Meri Pehchan

•the 'important' dinner•

An avalanche of orders fell on Samra's shoulders. A soft pout, a silent cry, an unspoken plead of help ringing out from her actions. She was sick and tired of the loudness inside their cramped kitchen, the cot like bed too small to hold her as she moved around. The thin, worn out cotton sheets were piled on one side, her hands raising the thin mattress searching for something lost. Anything to keep busy. To stay away from the rush inside their tiny bungalow. Maids rushed through their home and straightened the dinning room. Petunias and Tulips were arranged on the large table, light lamps burning on the entrance to greet the former Queen.

Samra hid behind the thin screen in her bedroom as soon as she heard the worn out doors creak open. The last of the sun's light spilled in from the jharokha, dying the bare bedroom a rich gold. She giggled under her breath, observing her mother's frantic gaze search for her. The usually calm voice screamed her name, as she looked under the bed. Behind the chest of drawers, inching closer to the three panel screen, her hands scratching the tight cloth stuck between the wooden frame.

"Samra bahir aajayie. Humein maloom hai keh aap idhr hi hain, ab ajaiye ziada waqt nahi hai ap keh paas," Yumna threatened.

[Samra come outside. I know you are here, there is not a lot of time in your hands,]

Nervously, Samra scratched the back of her head. The hair spilling out from the loose bun at the nape of her neck. She stared down at the cat in her hands, a soft mewl escaping the feline's mouth.

"Billo aap humein ammi keh haathon marwayn gi," she glared.

[Billo you'll have me murdered at mother's hand,]

Yumna smiled to herself, stalking behind the screen. She knew the young girl had no where to escape to now. She was trapped. Infront of her was the thin changing screen and behind her was a pale brick wall. Unless God Himself made a hole to help her escape, her daughter was trapped. She lifted her loose skirt and turned the corner, the circular wall in the middle of the room jutted out before smoothing into a straight wall. There stood Samra, like a thief caught red handed.

"Hi!" Samra sheepishly grinned.

Yumna grinned victorious. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders she dragged the young girl out and sat her down on the bed. Its small frame seemed fragile in the large bedroom. Billo leaped out of her owners hands and ran to the window, climbing the trees branch, meowing mischievously in Samra's direction—as if teasing her.

"Now tell me why have you been running around like a headless chicken?" Yumna rested her hands on her hips.

"W-woh mein kaam nahi karna chahti," she sighed.

[U-ugh I don't want to work,]

Yumna slapped her forehead in annoyance. Turning her back to the young girl, she opened the chest of drawers taking out a barely worn saree. It was made of light pink Indian silk. Small stones sewn into the fabric, it spilled out with its many pleats and a thin chiffon blouse went with it. It had been part of her small wedding gifts, and she had saved it for Samra as soon as they had her.

"Wear this. Get dressed your grandmother will be here in a few minutes," Yumna sighed.

"I wore this the last time she came aswell," Samra spoke, absentminded.