Sang e Khisht

باب پندرواں

مجھ سے پہلی سی مہبت میرے مہبوب نہ مانگ
— فیض احمد فیضؔ

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Chapter 15 : Meray shohar

Golnar woke up with her neck muscles distressed. The ache that dwelled within the floor of her shoulder's muscles, continued to gain intensity as she tried to sit up right. Her dress weighed her down, and the thick necklace that she had in her unordered state forgotten to remove, dug into her flesh. Sighing at the blissful start to her day, she fought with the bow of her necklace's dori. All but tearing it off, on to the bed. The other side of the bed, completely ordered as the heavy ornament fell on to it.

With a groan, running her tongue over the corner of her mouth, she stumbled out of bed. Her legs frozen due to hours of inaction. Twisting her shoulder blade, Golnar walked on her toes across the cold floor. The thin carpet doing little to keep the room perfectly insulated. Opened window, and pulled back curtains only added to the frozen misery of her bedroom. Though it was a wonder how the candles had managed to burn through the thunderstorm of the night before.

Her mouth dry as sand paper. Her skin cracking under the weight of her gentle fingers, she had to walk towards the mirror to inspect her sight. The first thing she noticed with a start, was how the contour had held it's shape through the night. Though all else had not. Her lipstick was slightly smudged and the flowers in her hair were torn. Some wilting already. The head piece laying crookedly along one side of her face. Picking apart each of the pieces, she pulled the pins holding the remnants of her look in place.

Golnar's hair tumbled down her back and the ache behind her ears dulled as she took off her accessories. One at a time. Though the room was still covered in a deep darkness, the first rays of the sun were about to crack on to the horizon soon. A light blue sheen on the sky giving just enough to make out the silhouette of her husband — disinterested husband sleeping on the rocking chair. His legs spread over the floor, and his head fell on to one side of his shoulders. In an awkward position.

Serves him right. Golnar hummed, brushing her hair before tying it into a braid. Sugary and sweet — the room that smelt irrevocably of roses had the atmosphere of anything but that. Even as she slipped out of her dress, with great agony, scratching the skin of her back as she pulled the zipped. Golnar knew she had no help. Stopping to take breaths, running herself a warm shower. Placing the bucket of water outside of her reach, she took liberties.

The thin towel hid not her shivers as she changed into her plain white shalwar kameez. It's ivory was like a soiled crème. The loose pleats of the shalwar allowed it to graze her ankles and the fitted form of the kameez gave her naturally broad bones the illusion of a slimness. Cutting the soft roundness of her shoulder blades from sight.

Best of both worlds.

The deep woody shawl wrapped over her damp hair gave rise to the grave ickiness she abhorred. Rubbing her eyes, the laziness throbbing deep underneath her skin, kept ringing in her head like an alarm bell. Blaring red. Deep and bright. Tying the cloth beneath her chin, her sharp bones jutting out, she stepped out into the bedroom. Her husband still dozing off.

His deep snores filled the bedroom, strong and full of might just like his physical presence. Darab's warm voice ; that had yet to speak to her a kindly sentence, was deep enough to raise tremors along her skin. And apparently she realised his snores were too.