Meri Pehchan

•the proposal•

A flutter of the brightly colored hummingbird's wings would have been put to shame after the pace at which her heart beat. Wide eyed, she stared at the crowd infront of her. Her heart missed a beat and the widest parts of her esophagus tightened. Stopping a cough she felt her eyes tear up from the pain at holding it back. From one man to the next, her dark brown eyes ran wild. Searching for a twitch in the jaw or a facial muscle move in a peculiar manner. It had to be a joke, she told herself calmly. The hopeful eyes and bright smiles were a scam she assumed.

The King of Persia had knocked at their door in the darkest hour of the night. At first, she had mistaken him for a messenger who had arrived to summon her father — after all the shabby clothes hinted at that. Like a shadow he moved into the tiny home with stealth and speed. Before she could even bat an eyelash he had whizzed in and his cloak grazed her chin. Locking the door she walked behind him, her parents equally surprised to see the man inside their home. The sun was yet to rise and the moon yet to set, the sky was darker than ever.

He had taken seat at a chaise, crossing his legs. Removing the thin silk scarf from his face, he raised his kohl lined eyes in their direction. Her father had been the first one to get out of his shocked state. Reaching out for the King's ring clad hand and kissing the back of it twice in respect. Shah Hassan had patted the space beside himself and Akbar had no option but to follow suit. Once they were all seated the King had thrown in their way an explosive news. A proposal for her hand in marriage to his son. Samra could observe the wide smile that had fixed itself onto her mother's supple face, and the gleam of hope that had her father's chin raised.

"I'm sure there has been a mistake. How could he — me? Me of all people?" Samra pointed to herself.

She had met the General only twice, both of which were incidents where she had launched into holding him as a culprit for his innocent mistakes. No word of greeting or love had been exchanged between the two. Just this afternoon she had managed to disrespect his sister, the future Queen of Persia. With that as an impression how had the King been convinced?

"It is you alright. Fadahunsi is a man of few words, so it was Alishba who came up with the idea and he agreed," King Shah Hassan grinned.

Samra blinked in silence. The General had lost his mind she assumed. Or he perhaps liked to be ridiculed, her subconscious mocked.

"With all due respect your Highness, I think your son needs to visit the hakeem," she gulped.

King Shah Hassan let out a loud laugh at that remark. His thick hands slammed her father's thigh and she winced lightly. Her poor father. The King looked to her with great enthusiasm and shook his head, the luscious hair peaking from under his thick cloak.

"He is quite alright. I think you've just left him spell bound. Please dukhtr think about it". He begged.

"This is such an important decision I can't just — abu aap kuch kahiye na!" She looked to him for help.

[Father you say something!]

Like a fish out of water Akbar gaped at being addressed. He rubbed his hand over his thin cotton shirt, sweat marking the top of it. Raising his brows and turning to his wife, he read her face. The wind gushed outside and blew in through the tiny gaps in the wall. Making soft whistling sounds, covering the deep muteness of the room. Bugs outside created a soft white noise and the relentless moonshine fell on Samra's dark face. She looked like the centre of the universe, and he knew as a father anyone would be lucky to marry her.

"Samra — from what I know Fadahunsi is a valiant soldier and a man of great skill. He is humble and generous, which is more than we could ask for. He'll treat you good, this father's heart knows that—"