Deewani

چوتھا باب

Aahil sat on the lavish sofa in his bedroom. His fingers running over the parched paper. The black ink on it fading and the edges becoming victim to old age as they turned yellow. The piece of paper was written when he was born by his grand father. The words on it his inspiration. Aahil was never one to give up. Yet whenever things looked bad this page helped him gain the strength he needed to rule and entire nation.

His family was busy in arranging a mehndi ceremony. With only a few days left. The actual nikkah was to take place on the third day of eid-ul- fitr. The last few days of Ramadan had been hectic with the arrival of several dancers and designers. The woman's wing in the palace was crowded with guests and tailors. Fine silks and chiffon was used to make the dress for the bride. Everyday was a celebration. All they were waiting for was for the arrival of the henna artist.
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Safa loaded her little belongings on the carriage sent by His Majesty. The doors of her home were locked she just hoped no one would break and steal her furniture. Safa held her tattered bag and sat on the beautiful seat. The velveteen was of a dark plum colour with pearls encrusted on it. The doors of the brown carriage were proud bearers of the royal crest. A jasmine flower worn by a proud markhor.

The ride was bumpy but that was not what bothered Safa , infact it was the least of her concerns. The people outside were taking this chance to mock her. She was being called a whore. The locals thought she was headed to the castle for pleasing their king. At that point Safa prayed that the floor part into two and engulf her in it alive , having your honour questioned everyday was not something she could live with.

The wheels of the carriage entered the castle. Safa got out of the vehicle and her eyes widened. The beauty of the place was too much to handle. The white building stood tall with pride , surrounding the place were gardens that went on for miles and miles till you could see no more. The entrance was lined with small fountains , trees of fruits providing shade to the arrivers. Before safa could enjoy more of the scenes infront of her a maid who claimed to be the former queens lady in waiting led her to the ladies section and showed her the room she would be living in.

The room was bigger than average. A king sized bed with linen sheets covered most of the area. A small vanity and closet were also seen. The windows in the room allowed sufficient light to make the colours more vibrant. The bathroom had a small bathtub and different bathing salts on the mantle. Candles were burning and the sandal scent added more to the atmosphere.
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Aahil was walking down the pathway that lead to the zenana of the palace , his sister Alina had called for him. She wanted his input on her wedding gown. As he took slow , calculated steps he bumped into someone.

The shy king kept his gaze at his feet and apologised to the lady he had walked into. It was only when the woman had walked on the he turned around. Only to be met with a backside of a young girl with raven black locks cascading down her back. Big bulging eyes , a fair complexion with pink dusted across her cheeks. He was awed by the beauty of this maiden. But before they could talk a servant rushed to him

"Badsah salamt , shehzadi Alina aap ko bula rahi hain."

Nodding his head at the man , Aahil made his way to his sisters chambers. The room was overflowing with the traditional wedding attire. A long skirt and a small shirt. The designs varied but the colour was always a deep maroon. After spending some time the duo chose a skirt and shirt that were filled with tilla and small pieces of mirror work. It was truly a sight for sore eyes. 

Translation
1. Badsah salamt , shehzadi Alina aap ko bula rahi hain. : King , princess Alina is calling for you.
2. Tilla : an intricate work of thread
3. Markhor : Pakistan's national animal. It is Persian for Snake eater.