Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

34 - Patang

Through out the car ride, the flower remained firmly planted in her hand, her thumb tracing the the nobly stem and imprinting it to memory.

Then, they held hands whilst walking through his lands, in what began as a hike but transformed into a tour. They approached a residential area.

The kids pushed more flowers into her hair, forming a sort of humble tiara.

Murtasim picked up paper kites from a quaint shop and handed them out to the village children that played on an open fields, for what had been left as a playground. Meerab chose a vibrant turqoise diamond kite and the rest of the children ran to retrieve more, attaching the thread from the spun coil. Murtasim helped get them up into the air, tugging so that it flew higher, rivalling the magnificent open winged birds. The children copied his lead, even more fluent in the game until the sky was decorated in colourful paper diamonds.

A young teen, with kindly glinting eyes, approached Meerab, that was standing giggling at the sight of her husband. ''Khaani, madat chahiye?'' He offered to retrieve the string, and Meerab held the roll of string, keeping a safe distance as the breeze caused it to ride high, encircling Murtasims. (Khaani, do you want help?)

''Hum Murtasim ki line na kaat len?'' Meerab asked mischievously, daring the boy to dream to rival their Khan for her sake. (Shouldn't we cut Murtasim's string?)

Extending from Murtasim's hand was a buttercup sort of yellow-kite, wildly tumbling in the sky, with a crowd of children at his knees egging him on. The main road was a couple yards off, with only the occasional car driving past. It was serene except for the tumult of cheers.

''Aap patang lelen,'' the boy urged, having done his part. (You can take the kite.)

Murtasim almost stumbled backs on seeing the neighbour on the sky, teasing his kite. He scanned down the string to see his wife beaming after having switched places so it almost seemed like she had spun a kite before. ''Mine is higher,'' Meerab argued, a mischievous undertone as if she had acquired a small victory after wasting two hours in his wait.

''Mera muqabla kar rahi ho?'' His string twisted around hers, yellow waltzing around the turquoise against the cloudless background. There other low flying kites too in their own chase. (Are you competing with me?)

''Nahi, jeet rahi hun Murtasim,'' she protested, swayeding with the winds, forced to knock her elbow with his. (No, i'm winning over you.)

''Jeet rahi ho?'' He playfully mocked, watching as she failed to hold her position, pushed around by the harsh wind until the string dug into her hands, loosening her grip. (You're winning, are you?)

From the corner of her eye, she saw the way his hand fluently flex in a bid to saw away at her string, threatening to cut her free. He gestured the same with his hand, coaxing Meerab into subtly tugging, eliciting a round of chanting as they chose sides.

With the past noon sun smiling down at them, Meerab's sight darted to her husband and was further fuelled on by the competitive streak, moving her hands and pushing onto him in an effort cut his kite. On every graze, they felt other-worldly sparks.

Despite being guided by her friend and discression of her being a novice, her husband's efforts were unrelenting in determination, as playful as he was with Noori. The demeanor strongly opposed the man that had come home late from panchayat duties and woo-ed his wife with a flower; that had now been tucked into her hair.

With a final sharp pull, her turquoise kite was untethered, detached from her string and pulled away as if by an invisible tornado.

Meerab squealed in apparent defeat, letting go of the string and turning to him. ''Tumne meri baat nahi maani,'' she reminded, squinting at him as if agitated from both: being made to wait around on him and now not playing nice. (You didnt listen to me.)