Gunnah e Shab

9. Touch • لمس

I almost forgot I was meant to update

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But as bad as it was, I learned something about myself. That I could go through something like that and survive. - Nicholas Sparks

A stainless steel knife cut through the large red onion precisely. The cut, linear and refined. Uniform diced onions falling onto the cutting board as the thin fingers held the bulb together. Wiping her eyes against the soft material of her light pink linen shirt, Ayna sighed. A soft curling tendril, grazing her cheek, the rest of them pulled into a loose three strand braid. The pressure cooker whizzed in the background, Anisa sifting through the spice rack to add some star anise into her marinade.

"Ayna chop the onions fast. At this speed, Rabail's going to be married before we serve lunch!" Anisa reprimanded.

Ayna nodded, her eyes still focused on the chopping, lest she slice her fingers. The daal, cooked inside the pressure cooker, Anisa's mutton chops marinated in the wet batter made of buttermilk, cinnamon, red pepper, salt, black pepper, oregano and rosemary. The flavours all coming together to form one cohesive dish. After all, the daughter's of the owners could not feast on a plain lentil.

"I'm trying my best Anisa," Ayna softly replied.

Wiping at the tears that rushed out as the sharpness of the onions diffused around. Gripping the long stalks of the green onions, Ayna moved to chop them thinly, her eyes on the pot. Making sure it would not explode. The whistling on the cooker increased to a sharp piercing sound, steam the colour of snow rushing out from the top. Dropping the knife, she rushed to the stove. Pulling the lid off, steam running out with an unknown strength, its heat, touching the soft sideburns on Ayna's face.

"Ayna mama is calling you. Leave this chopping to me," Saliha announced as she stepped into the room.

Ayna nodded her head, scampering out of the kitchen, her shoulders hunched. Trying to make her presence almost non existent as she left the two sisters to their own devices. She took a deep breath, shaking like a withered leaf as she climbed the stairs. Taking one step at a time, at a pace of a toddler. Her hand trailing along the railing, mind focused on reasons as to why her presence was needed. There were many of course, she was after all not quite in Asma Bi's good books. Yet she was glad that was the case, the woman was a leech. As soon as she had milked you, she would run away.

Knocking on the dark coffee door, Ayna entered the large room. Asma Bi sat on her chaise, Rabail in between her legs, getting her head massaged. Ayna was envious. The three sisters and their mother, lived lives of peace. They had lives full of warmth. Not worried every second about being thrown out for not contributing enough. There was no one holding a gun to their heads, asking them to do what their bodies, did not wish to.

"Y-you wanted to see me?" Ayna stuttered, wiping her sweaty palms against her shirt.

"I'm sure you know why," the elder woman, smirked.

Patting Rabail to leave, Asma got up. Wiping her hands on the towel cloth, she pulled out the large silver tray, shaped like a leaf. Tiny containers with supari, tobacco and other things filled it, large washed neem leaves on one side. Asma Bi rolled herself a paan, munching on the sweet leaf as she motioned for Ayna to have a seat.

"Haan Ayna bhai masla kia hai?" [Yes Ayna what is your problem?] Asma Bi spat the leaf into the dust bin.