The thin white jasmine bracelets covered her wrists in a tight grip. The string that held them together dug into her soft skin as she toyed with her hair. The usually open hair had been pushed into an elaborate bun, white roses covering it from all sides. In the centre of her forehead was a bronze headpiece, it cradled her hairline and the emerald green beads along with the lava red ones sat as a bright contrast against her skin. The dress made of muslin and brocade was one of the finest she had ever worn. A long maroon frock with a plunging neckline and gold embroidery wrapped her slender frame. A flowing skirt accompanied the dress, and she was surprised to not see her new shoes peak through.
The expensive veil that sat on her head allowed for a translucent sight of the thick ink black locks underneath. A heavy gold necklace covered her swan like neck, covering the distance between her collarbones and the dress's neckline tastefully. Her shoulders were on display as the sleeves began an inch below the joint, flowing till the ends of her thin fingers. The insides of her mocha palms, were fair and covered in henna — a long lived tradition. Samra rubbed the rose petals behind her ears, she had always loved the scent of the natural flower over the concentrated natural perfumes her father got for her on the rare occasions.
A thin nose pin covered a larger part of her face. She felt uncomfortable at the cold touch but did little to put it out of way. A small ruby was encrusted at the edge of the thin circle where the long jagged metal string met the nose pin. It was pinned behind her ear and large earrings, that had been hung over the shell of her ear dangled dangerously close to the ends of her neck. She felt the hair their stand up in anticipation, her kohl lined eyes like the deepest of mysteries. Samra was surprised to see herself carry the heavy dress so well. It was an unusual sight, nevertheless, she felt giddy on being able to live her childhood dreams. She fiddled with the clasps of the thin bangles her parents had gifted her with, waiting for the groom, her groom to arrive.
A gentle knock on the cracking door of her bedroom pulled her out of her endless thoughts. Her mother's figure, covered in a lavender brocade anarkali, stepped inside. She wiped the tears from her eye, taking slow steps towards her daughter. Yumna's maternal heart was overwhelmed with love and affection. Taking a seat beside her on the thin mattress she kissed her on her forehead. Her heart skipped a beat on the realization of her daughter being old enough to marry.
"Oh Samra!" She whimpered.
"Pl-please don't cry," Samra spoke.
The young bride forced her own-self to hold her tears back. There was a light pain inside her heart too, she had always been her parents only child now she would become the wife of a much sought after general.
"These are tears of happiness," she shook her head.
Yumna kissed the side of Samra's head. Helping her off of the lounging chair, she straightened her dress. It was exquisitely crafted, and she knew even if her husband worked for ten more lifetimes he would not have been able to afford even one end of the dress.
"Everyone is here, are you ready?" She patted her face.
The clouds outside had parted after hours of rain. Sunshine finally falling on the wet grass and the birds had taken flight once more. Their large wingspans covered the pale blue sky, the stormy harshness crumbled like a child in it's mother's embrace. Leaves on the plenty trees inside the Palace stood with their spirits anew. Bright green contrasted with the tangy reds of the bricked Palace. Amongst the noisy chirping, the strong winds could be heard too. The windows rattling and the dust that flew around with it in fine waves, covered the table tops.
"I am. Let's go," Samra slid her hand inside her mother's.
Her father must have been busy helping the groom and his entourage settle in. Why else would he of course, miss out the chance of giving her one last sound advice? He had already done much of that in these past few hours. From explaining to her Fadahunsi's importance and her role in his life, he had trudged on to the topic of privacy and love. Letting her mother take over when it came over to explaining what was expected of the couple on their first night together. Hearing which, Samra had turned the shade of ripe apples.
Her mother helped her into their dinning room. A large divide had been set up using the veil she had made by herself. She had slaved on it for years, finding the perfect laces and beads to stitch on the loose fabric that she had stolen from her mother's trunks. Now the dull red fabric was stretched across the room, on the other side was Fadahunsi dressed in a maroon kaftan with gold embellishments, his long hair tied into a man bun and the wild beard trimmed. She tightened her hold on her mother's arm, settling on the thin floor cushion. Her father walked right up to her, dropping a kiss on her forehead and then proceeded to place the small wooden table infront of her.
The officiant, a stout man with blazing red hair and bright blue curious eyes walked to her side. Reciting a soft prayer for the couple in front of him before proceeding with the ceremony. Samra's consent was taken and Akbar helped her sign her name onto the thick paper with the feather. She smiled softly at the crooked way her name was etched next to the polished way Fadahunsi and signed his. In their signatures one could see the difference between the two. One was a man of depth and strength the other, a symbol of meek clumsiness.
"Mubarak ho," Alishba cheered.
[Congratulations!]
The rest of the families followed. Hugging and kissing the newly wed couple on their brows. King Shah Hassan held his hand out for Samra, who shyly placed her hand on his. Helping her to her husbands side, he sighed at the sight of them. The pair went along like mango pickle did with lentils. His tall, broad build against her nimble and slender frame. A vow of his promise to look after her. A vow of hers to protect his heart.
"I'm your sister-in-law and the Queen to be. However, you already knew that," Alishba added with a cheeky grin.
"Our sister-in-law's luck of course ran out when she chose Fadahunsi over me," Faheel spoke.
He walked towards the newly wedded, taking Samra's hand in his embrace and bringing it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. A mischievous grin marred his face as he watched his younger brother hold back a murderous snarl.
"Ignore him Samra. Welcome to the family," Faheem curtsied.
With an awkward smile on her face and no idea of how to reply, she nodded.
"That's enough. Let's all settle for lunch, and then we can take Samra with us," Shah Hassan ordered.
"Take Samra?" Yumna frowned.
"Well—yes! Samra and Fadahunsi will stay together. No one is allowed near our chambers so they wouldn't know and even if they did, it doesn't matter. A marriage should not and can not be hidden!" He lauded.
"B—but we didn't know this". Akbar sighed.
The sun had begun to set outside. The creamy skyline turned darker and in the crystal clear abyss the shadows of the crescent moon were beginning to appear. A few stars had already come out in their glory, their bright fire lit up the sky, without the need of fireworks — as was tradition. The bright orange and splendid pink of the setting sun mingled with the objects in their path and cast long shadows. That now fell on Samra's dark skin as she looked between the adults.
"It's to happen one day anyways. Wouldn't you rather it be now?" Alishba told Yumna.
"That isn't the problem, it's just—" she sighed.
"We have no objections your Highness. Samra will follow her husband". Akbar nodded after a few minutes of deep contemplation.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Seated on the round bed, with thick furs covering the feather mattress Samra sighed. She had never known such finery, and her back was sending prayers her way. She moaned, content with the way the pillows molded under her weight. Her dress spilled out around her, covering the muslin sheets in its span. Her hands were turned in her lap and she stared at the deep color of henna. A small smile grazed her lips unknowingly, her features relaxing into the warmth of the room. The large balcony inside the room was surrounded by long pillars and the sight of the bright moon right in front of her was breathtaking.
Finally near the heart of the Royal Palace, Samra could catch glimpses of more than the river. The tall minarets of the mosque that had been built a few hundred years ago stared right at her. Their bright green domes — copying the one in Madinah for it's sanctity cooled her eye. The gold trim and Arabic calligraphy that was impossible for her to read, had a light of their own in the dark night. A pale fog settling over the pointed tips of the pillars. She hunched over, grasping her chin with one hand as she looked at the moon, that was hanging lower than ever.
In her deep observation of the outside world she failed to notice Fadahunsi enter the room. He had locked the door, thankful that the well oiled locks did not creak and Samra's attention was still trained on something outside the window. The pale moonlight shone on her. The sequins in her dress glimmered. She was like a mirage. A fairytale. A secret. A treasure that was sought by many. Her plump lips parted in wonder and he felt his blood freeze, the heart taking over his mind as he trudged nearer to her.
As he walked closer, the light of the moon on her dark skin turned more intense. It was to the point that her hair now sported a silvery hue, the sharp cheekbones cast a dark shadow on the supple apples of her cheek. Her long aristocratic nose, turned upwards at the end in delight. A firefly stumbled into their room, buzzing it's way to her. Settling itself on the top of her head. She giggled and waved it over, her bangles dangling around her slender wrists.
"Khuda ki takhliq har shai ap par fida hai," he broke the deep silence, settling beside her.
[Everything created by God fawns over you.]
Samra blushed, averting her gaze from the bright moon. Her eyes caught Fadahunsi's and she felt herself get lost in the deep whirlpool of his eyes. The brightness in them, and her reflection that she saw turned her feet cold. There was a passion unlike any that swirled inside his eye and a deeply sated smile on his lips as he forwarded his hand to brush the hair that had slipped out of the bun.
"Itni bhi koi khas baat nahi hai hum mein," she spoke.
[There isn't something that special about me.]
Fadahunsi leaned in closer to her face, his warm breath brushing her cool skin. Her palms turned clammy as she fisted his dress, feeling the deep rapid heartbeat of his heart under his broad, tan chest.
"Agar eik heeray ko apni pehchan ho jati tou ussmein aur pathar mein kia fark rehta?" He whispered.
[If a diamond knew of itself then what would be the difference between it and a rock?]
• Translations •
Anarkali — Traditional south asian attire
•••
*Passes mithai*
MUBARKAAN