How many percent sure are you?"

 

Last Session__

Sharp features, large dark eyes, and meticulously combed short hair. Dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, a young man sat before me, carrying centuries of exhaustion on his face. He looked at me, wondering where to begin... (In the first session he looked like this; today was the seventh session.)

"Doctor, for three months one thing has pained me deeply: even the right to cry has been snatched from us men. If something hurtful happens and tears well up in our eyes, we’re told, ‘Men don’t cry’..."

"I saw your page twenty days ago. I read many sessions. Three days ago I was in mental anguish that words can’t describe. I felt like wailing out loud, but..." You could feel a lifetime of sorrow in the young man’s tone.

That handsome young man let out a long, cold, sorrowful sigh and said:

"Doctor, there was no one to hear me cry except my little angel... Pearls would glisten in her dark, dark eyes, and I would remain forever silent... like a fish quiet in water..."

"Doctor, when I read the session of that young man who said, ‘I’ve come to you to cry,’ I impulsively texted you. But when you didn’t reply for an hour, I became extremely restless. As soon as you shared your number, I started calling repeatedly."

"Doctor, three years ago I brought my wife home with so much love and excitement. I fulfilled every legitimate wish of hers, and many illegitimate ones too. A year after marriage, her behavior started turning very bitter. On every other matter, she began behaving very rudely. I would respond with a smile on my face."

"Many times she was so rude to me that it descended into abuse and foul language. I would lovingly tell her, ‘Look, this really hurts me.’" The young man’s voice seemed to rise from the depths of the earth.

"Sir, for the past six months she hasn’t even stopped from speaking ill of my late father and my mother..." The young man bowed his head, tears dripping from his eyes.  

We didn’t even know how many moments passed.

"A month ago, we had an argument over a trivial matter, and she used such filthy language that I kept sinking in shame in my own eyes... and I was holding my little angel close, swallowing my tears..."  

"I’m a man—how could I hurt my little angel by crying in front of her, by raising my hand at her mother, or by shouting and traumatizing my innocent daughter?" There was world’s worth of sweetness in the young man’s tone, and decency dripped from it.

I felt like kissing the hands of that 'man' who had upheld the honor of our gender and proved what it means to be a man.

"Doctor..." The young man’s mournful voice made the atmosphere so heavy with grief that I felt everything around us was crying...  

"I want to cry more, I want to cry so much that the water in my eyes runs dry." There was agony in his tone.

I got up from my seat and placed my hand on the young man’s strong shoulders. His shoulders were like the pillars that bear the weight of the earth.

Very gently I asked, "Would you like coffee?"  

He stayed silent. I offered water and ordered coffee.

"Doctor, my wife wants a divorce from me. I’ve asked her the reason many times, and she says, ‘I just don’t feel like living with you. You’re a psycho, you’re wild, you don’t even know how to live.’"

"She says, ‘Until you give me a divorce, I’ll keep tormenting you like this.’"

"Doctor, I love her, and she’s also the mother of my daughter, so I don’t want to divorce her."

We had coffee, and I had the young man do breathing therapy. I told him to walk, to drink more water, and in the third session, his wife was also invited.

When I asked the wife the reason for divorce, she said, "I just don’t feel like living with him. He’s a very strange person." For forty minutes I kept asking questions, turning the conversation, but got nothing. So I asked, "If you’re so fed up and your husband is so terrible, why don’t you take _khula_?"

The girl hurriedly replied, "*__ says that khula..." I stopped the girl and asked, "Who is this *_*?"  

Color drained from the girl’s face. Sweat appeared on her forehead. Her tongue began to stumble.

Suddenly she switched to English: "He’s a cousin of mine."

"Look," I said in a very firm and extremely serious tone, "I read eyes. They are the mirror of the soul. And one very important thing: when a person lies, shows anger, or speaks in a flustered state, they start using another language."  

"I’m a doctor, so you can talk to me. Don’t be afraid. While solving many problems, a person sometimes gets trapped in such a problem that they don’t understand what to do, and they end up making numb, serious mistakes."

"Doctor, I’ve been friends with a boy for a long time. ‘We’ve met many times’ as well, and now I want a divorce from my husband and to marry him..." She was telling me while staring at the floor.

"Okay, tell me, is that boy ready to marry you?"  

"He says, ‘First get the divorce, then the marriage will happen.’"

"Will you take your daughter with you?"  

"Haven’t thought about it yet."

"Is that young man handsome? Or is he financially very strong?"  

The answer to both questions was no.

"Okay, then what is it about him that makes you want to marry him?"  

"He cares for me, compliments me, talks to me, takes great care of me..."

"Okay, tell me this: The one who fulfills your legitimate and illegitimate wishes, who wholeheartedly accepts your rule over the entire house, who sets the table himself and calls you to eat, who gives time to his daughter, who helps you, who tries to talk but you don’t have time away from your phone—is that not taking care?  

Is that not love? Is that not caring?  

You can order whatever you want whenever you want. He tolerates so much rudeness and insults to his parents and still says nothing—is all of that not love, affection, devotion?"

The girl was silent, head bowed. "Think about these things today. And your husband is now ready to give the divorce. He’s being mentally prepared. You tell that boy today that it’s just a matter of a few months, he should get ready." (Session ended.)

"What do you think, will he marry you? How many percent sure are you?"  

"I’m one hundred percent sure."

"Okay, did you tell him you’ll get the divorce?"  

"Yes, he’s happy."

"Did you talk about wedding preparations? Your shopping?"  

"He says, ‘What’s the rush? Let the divorce happen first. Let’s get to know each other a bit more for a few months, and you can also roam around freely for a while. And we’ll get married after some time.’"

The girl turned on her phone and played a recorded voice of his. The boy’s way of speaking was largely mocking and careless (I can’t write the whole session).

"He will ‘have fun’ with you for a few months, and then it’ll be you, loneliness, regrets, and crying every day. No one will even come to your door. Here, a virtuous, quiet girl who takes care of the whole house—if she gets divorced, no one forms a relationship with her..."  

"Come out of the dream world and recognize your reality. Stop his expenses for a few days, and then tell me what he says."

Today they were both sitting in front of me. The wife’s body language had changed a great deal.

"Doctor, after the last four sessions, I’ve started feeling a strange kind of change. I can feel the difference between empty words and real caring. I’m also starting to understand that boy’s ‘extra sweet’ behavior on special occasions."

"Ever since I slightly restricted the expenses, his behavior has become very strange. He says there’s a lot of pressure from his family to marry a cousin..."

I took a sip of coffee and said:  

"There’s nothing left to say now. You should apologize to your husband for every single word, and take care of him so much that this diamond feels, ‘I have fallen into the hands of a true jeweler...’" I said my final words and ended the last sessions 

Note (online (session with Farkhunda Mumtaz contact number 923247307848)

Email id:farkhanda.mumtaz786@gmail.com