Enwrapped

Chapter 02

The next Sunday was a field of nothing but chaos.

"Saboor! Please iron your Abbu's clothes!"

"Saboor! Pack a good perfume for Uncle!"

"Saboor! Perfume for Uncle, and what for Auntie?"

"Aapi! Where is your brown dupatta!"

"Saboor! Gift-pack this!"

Saboor, Saboor Saboor! Saboor wants to go scream in a pillow!

~

"Assalamu alaykum! Maanna padega bhai, you Luqmans are really punctual! Puraani aadat ab bhi nahin chhooti!" Mazhar came and greeted his guests. From behind her sister, Saboor hastily made sure her dupatta appropriately covered her head and chest, and Aynoor continually looked back and forth to see if her sister was done.

"Bola thaa naa aapi, gaadi mein gift pack kar lein!"

"Haan, aur gaadi mein tumhaara miyaan mujhay tape kaat ke deta, hm?" she half-sneered and whispered. Right then, her parents moved forward and into the drawing room, and they followed in a file like obedient toddlers. As soon as their presence was made felt in the room, the lady of the house, Mrs. Mazhar, came forth and embraced both the girls, and kissed their foreheads.

"How are you girls doing?" she cheerfully asked. A smile came onto Saboor's face. It was rare that she was greeted and treated like that. Especially as she worked in the business sector along with her father, she had seen a lot of sneers and calloused expressions made to her, as well as her father, when they realized that Luqman had brought along his daughter.

But Saboor hadn't held back once. Seeing their faces, she got a chance to straighten up even more, and showed no kindness, even when her father tried to silence her.

"They're experienced!" her father would say.

"Aren't you experienced? Am I not experienced? I've been doing this as long as them, Abbu, don't you dare stop me," she would reply. Most times, her father would stop, agree, and fall silent, but there were times he became equally annoyed; not at them, but at her.

"You're a girl, Saboor! It's not up to you to do all this!"

But the woman's smile was exactly an opposite to what she had usually seen. Even when she sat to have a chat, she sat in between both the girls, holding each of their hands in her own. Aynoor felt awkward, and Saboor could see that on her face, but Saboor felt comforted in her presence.

In the midst of the conversation that the elders led, Mrs. Mazhar whispered to her. "You don't mind that I'm holding your hand, right?" she asked.

Saboor immediately shook her head, but the lady left her hand anyway, leaving a miss of warm touch in her palm.

"Actually, my daughter, Manhaa, is out of country for her bachelor's. I just miss her so terribly, you know how it is. When I told her you're coming over, she was so excited! She said you were her ideal when you were senior, I guess?"

"Manhaa? Oh yes, she was my junior. She's out for architecture, am I right?"

"Yes, yes, all with merit and scholarship!" said the woman, caressing Saboor's shoulder. She had never seen a mother so up close and concerned for her daughter. More than that, she was amused; how could anyone keep her as an ideal? She hadn't been any model in school time, and even now, her clear face was only because she forced herself to give up an hour on skincare each day. She was good at academics, no doubt, but many in her class were. She wasn't as social too...then why?

"Moustafa! Where are you escaping to?" said the lady, as she peered into the corridor. Embarrassed by his mother's stance, Moustafa walked into the drawing room. He had worn a phthalo green hoodie and blue jeans, and a bag hung from his shoulder. He wobbled down the room and shook hands with Saboor's father. Aynoor pulled her dupatta over her head in caution, and stared wide-eyed at Saboor. Her eyes asked, "You know him?"