Uncut Diamond

Rat-a-tat-tat! The white ceiling fan kept making an extremely irritating sound. The appealing smell of tea waved from the kitchen. The winter sky was shielded with fog, preventing sunlight from penetrating through.

An average figure could be seen climbing down the stairs. One glance at that anemic face was enough to sweep away negative emotions. Five feet one inch was not an attractive height, pimples did not symbolize beauty. Yet, she was adorable in her own way.

“Saima, won’t you go to office today?” An elderly woman asked.
“Yes mom, I’ll be ready in a jiffy.” She answered between sips from a mug of mango juice.
“Come back soon. Some guests will come to meet you.” Mother and daughter exchanged meaningful looks.

Saima clearly understood who those guests would turn out to be. She loathed sitting in the midst of inquiring people, answering questions. Every time it was the same old word: “No”.

She could never figure out what was wrong with her.Concentration on building up a prestigious career snatched away many springs from her life. Now, in her mid-thirties, her parents realized that their daughter should be tied up in the essential social and emotional bond – Matrimony.

That evening, Saima wore a mask of make up against her will. As she colored her lips, a photograph on the bedside table caught her eye. A cascade of thick hair ran from the image’s head. Brownish complexion, flawless skin oval face – That was a flashback of her teen hood. Back then, wherever she went, a spell was cast on everyone. Whispers of admiration…envious eyes… The lady had gone through all of these.

She kept getting marriage proposals since early teens. Saima’s extremely conservative parents gave birth to her reserved, introvert attitude. She grew up to be a home- bound person, unaware of social life. As a result she could seldom be comfortable in front of guests. That was a huge constraint in her path.

A large group of guests arrived at Saima’s house that night. Mission – Judging whether she had the abilities to become a new member of that family. Mrs. Nasira Khan took a long time to observe Saima’s appearance. She came looking for a life partner of her only son – Javed. Everything should be seen before making a relationship.

“When did you pass S.S.C.?” Nasira looked coldly at Saima. Saima was used to these implications. Nasira actually meant: “How old are you?” Even a month before, the thirty-six-year-old lady got a proposal from a forty- year- old. The relationship did not establish only because the man’s mother thought that Saima was “too old” for her son. The mother wanted a twenty-five-year-old daughter in law.

This was not the only humiliation. Another mother refused to give her son’s hand in Saima’s because that mother searched for fair skin. Pimples - Second disqualification. Unfortunately, none of the men stood against their family’s dictatorship. None had the courage to protest.

Saima anticipated a similar incident again. The so called educated, mother’s pets, never had the vision to look beyond physical beauty. The young lady used to bring life to the non living walls with her realistic paintings. She prepared mouth-watering dishes. Her professional designation made many people envious. Yet, she was known as “The Ugly Duckling.”

All throughout the question-answer session, Javed remained seated on the corner most sofa. A slight tint of grey peeped from his black hair. Time to time, he took bites out of a chicken sandwich placed before him.

“We must leave now.” Nasira curtseyed. “We’ll call you later.” All except Javed prepared to leave. Nasira was not prepared for this sudden shock. Javed never disobeyed her. Then what caused this shift?

“Mom, if I have to marry, I’ll marry this lady.” Javed announced. Saima gazed at him in awe. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that a local gentleman had such a hypnotizing power in his voice.

Soft, instrumental music soothed her ears. She sat in a heart-shaped boundary of rose petals on her bridal bed. She sunk into the ocean of thoughts, her face covered in a gorgeous, red veil.
“Like the decorations?” Javed’s voice brought her back to reality.

Although he seemed busy with the newspaper on that visit with his family, Javed’s eyes were actually fixed on the different signs of Saima’s creativity spread across the room.
“You’re my uncut diamond, Saima.” Javed whispered, taking her into his arms. “I’ll train you to dazzle the world with your talents. You create magic with your hands, just the way I like.”

Saima smiled at her Prince Charming. Drizzles of pleasure swept away all her sorrows.


S.S.C.: Secondary School Certificate. A degree equivalent to O level.