set in Andijan, Uzbekistan
19 July 2025
The morning plov steams, Father smells the sauté of the lamb and the cumin, and Father eats, very well, more than he ever would in Tashkent, because in Altinkul, this village of the Ferghana Valley between Andijan and Namangan, he is both at home and a guest. He is a native of the land but a visitor at this wedding, and so he must eat, as if he has come here for the first time in his life. All of the family are here, seated on a circular couch at the long dinner table the same size as the room. There is his older brother, Islom, and his wife, Romila, who are sitting in a row with their sons Abdulrashid, Abdulraouf, and Abdulaziz. On the other side is his younger brother, Davron, and his wife, Safiya. With them are their daughters Sadiya and Soliha, along with their sons Hamid and Idris. Sitting next to Davron is Father’s mother’s oldest brother, Mashrab. He has come from Tashkent along with Father and Mother. Then there are his mother’s cousins and their families.
There are probably thirty members at the table, but there are hundreds outside, eating in other rooms. Some people are nibbling at the wrapped chocolates and dried fruits stacked on the plates, while others are pouring their elders tea or waiting for someone to serve them plov. It is extremely noisy. Everyone is chatting festively to each other with no volume control. And how can there be quiet? There is a happy groom about to be wed to a beautiful woman—a new family to be started, a new union between families, a bond to be assured between two different clans of Andijan.
It is the son of Father’s first cousin who is getting married. The boy’s name is Azizbek or Asadbek…Father cannot fully remember. He is not close to this cousin or his family. They used to have a casual friendship when they were growing up, when they would play football or go to the mosque together as one group of children. But Father hasn’t been in touch with him or his family since those very early days. He has been invited because he is family, and it’s only formality that has resulted in Father deciding to come. And that also shows. His brothers and cousins throw jokes at each other, their wives gossip about the people they don’t like, and even his wife is trying her best to share her opinions on whatever transgressions of the younger generation is annoying her to the people next to her.
But Father just sits there. He doesn’t talk to anyone. If anyone asks him a question, he nods pleasantly or gives his answers in a word or two. He doesn’t want to bother himself by engaging with the others.
In the meantime, the others talk around him.
« How beautiful is the couple. »
« She is so young. How did they meet again? »
« The woman is like a model. She is much prettier than him. I can’t see her being happy with him. »
« He is a talented boy. He studied for three years in Melbourne. He has three different degrees. Did you know that he wins international awards in chess? He makes the entire region of Andijan proud. »
« God willing, may they have a great life together. »
« Inshallah. »
« And when is Kamron getting married? »
That question is being directly posed to Father. Father sees the tilt in the auntie’s eyebrows. He smiles like he just didn’t hear her and angles his face away, as if the noise and amount of conversations are too much for him to focus. This auntie, who must be the wife of his mother’s cousin, responds by sighing in his direction, then turns to another one of the cousins, and says with a malignant smile « I don’t think they will ever find someone for him. »
It’s as if she knows the true reason why his son refuses to get married, only this is Andijan, and any discussion on alternative sexuality is taboo; she probably isn’t even familiar with the concept of a homosexual.
Another cousin snidely snickers and says « Bilal has his way of doing things. Let him be. »
Another says « He doesn’t even send any money to the village. Why does it matter whether or not his son weds here? »
Father knows these cousins are referring to how tirelessly he worked at the hospital in Tashkent and how he rarely gave his time or attention to the people he grew up around. It wasn’t true, by the way, that Father did not send money; he only sent it to his mother when she was alive, because he did not trust how anyone else would spend his hard-earned sum.
Father pretends he has to go for a cigarette break, asking all of the relatives who are seated beside him to stand up and give him space. Once he is outside, he breathes a little fresh air, noticing the housewives preparing the plov for the guests. Father knows he won’t actually light a cigarette. Smoking is bad for one’s health. He sees a line of uncles smoking by the bushes. He doesn’t want to join them, either, because they will ask about Kamron and make their suggestions as to who he ought to marry.
He can’t help but feel angry at the whole situation. He hates how often he is humiliated at these gatherings, and only because his son has not married. If Son would find someone for the sake of it, it would make Father’s life much easier. But Son refuses to identify as anything other than a lover of men, Son refuses to come back home because he knows his relatives would beat him to death if they ever found out about his lifestyle, and Father is left having to take the insults that only the person who has made the transgression ought to bear.
It is a waste of time to stand idly. The eating of the plov will soon end, and Mother will call him, asking where Father went. Father goes back inside and takes his place. He can tell the aunties are still gossiping about him by the way they suddenly turn silent the moment he is seated. Father smiles at them, and each of them smile back.
Father finds a spoon and puts some raisins into his mouth. He sucks on them slowly and deliberately, as if he knows keeping his mouth occupied will protect him from the room.
14 September 2026
The woman to be wed, Sadiya, is Father’s brother’s daughter. She is in a special room, with the imam, who is performing the Nikokh-Tui sacrament, which only relatives close to the bride can attend, like Davron and his wife. Meanwhile, Father is in a private room with some of the other guests. They are seated on the floor beside a table, picking at flatbread and dipping it into creams, honey, and soft cheeses.
Father is sitting close to a group of three boys between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. Father knows that they each belong to a different family of his nephews, but he has not spent enough time with said nephews to learn the names of the boys and who they are related to.
One of their uncles is questioning them about their future plans.
« You will all study engineering? » the uncle says, and the boys nod. The uncle smiles. His head is bald but covered by a white kufi, which refracts the lights from the chandelier above. The man looks familiar to Father. He must be his cousin Noor’s husband’s brother.
The uncle asks one of the boys « And where will you go? »
He replies « I do not know yet. I am looking in Saudi Arabia or Kuwait. »
The boy in question has a buzz cut, milky skin, and wide eyes. He must be Noor’s husband’s sister’s son, as she married someone from Turkey.
« And what about you? » he asks another.
« I also want to go to Saudi Arabia » the boys says, and he pinches the third boy’s cheek. « With him. »
The second boy wraps his arm around his friend and leans in. The milky-skinned boy hoots and jokes, « So cute! Incredible! » The third boy pushes his friend’s arm off, smiling uncomfortably. The smile doesn’t leave his face; it seems to be permanent, a part of how he chooses to express himself. Coupled with this, and his almond-shaped face, the boy is very girly-looking. With longer hair, he could actually pass for a girl.
The milky-skinned boys says « Look at how he is blushing. You must take him. »
The other boy says « He will slow me down. You take him with you. »
The two boys start playfully shoving at each other, but the uncle is completely uninterested in this aspect of the conversation. He tries to keep the boys on track. « Saudi Arabia is a good country, one of the best. You can also consider Dubai. There is a lot of money to be made there. »
The milky-skinned boy says « I would never go to Dubai. There are a lot of bad Muslims there. They allow men to be gay there. »
The two friends nod, to the smile of the older man. « I’m glad you are considering these things. There are a lot of places where bad behaviour is being permitted, even in countries with Muslims. It shows how easy it is to fall into sin. »
The older man turns to Father, for whatever reason. Father assumes it is because he is one of the eldest men in earshot, and this man expects Father to share some words of wisdom. The truth is that Father is thinking, let people live as they want to live. He’s already had this spat with his son, time and time again, and he is over it. Son wants to be gay and Muslim, and Father has already argued his head off over how that’s not possible, how no one in their hometown is going to be convinced that being gay is anything but haram. Plus, Father doesn’t want to denounce his own son.
So, Father merely says a pleasantry. « It is good you are taking your futures seriously. »
« That is true » the uncle retorts. « These days, the youngsters are thinking about nothing. »
« We are not like the typical youngsters » says the milky-skinned boy. « We take our lives very seriously. »
« It will be nice to go to a country where we can properly grow out our beards » the second boy says.
« Yeah! » responds the milky-skinned boy. « Why aren’t we allowed to grow it the way a Muslim should ? We live in a country of Muslims. It is ridiculous. »
Father is ready to interject, to give these boys a little more history about their country. Things were not always like this. When Father was growing up, everyone in Uzbekistan wanted to be more educated, not more religious. Certainly, to be Muslim was a part of daily life, and an important one, but people of Father’s generation had adapted to the cultural influences of the Soviet Union. So, Uzbekistan became a certain way, a sort of way that actually aligned with how Father saw the world. His main goal in life was not to live like a Muslim, but to be a doctor, to help others, to make a good income, and to support his family. He hopes these young men will realise this, too, and measure their worth accordingly.
But before Father can speak, Father’s cousin through marriage interrupts.
« You are proud Muslims, and it makes our country proud. »
« Thank you, Uncle » say the two boys.
And then there is the third boy who says « We must make our country proud. »
This is the one who has been the most silent, the boy who only smiles and doesn’t talk. He bows his head solemnly, keeping the smile plastered on his face, as if he has been listening to everything and is assessing his place in the world.
12 January 2028
It is the last day of Soliha’s wedding, and the family is seated at the restaurant chosen in the city of Andijan, where Soliha will have her kelin salom. This is the last ceremony of the wedding, a moment for Soliha to be presented as a bride to both her new family and her old.
This will also be the last wedding to take place for the generation of Father’s siblings’ children. This also impacts the mood in the room. Father observes that his brothers and cousins and aunties and uncles look far more relaxed, almost relieved. There’s a lot less badgering or complaining, and a lot more smiling. In fact, there are a lot more compliments.
« You look so nice in this outfit! »
« How is it that you look younger, not older, at this age? »
« Have you lost weight? »
There’s a sense that they want to appreciate each other, let bygones be bygones, and hope for happiness for everyone.
While they chat at their tables, Soliha is in the centre of the room. She is looking as lavish as a vanilla cake, with the white silk of her bridal gown covering her from head to toe in layers. Her face is veiled with a thin white mesh. Despite the modesty she projects through the coverings of her dress and her aura, a girl as entrancing as Soliha cannot remain unnoticed. Her face is slender around the chin and yet rounded around the cheekbone. The almond shape of her eyes and the thinness of her long nose resemble a fox at rest. Her beauty is also in her composure—how she stands, the straightness of her posture.
She is a girl who does everything right, and Father is proud to call her a niece, despite the infrequency of their interactions.
As Soliha stands, Romila, who has the best voice in the family, sings the salams.
Hello, all. Come, come. So has started the welcome. Welcome all, come, come. You are all welcome here. Come, come. Here is young Soliha. Welcome here, all.
As Romila carries on with the song, relatives come up to Soliha, one by one. Romila croons their name and clarifies who they are in relation to Soliha. Some politely leave a gift in her hands and return to their seat. Others kiss her on the cheeks, or kiss her on the forehead, or give her a long hug. All the while, Soliha remains straight as a statue. She keeps her focus on making sure her hands do not fall from the veil, and she bows to each elder at the right angle to communicate her respect.
The guests who are waiting their turn keep themselves busy with gossip.
« What a good girl » one of the aunties says.
« She is too beautiful » another says. « She is an inspiration to us all. »
Another nods. « She does her family proud. »
This woman has the habit of eyeing Father every time she compliments someone from their family, as if she wants to make it clear that she isn’t happy with how Father’s own child is behaving—being single and rarely at home in the village. But this time, she keeps her gaze only on Soliha. Her smile is genuine, her radiance natural.
Father’s name is sung by Romila. Father and Mother come up to receive their bows. Father leaves his gift bag in a pile with the rest, while Mother gives Soliha a long hug. Father and Soliha exchange glances. Father wonders what he can say to the girl, but he barely knows her. He wishes her a fulfilling married life, and they break their glance, with Soliha preparing herself to greet the next relative.
Father and Mother sit. Father tells Mother « We are done. We can go. »
« Yes » Mother says, though she doesn’t look as eager as Father to leave. Her face looks creamier and whitened due to the amount of makeup she has put on, but the pretty lightness of her look is betrayed by the severity in her eyes. Father knows what she is thinking. . They will always be one of the only families of their generation who hasn’t had a wedding ceremony for their child, and Mother will always feel betrayed by the fact that she might never have grandchildren.
Father decides to keep his eyes away from his wife. He cannot say he shares her sentiments. As he watches the other relatives drop off their gifts to Soliha, he feels nothing but relief. There will be no more weddings to attend, and the funerals of his brothers will hopefully be a long time away. He doesn’t think it will bother Islom or Davron in the least if he stopped coming for Navruz or the smaller ceremonies. Islom and him have never gotten along, and Davron talks to Father less now that their mother is gone. And he knows that the family talks less about his son not only because they have given up on him getting married, but also because they’ve accepting Father’s growing distance.
The kelin salom ends. As Father and Mother head to their car, they catch the eye of a relative here and there. « How are you? How was the ceremony? Did you enjoy it? » The typical questions are asked back and forth, and the answers remain one-liners, polite. Father will go to Davron’s home to say goodbye before he heads back to Tashkent, and then, that is that.
Father won’t have much more reason to visit Andijan anymore.