When the guests started filling in, it became noisy. Hoorain and Shaheen had escorted Zoha down the stairs, making sure her long kameez didn't get stuck anywhere nor she accidentally tripped on it. Before this, Zoha hadn't seen the living area decked out like this. The placement of furniture had altered the entire look. And over that there were lots of guests. More than she expected.
As she made her way to the embellished swing, designed one and only for her, the ladies looked in awe and curiosity to see, who was Shehryaar's bride. There were few murmurs of Ma Shaa Allah. Haven't ever seen her. She is so pretty. Naseeb daar. May Allah keep them happy. Some young unmarried girls rose from their seats and started clicking pictures before they missed the once-in-a-lifetime moment. The older ladies stayed seated and watched.
Saliha stepped in the front, as Zoha sat down and Hoorain and Shaheen fixed her into a comfortable position. And gave a sadka, casting away the evil eye, from her daughter-in-law. Yumna was there too. Like always she recited a dua and blew it on her for the protection.
"Ma Shaa Allah. Allah bus nazr-e-bad se bachai," Saliha said. She put a hand on Zoha's head.
Hoorain and Shaheen stepped on the side so Saliha could unwrap the cellophane from the sweet plate and start with the sweet feeding rasam.
Zoha's hand were a bit shaky. She did not look up much so she didn't feel nervous and self-conscious. There were so many ladies who looked directly at her, observing her clothes, her face and about everything from head to toe.
As she sat there, being fed gulab jamun, laddu, kalakand, and sohan halwa, she grew thirst of water. Her mouth was too sweet. She felt like eating something spicy or salty, which was direct opposite of sugar. But she knew she wouldn't be fed anything like that. More people meant more sweets and waiting longer for all of this to be over.
"Hoorain," Zoha called in a low voice. She made an eye contact with her so if she hadn't heard her, she got the signal Zoha needed her.
When Hoorain looked-sitting in the circle of girls, singing and clapping, while some expert old aunty played dhol, (drum-like instrument considered traditional in Pakistani culture in weddings) she immediately excused herself out of the moment and came over to serve her bride-friend.
"What happened? Do you need something?" she asked Zoha, bending over close to her face.
"Can you bring me some water?"
"Because of the sweets, right?" Hoorain laughed. "I will bring it." She went away.
Zoha quietly cleared her throat and fixed the kajrey in her hands, as they kept sliding down. Her palms were clammy from keeping them in one position, one hand over the other.
Fariqa got up from among the guests and came over to Zoha and sat with her.
"Zoha, you look really pretty," she said that every time she saw Zoha, and Zoha sometimes shied away and sometimes said thank you. It was too overwhelming for her.
"You must be tired of sitting right?" Fariqa said.
"I am more tired of eating the same sweets," Zoha chuckled.
"Bilkul." Fariqa laughed.
"Hoorain went to get water. My mouth got too sweet." Zoha was tasting the aftertaste. It started to turn weirdly sour.
"Oh acha."
"Bus jaldi aiye."
Fariqa fixed Zoha's dupatta from the side that was stuck under the velvet cushion.
YOU ARE READING
The Unspoken Heart
Romance[ Completed ] Zoha's life has been weaved with tragical fate. Her parents died in a tragic car crash, when she was four. Her Dadi, or grandma, raised her with relentless love and care. She bloomed into an ambitious girl, studying to become an archit...
