“He has the same sharp features like his chachu, and he will be as handsome as his chachu. I am telling you mother, he will be a next-door chocolate boy.” Bilal chimed with excitement in the silent family room of a luxurious maternity hospital of south Delhi, gazing at the most adorable, chubby baby he had ever seen. The baby stirred in his grandmother’s lap and opened his eyes for the first time in the safe haven of his grandma’s warm cocoon.
Saba and Nawaaz looked at his angelic face for a moment, and sent thousands of hearty blessings for him. They had seen their kids in their nascence and felt the heart-melting, soul-soothing happiness and fulfillment running through their veins. But even those couldn’t be compared to the feelings they were feeling now, holding the miniature of their son, and ravishing the best moment of their lives with misty eyes. This is one of the most joyous dreams of any couple, and Saba and Nawaaz Meer were living that dream. Their happiness could not be described in words.
Saba bent her head and kissed the bright milky forehead of the infant. The baby closed his eyes again and went back to his slumber. She turned her head towards her husband, who had become a grandfather now. His majestic, sharp features were still as handsome as ever. Just some lines of experience on his proud forehead, fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled and some of those peppery gray strands peeking through the black silky hairs on his head, were the majestic add-ons accorded by his prime age of fifty. Nawaaz’s whole face was shining with inner peace and eternal happiness.
“Give sadqa upon him. Come on granddad; loosen your wallet, or whatever you have in your pockets.” Saba mirthfully ordered her husband.
Nawaaz laughed at her child-like excitement and took out his wallet. Whatever cash he had in his wallet, he handed it all to one of the nurses who was entering into a private room and preparing the attached room for Zoya. The private room consisted of a spacious additional family room for a person along with a small kitchenette equipped with all the advanced amenities.
Shahzeb entered into the additional family room and took off his mask. He looked at the scene laid in front of him and smiled triumphantly as happiness seeped through every pore of his being. Saba was sitting on the leather couch with folded legs, with the tiny bundle of pure joy sleeping on her lap, wrapped in a white and gray polka-dot softest blanket. The baby’s tiny body was enclosed in a striped soft-wool jumpsuit of the same design, with a matching hat covering his dark brown silky locks. His cheeks were the most adorable pinkish white, with his pouty dark pink lips pressed together firmly. Nawaaz and Bilal had pulled their chairs closer to Saba, and were looking at the adorable baby with immense love. Shahzeb’s chest tightened with pride and joy that he had never felt before. He was a father now; a father to the most beautiful and blessed baby boy, who had been welcomed into the family with total and unconditional love. His baby definitely was the manifestation of the purest form of prayers and blessings; he was definitely not a cursed child.
No one, literally no one on this planet had the power to snatch his child away from him or Zoya. No Sardar Alam Khan would use the child as a weapon to threaten the child’s mother. Because he had been born under wedlock, which had been witnessed by hundreds of friends and family. Because he had been born to a father, who held an exalted position in the elite social circles of Delhi and Najafgarh. Because he had the surname of one of the richest entrepreneurs of India… Shahzeb’s chain of thoughts was interrupted by the clicking sound of a Whatsapp notification on his private number. He took out the phone. It was Raghav, congratulating his boss-cum-friend on the arrival of his baby. Shahzeb looked at the message and put his phone back into the front pocket of his denim shirt. Then he came forward to meet his family.
Bilal was taking photos of the baby and posting them on his social media accounts with the hash tag of ‘youngest prince of Meer clan’.
“How is Zoya? The nurse told me that she is doing fine.” Saba asked as soon as she felt her elder son’s presence in the room.
“Yeah, she is perfectly alright. They are shifting her in the room after giving her a bath,” Shahzeb told his mother and took the seat beside her.
It was a private and one of the most luxurious and advanced maternity hospitals of the city. They followed the Western culture, and as such had invited Shahzeb in the labor ward if he wanted to be with his wife and envision the blissful moments of his son’s birth. He had hesitantly entered the labor room upon the insistence of his mother, who had encouraged him to support his wife. But when he saw his wife struggling with painful contractions, as if someone was squeezing the life out of her body, he had felt numb and nauseous. He couldn’t endure seeing that pain; he couldn’t see his wife in those life-threatening hours of birthing their son. When the doctor saw the dreadful look swirling on his ghostly pale face, she advised him to wait outside the labor room, and that she will call him when the child has been delivered. He instantly looked at Zoya, who looked utterly weak but still managed to give him a tired smile to encourage him out of the labor room. He had instantly squeezed her hand and pressed his lips on her forehead before quickly turning towards the door.
He had waited impatiently on the leather bench for twenty minutes before his son’s sharp cry hit his eardrums like a boosting sound of life, announcing his arrival to this world. He had quickly entered back into the labor room and kissed his girl as relief flooded into his veins; his eyes glossy with thankfulness towards his Lord.