Creatives Oct-Nov 2019

The Unexpected
I sat down at my desk and sifted through the mail that had been placed in front
of my computer. All junk of course. I was about to dump it all in the recycling bin
when I saw my favorite magazine at the bottom of the pile. Tossing the rest aside,
I snatched it but something unexpected fell out from between the pages- divorce
papers. The smooth white paper suddenly felt heavy in my hands. I dropped the
bag in the bin with the silky paper still in my hand. I adjusted my glasses to make
sure I was reading it carefully. As I once again read the title on the paper: “Divorce
filed” written in bold and underlined.
Shazia and I have been married for over five years now, and we have a two year
old son, Abdullah. It seemed absurd for her to file for divorce, we have been a
happy married couple, and I’ve always tried to be a rational husband, straying away
from the conventional depictions of a desi husband. We never quarrelled over
unnecessary issues, and tried to make the most of our little time together, as she
was a full time neurosurgeon. Although I had observed that lately Shazia had been
taking advantage of my leverage. She disliked spending time with Abdullah and on
the weekends she had started to become too occupied with her friends. I pointed
that out on multiple occasions, and I remember her being argumentative about it
and calling me, “narrow minded”. But I never expected her to file for divorce.
Just like any other couple we have had our share of problems. I also have my own
set of issues, but there was nothing that can not be resolved.
I refuse to let my son grow without the affection of both, his mum and dad, he is a
two year old. I can not put Abdullah through the misery of having divorced parents.
I took him in my arms, stroking his face lightly, and brushing his auburn colored hair
from his face, he looked so peaceful as he sucked on his pacifier, so tranquil even in
times of utter chaos. I pressed him against my chest, gently cradling him. What have
I not done to be a good husband? What do I have to pay the price of being a bad
father?
I clenched the divorce paper and grabbed the car keys from the coffee table. I
called out, “Ruqayya! Stop washing the dishes and please look after Abdullah, while
I go run some errands.” Ruqayya immediately catered to Abdullah. Ruqayya was a
maid that had been working at our house for a year and a half as Shazia was always
too busy with work to look after our child.
Grief stricken, I started the car, breathing heavily as I steadied my hands on the
steering wheel. Yes, Shazia had been busy, but she had never been disrespectful.
She was humble and loving, this seemed out of character. I was overwhelmed with
rage, as I slammed the sheet of paper on the passenger seat pressing it down from
the center.
The Creatives|15