Dawaar Mehmood. He was an enigma, sometimes even to his own self. A part of him was in search, yearning to find out who he was and where he stood in life, his fingers that were always wrapped around the thin frame of his sleek pen had the powerful urge to wrap against his hand and turn them over, to read between the lines of his palm, to find himself between the twirling ones. From work to home, and from home to work. His identity was left to that alone, in fact, his best friend had to for the most part drag him out of his office for a simple lunch.

Dawaar had a tan skin, the only one that sported one in a family of fair skins. He had sharp brows and chiseled cheek bones, with dark brown eyes that blended in with his pupils for most of the time, the only who sported that trait in a family of light colored eyes. His raven hair was coarse and straight, curling if it ever felt like it. He was different. That much was understood in silence since the day of his birth, his parents knew. He did not blend in with the uniformity of his family, and that was where it began, the pushing him into a shell.

Dawaar was born into a family of marble merchants, the best one in the province. Money was never a problem, he always had what he demanded, or his father tried to. The cruel words his grandmother threw at his mother in his childhood had forever carved themselves into the sinews of his mind. The accusations on his innocent mother for having an affair, because he was nothing like his father, the torture at school from the hands of his cousins, everything was the reason why he was so cold to everyone. Everyone except his parents.

First chance he got, he moved his parents out of the family home into a luxurious home in the suburbs of DHA. Dawaar had started from scratch, he had denounced his inheritance. Not a single part of him wanted to be associated with his paternal family. They had left wounds on his soul, the kind which could never heal. Those words that had tarnished his self respect, ruined his self worth in his own eyes, would never be undone. Wealth had found its way to him from his hard work and the will of God, as was the case with everyone.

Dawaar had established a factory that dealt with refined sugar and produced paper. His father had given him some capital, and his mother had given him her entire inheritance that she had received after the death of her father. He had worked day and night, his eyes would burn with unshed tears as he slept a bare two hours, back to work before the sun was on the horizon. The early days were tough, Dawaar could feel the sun on his back most nights as he stood under the blazing heat of it, sweating alongside the workers. But the relief that followed after, was a sweet one.

He fixed the ironed collar of his black kameez, running his fingers through his hair. Contemplating in deep silence wether he wanted to ruin his morning by driving his parents to the home of his grandparents. His beard was neatly trimmed, not a hair out of place, the dial of his wristwatch sat cooly on his palm, the scent of his spicy cologne filled his senses. He wrapped his hands on the table top, his nails digging in to them, deep shaky breath escaped his parted lips.

"Da–waar?" His mother called.

"Are you okay?"

She held his jaw inside her hand, her eyes full of worry. He nodded in silence, kissing the inside of her palms.

"I'm perfectly alright ma," his voice carried no hints of worry.

"You're lying to me!"

"I am not. I would have told you if that were the case".

His eyes held sincerity, staring down into the slightly red eyes of his mother. He knew she too, put up a façade of strength for his father. Arriving at her -in law's was a struggle for her too. They had stained her reputation, told her that her only child was a bastard, had it not been for his father, any mother man would have beaten her or divorced her, leaving her to the streets. So her worries, and pain were justified.

"You're the biggest liar Dawaar. You always keep secrets, where has my innocent son gone?"

"Idhr hi hun ma. Kahin nahi gaya ap ka beta". He smiled.
[I'm here mother. Your son has gone nowhere.]

"Jhutay. Tumhari itni fikar lagi rehti hai mujhe, na ab doston sai miltay ho, bas ghar mein rehtay ho. Tumhari zinadgi mein kaam keh ilawa reh kia gaya hai?"
[Liar. I'm always so worried for you, you no longer hang out with friends, just stay inside the home. In your life what else remains other than work?]

His mother was speaking the truth. Bitter, hard cold facts that cut through his heart. Staring at her worried face he gently wiped the tears that had made their way out of her kohl lined eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on top of hers. The two stood in complete inanimate silence. His mother sniffed, the signs of the well put together Rumana Mehmood, finally beginning to show as she straightened her veil, resting her hand on his shoulder squeezing it tight.

"Ab mein apni bahu la kar rahun gi, samjhe?" Her voice was full of warning.
[Now I will bring my daughter -in- law, understood?]

"Jo ap ka hukam".
[Whatever you say.]

Dawaar assured her. All he wanted was for her to not feel upset again, even if it meant making promises he was not sure he could keep himself.

He led his mother out of his bedroom, his father waiting from that the foot of the stairs. Mehmood Amir, was a man once envied by many. Women had thrown themselves at him any chance they got but he had, relentlessly stuck to his wife. Even when cheating rumors about her began to sprung up, he believed in her. Leaving his family was a tough job, it had taken a toll, gifting him with greying hairs and a smile that no longer reached his eyes as powerful.

Dawaar greeted his father, thanking him for the eidi, before leading them towards the garage where their driver had already started the car, the air conditioning on at full speed. He took the passenger seat, in silence. His fingers gripped the seat belt, the car rolling out of the marble floor driveway. Towards the streets where it had all started. The home where life had played not one but many cruel jokes with him. The very one he, with all his might, never wanted to return to.

But for some beginnings, going to the end is important.

📜

Dawaar stepped out of the car with regretful steps. His shoulders sagged for a second before they stilled at their usual place, full of pride and might. He opened the car boot, holding the large gift basket his mother had put together for his family, flowers, bangles cakes and what not rested inside them, covered in a thin pastel pink net. His palm flexed under the jute base of the basket, sunglasses still covering his dark brown eyes, shielding them from the sun and his grandfather's poisonous gaze.

Amir Jahangir, despite nearing his seventies was still as full of pride as a man in his young twenties. His hands were always wrapped around a thick walking stick, tapping it along the floor with all its might. He hugged his son, ignoring his daughter-in-law and grandson, turning on his heel he lead them to the energetically charged living room where everyone awaited. Amir and his wife, Shubana had three children, two sons and a daughter. Each of them was well settled in their own lives, their eldest born son, Mehmood had moved out a pain that still pinched at their chests.

After Mehmood, they had a daughter, Mariam. She had been married to an industrialist, Shakeel at the age of eighteen. Her parents had tried with their full might to convince her to enroll in to a university but she had set her eyes on Shakeel in the first year of classes and got married to him shortly after, leaving her education in the middle. The two had only one child, Rehana a reward of the many prayers. Amir's third and last born, Maghfoor had married his own cousin, Maya. First year after their marriage they were blessed with a son Tayab and shortly after that with their second son Tahir.

As he placed his foot inside the living room it seemed as if a ghost had entered and not their family. Dawaar's broad shoulders brushed the doors frame, his back hunched over to prevent his head from hitting the top of the frame. He stood out like a sore thumb with his height, another point their family used against him and his mother. The silence was deep and profound, he could feel his heart beat inside his chest, waiting for someone, imagining in his mind who, would be the first one to greet him — who would be the first to throw a taunt his way.

Dawaar's facial muscles twitched with unease, his aunts and uncles rushing to meet his father and their children following suit. He along with his mother left to stand in the corner of the room, the cold calculative gaze of his grandmother taking their frames in. Her hands rolled over a thick strand of rosary beads, her grey hair hidden under the white cotton veil, a gold nose ring grazing her wrinkled skin every now and then. The woman was just as terrorizing as she was since day one.

"Defence ki hawaun nai lagta hai ap ko bhula diya hai keh is ghar mein kis taraha raha jata hai". And it began.
[The air of defence has perhaps made you forget the way we live inside this house.]

His grandmother was targeting his mother. It was no surprise that the old woman hated her eldest daughter-in-law, for not only was Rumana Mehmood a woman of great courage but she was a woman that had gained heights of success in the field of engineering when no one could have imagined it. Now retired, her life was a bed of roses — she deserved it after the pain life had given her at her young age.

"Eid keh din tou na aisi baatein karein," his father sighed.
[Atleast don't talk like this on the day of Eid.]

"Ammi rehnay dein bhabi bura na maan jain, unko kahan riwayat ki kadr hai". His aunt, Mariam taunted.
[Mother let it be sister-in-law might not like it, after all she doesn't care much about tradition.]

"Mehman aye hain bahu, inko paani tou dein ap," Amir cleared his throat.
[Guests have arrived daughter-in-law, serve them water.]

Dawaar noticed as the women walked out of the room, save for his aunt who brushed her hands over the sofa, before settling on it crossing her legs against each other. He lowered his gaze to the thick Persian rug, a headache already managing to stifle the muscles of his jaw. He clenched his fists, feeling the immediate urge to have tea, cursing himself for not having agreed to have some when his mother offered it this morning. Perhaps he had held too much hopes from his family.

"I assume you will stay for lunch at the very least," Amir looked at his son.

"If you don't want us around just ask us to leave." Dawaar replied in his father's stead.

"Badtameez!" His grandmother sounded furious.
[Mannerless!]

"Amma he is a kid, ignore him. And yes aba we will be here for lunch, we don't have any plans as of yet anyways".

"Tell your son and wife to control themselves. We have a potential business partner coming over for lunch," his grandfather nodded.

"With all due respect Amir Sahab, my mother has been nothing but kind to you."

"Yeh tarbiyat ki hai tumhari maa nai?" His phopho retorted.
[Is this what your mother has taught you?]

"Nahi, apni ma keh liye kharay hona ap keh bhai nai sikhaya hai mujhe".
[No, to stand up for my mother is something your brother taught me.]

"Mehmood I told you should have married your khala's daughter. What has this city girl done for you?"

"Amma, Dawaar please. Just for once sit in peace". His father sighed.

Dawaar had an uncontrollable urge to speak but his mother clenched her hand around his wrist, a warning inside his eye. She did not want her son to blow everything her husband had tried to keep intact up with one blow of his breath. He did not deserve this.

"Dada your guests are here!" A huffing Tahir came into the room.

Nodding, the man motioned for his family to follow behind him. A black range rover had just turned into the garage of their large home, an elderly man along with a young woman stepped out. They seemed to be laughing at something the woman had said. Dawaar stared at her, trying to remember where he had first seen that face. His eyebrows were pulled together in a frown, before it finally settled on to him, she was the woman whose bangles his mother had asked him to give to her in the bazaar.

Dressed in an orange dress she looked like the brightest rays of sunshine itself. Her face was pulled in a wide grin as she greeted everyone, the returned bangles grazed her wrists. Evoking in him feelings that he had pushed down since last night. They returned to the surface with full force, a cough falling out of his lips. His mother looked at him, following his gaze to where it seemed to be stuck, a smile followed it shortly and he groaned. The woman was planning something sinister he was sure.

"Kaleem who is this young flower?" His grandfather patted her head.

"Did you finally get married?" His grandmother smiled.

Kaleem Khawar was an eligible bachelor of his time, who till now had refused to get married. The blush and awkwardness that filled his female companion, made Dawaar upset — he felt like hitting his head in the wall. Why was he feeling like this? He should not even care about this woman he had hardly seen for two minutes.

"Nothing like that, I'm still as single as ever. This right here is Zaara, my best friend!" He brushed it off.

"She's probably friends to eat your money Kaleem". Maghfoor Amir added.

"I don't need his money. I have plenty of my own, plus he has already willed whatever he has to my name, it's more like he want's to eat me!" Zaara joked.

"What?" His grandmother seemed to be terrorized.

"Tsk—Zaara is my younger brother Khubaib's daughter. My best friend, she had nothing better to do so I asked her to accompany me".

Dawaar's ears relaxed, a flush filled his neck and cheeks, he was thankful for the tan skin that hid his emotions well. He blinked his eyes, rubbing them under the façade that something had went inside it. For the first time in years, he wanted something or someone for himself.

And what he wants, he gets.