Gunnah e Shab

10. Dance • ناچ

In her rage, Samira had broken her phone. Throwing it against the walls of the home. Shards of glass littered the floors and the body of the phone lay in his feet. Everyone else, stared at the scene, stunned. Anbar gulping her saliva as she hid behind the pillars. Observing another one of her phopho's tantrums. They were as common as the Friday feasts her grandfather held.

Like a raging bull, Samira stared at her father. Eyes rimmed red. Lips pulled in between her teeth as she took in deep breaths. Her father, staring at her with a deep contempt in his eyes. His fingers stroking the jade encrusted serpent's head on his stick.

"Why?" A singular word, that held more weight than an encyclopedia.

"Abba—" [Father—] Samira hesitated.

"Answer the bloody question!" Azan raged.

At the end of his wits with the behaviour of his daughter.

"I just feel anger at —" she tried.

"Shut up! Samira I've sat through many tantrums of yours. These end now!" Azan slammed hand against the glass coffee table.

"Everything that's happened to you, is your own fault, don't beg for my pity". Azan dismissed, the signs of repulsion in Samira's eyes not going unnoticed.

"Saheefa get this mess cleaned up. Order Asghar to bring Azmaray home as soon as he can. Shaadi ki tiyaari karo," [Get ready for the wedding,] he got up, pausing to stare at his youngest, before continuing.

"Aur jisko masla ho iss shaadi sai, usko kamray mein band kardo. Par shaadi tou yeh ho kar rahay gi! Chahe mujhe janazay hi kyun na nikalnay parein". [And whoever has a problem from the wedding, lock them in their rooms. This wedding will take place! Even if I have to host funerals for it.] Azan uttered, with finality.

Samira's shoulders slumped with realisation. Her father was no longer willing to prioritise her. With the arrival of Azmaray in Pakistan, his plans had to move forward, putting her marriage on the back burner. Which her ego, would never accept. Observing everyone with narrowed eyes, Samira promised to make everyone suffer.

————

Laila gazed at her dress in utter disappointment. Feeling upset at the torn edges of her new dress, the one she was meant to wear at tonight's show. The one, she and Ayna were supposed to twin in. The one her mother had stayed up all night to stitch. Laila stared at it with tears in her eyes, her lips wobbling as her thin fingers grazed the fabric from where it had burnt. Cursing under her breath for not being careful with the iron.

"Laila yeh kaisay huwa?" [Laila how did this happen?] Ayna shrieked.

She had just entered the bedroom and seeing the burnt dress left her shell shocked. Already dressed in her own frock, her hair in a bun with flowers wrapped around it, Ayna was no less than a vision.

"A-Ayna aapi mera- meray sai ghalti ho gai. Kasam sai!" [A-Ayna sister I– I made a mistake. I swear!] Laila sniffed, hugging her sister tight.