T H I N fingers gripped the flimsy hangers as they moved past one after the other. The tips of the nimble fingers grazing the top of each fabric to feel the textures.
"Hoor yeh maroon wala pehan lo," Jahan-ara pulled out a cotton frock.
"Han ammi yeh acha hai. Mera khayal hai yahi pehan lena chahiye," Hoor smiled.
Grabbing the outfit, she headed downstairs to her parents room.
Grabbing the iron from its space behind the tin boxes that were a part of her mother's dowry. Laying the ironing board out, Hoor plugged in the worn out wire, starting to iron her outfit. The creases that were erased after each swipe of the iron created a feeling of satisfaction inside her.
She tried to get done with the job as soon as possible. Not knowing when the electricity would go out, she could not risk to take a long time to do her tasks. And then there was the ever looming doom of the gas running out. Leaving them to shower with cold water in such cold weather. Eventhough, November was just starting, the falling temperatures made it seem like the last few days of December.
"Hoor jaldi naha lo iss sai pehlay garam paani chala jaye," Ali shouted at his sister, starting the geyser as soon as he saw her run to the roof.
Hoor replied with a nod of her head, entering the small bathroom, she turned the tap on to fill the bucket with burning hot water. She powered through it and dressed in her clothes, carefully, just to avoid it getting wet. She headed out to her bedroom, her hair wrapped in a thin grey towel.
"Bhai geyser band kardein," Hoor shouted at the top of her lungs.
"Acha!" Ali shouted, "jaldi neechay ana, mehman pohanch nay walay hain" . He continued.
"Acha," Hoor entered her small room.
The room may be categorised as unnecessarily small but it was her space. Which was why you could see random decorative items she had collected from the itwaar bazaar at unbelievably low prices.
Drying her hair roughly with the once thick towel, Hoor sat on her vanity. Well makeshift vanity. It was a piece of mirror her father had gotten from scrap, set on a floor with a floor cushion infront. Her products lay around it in small plastic baskets. She applied some blush on her cheeks, slapping the excess away. For her lips she chose one lipstick she had taken from her mother a few weeks ago. The light pink shade matched the rosy shade of her lips hence giving a natural look. Lastly coating her lashes with a bit of mascara, Hoor wrapped her duppata cum shawl around her hair and wore golden khusas before heading downstairs.
She was wearing a maroon frock she had stitched herself. The frock had been out together by stitching together pieces of the same colour together. Giving an artistic look. The duppata was like a light shawl, colours such as blue, golden, green and black swirling together in the shape of leaves, acted as the best touch to the monotone outfit.
"Aao Hoor. Rehman bhai darwazy par pohanch gai hain," her father, Jamal, dressed in a white shalwar kameez walked towards her. He looked like a proud man, embracing his child for an outstanding achievement.
Just then the doorbell rang. Hoor broke apart from the hug and entered the kitchen. Meanwhile her father went to open the door.
"Assalamualikum!" Both the men shouted at each other simultaneously, wrapping their arms around each other.
Rehman entered their tiny veranda, following him was Rizwan. He look dashing in his formal suit and shirt. His hair lightly pulled back, and sleeves rolled up. He was a vision.
Hoor saw him from the window of the kicthen. Blushing as she thought of him as her husband. No matter how bad she felt about the alliance, she was still human, and felt it was important to acknowledge the fact that he was handsome. Hoor was looking at him with all her focus, Rizwan on feeling the eyes on his back turned around, making eye contact with her.
Hoor immediately became flustered and ducked down, her face becoming warm due to the embarrassment she felt.
"Assalamualikum baaji. Yeh hai mera beta Rizwan". Rehman met Jahan-ara and introduced her to her potential son-in-law.
"Assalamualikum aunty," Rizwan bent down to allow the short woman to run her hands on his hair.
"Waalikumassalam! MashAllah Rizwan bhai beta aap ka bohat khoonsurat aur seerat hai," Jahan-ara complimented.
"Beth tou jain. Kharay kyun hain?" She then immediately changed the topic and gestured for them to have a seat.
"Baatein tou hoti rehein gi. Aap ab Hoor ko bhi bula lein," Rehman turned to Jamal, ten minutes into their conversation.
"Ji ji bulatay hain," he smiled at his friend, and then turned to Ali "jao apni behan ko le kar aao!"
Ali nodded his head and exited the bedroom. Only to find a blushing Hoor standing next to the door.
"Hoor tum yahan?" He was baffled to see her there.
"Ji bhai".
"Acha chalo andar aajao," he held the curtain thay acted as a second door up, allowing Hoor to bend and enter.
As soon as she stepped foot inside the room, all eyes were on her. Looking intently at the woman in question. Hoor felt her ears turn red as all the blood rushed to her face. The encounter that had happened just a few moments ago coming back to her in a micro second.
"Ass- Assalamualikum," Hoor gave her salam, stuttering as she spoke.
Everyone replied with huge smiles, with Rizwan looking at her slyly. As if he knew the reason behind her shyness. Her hazel eyes seemed to shine brightly, a stark contrast to her body language. She moved to sit behind her mother, hiding herself from the heated gaze that burned her. Eventhough, it did not make her feel uncomfortable, it was exactly not how she expected their first meeting to have gone.
"Hoor yeh hain meray sahabzade, Rizwan". Rehman gestured to him. Causing Rizwan to laugh in his heart, as if the girl had not already figured it out.
"Ali in donon ko chat par le jao. Takay yeh baat karlein," this time Jahan-ara gestured for the three children to head upstairs.
"Han yeh theek rahay ga," Rehman and Jamal agreed.
Walking the small staircase, Rizwan felt worried for his safety. Praying to Allah to save him from embarrassment and protect him from falling. Not only were the steps high, but they were steep as well, making him have a small panic attack. Such staircases were his worst nightmare. Seeing Rizwan climb the stairs so cautiously, Ali laughed out loud.
"Rizwan bhai, aram sai charay. Darnay ki zaroorat nahi. Mein pakar lun ga agar app girne lagay tou-" by the end of his sentence Ali had broken into fits of laughter.
Hoor turned around to see what was making her brother laugh. However, much to her displeasure, as soon as she turned around Ali stopped laughing. So that he could save Rizwan from embarrassment. Shrugging her shoulders Hoor continued to walk up the stairs and then walked to the furthest corner. Ali stayed on the last step so that the duo could have some form of privacy on the small rooftop.
"Mera naam Rizwan hai," Rizwan spoke first, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"Aur mein Hoor hun". Hoor gave a small smile.
"Aap ko meray sai koi sawal karna hai?" Rizwan whispered lightly.
Hoor looked at his well sculpted face, "ji. Mujhe aap apnay baray mein kuch batain".
As if waiting for the opportunity, Rizwan began to rant about himself.
"Well basically I work in a corporate office. I am a personal assistant and share holder. The owner is my best friend and in-fact we are more like brothers".
"Thoda aihsta bolein, urdu mein," Hoor shyly asked of him. Embarrassed that she did not know the language he spoke so fluently.
K A M AL H O U S E, D H A LHR
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Mustafa lay in bed. Watching a show on his laptop. Usually at this time of the day Rizwan would be annoying him with his texts. Unfortunately, the annoying little brat had gone to see a potential suitor and could not annoy him with his "what if", messages. The movie that played in the background acted as the perfect background music to his racing mind.
Everyone he knew of his age was moving forward. Taking step into their married lives. And here he was all alone, still working on his career. He knew he was a burden and no parent would like to marry off their daughter to him. No one wanted to have a son-in-law like him. He was the problem in his loved ones life.
That night he felt immensely lonely. He did not know what do with himself. The feeling of being left behind hit him hard. And for the first time after twenty-something years, Mustafa prayed.
"Ya Allah meri zindagi mein bhi khushiyan daal de!"
His eyes shut, mind slowing down as sleep found him. Meanwhile, the angels presented his prayers to their Creator.
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