“Husband and family,” she snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Why not?”
“I have not even completed one full year here at KDP. The road is too long for me to make my own life before there is a husband and a family.Ifthere is a husband and a family, that is.”
“We’ll see.” Her mother reached out and switched off the night lamp, pushing her away from the duvet she was tamping down. Amaal crawled to her side and lay down on her own pillow, letting her mom do the hard work of throwing the duvet over them both.
The room fell silent. Only the wind whistled outside.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“How old were you when you met Dad? 23?”
“22.”
“And you married at 24?”
“And had you at 28 after I completed my studies.”
“Nowadays, girls can’t marry so young.”
“If they find the right man, then why not?”
“Men are all kids at 24 now.”
“True.”
Amaal sputtered, turning over and spreading out in her favourite running pose to go to sleep.
“Your bosses don’t seem like boys.”
“They are in their 30s…” Amaal clamped her mouth shut.Shit.
“Samar.” Her mother pronounced. Amaal did not respond. And her mother did not ask again. It was good to be Samar sometimes.
13. The year was winding to an end…
The year was winding to an end, as was her first year at KDP. As Amaal stood in the middle of her entire team, and other core teams that had been cultivated through this year, in a vast farm in Budgam, she stared at the evening winter sky to count the number of events. And realised that it had been such an eventful year that she could not keep track.
“Why is this girl standing without any food?!”
Amaal smiled before turning around. Safiya Begum was waddling towards her, patting at people’s backs, checking if their plates were full, pushing them to the long table of homemade buffet that was laid out on her verandah. She was Zorji’s wife, as old as him, and so graceful with her glossy silver hair and kind hazel green eyes. She was just as sassy. A rare combination. She had been so generous to not only open her farmhouse to host the KDP offsite retreat but also make so much food along with the caterers that Atharva and Adil had hired.
“Huh?” She came to a stop in front of her. “Where is your plate?”
“I am going in a minute.” Amaal held her hands up.
“It will go cold, come on, go,” Safiya Begum took her shoulder and nudged her towards the table, air misting out of her mouth.
“You have never been this insistent with me, Begumjaan.” Adil pushed a big bite of Naan filled with Rogan Josh into his mouth, walking to them as the second host. “Do some khatirdari for me also.”
“Do I need to?” The older woman glanced at his plate, filled to the point of overflowing.
“I am not shy,” he bantered. “But you should make sure that everybody is eating well. I have arranged this offsite with such pains at your house. Amaal knows.”
“Hey,” Amaal interjected. “What?”
