In the opulent world of modern-day Pakistan, Layla Malik, once the wild heiress to a political dynasty, has transformed herself into a formidable force of ambition and revenge. Her heart scarred by betrayal, she stands at the helm of her family's em...
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0 2 : d e v i l s a d v o c a t e
oh I will carry you over fire and water for your love
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THE night grew dark. The sky above was clear, only tinged with the glow of the crescent moon that seemed to peer down upon the world with a disdainful grin. A cold unfettered breeze hurtled through the gardens, brushing the ankles of the city's elite that had gathered tonight. The air was ripe, saturated with the kiss of decadence and unending sin. Despite the late hour, the Chaudhry Mansion was brimming with activity and roaring energy, a strange contrast to the silence and quiet that the occupants of this house so loved.
But Shanzae and Aliyaar Bhai were excellent hosts. Despite their inclination towards intimate, quiet nights, they were known to host the most ostentatious parties and elaborate dinners. And those gatherings, frequented by the mighty and powerful of the city, were one of the most coveted events on everyone's social calendar. After all, who wouldn't want to rub shoulders with the potential next prime minister of the country.
The entire night, I flitted around the gardens like a butterfly, engaging in small talk and indulging in the several pieces of gossip floating around. From the army officers and politicians to the budding new actors and models, it seemed everyone had thrown their arms up to tonight's unending party, quenching their thirst to socialise with the rhythm of the music gliding through the air.
I loved these parties.
Amongst the people, dressed up in scintillating silk dresses, skittering around with my friends, content merely with the enticing smell of food was where I felt the most alive. Our parties were never boring, especially when brains would clog with alcohol and better sense evaporated to the heavens above, one could often witness the funniest, most bizarre scenes unfold in front of them. And by the time the night would end, people often had enough fodder to feed their gossip session until the next gathering.
Despite a population of 220 million, perhaps only a handful of people got a taste of the life the rich and powerful of this country enjoyed. Deep in the thrall of boundless sin and drunk on the haze of power, this little strata of Pakistani society lived in a bubble of its own. A bubble greatly removed from the realities and troubles of the world beyond the four walls of the sprawling mansions and luxurious farmhouses of the affluent.
And in this bubble, there was no hiding. Whispers crawled fast, and rumours spread faster than plague. In a circle so small and exclusive, it was easy to recognise old faces and hard to miss the new ones. Nothing went unnoticed under the watchful and prying eyes, from the colour of your dress to the secrets of your bed, everyone seemed to know everything about everyone. And perhaps, that's what made these occasions all the more fun and entertaining. Always someone or something to catch up with.
