Stereo Hearts

My heart's a stereo

It beats for you so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every no-o-ote.

Make me your radio

Turn me up when you feel low

This melody was meant for you

Just sing along to my stereo

……….

My heart's a stereo

It beats for you so listen close

Hear my th-

Muskan groaned, declining the call, as her phone seemed very determined to ruin her sleep. She fell back into a slumber, but it didn't last long; it was her phone again, this time buzzing with nonstop notifications. She switched it off and slept, this time for more hours. She had a rough week, and Sunday is her only option to have a good sleep.

It was noon, and as I was editing my project, my phone rang twice. When I was just about to connect the call, it ended. ‘Rabia di’, the contact read. It was Muskan's sister. I gently shook Muskan to wake her up.

She woke up with a frustrated look, and to be honest, that is the reason why I don't like waking people up. We never know what they're dreaming about, and we definitely don't know if they're even willing to be awake. I told her about the calls, and she hit her head with a ‘Hay Allaah!’

Muskan mimicked her sister's voice as she read the texts out loud.

I swear to God, Muskan ke bache! Just pick up the damn phone.

Why can't you be responsible for once?

Come on!!! Please respond to my texts at least! You know how important this is for both of us.

You know what? Never mind.

Don't come to me apologizing later; I don't care anymore.

She had a great bond with her ‘not-so-little’ brother and an older sister. She is the only person I've seen who has never complained about being the middle child. But being brought up by a strict, or maybe a reserved, joint family, she knew the value of freedom.

She always tells me, “Yaar Rupa! Trust me, you're blessed. As much as I love Zaid and Didi, I grew up wondering what it felt like to be an only child, feel like I belonged, and receive complete love.”

I watched braiding my hair as Muskan gingerly clicked on the ‘call back’ option, her face coated with nervousness. Her sister must have declined the call because the next thing I saw was her throwing the phone on the bed and holding her head in her hands.

“You know something, Rupa? I'm doomed this time. I'm so careless, and you can't imagine how much I hate myself for it.”.

Honestly, I felt very helpless and bad.

“Calm down, babe..." Stop thinking so low of yourself and try to focus on what's happening instead. You can talk to me about it; you know that I'd never judge you.”.

She sighed and started in a low voice.

“There's this thing with my oh-so-orthodox family; we girls have to get married before 23 or 24, or else we'll have to remain alone for life. Huh! So sadistic, right? I mean, why can't we marry when we want to, when we truly feel connected with someone, after we finally strike off those little dreams in our journal?

I never really thought about it before, but now it's Didi's turn, and people at home are forcing her to return for marriage. I can't even imagine myself in that situation after her.”

Muskan took a deep breath, shaking her head, and opened her mobile. She gestured for me to sit beside her and then showed me a picture. It was a decent-looking guy (with goddamn curly hair and familiar dimples) smiling at the camera.

I gasped. “Sohail !!!!???” I screamed.

“Yes. Mr.Sohail. Our dearest senior from the chemistry lab," she smiled sarcastically.

“What? Like, seriously? Is he the guy for Di?

What kind of a nightmare is this?”

She rolled her eyes, saying, “Babe, are you concerned because you have a crush on him or my sister is going to get stuck in an unwanted marriage?”

I dipped my head down, feeling very embarrassed.

“Didi has been trying to convince our family to give her time, but to no avail. It's been a week, and they're still adamant about this; they think this is a perfect alliance, based on their interests and family backgrounds as well.”

“Well, that might be true though,” I added.

"Hmm, yeah, that's the thing now. Everyone's thinking that way, even Zaid. So Didi and I planned on talking to Sohail Bhayya today. Didi must have already reached here by morning, and I was supposed to meet her directly at Sohail's place. But I messed up. Like always. Even when I know how important it is for her, and for both of us. We only have a week ahead of us to cancel the engagement.”

I watched as Muskan started pacing and tried calling someone, probably her sister, multiple times.

The relationship between the two sisters is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. I've watched many people talk about it so lovingly—my cousins, friends, and my mother too. Although I don't have a sister, I could almost imagine what she would be like if she existed.

“How can we hate someone to the core but love them to death at the same time? How can we forgive them for their every mistake and punish ourselves if we can't? How can we be so willing to go against the world for someone but also hold hope for a better world with them in it?

……Weird right?”

Muskan smiled a little, but I could see that she was on the verge of crying.

“Hey, calm down! I get it. You hate yourself. And this situation. But on your defense, you were pretty busy and stressed throughout the last week, and I think it's okay that you took a rest for a while.

Yes, you made a mistake, and yes, you might have messed it up.

But you know how much your sister loves you, right? She'll understand.”

She was already crying, and I couldn't help but hold her. She cried for a few minutes and then chuckled, shaking her head.

“I don't have a taste in anything, you know? Like literally. The food I like, the clothes I wear, my music playlist, the books list on my Google Notes, the movies I watch, the people I love, the things I hate, and the poetry that I read—everything is because of my sister. She taught me how to feel, and now I don't even know what to feel without her. She talks and talks and talks to me, and I watch her all the while, wondering how even the oceans could never be as deep as her heart. She's kind, she's confident, and she's pretty. She's everything that I'm not and yet makes me feel like I'm the princess of her world.”

……………..

I think that's the most poetic monologue I've ever heard from her.

“I love her. I'm truly sorry, Didi,"  she ended up crying again on my shoulder.

We sat there for about an hour more as I helped her calm down, and the whole hour, I wondered how beautiful my life could've been if I had a sister.

My heart's a stereo

It beats for you, so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every note

Make me your radio

Turn me up when

I think that's our favorite song now. We'd been waiting for her phone to ring all this time, and now when it did, Muskan froze. I patted her back and connected the call for her.

She panicked and did not say anything.

“....Muskan?

…. Hello? I can't hear you. Hellooo?”

I slapped her head, and she came back to her senses.

“Didi….” There. She started crying again.