Clutching the contact lens case between her fingers, she let out a profound sigh, a momentary pause in her decision-making. The choice of whether to enhance her vision or not weighed heavily on her mind.
Her eyes, though not overly impaired, still teetered on the threshold of clarity. Another sigh escaped her lips as she dismissed the notion of lenses altogether. With or without them, she mused, she could navigate the world just fine.
Returning the lens case to its place on the dressing table, she stole a final glance at herself in the mirror. Adorned in a full-length black chiffon frock, a matching chiffon dupatta draped gracefully around her neck, she exuded an air of subtle elegance. Small silver jhumkas adorned her ears, and a pair of khusa adorned her feet, completing the picture of a desi doll. Her waist-length hair, dead straight and cascading like a dark waterfall, framed her features in a captivating manner.
As Maryam ventured towards the TV lounge, she summoned the courage to address her father with a nervous plea.
"Baba chlein?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Baba, let's go?"
Nervousness was a familiar companion whenever she was around her father, a man of few words with a temperament as unpredictable as the wind. The weight of his disapproval lingered in the furrowed lines on his forehead, evidence that he wasn't entirely on board with her plans, despite her mother's persuasive efforts.
The air seemed to thicken as he inquired about her return. "Wapsi kab tak aegi tu?"
he questioned, injecting a touch of anxiety into her veins. The desire to escape his watchful gaze intensified, but she pressed on, explaining the event's duration in an attempt to alleviate his concerns.
"Raat k event hai wese to 12 bje tk khatam hga aap jb mrzi ajana lene,"
(Its a night event, will end at 12. But you can come and get me whenever you want)
she nervously reassured him. His scoff cut through the air, and with a touch of annoyance, he retorted,
"10 bje ajaoga me sharafat se ajana bahr, pata ni kia shok chrha hai tje adhi raat ko jany k."
(I'll be there at 10. You better be free by the time i arrive)
An underlying tension lingered between them, fueled by her reluctance and his stern disapproval. She had reluctantly accepted the plans her friends coerced her into, all the while battling a growing sense of guilt for going against her father's wishes.
Meanwhile, Musa, though fatigued and disinterested, found himself buttoning the cufflink of his black kurta. The upcoming event was a political obligation, a favor to his grandfather in exchange for support in the elections. His mind, preoccupied with political intricacies, barely acknowledged his surroundings as he descended the stairs.
Outside, he encountered his PA, Saqib, and inquired about the recent attacks on his party workers during rallies. Saqib pointed fingers at the opposition, specifically the "Pak Sar Zameen Party," confirming Musa's suspicions.
"Election ho lene do in haramzado ko b dekh longa," Musa declared, determination flickering in his eyes. The upcoming elections were pivotal, and victory was non-negotiable.
Musa said walking out of the house towards his car. These elections were crucial for him. His family had been in power for ages. He had to win that seat at any cost.
YOU ARE READING
DIRTY POLITICS
Romance'Kia kregy aap' (What will you do?) 'Wahi jo har shohar apni biwi k sath krta hai' (What every husband does to his wife) Musa Abaan Shah had a singular ambition - to ascend to the position of prime minister and uphold his grandfather's esteemed...
