“Have you ever had a supernatural experience, or an experience you cannot explain?” Saqib asked.
I have not. Not as in an out-of-body experience, hearing voices, or seeing a ghost. But I did have the experience of being transported to a realm with an unusual level of consciousness. It happened in the fall of 2014, over and over again. What a wonderful feeling it was.
I had started writing my memoir, Threading My Prayer Rug. I was narrating the story about my marriage being arranged, how I felt, what it was like to come face-to-face with my future husband, being with him for the first time, and much more. While writing, I felt myself transported into a realm where I was living my past, not just by remembering what the setting was like, or who said what, but by being there in some metaphysical form, without being there physically. With my eyes wide open, my fingers on the keyboard, I was carried into a different time, to a place where I once lived.
I am there.
I am hearing Daddy sing
I swayed to the rhythm
My eyes welled up.
I can smell mummy’s perfume
Aaah! I took a deep breath.
Auntie is giving me a tight hug
I felt warm and squeezy.
I am inhaling the aroma of chicken curry
My mouth watered.
My cousin tickles me
I quivered.
I feel Daddy’s gentle hand on my arm
walking me into the living room
I am to see Khalid for the first time
My heart shivered
Fingers trembled at the keyboard.
I am hearing myself saying Salaam to Khalid
I smiled, shyly.
I am hearing Khalid chatting with the elders
trying to impress
his American accent a bit—what’s the right word?—foreign
I am nervous
I lowered my gaze
Letters on the keyboard made no sense.
I am stealing a look at him
and chiding myself for cheating
Nice girls don’t look at boys
fiancé or no fiancé
My heart pounded.
I kept typing.
It’s my birthday
I am hearing my friends squealing
gathered around Khalid
teasing, pestering
mimicking his American accent.
I stopped typing
put my palm to my cheek
Felt the warmth of a blush.
“You are smiling,” Khalid said. He had just walked up as I sat typing in our Manhattan apartment and caught me in the act. Don’t break my trance. I waved him away and went back to November 14, 1971. Let me savor my first blush.
“Sing a song”
My friends are goading Khalid
I am hearing him sing
Aashian jul gaya
My heart sang
My fingers danced on the keyboard.
Khalid puts the ring on my finger
Gives me a spontaneous sideways hug
I am hearing my friends shriek
I giggled.
Alone in our bridal suite
I am looking up at him
listening to him talk
falling in love
I typed feverishly
Getting it down on screen.
He is still talking
I am still falling in love.
My heart glowed
Dreamy-eyed
My fingers caressed asdfjkl;.
“Ready for lunch?” Khalid came from behind again. Shoo. Shush. Don’t break my reverie.
I want to stay where I am. I don’t want to come back. Not yet.
Newlywed days, splendid
Swooning, starry-eyed, and glowing.
I wanted to stay there
Savor the moments
Hold onto that feeling
I love being in love.
“Shall I get dinner going?” Khalid walked in once again, as the sun was setting over Manhattan.
I looked up and watched his face.
I am in love, again.
He smiles.
I hold out my hand.
He takes it.
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