Murtasim, the wealthy feudal lord and successful businessman, sat cross-legged on his ornate divan, the rich Persian rug beneath him soft and inviting. His hands, calloused from days of signing documents and shaking hands, rested idly in his lap. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, surveyed the opulent room around him. The mansion in Hyderabad, Pakistan, was a testament to his power and wealth, a symbol of his status in society. His wife, Meerab, a successful lawyer in her own right, bustled about the room, making final preparations for their guests' arrival. Their children, Mahir, eight years old, and Meesam, four years old, played contentedly together on the floor, their laughter filling the air with a joyous melody.
The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of Meerab's friend Saba and her husband Farukh. Murtasim rose to greet them, his face splitting into a warm smile. "Saba, Farukh! It's so good to see you both. Please, come in, make yourselves comfortable." He gestured for them to sit on the plush sofa near the fireplace. Saba, a striking woman with dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes, was dressed elegantly in a traditional salwar kameez, while Farukh, her husband, was clad in a crisp Western suit. They brought with them their eight-year-old son, Hamza, who immediately ran over to join Mahir and Meesam in their play.
Meesam, the couple's four-year-old daughter, however, had other plans. She had been playing happily with Mahir until now, but as Hamza approached, she suddenly became possessive and did not want to share her brother's attention. With a pout on her rosy lips, she tried to pull Mahir away from Hamza, saying, "No, Hamza. I want to play with Mahir alone." Her brother, on the other hand, was delighted to have a new playmate and did not seem to mind sharing his sister's company. The adults exchanged knowing glances, amused by the little drama unfolding before them.
As the children continued to play together, Saba leaned in towards Meerab and whispered, "Your little Meesam is such a sweetheart, but she's quite a strong-willed one as well. Where does she get that from, I wonder?" Meerab laughed softly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Oh, you know how it is. They're all like that at that age. It's just a phase, I suppose. But don't they make the most adorable little scenes when they're playing?" Saba nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on the adorable group of children.
The room filled with more laughter as Murtasim and Farukh engaged in a lively discussion about recent political events. Their voices echoed off the high ceilings, bouncing back and forth like a game of verbal tennis. Meesam, however, was not amused by the sudden change in the dynamics of her playtime. She huffed and puffed, her little chest heaving as she tried to figure out a way to regain her brother's attention.
Meanwhile, Hamza, being the older and more experienced player, had quickly found common ground with Mahir. They began to share stories of their daily lives, trading anecdotes about school and their friends. Hamza, being quite the adventurous spirit, regaled Mahir with tales of his exploits in the local park, where he often played cricket with his friends. Mahir, on the other hand, was more of a bookworm and shared his passion for reading with Hamza. The two boys quickly became inseparable, engrossed in their conversation and oblivious to the little drama unfolding between Meesam and her brother.
Meerab and Saba exchanged glances, amused by the way their children were interacting. They both knew that these moments of play and innocence were precious, and they cherished them deeply. As they sipped their tea, they continued to observe their children, marveling at how quickly they were growing up. "They really are like little sponges," Meerab remarked, "soaking up everything around them." Saba nodded in agreement, her eyes misting over just a bit.
Unbeknownst to the adults, Meesam's pout had turned into a full-blown tantrum. Her bottom lip quivered as tears began to well up in her big, round eyes. She looked around desperately for someone to comfort her, but all the adults were too engrossed in their own conversation to notice. Finally, she could hold back no longer and let out a heart-wrenching wail, her tiny body convulsing as she cried.
Hamza and Mahir, who had been so engrossed in their conversation just moments ago, suddenly became aware of the commotion. They exchanged worried glances and quickly abandoned their conversation to see what was wrong with Meesam. "What's the matter, Meesam?" Hamza asked, kneeling down beside her. "Are you hurt?" Meesam, still sobbing uncontrollably, pointed accusingly at her brother and wailed, "Bhaia not playing with me anymore!" Mahir, feeling guilty, tried to comfort her, "Of course I'm playing with you, Meesam. I'm just talking to Hamza." But it was clear that Meesam was not appeased.
Meanwhile, Saba and Meerab had noticed the altercation and were quick to intervene. They both knelt down on the floor, one on either side of Meesam, and gently stroked her back. "There, there, sweetheart," Saba cooed, her voice calm and soothing. "It's okay to feel upset sometimes, but you don't have to cry. Hamza and Mahir are both here to play with you." Meerab added, "Why don't you show Hamza how you like to play with your toys? Maybe then you can all have fun together again."
As Meesam slowly calmed down, Hamza and Mahir resumed their conversation, this time including her in their play. They took turns narrating stories about their favorite toys and asking Meesam for her opinion. Soon enough, the room was filled with laughter once again as the children played together harmoniously. Saba and Meerab exchanged satisfied smiles, grateful for the peaceful moment before the inevitable next tantrum.
Outside, the daylight began to wane, signaling the end of another beautiful afternoon. The adults started to gather their belongings, preparing to leave. They hugged and kissed their children goodbye, promising to return soon for another playdate. As they said their final goodbyes, they couldn't help but notice the new bond that had formed between Hamza and Meesam. It warmed their hearts to see how quickly children could find common ground and form friendships, despite their differences.
Meesam clung to her mother, tears streaming down her face. She didn't want Hamza to go home; she wanted him to stay and play with her forever. Her heart ached at the thought of being alone again, with only Mahir to talk to. But Saba gently reassured her, "Don't worry, sweetheart. Hamza will come back to play with you soon. You'll have lots of fun together again."
Hamza, feeling guilty for upsetting Meesam, offered her a small gift he had brought along. It was a shiny new toy car, the one he had been eyeing at the store. Meesam's eyes lit up in surprise and delight. She hugged the car tightly to her chest, her tears finally drying up. "Thank you, Hamza Bhai ," she whispered. "I promise to take good care of it until you come back." Hamza smiled, feeling a little better himself. He waved goodbye to Meesam and her family, promising to return soon.
As the adults said their final goodbyes, they exchanged knowing glances. They knew that this was just the beginning of many more playdates and adventures to come for their children. They watched as Hamza and Meesam waved to each other until they could no longer see them, a bittersweet feeling in their hearts. They knew that in the grand scheme of things, these moments of heartache and separation were fleeting, but they were also the building blocks of the lifelong friendships and bonds that would sustain their children through the years to come.
