By Nabeela Kapery Noorani THE DIARY OF A BROKEN GIRL-NOVEL: PARTS 5-10 For days I would stand under the same tree in the hope that just maybe, she would pass by. She always did. It became the event that I looked forward to each day. For so many years I was completely oblivious to women and what they could do to a man just with a mere glance. To my disappointment, it appeared as though I never existed. Every day, at precisely the same time, she would make her way out of the library and very briskly walk toward the west wing gate, onwards towards the girls’ dormitory. “Are you stalking me? You do know that is an offence in this institution right?” That caught me by surprise. I waited for her to walk into the distance each day until she was completely out of sight, and then I would proceed to make my way back to do whatever I was doing before. I didn’t hear her dainty footsteps turning after me as I turned around. Her voice was stern and irritable yet sensual at the same time. If I died listening to her voice, the chances are I would most probably have died a happy man. She was modestly dressed in a full length summer dress and her headscarf, but from what I could see, she had a toned athletic frame, yet at the same time, so delicate and feminine. Her face, was the face of an angel. There’s no other way to describe it. Those large emerald green eyes were the most captivating pair of eyes I had the pleasure of glancing into. Her full lips were a soft pink colour. Her beauty was too surreal for this world. It took me a few moments to register what she had said, which only further upset her. “Did you hear me? I asked why you are stalking me.” My brain and tongue found each other again. “Oh, sorry yes I heard you. And no I am not stalking you. I guess I could ask you the same thing. You always seem to pass me by.” “Are you seriously suggesting that I am stalking you?” “Well no, maybe it’s just a coincidence that you happen to walk by hear every day at the exact moment that I stand under this tree.” “Or it could be that you are watching me and waiting for something?” “Something like what?” Okay slow it down Qays. She is obviously not amused. Just calm yourself and ask her what her name is. “May I ask what your name is?” “Why do you need to know?” “Listen, if I am going to keep stalking you, we might as well get to know each other.” And then her face softened into an iceberg-melting smile. From that day on Khulood slowly became the center of my Universe. I became so undeniably dependent on her,so irrevocably in love with her, I barely noticed anyone else. She would continue to deny her mutual feelings, but I knew she felt the same. She could lie all she wanted to, but her eyes couldn’t . I remained patient though, because I now knew exactly what her circumstances were, and what her family life was like. I knew how important maintaining her academic record was. At times I would sit so still and silent, just listening to her stories and encounters, in complete awe of her. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, living the protected and lavish life that I have, while she grew up in darkness and depression. While I sipped on exclusive spring waters sourced from beneath the depths of the most unimaginable places on Earth, she searched for water that would not make her too ill. While I dined on the finest, most expensive produce money could buy, she went hungry. The more I heard, the more disgusted I became with my kind of upbringing. While she spoke, reminiscing about her past, tears would well up in her eyes, and each time she did so, my heart would just break over and over. The more she opened up, the more vulnerable she became. This only drew me in closer. I became so protective over her, ever vigilant of anything happening to her that could cause her more pain. I would listen to her conversations with her parents, and wonder what they were like. The conversations were always the same. It would start off with smiles and laughter, and end off in sobs. I constantly offered up my arms for comfort, but she would always respectfully decline. That was the last time she refused them. One particular day, she received a phone call from back home. Something was wrong. She never received calls, she made them. “What’s the matter? Is everything okay?” It was her cousin Ahmed from the West Bank. He did not have great news. She listened in shock, with bloodshot eyes, followed by cries of anguish and pain. She didn’t need to explain. Her parents were gone from this world. She had nothing and no one any longer. Helpless is a word far beyond what I was feeling. Suddenly I felt awkward and unsure of everything, except one thing. One thing I knew for sure. “Marry me Khulood. You don’t need to be alone anymore.” And then she fell into my arms. As she calmed herself and quieted down, she was able to relay to me the details further. It was a bomb blast. An Israeli rocket was fired and ripped through their home. They were killed in an instant. Besides wanting to be with her, I now felt compelled to. There was only me, and nobody else. At times I felt guilty for taking advantage of her situation. The only reason she started accepting my kisses and cuddles because she needed them. I became her only source of comfort. Khulood was unlike any other girl I have ever met before. She was never interested in the gifts I gave her. She didn’t even know what things like Gucci, Chanel or Prada was. I would take her shopping and show her all these beautiful things, but she just shrugged. As we approached the food court however, she lit up. The way to her heart was through her stomach. Soon came the realization that I had actually proposed to her, and that she accepted it. Thinking about it left me feeling so disorientated and disheartened, because I knew the reaction I would receive from my mother and father. For all I knew, there was already a girl of their choice lined up for me. The immense pressure left e sleepless for many nights. During these times I sat on my prayer mat, asking Allah for guidance, for I didn’t know the way forward. So many times it left me more confused than I was before I started praying. Finally after so many nights of praying, begging to be shown the right path for me, I gained some clarity. My way forward became crystal clear. It must have been 2, maybe 3 in the morning when I called my father. It couldn’t wait I had to tell him then and there of my plans to wed her. I expected the reaction that I got. I listened for a good 20 minutes on the phone to my father scolding me, telling how indecisive I was known to be, how stupid this sounded and that it will never be tolerated. I was to be cut off from my whole family if I went through with it. I didn’t care, I now knew how insignificant being wealthy was. “Father, please stop. I am going to marry her whether you approve or not. I will let you know when it has been put through. Talk to you soon.” I hung up the phone and didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I was too excited to see her and tell her that this was really happening. I got up, got showered and changed and dressed up as if I was off to see the queen. I made my way out to the nearest shopping mall in search of an engagement ring. I spent hours, most of the day searching for the perfect one. I knew her so well already, I knew that a huge rock would not impress her. Just a simple design with a dainty stone would look perfect on her finger. We met at our usual meeting spot, just outside the girls’ dormitory. I could see her in the clearing walking towards me. And as she did so, my heart began to pound out of my chest. Get yourself under control, I told myself. As we met, I noticed the strange look in her eyes. Something wasn’t right. “Qays before you say anything, I have to tell you something. I am transferring to Ammaan University in Jordan. I was accepted in the nuclear physics program. It really will be better for us both. I can get away from all these memories and you can do what it is your parents want for you.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. Someone or something had driven a stake through my chest and was prying it open even further. I knew this was my father’s doing. He had used his power to transfer her and talked her out of our marriage. He turned her against me. “Qays lets not fool ourselves. We were just friends comforting each other while there was nobody else there. We want different things in our lives. I am quite sure that I was only reliant on you out of vulnerability. I am not in love with you. I’m sorry.” Lies. All lies. I could see it in her eyes, they never lie. She fought hard to keep those tears back. I could hear the quiver in her voice. I moved forward and reached for her, but she moved away. “Goodbye Qays. My plane leaves tonight. I wish you all of the best. You will find someone worthy of you. But I am not for you and you are not for me. I don’t have room for anyone or anything more in my life.” That was the last time I saw her. She walked out of my life and took it with her, along with my will to live. Nothing could fill the void. I became a lifeless corpse at that place. The few friends I did have stopped spending time with me because I had nothing to offer. I pined for Khulood day and night. I returned home after the semester and never returned. I didn’t see the point of continuing. There were too many memories I needed to get away from. Life continued pretty much to become a useless and fruitless effort everyday. I had no contact details of her, save a single email address which she refused to answer to, and later, I’m assuming, deactivated. From that day I really doubted my parents’, but more so my mother’s love for me. She watched me suffer day in and day out, she allowed this to happen. I guess I couldn’t really blame her. She most probably had never experienced true love for herself. She was married to my father in much the same way as anyone else in our society. They were all arranged marriages, not that I find anything wrong with it, but their own parents did not have their children’s best interests at heart. All their fathers cared about was strengthening business ties. It was more like mergers than marriages. I grew to resent my mother, because I tried talking to her, telling her how I felt. She offered me no words of encouragement. I started hating her, maybe even more so because I resembled her in every way. I had her light blue eyes and dusty blond hair. This son that she claimed to love so much, she could not empathise with. Soon the profiles started pouring in. Most of the girls I knew from some place or the other. Some I attending elementary schooling with, others from my high school. And a few others from social parties, or they were someone’s niece from somewhere out of town generating much the same level of interest for me as the others I knew of. I always had girls throwing themselves at me, and being blessed with a good physical appearance didn’t help, because that was how I knew they couldn’t care less about the person I really am, what my goals and ambitions were. There was just one, I knew to be very different from the others. Her name was Nawwaal Wardi. I remember her from elementary school. She was quite unique in comparison to the others. Word was that she returned home to Beirut not too long ago from completing her schooling in London. If I was going to be forced to be with someone I could never love, it might as well be someone I could find things in common with, and live with harmoniously. My father became very pleased when I enquired about her, not knowing that my feelings for Khulood never decreased an inch. I still lost sleep over her, and longed to be with her each second of every day. Going out into town, and seeing lovers interact with each other caused me heights of pain I never knew existed. I prayed that she was not going through the same. The very week after making all the enquiries and arrangements, I prepared to meet Nawwaal for the first time in 10 years. I remember her as being very shy and timid, she never spoke very much. She had fair milky skin, and very blues eyes, almost turquoise. Her hair always hung in long pigtails, as black as night. She had pink cheeks and a chubby little body. The chubbiness was the least of my worries. What I needed the most was someone I could befriend, someone I could talk to. That very night, our meeting was scheduled between the 2 families. In she walked, and could not have been any different from the way remembered her. She had changed completely, yet remained the same. Her eyes were still dark bright blue. They were intense, almost commanding. She still had rosy cheeks and rosebud lips, perfectly formed. She was most definitely no longer on the chubby side. Her body had evolved into that of slender frame, perfectly formed, from what I could see. She was a sight for sore eyes. Undoubtedly, one of the most attractive young women I had ever laid eyes on. Eventually I had the chance to talk to her. She spoke English with a perfect London accent. She came across as a lady both educated and polished. “So then, Nawwaal, what are your interests? What are you passionate about?” “Well, what are your interests? What are you passionate about?” This was the first girl not too self-absorbed to only think about her own interests. She sat calmly with her legs crossed on the patio chair with one hand under her chin, eyebrows arched waiting for my reply. “Pretty much horses, books, cars and golf.” She giggly softly. “Qays, you have not changed in the least.” “But I think that you, have changed completely Nawwaal. You used to such a shy, quiet girl who never spoke a word. Now you seem to be a confident woman oozing intelligence and charm. I like that a lot.” She blushed. My mother as well as my father spoke the whole way back home about what a catch I had bagged. And yes, I did not disagree, she was indeed a catch. Any man would be lucky to have her. But she was not Khulood. And she never would be. I would probably grow very fond of her, and like her very much. Maybe even grow to love her. But I feared that I would never be in love with her. Something that I knew she deserved. Something I could not offer. Another dilemma. I took to my prayer mat once again. This time after just one night of seeking guidance, I received a straight answer- a yes. A resounding, 100% positive yes. “Okay, okay Allah,” I spoke aloud, “I will take your word for it. You know better what is in my best interest than I do.” The next morning, we received news that Nawwaal had accepted the proposal and agreed to the marriage. And just like that, preparations for my wedding were put through. I didn’t know if I was coming or going. One thing was for sure though. Khulood was still keeper to my heart.
Posted on: Mon, 04 Aug 2014 15:58:37 +0000
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