In Emaan Nasir’s head, the concept of a family was like a tree; a head trunk, the head of the family, and the sprouting branches that would later go on to become trunks and grow branches of their own. This idea of a family tree was influenced when she was nine, sitting cross-legged in front of the box-like TV in Mama’s bedroom, watching Harry Potter discover his ancestral family tree with a picture of his Mum and Dad on a separate budding branch- or was it a leaf? She didn’t remember. It was irrelevant anyway. The image had stuck with her, and since then, every family she would look at was a tree. Not long after, while visiting Nani over the summer, she took it upon herself to turn this vision into a centrepiece for their living room wall. She got her best crayons, Khala’s old watercolours, and printouts of every family member and got to work. 

The trunk of her family was her Dada Abu. From him sprouted seven branches of his seven children, and from them twenty-four more, each decorated with the cutouts of the respective family member. It was all very pretty until she reached her own branch at the end and realised that the cutouts of all the wives remained on the table, waiting to be pasted. She forgot to make a branch for her Daadi Ma, her Chaachis and Taai Mamas, and of course, her own Mama. This was a pickle. Their branch couldn’t sprout from Dada Abu’s; that would mean Daadi Ma was Dada Abu’s daughter. As funny as that sounded, it would be inaccurate.

Working with her small, developing brain, she began adding the wives’ names, each with a small dash next to their husbands’. Now the trunk of the tree was both Dada Abu and Daadi Ma, and Emaan’s branch sprouted from both Mama and Baba. Pleased with the improvements, she took her yellow chart paper and hurried to the kitchen, where her Naani was making keema parathas for her and her little brother. 

“Look, Naani,” Emaan said as she laid out her masterpiece on the table. “This is my complete family tree. It starts from Dada and Daadi Ma and spreads to every family member. I even made this tiny branch for baby cousin Fahad, even though he’s just born.”

Nani looked over the tree admirably, her eyes following the lengths of each branch. 

“Very nice,” Nani praised, but then frowned. “Where am I in this tree, Emaan? Did you forget to add me? And Nana Abu and Khala?”

Another pickle, Emaan thought as she fidgeted, embarrassed that she had forgotten everyone on her Mum’s side.

Apologising, Emaan took the chart back to her workstation and began brainstorming once more. She had no space left, and she would have to draw different trees of Nana Abu and Naani. And then what about the tree where Naani came from? And Chachi? And Taai Mama? And Daadi Ma?

She sighed, falling back on her couch. It was too difficult, and her mind was spiralling. Finally, she decided to make just one tree- The Nasir tree. It would only have one trunk shared by Nasir Hussain and Samia Nasir, and two sprouts: Emaan Nasir and Ahmed Nasir. She labelled her previous diagram as the Hussain Tree and convinced herself that it didn’t make sense to include her Nana Abu and Naani in it, as her Mama’s name was Samia Nasir and she obviously now belonged to the Nasir tree. There was no point making a Tasneem tree when Mama’s name isn’t even attached to that tree.

She didn’t show the diagram to her Naani again, knowing she’d feel bad. Instead, she quietly took it home and gave it to her Mama to put on the living room wall.

Years passed, the Nasirs shifted three houses in between; the diagrams long forgotten. Emaan, a golden student beloved by all her teachers and elders, grew up to be an architect, graduating top of her batch. Right after she had turned twenty-one, her marriage proposals had started coming. By the choice of her parents, of course, Huzaifa had been chosen as the only boy worthy of Emaan’s hand. The fact that Emaan already liked Haris a great deal before the proposal came remained hidden, as it deviated from the narrative of Emaan’s golden girl persona. After all, despite her concealed shortcomings, Emaan Nasir was an upholder of tradition.

Her nikah was set right after her convocation; her honeymoon planned to Turkey. It was done minimally and elegantly, even though both families wanted it to be extravagant. Once again, Emaan and Huzaifa’s protest to invite the least amount of people to this intimate ceremony was concealed under the facade of the Nasirs following Islamic teachings.

The visa process started right away. Emaan vividly remembered the day she received the call from her in-laws. “We’ll, insha’Allah, get your passport made soon. You just need to update your name and marital status on your CNIC. Huzaifa will come to pick you up.”

Huzaifa picked her up. Her heart was in her mouth, her leg bouncing in the car the whole ride there. It was only anxiety, of course, only natural. Some of her friends had not changed their names. Emaan had considered it, but then decided that it was only natural that she transitioned from Emaan Nasir to Emaan Huzaifa. Even though it would be a scary change, it was something that her Mama went through, her Khala, Chachi, Taai, and everyone went through. Didn’t she always love the fact that they all were called the Nasirs? Had her Mama kept her maiden name, she would’ve always been the odd one out. Saima Tasneem rolled weirdly, unnaturally on her tongue. Didn’t her friends back in fourth grade use to say that Taylor Swift would become Taylor Lautner as well had she married her Twilight ex at the time? Emaan Huzaifa it was. They shall start the Huzaifa family.

The CNIC changed, the passport got made, and the anxieties continued. Coming home after changing her name, Emaan crashed into her pillow and cried for a whole hour. Mama came to console her with her favourite plate of biryani, and Baba came with her favourite chocolate dessert. But no matter how much their words made sense, it felt like she had lost a part of herself. Her name felt foreign, alien, anything but her own. Medically, she was the healthiest she could ever have been, yet it felt like all her systems were rejecting this name change, shutting down one by one. Her CNIC card, once a permanent resident of her phone case, got thrown into the one drawer that did not open unless something was lost and was desperately being searched for. Whenever people asked her name, she’d say Emaan Nasir, then would guiltily regret it afterwards. No matter how nauseating it felt, this was a reality she had to accept, and the sooner she did it, the sooner it’d start feeling natural. She’d remind herself of all the reasons she had given herself, promising internally that the next time she introduces herself, it would be as Emaan Huzaifa. 

She stayed true to her promise. She repeatedly revised her new name in her head. Who was she? Emaan Huzaifa. What was her husband’s name? Huzaifa Aslam. What was her name? Emaan Huzaifa, his wife. What will her children always know her as? Emaan Huzaifa. What will the world know her as? Emaan Huzaifa, part of the Huzaifa family. The Huzaifa tree. It had been a moment since she had thought about that chart paper. Taking the register and the pen from the study table next to her bed, she sketched a tree trunk- no sprouting branches at the moment. She scribbled the names ‘Huzaifa Aslam’ and ‘Emaan Huzaifa’ on the trunk. And there it was- the Huzaifa tree. No longer was she a part of the Nasir tree. As much as the thought saddened her, made her want to rip the page of the register, and run and hide under the shade of her original family tree, it was the truth. She was and always will be Emaan Huzaifa.

A month later, when applying for a job, she typed her new name, the first time she had to use it officially. Her fingers paused on the keyboard for a minute. Two minutes. Ten minutes. Her eyes could not move on to the next question. Not until she wrote down Emaan Nasir. Not until her name matched the one present on all of her degrees, her certifications, her reputation, and her accomplishments. The moment that she did, relief, comfort, and the familiarity of her individuality ran through her veins. Months of pretending to be someone new crashed down on her, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she could never be anything other than Emaan Nasir.

Her struggle to get her name back began soon. She would spend days researching Islamic fatwas, degree conversion complications, and postgraduate studies hindrances to convince her parents, her in-laws, and her husband. Her Mama would often remind her of tradition, and how she should oblige, but Emaan had enough faith to know that she’d get her name back. She would spend her nights in sujood asking Allah to be Emaan Nasir again, and after two weeks of efforts, concerns, schemes, and verifications, on 12th August, 2025, Emaan Nasir got her identity back. 

Of course, this short-coming was also covered up by the whole thing being a technical error; Emaan wanted to be Emaan Huzaifa, but for her postgraduate studies, she would need her maiden name. But for Emaan, she knew that she would die as Emaan Nasir at the end, and that’s all that mattered to her. She would often wonder whether her mother went through the same thing as she did, and whether she ever felt as one with her new name- maybe she did. But Emaan did not want to dig the topic even more; at least, her daughter would never have to feel divided like this. She knew that she had started the Huzaifa tree, but she would always remain a part of the Nasir tree as well.