Authors: Trent Reedy
We waited and waited, while out in the courtyard more and more women arrived. Finally, Malehkah snapped her fingers. “The veil. It’s almost time.”
I carefully helped her lift the veil over Zeynab’s head. Now, in the beautiful green dress that she and I had worked on for years, with the soft white veil over her face and her hair curled up atop her head like a crown, my sister literally shone. The sequins on the skirt of her dress sparkled.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
“So are you,” she whimpered through tears.
“I love —”
“No! What are you doing? No crying! You’ll make a mess of your makeup and your eyes will be all red.” Malehkah took Zeynab’s white wedding cloth from her pocket, pulled the veil back up, and dabbed carefully at her eyes. “You are not a child anymore, Zeynab. You can’t be crying like this. They’ll think you don’t want to get married. They’ll think you’re ungrateful. Imagine what they’ll say about your father if you go out there with all these tears. You have responsibilities.”
“But Madar, I —”
My father’s wife cracked her hand across Zeynab’s cheek.
Zeynab and I were silent and still. We stared at Malehkah in horror. Malehkah waited for a moment, her eyes wide, as though she was challenging us to defy her. Then she sighed, handed me the wedding cloth, pulled Zeynab’s veil back down, and went back to the curtain. “Remember what I have told both of you.”
We didn’t answer. Malehkah may have shocked the tears out of my sister, but she had also taken the last bit of joy from the room. She turned around and looked us both over. “He’s coming. Be ready.”
Zeynab turned her eyes toward the floor. She was not supposed to look at her husband. It was especially wrong to make eye contact with him. She sighed.
“Shh. Quiet,” Malehkah hissed.
I peeked around the curtain again. Finally, Tahir stood waiting in the front near the fountain. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair was flecked with just enough gray to make him handsome. Wrinkles in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes suggested wisdom and reminded me of Baba-jan. He wore a nice new embroidered perahan-tunban and several gold rings on his fingers. He was very tall.
“Oh, Zeynab,” I said. “He’s amazing. He looks so strong and sure.”
Malehkah nodded and opened the doors. “It’s time,” she said, ushering Zeynab outside.
The music out in the courtyard changed to something slower and more somber, and Tahir smiled, looking down as well.
Zeynab and I had often dreamed of her wedding day, but never had we imagined her husband to be so much older. Older, maybe, than Baba-jan. Still, this was the way of things, right? Baba was much older than Malehkah. Besides, Baba-jan loved us all and was certain that he had found Zeynab the perfect husband. I looked again at the big man who waited for Zeynab. He was established and strong. A good Muslim, to be blessed with so much wealth.
“Be a good woman,” Malehkah said quietly in my ear. She handed me a cloth-wrapped Holy Quran. “Do not disappoint
your father.” She went out and sat down on a rug near the front. I held the Holy Book over my sister’s head as I followed her slowly to the fountain.
Once Zeynab stood by Tahir’s side, they played around at whose foot would be in front of the other person’s. It was said that the foot that ended up in front belonged to the boss of the marriage. Zeynab finally lost, as was expected, and there were chuckles and murmurs from the women.
Then it was time for them to sit on their throne, the same small, red, cushioned couch that Hajji Abdullah had brought to our house for Zeynab last night. Now whoever was last to sit down would be the boss of the marriage. When Malehkah had told us all of these wedding rules, Zeynab and I had laughed, thinking these little rituals were cute. It was cute now, too, and I smiled behind my chador as Tahir and Zeynab each stood facing forward, neither one willing to sit down. Then Gulzoma came up to the front with her hands on her big hips and an amused frown on her face. She smiled at me and at all the women, then she put her hands on both Tahir and Zeynab’s shoulders, gently pushing them both down at the same time until they sat. Everybody chuckled and clapped. Gulzoma bowed to everyone and returned to where she sat near Malehkah.
Now I knew it was my turn. I took a deep breath and carefully placed the Holy Quran on a small table near the couple. I pulled my chador over my mouth. My legs shook and my hands were sweaty as I felt so many eyes watching me. I
was grateful, at least, that the men celebrated the wedding separately.
I felt a hand press my back and turned to see my cousin Khatira. She nodded at the green, lace-edged shawl on the table. Together we held up the shawl by all four corners over Zeynab and her new husband. Then one of the girls from the Abdullah clan brought a mirror and slowly reached around to hand it to the couple.
There in the mirror I watched these two people who would spend the rest of their lives together look at each other for the very first time. Tahir smiled broadly. Zeynab saw Tahir’s reflection and for just a moment, she had the smallest look of surprise. Then she studied his face, his dark eyes, the firm line of his chin, and his warm smile. She smiled too — smiled beautifully because she was so beautiful.
For an instant she looked at me in the mirror, and I, her sister, knew. Tahir was older even than she had expected. This was true. But she was happy. I nodded to the Abdullah girl and handed her my two corners of the shawl. Then I gave thanks to Allah for His book before I picked up the Holy Quran from the table. I held it above the heads of my sister and Tahir. Behind me, everyone went silent and in my heart I prayed for my sister’s many future sons, for her husband to be kind, and for her happiness. After I passed the Holy Quran to Tahir, he kissed the book and opened it. He read a few of the sacred lines, placed money in the book, closed it, and then kissed it again. I accepted the book back from him and care
fully placed it back on the table. With a nod to Khatira, I pulled back the shawl. My role in the arusi was finished.
Tahir and Zeynab held hands as they stood up and turned around to face everyone’s cheers and applause. The band struck up another song and people moved about.
Khatira and I sat down next to Malehkah and Aunt Halima. I watched Zeynab and Tahir stare straight ahead with unsmiling faces for picture after picture, as was expected by custom. They cut into a huge cake before they fed each other crumbling pieces. I wanted to go speak to my sister, but Malehkah held me back. “Stay out of the way and just watch.”
When the music changed to something more spirited, many women took to dancing. I wanted to join them, but didn’t like the thought of all those people staring at my mouth. I kept to myself with my chador covering me.
Malehkah rose to go get cake. “Here,” she said when she returned. She handed me a plate with a piece of cake and the sweet bread powder called maleeda. “The cake is a bit too dry, but you should try to enjoy yourself.”
“Bale, Madar,” I whispered. She was right — the cake was the worst I’d ever had. I nodded to my father’s wife. “Tashakor,” I said, happy to have something to do besides sit and watch.
Later, Tahir went inside to the men’s celebration, and my sister sat alone on the cushioned wooden couch, not allowed to join in the festivities at her own wedding. She nodded her thanks to each guest who congratulated her in turn. I waited for my chance to talk to her, but it never came. The line was too long. She sat right in front of me, and I already missed her.
Eventually, Gulzoma emerged through the glass double doors from the room where Zeynab had prepared for the arusi. Several women and girls, all of whom carried large platters piled with gifts, followed her. When she reached Zeynab’s side, she clapped her hands and nodded for the band to quiet down. “Everyone, thank you for joining us for this wonderful occasion.” She slid her arm around Zeynab’s shoulders. “Tahir is simply overjoyed to have such a pretty young woman for his wife. It is time to see just how much he loves her by presenting the dowry!” She held up a dark blue dress, then draped it over her arm. “Look at this dress! Such a beautiful deep blue! It almost matches mine. What’s next?” She looked at another platter and smiled. “Ooooh, what a necklace! Let’s just put this majestic gold on the lucky bride. In fact, there’s so much jewelry, let’s just put it all on this perfect doll right now!” She went on like that, showing off all the gifts, giving special attention to a chadri from Hajji Abdullah. There were at least three complete sets of new clothes and two chadris. My sister glittered with two gold bracelets and a pair of dangling gold earrings. Her sparkling gold necklace must have been heavy, thanks to the deep blue lapis lazuli pendant that hung from it.
When Gulzoma had finished revealing the gifts, Malehkah spoke quietly close to my ear. “It’s tradition to offer a gift from the dowry to repay the hostess for her kindness.” She groaned and stood up. When she reached Zeynab she bent down and reached around to the back of Zeynab’s neck,
whispering something in my sister’s ear. Then she removed the lapis lazuli necklace and offered it to Gulzoma.
“What?” With a look of openmouthed surprise on her face, Gulzoma held her hand to her chest.
“Tashakor, Gulzoma-jan, for such a beautiful wedding,” Malehkah said.
“I just couldn’t accept such a lovely necklace. I mean, I already have so many….” She put a finger to her lips. Then she shook her head and reached out to take the offering. “Zeynab is just so generous. How can I refuse such a kind gift?” She held the necklace up and people clapped. Then she nodded to the band and the music started up again.
“So much attention on gifts,” I whispered when Malehkah returned.
My father’s wife looked at me and spoke quietly. “Now, you are beginning to understand.”
After the sun had gone down and the stars sparkled brightly, Tahir returned and whispered something to Zeynab. They stood up together, her small delicate hand wrapped in his big, strong fingers. At once, all the women began clapping and whooping.
“Time to go,” said Malehkah. I stood up with her and helped her into her chadri. We followed the couple to the front of the house, where we met Baba, my brothers, and the other men. My family walked close together, all of us except Zeynab, who would never walk with us again. If I could feel her absence this much here among this great crowd, how empty would life be at home without her? I shook my head
and tried not to think of it. It was wrong to feel sad on such a happy occasion.
At the car, Malehkah’s family said their good-byes and offered to drive Uncle Ramin and his family to our house for the night. Then they’d drive home to Shindand. As for us, we would go to Tahir’s house in Farah to say good-bye to Zeynab and to wish her well in her new home. Tahir and my sister climbed into his long white Toyota, which had been decorated in green, orange, and white ribbons and flowers.
In our Toyota, nobody spoke until my father started the engine. “HA! A wonderful day! Tahir Abdullah is a good man.” Baba clapped his hands before shifting and swerving to get a good position close to the marriage car. “He’s rich and getting richer! He will take good care of Zeynab, and he’ll make a wonderful husband!”
I smiled at Baba’s enthusiasm. Malehkah sat stiffly in the backseat with me, probably frowning under her chadri like she always did. Habib squirmed in my lap, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep.
“And you, Zulaikha. Tahir tells me you did a marvelous job at the wedding. Tashakor. It’s all so good! Tahir is lucky to have a nice, young wife instead of just those two old crones.” My father laughed. Even quiet Najib smiled and chuckled a bit. Baba loosened his tie. “And thanks to some of the arrangements I’ve made with the Abdullahs, we’re going to be making a lot of money!”
Malehkah turned to look at me. She patted Khalid, who was sitting between us, resisting sleep. She seemed to watch
me for a long time through the mesh window in her chadri before she turned away and stared out the window. Our car rolled on through the dark desert, following the red tail-lights of the car in which my sister rode with her new husband.
“See?” My father’s shout jolted me awake. He ducked down so he could see Tahir’s house past Najib on the passenger side. “What a fine big house. What did I tell you? Cement block walls. A second story being built even now. A fine match we’ve made for Zeynab.”
We left the boys sleeping in the car and followed Tahir, Zeynab and Tahir’s family … Zeynab’s new family … up to the compound. Baba stopped and admired the house for just a moment, smiling and nodding before he led us inside. Feeling half asleep, I pulled my chador over my mouth as I entered the compound. Then the band started playing. Tahir had hired a band! A man smiled while he played a rubab. Another slapped out the rhythm on the tabla drums. A third squeezed and worked the keys of a sparkling harmonium as he sang about the greatness of Allah and the wonder of marriage. The cement pathway led across the courtyard to the cement front porch. Both the path and porch were lit by rows of candles on each side. After the women had removed their chadris, Tahir took my sister by the hand and walked her toward the house.
An older woman emerged from the front door. Her silver dress complemented her long gray hair. She grinned as a younger woman with shorter hair and a bluish green dress joined her. The first kept her smile as my sister climbed the
two steps to the porch. “I’m Leena,” said the older woman. “Welcome to our home.”
“My name is Belquis.” The second woman stepped aside from the door. “Please come inside. We have tea ready. And food if you’re hungry.”
Tahir’s wives showed us in, where a beautiful woven rug covered the floor and a platter stacked high with some naan, oranges, bananas, and pomegranates sat next to a teapot and about a dozen cups on a polished wooden table. A small electric light hung from the ceiling, and back in the shadows the family watched us. There were at least six small boys and girls. I also saw a girl my age and a couple boys who looked a little younger. A young woman, maybe one of Leena’s daughters, held a small baby of her own. I made sure to keep my mouth out of sight behind my chador.