Deewani

آٹھواں باب

The first rays of the sun were just beginning to fall on the horizon. A complex pattern of colours lined the sky. From a dusky pale blue to a bright orange hue. The sun was still hiding behind the dense clouds like a shy bride. It awaited the end of the disappearance of the last silvery rays of the moon.

A light breeze flew around the room and gently grazed the cheeks of Safa. Strands of her hair flew out from the chiffon headscarf as she bowed in front of her Lord. Her face covered with serenity and peace as she thanked the Creator for restoring her honour. Truly He never burdens a soul more than they can withstand. Safa raised her hands for dua and shed tears in order to let her heart feel free of the burden that it carried.

"Safa come and have breakfast. You have a big day ahead of you," spoke the soft voice of Alisha, an old woman who worked in the palace and treated Safa as her own daughter.

The old woman had graying hair with a friendly face. Bright brown eyes and a big always smiling mouth showed fading remnants of beauty. Her only accessories were the wrinkles more costly than black opal and told the story of her life.

Safa headed out of her room and sat amongst the people she called "friends". All of the women ignored her but Safa did not care. The future queen filled her plate with nan and haleem. As she began to chee on it, a million flavours exploded in her mouth no doubt the chef had made a perfect balance of Indian spices to create a complex flavour. With an underlying hint of lemon the dish was amongst one of the finest she had ever had.

Aahil sat amongst his trusted advisors and family silently. He chewed his food while simultaneously observing the actions of those surrounding him. The air had a hum of happiness it was a day of rejoicing for the people. Their king was finally getting married. Aahil gently smiled at his plate, imagining the life he wanted to live with his wife and their children.

In the evening, Aahil stood infront of his body length mirror. He was wearing a black sherwani with hints of golden work on it. Underneath he wore a plain white kurta alongside a white fitted trouser. On his feet were golden khussa's a classic mens foot wear. No one would be doing his sehra bandi today as his only sister was disowned from the royal family.

As the king came out of his chambers and sat on the cushioned sofa, he saw a garden of colours. Ranging from yellows to reds it seemed as if the ladies wearing every colour to exist till date. The men all wore plain kameez and kurtas. His own mother Raheela, the former Queen wore a dark green Sari. The blouse covered in heavy stone work. Her long hair pulled back in a bun, she looked beautiful. Aahil passed her a smile just as the Qazi sahab entered.

"Do you Aahil son of Khalid take Safa daughter of Kashif as your wife?" The question was repeated thrice all of these three times Aahil answered in agreement without batting an eyelash.

In a plain room, sat the bride whose eyes were bent in shyness as she answered and signed the Nikkah papers. Both her parents were not present at sich an important day making her feel like an orphan.

Safa was brought out of the brides suite with an army of her ladies. She was wore a deep maroon lehnga that was covered with stones and tilla work. All of it hand crafted. With a small train behind her as she walked. The choli ended a few centimeters below her belly button revealing a silver of her waistline. The tight fitted sleeves had work identical to that of the lehnga. The boatneck of the shirt allowed for a better falunting of her gold set. It had kundad work done on it. Safa had opted for jhumar as the only head accessort. Her hair in a sleek bun upon which her duppta lay.

Aahil was mesmerized looking at her who was looking the epitome of elegance and perfection. As she sat next to him, her eyes closed on their own accord and thr eyelashes met the cheeks.