It was noted that the primary mosque was bustling with activity. Every individual was adorned in voluminous attire and large shaddas, and it was evident that preparations for a wedding ceremony were underway. A young man, dressed in extravagant clothing and a substantial shadda wrap, stood outside the mosque, closely monitoring the time. He anxiously glanced at his wristwatch while keeping an eye on the path leading to the mosque.
Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to find another young man, similarly attired in elaborate clothing and a hat. Clearly perturbed, he muttered, “He’s 20 minutes late, Arif. Even the deputy imam of the mosque has sanctioned the wedding for you. Everyone is waiting on a single person. This isn’t ideal.” He shook his head in disappointment. Arif, the one referred to, replied, “I know he will come. Let’s just give him a little more time. Uncle Hamma is just…” Before he could finish his sentence, his friend interjected, “Sociopath.” Arif nodded in agreement, knowing that Arif would have said the same thing.
A large jeep was parked in the adjacent lot, designated for parking. At the Dasauri mosque, a multitude of people had congregated, coming from various places. The driver of the jeep showed utmost respect by crouching down and carefully examining the passenger in the car. He respectfully said, “Welcome, Uncle Imran.” The man in the car appeared to be at least 48 or 49 years old, clad in a soft milky suit. He possessed a thick beard, long black hair, and thin, delicate features. His prominent eyebrows accentuated his healthy minister’s hat. His eyes, though initially dazzling, seemed to be tinged with a milky white hue. His nose was elongated and slender, and his lips were full. He turned his attention to Arif, who remained seated on the ground, devoid of any smile or cheer, and yet his countenance betrayed no signs of sorrow or discomfort. Instead, his face exuded warmth and compassion. He seemed to be speaking as he softly uttered, “Arif.”
Arif responded with utmost respect, “Yes, Uncle Imran,” raising his head briefly before bowing it again. Imran, in his composed manner, remarked, “Get up; your clothes will get dirty.” Arif complied without objection. As he emerged from the car, it was evident that he was a well-built individual who maintained his physical health through a regimen of healthy eating and exercise. He swapped his shiny Givenchy shoes for a pair of glasses, revealing bright eyes. He addressed Arif, who remained on the ground, asking, “Shall we go?”
Arif replied, “Certainly, Bismillah, Uncle.” They proceeded without any inquiry about the distinctive fragrance of Uncle Imran’s cologne, as it was something everyone present desired. Silence pervaded as he handed out envelopes of money. They entered the mosque, and Arif’s friend announced, “Arif’s guardian has arrived.”
The ceremony unfolded swiftly as Arif and Salma were wed with a dowry of 500k, followed by a heartfelt prayer from Uncle Imran. Arif’s friend summoned another acquaintance, and everyone congratulated the newlyweds. As they exited the mosque, Uncle Imran bid farewell, saying, “May God bless you, Arif.” Another friend named Muhammad commented, “Well, he’s pretty much like this uncle of mine. He’s been the best since elementary school. If it weren’t for his somewhat haughty manner of speaking, you’d wonder why no one attends this mosque except for the preacher in his trousers and beard. Isn’t he flawless?” Arif shot Muhammad a disapproving look and replied, “You wouldn’t understand, but I do.”
