet.”

 

•••The end•••

 

JazakAllah and thank you to every single one of you who has taken out the time to read this story.

 

It is only through Allah that I have the ability to write and it is only because of Him that I have an audience that actually enjoys my stories.

 

Alhamdullillah.

 

This story was meant to be lighthearted, funny, and something to take your mind off everything happening in the world — so I hope I delivered.

 

That being said, let us not forget about Palestine. Keep them in your prayers. 

May Allah grant them victory.

 

•••

 

I have a few more stories available on my blog, if you haven’t read them yet. Head over to www.themusedrop.com 

 

Please do let me know if you would like more lighthearted stories like this or if you would like something more serious and deep (or both!)

 

This is only my second story where I dabbled in comedy. The rest are way more serious. I enjoy writing both.

 

Let me know what your absolutely favourite moment of this story was! Please feel free to send through all of your comments, constructive criticism, and thoughts.

 

•••

 

If you have already shared your samoosa run story, and if you would like me to use it in my next Samoosa run series, please private message me. 

 

PS: I do want to write another samoosa run series.

 

Peace and love