She was like a butterfly in spring. Flying from one garden to the next with her face pulled in a bright smile.
He was like a lonely Eagle. Soaring through the winds at high speeds, looking for happiness.
Life threw curveball on curveball in her path...
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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 pehanlo," 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 loiss 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, "jaldineechay ana, mehmanpohanch 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.
