mithai

“Mashallah. Allah is good. Allah is kind.” The old man with the daughter had tears in his eyes. The daughter remained silent but a shy smile had spread across her face. The man with the son was smiling benevolently. The son was beautiful. The driver was looking through the rear view mirror. The bus was silent other than them. People holding their breath. The moments stopping as if they were about to clap. The bus drove on empty roads. The forest came nearer.

A man stood up suddenly. One of the bearded ones. One of the religious looking ones. “I am a maulvi. I will marry them. Now more people said “Mashallah.” Not just the two old men. What a coincidence. The two could be married now. The women had knowing smiles on their faces. The men were happy through their gestures, clapping one another on the back, and through their words, giving encouragement to the old men and saying thanks to Allah.

Another man stood up. Scrawny. Skinny. Maybe a boy more than a man. He had a box lying by him. “I’m taking mithai to my uncle’s shop but you can have it in celebration of this joyous affair.”

Now the bus was louder.

“Stop the bus, driver” a man clapped him on the back. His heart was racing. Joy? Excitement?

His stomach felt a little queasy as he brought the vehicle to a halt, and the people began piling out. He waited for them to get out. For a split second, he almost wanted to close the doors and drive away. Then he shook away the stupid thoughts and walked outside to join the celebration.

The sun was bright. The maulvi was getting ready. The men and ladies were clamoring around the bride and groom to be. Excited. The maulvi cleared his throat. The mucous loud. He spread his heads, cupped them magnanimously to the sky and began.

“In the name of Allah, the most gracious, the most merciful.”

The sun was shining happily. The sky was clear and blue. The trees stood a ways off. The forest looked resplendent in this light. Birds were soaring above, chirping merrily. The smell of pine and fir danced in the wind. The ground beneath him was soft and he could feel his legs relaxing from the long drive. Soaking in the sun. The bus driver sighed looking at the sight in front of him. They’d be so happy. They’d be so sad. Marriage was complex. He remembered his own. They’d had their fair share of fights. But he also got two wonderful children out of it.

The ceremony was done. They were married in Islam. The boy began giving out sweets. He took one. It tasted bitter. He looked at the others. They were confused. He was sleepy. His eyes blinked. When they opened, some people were no longer there. They had fallen. They closed again. They opened, a few men were moving fast. The maulvi, the mithai waala, the old men. They were checking on the fallen ones? No, they were moving away from them. They closed. They opened. The sky had fallen. No, he had. Thieves. Highway robbers! And then he passed out. And would not wake up for forty eight hours.