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A family friendly chapter, out of respect for Ramadan.

Ramadan Mubarak (2022)!

qanootshahid14 pointed out that the name 'Farhad' was a perfection combination of Fawad, Arhaan and Ahad. It was unintentional, as I only wanted a resemblance to Fawad's name, but well spotted!

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Iman

There was utter chaos, the kind of chaos that makes you want to laugh and bang your head against the wall at the same time.

And in the centre of all this drama, lay a little baby, happily gurgling away, sucking at his fist.

It was time for Farhad Taif Bukhari's first flight to Pakistan, where I was going to spend two weeks with my parents

My husband looked worried. "Iman, it's a long flight..."

Because my parents had sold off their home here, Mama had only been able to come for a couple of weeks to help me out after Farhad was born. She and I had both stayed at the annexe connected to Hania Appi's house, because there wasn't enough room at my family home. Mama had been unable to stay longer than two weeks, and none of us had forced her too much either because it was clear that she wasn't comfortable staying, technically, at one of her daughters' marital homes, especially without Papa. But she had left plenty of tips and advice for me, and told me that I could call her anytime, no matter what time of the day it was.

As for my father? He hadn't even met Farhad yet, and I was excited for that meeting. 

Taif helped me pack our son's baby bag as I checked to make sure that I had all our documents. We'd only just received Farhad's first ever passport recently, and look at my little adventurer, Ma Sha Allah, all ready for his first plane journey!

"Taif, relax. Have faith in me. I can handle it." I reassured him. "Just admit it. You're going to miss me so much that you're making excuses for me to stay."

"I'm not going to miss your cheekiness." He muttered.

"Oh, yes you are." I lifted up our son, and pressed my cheek against his, staring at my husband. "Look at all this cuteness that you will be deprived off for a couple of weeks." 

Taif crossed his arms over his chest, staring at us fondly with a small smile on his face. "My adorable son definitely takes after his father." 

"Aww, your naïve misconceptions are so adorable, Taifu!" I smirked mischievously at him.

"One of these days, I need to see your birth certificate." He looked thoughtfully at me. "I'm sure the place of birth is located in another planet. You're truly an extraordinary, out-of-this-world person, Dr Iman Fawad." 

"Sorry to disappoint you, Taif, but I was born in our place of employment. I was literally born at my workplace. How many people can actually say that?" 

****

Even as Taif walked me to security, he was still expressing his worry.

"Taif, babe, I will be juggling motherhood with being a doctor, and later a surgeon, In Sha Allah. Taking a flight with a newborn baby is nothing." I tried to soothe his worries once again. "I can handle it." 

"What if you get too tired to hold him and..."

"And he falls of my lap, God forbid?" I sighed. "Babe, they give basinets for this very reason, so babies can sleep in there. As soon as the cabin crew give me one after take off, I'll place Farhad in there." 

Maybe it was separation anxiety? After all, Farhad was barely two months old, and Taif hadn't been away from him like this before. 

"I'm his mother, Taif. And if you can't trust me to be able to take care of my child, then this is a matter of concern for us, don't you think?" 

"Iman, I'm not worried about his health and safety. I know he'll be in the best hands around you."

"Then what are you worried about?" I asked softly. "It's literally just an eight to nine hours flight, a direct flight, and In Sha Allah, Mama and Papa will be there on the other side to meet us." 

He was looking down at Farhad who was peacefully sleeping in his Yoyo buggy, a pushchair that is folded small enough to fit into an aircraft overhead compartment with the hand luggage. The pushchair was purchased specially for the convenience of travelling with the baby.

"Taif, is there something you're not telling me?" 

"I just feel guilty that you have to do this on your own. I swear, if I could have gotten even a week off, I would have accompanied you." He blurted out.

"You don't trust me." I frowned. "So, that is the case." 

"No, Iman, of course not. I trust you more than I trust myself with Farhad. But he's my responsibility as well as yours, and flying with an infant is not easy and I really didn't want you to go through it alone." 

I gave him a small smile. "I'm Iman Fawad. I embrace challenges, and maybe this is another one. But this little guy here is my son, and I'm determined to have a wonderful first flight with him." 

"I love you, Iman." Taif embraced me. 

"Love you too, Taif." I said as we pulled away a while later. "Look, Appi and Hamza Bhai both said that you shouldn't hesitate to call them in case you, Ammi Jaan or Baba Jaan need anything." 

I actually wished my sister was accompanying me, but the kids had school. 

"Your family, as usual, is wonderful." Taif smiled, before bending down in front of Farhad. "Alright, little buddy, you're going away for a while, but don't forget your Papa, okay?" 

I smiled, shaking my head. Taif loved and adored his son, like any other father, but my husband still found it hard to show his affection. He always looked uncertain about how to behave with Farhad. I moved forward and unbuckled our son from his seat and stepped back. Taif lifted him up in his arms, and kissed both his cheeks carefully, as if worried that his glasses might hurt him. He changed his nappies regularly, and stayed up rocking him to sleep, sharing duties fairly with me, but never having been around young kids, Taif was slowly getting used to showing fatherly affection.

And suddenly, my husband was holding our son against himself, cradling the back of his head and kissing his temple. He looked like he really didn't want to let go of our baby boy. 

"We have to go, Taif." I said softly, after having taking enough photos of two of the three most important men in my lives. "Farhad needs to meet Fawad. In Sha Allah." 

Taif carefully buckled Farhad back into the pushchair, and we embraced one more time before I headed through airport security for the first time as a mother- not counting when I was pregnant.

****

I changed Farhad's nappy before boarding, and breastfed him as well. Fortunately, the airport lounge had baby changing rooms with comfortable seats designed for mothers to breastfed their babies, and I relaxed in there while feeding him.

"So far, so good." I muttered as I pushed the pram down the jetty and towards the aircraft door. As I approached the entrance, I took Farhad out and folded up the travel-convenient buggy. 

The cabin crew warmly greeted me, and one helped me to my seat, enquiring me about whether this was Farhad's first flight. I glumly glanced towards the Business Class seats, as I was led to Economy Class. Gone were my flatbed, private seat days. 

I was given a bulkhead seat, and I was told that the basinet would be provided after take off. 

And suddenly I started to feel nervous. It was going to be a nine hours flight! Would I really be able to manage on my own with Farhad? I was a first time mother, with no previous experience similar to this one. Would I cope?

I then rolled my eyes at myself. You're planning to open people's chests for a living, and you're fearing flying with your own baby?

I'll be fine, In Sha Allah.

****

I was an exhausted zombie as I stepped into the terminal of Allama Iqbal International Airport. My hair was a mess, my eyes were red (as I had checked in the bathroom mirror shortly before the seat belt signs had been turned on for landing), and I had been thrown up on by Farhad shortly after facing mild turbulence. 

To add to my misery, the Yoyo buggy, which had been very costly even from a second hand shop, got stuck and wouldn't open, which meant that I had to carry a newborn, a baby bag, my handbag and a stuck buggy all the way to immigration. It was only halfway when a girl in her twenties felt sorry for me and offered to carry the buggy and the baby bag for me as she had nothing but her handbag. I envied her because at one point in my life, I used to travel in that carefree manner.

Well, that wasn't all. I had a mini-heart attack at Immigration when I couldn't find Farhad's passport. I found my own, but not his, and I was too close to bursting into tears for my own comfort. Fortunately, I found it- for some very odd reason- in my son's baby bag.

Focus, Iman. Keep all your documents together, for Allah's sake! I was annoyed at myself for being so disorganised. I was certainly not eligible for any 'Most Organised Person' awards before, but ever since I had started my career, I had been trying to improve. 

"I envy you." I told my son. "You're just obliviously sleeping, not even realising the drama that I have faced." But then my maternal heart melted. "But may Allah always keep you away from problems and harmful drama. Ameen." 

Finally we cleared Immigration and it was time to pick up our luggage. Taif had handled it at Heathrow, and I would have handled it here if my son's buggy wasn't stuck. Porters were rushing to me to offer help, and eventually I surrendered. It would be much easier for me for someone else to completely handle my luggage.

I felt sick with exhaustion and lack of sleep, plus I felt a little dehydrated due to not drinking enough water/liquid. This wasn't good for Farhad either, and I had to fix it. 

Finally, finally, with Farhad's buggy and baby bag placed on the trolley with the other luggage, I trudged after the porter slowly, holding my son carefully in my arms. As I exited the hall, I felt weak, ready to collapse.

My parents had told me to wait. They had said that they would visit in a couple of months, when Papa had annual leave. Taif said that he would accompany me if I waited three months as he had annual leave. I had insisted on travelling alone. I had even booked my ticket and then informed my parents. I was just overexcited about my son meeting my father for the first time. Papa was already a Nana Jaan for Appi's kids, but this was the first time from me. I'd been looking forward to the first most important man in my life meeting my firstborn ever since I'd been pregnant.

Why don't I ever listen to my parents?

My tired eyes looked around the arrival hall, ignoring the gazes of hundreds of curious people standing awaiting friends and family arriving from various destinations. I only wanted to see two people right now, nobody else. 

Someone shoved me from behind as they passed me by, and I almost lost my grip on Farhad. My heart shot up straight to my throat and I held my baby son tightly as I turned to glare at that person. "Watch it, you pr**k!"

"Two thousand rupees." The porter suddenly demanded.

"Two thousand rupees? Are you nuts?" I stared at him in disbelief.

"Have you seen how busy it is, madam? I helped you through the crowd, and I'm actually reducing the price by fifty, but no more." He shrugged.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm not giving you two grand for this!" I snapped.

"You agreed on this price inside!" He said.

"No, I didn't. I'm not stupid." I shook my head. "Five hundred rupees, that's all I'm giving you." 

"Are you crazy?" He was getting irritated. "Give me my payment or..." 

"Or what?" My voice rose. "Are you threatening me?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "You have no idea who you're messing with, mate. I'm not intimidated by people like you. Do whatever the hell you want, you are not getting a rupee more than five hundred." Farhad started whining in my arms and I glanced down at him, rocking him gently. "There's something called humanity, dude." I glared back up at the porter.

"Bachay khud paida karte ho aur phir muft ki khidmatain expect karte ho." He muttered.

*"You have kids out of your own choice and then expect free services for it." 

"Iman." Papa appeared beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and glaring at the porter. "Is there a problem?" 

"He's asking for two thousand rupees, Papa!" I glanced up at him. "I'm not familiar with the currency difference, but that sounds ridiculous!" 

"It is ridiculous. He is ripping you off." My father nodded. Taking out his wallet, he slid out five hundred rupees and handed it to the porter. "Take it and get lost."

"This is less than I..." The porter began to protest.

"You try and rip off innocent people, this is what you deserve." My father said simply. "I would have given you more, if it was not for the way you behaved with my daughter." 

The porter began to argue again, but one look at Papa's expressions, and he scurried off, pocketing his five hundred rupees.

"Papa." I sagged against him, relieved. "Assalam Alaikum." 

"Walaikum Assalam, Iman. Why can't you ever arrive anywhere without drama?" He chuckled, kissing the side of my head. 

I grinned. "Drama is in my blood. Speaking of which, where is Mama?" 

"Behave yourself." He gave me a mock warning look, even as he looked amused. Then his gaze went down to Farhad, and he reached forward to take my son in his arms. "Assalam Alaikum, Farhad." The way he looked at my son with pure delight obvious on his face made me smile as well. "Ma Sha Allah! He's just like his father." He kissed his youngest grandchild's cheeks. 

"Allah, Fawad! There you are! You just strode away so quickly!"

I whirled around and saw Mama approach us, looking out of breath. I rushed to her, unable to hold back my tears any longer. Throwing my arms around her, I hugged her tightly. "Assalam Alaikum!"

"Walaikum Assalam, Mani." She hugged me back tightly, sounding just as emotional. 

"Of course I walked away quickly. That porter was trying to connivingly rip our daughter off." Papa told her. "I had to step in." 

"Well, technically, he didn't fool me and I wasn't scared, but thanks for stepping in, Papa. I am too tired to get into fights right now." I sighed, turning around, but keeping an arm around my mother.

Mama and I both smiled at the tall figure of my father as he held onto my tiny baby son. It was an adorable sight, Ma Sha Allah.

"Aapki choti patakhi ka beta." Mama's voice broke with emotions as she spoke to Papa. She walked up to them and reached up to place a hand on my son's cheek. 

*"The son of your 'choti patakhi'."

Finally, both of my parents were holding my son. It was a sight that I wanted to lock away in my mind forever, to cherish it for the rest of my life. Two of my most favourite people in the world holding one of my newest favourite person. 

My parents were smiling adoringly, sometimes at Farhad and sometimes at each other. A teenage version of me would have thought that nothing I did would ever make my parents as happy as they seemed now, and this moment was a huge slap in the face of my teenage rebellious self.

Then my mother glanced towards me and she frowned. "Iman, are you okay?" 

"I will be now." I told her, tiredly.

****

I fell asleep after feeding and changing Farhad at my parents' house. I had no idea how long I slept, but it had been a while since I'd had an undisturbed sleep. Mama promised me that she would take care of Farhad while I rested.

When I came downstairs feeling refreshed, it was around five in the evening and my parents were in the living room. The TV was displaying some breaking news, but both Mama and Papa were focused on Farhad.

My son was in Mama's lap, and they were both staring at him as Papa sat beside Mama, quietly discussing stories of when I was a newborn baby.

As I entered the living room, they both looked up.

"Good rest?" Mama smiled at me. "Shall I get you something to eat now?"

"Just sit and enjoy your time with your newest grandchild. I'll find myself something to eat." I grinned. "Apna hi ghar samjhoon, right?"

*"I should consider this my own home, right?" 

"Apna apna hi to ghar hai, Iman." Mama shook her head. "Everything that is ours belongs to you and Hania." 

*"It is your own home, Iman."

I smiled as I made my way to the kitchen. Taif and his parents treated me like royalty, even though we weren't financially too strong. They adored me and took care of me, and I had no complains about any of them.

But there is a whole different feeling about being at your parents' house. 

"Saas Sasur jitne bhi ache hon, Maa Baap to maa baap hi hotay hain." Dado used to often say.

*"No matter how nice your parents-in-law are, they can never compete with your parents."

"How are you, Iman?" 

I was startled and I turned to see Mama enter the kitchen. "Mama, meri jaan, I told you I'll get something for myself..."

"Do you not know me?" She asked. "Sit."  She gestured towards the kitchen table. "How about some French toast?" 

"Yes, please." I sat down. My eyes widened. "Farhad?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, I left your son on his own!" She shook her head. "Iman, he's with your father. Believe me, Fawad is more than capable of looking after his grandson."

I groaned, placing my face in my hands. "That's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I guess jet lag is settling in, and I'm not thinking straight." 

She smiled. "Once, when Hania was a newborn, I dozed off briefly as she lay on the bed beside me. I woke up, and I remember that brief heart attack moment when I wondered where she was, although she was right there beside me. I've had that feeling uncountable times, with both Hania and you." 

"Is this what people meant when they use the term 'Mom Brain'?" I wondered out loud.

"Well, jaan, considering everything your body goes through during pregnancy and childbirth, can you really blame your mind for anything?" As she walked around the kitchen, preparing French toast, I noticed that she was limping slightly.

"Why are you limping?" I demanded, standing up, feeling a wave of overprotectiveness rising inside me. 

"It's nothing, Iman." She shook her head.

"Come and sit down." I strode over to her and gently grabbed her arm, leading her back to the table. "Sit down. I'll make the French toast."

"Iman..."

"Why are you limping?" I stared at her, concerned.

"You're acting like Fawad right now." She looked amused.

"Mama." I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "Explain." 

"I just had a little fall, okay? It's no big deal." 

"No big deal? You fell and you're saying it's not a big deal?" I asked. "Does Papa even know? Does Appi know?" 

"Iman, it's actually impossible for me to hide things like this from your father, even if I wanted to." She laughed weakly. "And, for Allah's sake, don't tell Hania. She'll start crying. It's okay. Your father took great care of me when this happened." 

"When and how did this happen?" 

"Iman..." 

"Mama, please tell me."

"I was coming downstairs, and I didn't turn on the lights in the stairs." She stood up and grabbed my hands. "Iman, stop..." 

"Stop?" I repeated, blinking at her. "Do you have any idea how much Appi and I worry about you and Papa? You guys are so far away from us, and it sickens us literally with worry, that Allah forbids if you both ever actually need us in an emergency, we won't be able to just jump in a car and come." I was tearing up now. 

"Iman, meri jaan, I understand your concern. Your father and I have both lived away from our parents abroad, so we know how you feel." She stroked my cheek in a way that only a mother does. "But we're surrounded by family. Your Arhaan Mamu lives next door, and your Ahad Mamu lives across the street." 

"I hate this. You guys moved here because of me." 

"No, meri jaan, your father and I wanted this anyway."

"But you moved prematurely because of me!" 

"Mani, you're a mother now." Mama's gaze on me was as soft as her voice. "Think about everything you'd do for Farhad, and maybe then you'll start to see that your father and I will happily make any and every sacrifice for you and Hania. As parents that's not an inconvenience for us, meri jaan, especially if it helps our daughter, or daughters, in some way." 

"Don't ever use the stairs without turning on the lights when it's dark." 

"I've already had that lecture from your father." 

I reached out and squeezed her hands. "People say that sons are the supports of parents in their old age, but I want to prove that wrong. You and Papa are our responsibility, and I will take care of you, no matter where I am, In Sha Allah. But you have to help me out a little please, and not act clumsily." 

"Your mother is not as young and graceful as she used to be." She gave me a sad smile.

"When were you ever graceful?" I giggled. 

"How dare you?" She narrowed her eyes at me, lightly hitting me on the arm, as we both laughed harder.

"Love you, Mama, meri jaan." 

"I love you too, my sweet Mani." 

****

Fawad

I cannot describe my feelings as I held Farhad.

He was my grandson, the firstborn of my choti patakhi. It was truly wonderful to just sit here and watch him as he slept in my arms. Yes, he looked like Taif, but as he slept now, he reminded me of that baby Iman who always used to sleep peacefully in my arms. I remembered times when I'd sat at my desk in my home study, reading up various patient cases, our doing research, while holding Iman on my lap, or against my chest. Even through toddlerhood, she used to curl up in my lap and sleep there, with the very same peaceful expression that Farhad had on his face now.

I kissed Farhad's forehead and his eyelashes moved slightly, but he kept sleeping. 

If Papa had been here today, he would have been absolute overjoyed to see his beloved Mani's baby. I couldn't help thinking as I remembered how particularly fond my father was of my younger daughter. While Ammi often told Iman off and was stricter with her because of her cheekiness, Papa always sheltered her, and he was the one my choti patakhi always turned to when she wanted to complain about Ammi or me. Mina's complains were naturally directed to either the Sheikh grandparents, or Arhaan. Yes, Ma Sha Allah, my cheeky Mani had been smart since a very young age. 

Mina entered the living room and came to sit down beside me.

"I thought you were making French toast." I then cheekily added, "And my coffee..."

"I got told off by our daughter." She smiled. "She asked me to sit while she'll make French toast... and your coffee. We both just knew that you'd want a cup."

I laughed. "We're at the stage where our daughters will be telling us off."

She ran a hand over Farhad's head, before leaning down to kiss his tiny hand. "Our Hania and Iman are both mothers now, Ma Sha Allah. And yet, I still vividly remember the time I found out that I was pregnant with Hania." 

"I don't know why, but it's just hit harder now that Mani's a mother too." I tilted my head back, looking up at the sofa. "Her career ambitions kept reassuring me, that she still had her medical education, that she still had to officially become a doctor, but even that time flew by. And now I'm holding the firstborn son of Dr Iman Fawad in my arms." 

Mina ran a hand through my hair now. "Did you ever doubt that she'd get here? Career wise, I mean." 

I looked at her. "She has disappointment us, like all of us have disappointed our parents at some point in our lives. But no, I never doubted her. I knew she'd eventually get here, because Iman Fawad has always been determined to get what she set her mind to." I paused. "Did you doubt her?" 

"No." She immediately shook her head. "Because if you think about it, Fawad, she's more like you than we ever realised: the same rebellious stage, the returning to the right path, the ambitiousness, everything. I think in one way or another, she's reliving your life, just with a slightly different story. This is how I knew that I shouldn't doubt her. You got where you are, and she's your daughter, she's always looked up to you as her hero, so of course she would also find her way there. In Sha Allah." 

"Wow, I'm actually being complimented for once." Iman joked as she walked in, carrying a tray containing a plate of French toast, and three mugs. 

"I've always been proud of you, Mani." I told her. "Yes, you've been a bit of a brat, but who hasn't been out of all of us?" 

"Appi." Iman grinned. "And I mean it genuinely when I say that Hania Appi has never been a brat." 

"That's a fair point." Mina nodded.

I chuckled. "Yeah, can't deny that. At least we didn't completely fail, Mina."

"Of course you didn't. So what if Appi wasn't a brat? We all still love her." Mani winked at me.

We laughed at that.

Iman's phone rang in the kitchen and she jumped up to her feet. "That must be Taif!" She rushed off.

"Now she seems like your daughter." I teased my  wife. "Always excited to hear from the husband." 

"Hilarious." Mina muttered, but she was smiling. She glanced at Farhad again. "No matter what, Iman is one of the strongest females I know, Ma Sha Allah. She can get through anything and everything. I have full faith in her." 

I looked at her with admiration. "I wonder where she got that strength from." 

"Well, she had incredible role models, like both her grandmothers, her Phupho, her Mumanis..." Mina shrugged, looking thoughtful. "And, she rarely admits it, but she has, that she's always looked up to Hania for her compassion and kindness." 

I held Farhad against my shoulder and kissed the side of his head, as I cradled the back of it. "Yes, but you're missing the obvious one, Mina, the one she has said so herself is her role model."

"She was just saying that to make me feel better." She shook her head. "I'm not a role model for strength, Fawad, that's ridiculous." 

"You fought for your life to give her life." I reminded her. "And nobody knows better than I do what you've faced in your life, mainly from my side of the family."

"I faced it for your sake, and your sake only."

"Regardless of who you faced it for, Mina. Not a lot of people have the strength to keep on facing the things that you have faced, and to not give up. If it was someone else, she would have divorced me for the drama that my relatives had caused." I wrapped an arm around her, while carefully placing Farhad in her lap. "You were strong for the sake of love, but you were strong nevertheless. Hania and Iman grew up witnessing this incredible strong woman, so of course they both would end up strong." 

Her eyes filled up. "Why do you always find a way to give me credit?"

"Because I'm whipped." I winked at her. "But also because I only give due credit, jaan. You say that Iman is like me in many ways, but as someone who loves writing, shouldn't you know how to read between lines? Iman's love for family, her overprotective streak, her own way of putting family first, where do you think she gets that from?" I kissed her temple. "You've always underestimated yourself, Jasmina Fawad, but you are an incredibly strong woman, Ma Sha Allah, and you have made our daughters stronger." 

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me.

Mani returned into the room, frowning. "Why is Taif so annoying? I've barely been away two days and he has stopped caring about his meals. Husbands!"

Mina laughed. "Yes, it's especially worse when they're doctors, who are supposed to know better." 

"I know right, Mama?" She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back in a few seconds. I need to get my charger from upstairs." She began to walk out, and paused, her back still towards us. "No arguments, no discussions. You both are my role models in your own ways. Career wise, Papa, and when it comes to balancing the family and home life perfectly, Mama." 

"I never understand when you say that, Mani. Why would a girl who will one day, In Sha Allah, be a cardio-something surgeon, look at me as a role model?" 

"Because you gave birth to that girl, and you raised her." She grinned at Mina over her shoulder. "And most of all, it would take an incredibly strong person to raise an Iman Fawad." She walked out then.

I looked at Mina, who was smiling to herself, even as a tear slid down her cheek. Meanwhile, Farhad was now staring up at her in awe. "Oh, look, another admirer of yours." I chuckled.

"Fawad!" She shook her head.

"Thank you for my Hania and Iman. You won't believe it, but I know that subconsciously they have learned how to be strong from you." I lifted Farhad up again. "Come on, buddy. Let's go and annoy your Arhaan Nana." 

I carried my choti patakhi's little boy out, in my mind relieving the times when I used to carry my baby Iman around. 

From being childhood family friends, to being a married couple, to becoming parents of Hania and Iman, then in-laws, and eventually grandparents. Mina and I had lived a lifetime together, Alhumdulillah.

Where had the time flown by?

****

This was just a bonus chapter, to give you a glimpse of Iman as a mother. Yes, she isn't as openly affectionate as Mina was shown, or even Hania, but as we all know, our Iman has a different way of showing her love. For Iman, family will always come first, even if she initially didn't realise it.

Thoughts and comments?

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