"With the green veil over our heads, and the mirror in our palms we looked at each other, as is the wedding custom for centuries with her people. I was basking pleasurably in her radiant beauty, and as she smiled at me in the mirror I was dazzled. Glad I was too, to be so near her. If she was a bird, she would be the peacock, spreading its feathers in all grandeur, flaunting it for all those who could see, so as to amaze and awe. If beauty could be described in terms of sharpness, hers would be like a scimitar sword made by the Persians, with great care and dedication. If beauty could be measured in length, hers would span from the East to the West. It is with insurmountable instability due to fervent hurricanes of love that are raised every time I think about it, that I write about my experience regarding her on our wedding day. I was breathless at what My Lord, Allah, blessed me with. I was grateful, and if so many people weren't there looking at us, I would've gotten down on the ground in prostration to Him out of happiness, something that I did later on. She was sugary like Afghan jalebi and a treat to my eyes, that pleased the sweet tooth of my vision. She was called by a name by her parents and relatives, which I never cared about, for I used to call her Leyla, as I was Majnun (mad) for her. We were married happily for many years and then abruptly I was aroused from my slumber. Ah, my sweet Afghan wife, whom I married in my dreams! It was a sleep I wish I never awoke from."
Wordsmith: Mashiar Ahsan
Painting: "Muslim Love" by Kelly Crossby.
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