She was like a butterfly in spring. Flying from one garden to the next with her face pulled in a bright smile.
He was like a lonely Eagle. Soaring through the winds at high speeds, looking for happiness.
Life threw curveball on curveball in her path...
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S H E got out of her lousy bed with a little jump in her step. Like most girls her age, Hoor had always looked forward to her marriage. Today on a beautiful Sunday, a man was coming over with his family to see her. She could not help but be excited. It was a natural reaction that she could not stop.
Having shampooed her hair the night before with her trusted Lifebuoy shampoo, Hoor took it out of the low bun that it was. In she gently brushed out all of the kinks in it. To her, her hair was her most prized position. She maintained it with great care using Zubaida apa's totkay[hack]. It was thick, luscious and silky. The envy of many.
Finally having brushed it all out, Hoor took the front strands of her hair and pinned them back. Leaving the rest of it open to fall like a dark waterfall on her back. She took out the reshmi [chiffon]black frock that she had decided to wear. It came had a churidar[ruffled pants]pajama and the whole circumference of it had tiny little balls attached to it. The chiffon dupatta was placed in her neck and opened in such a manner that it gave her chest sheer coverage.
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Hoor then reached for her make shift makeup bag. It was actually a sac she had gotten from itwaar bazaar [sunday market] for very cheap. Taking out her blush pink lipstick and blush on kit that had all been bought from landa[thrift], Hoor was ready.
At noon, when the sun had begun to rise to the centre of the large crystal clear sky and the winds had started to settle a bit, the doorbell rang. The noisy bird sounds rang through the tiny home.
"Ali darwaza kholo woh log aagaihain," [Ali open the door. They have reached] Jahan-ara shouted from her bedroom where she was putting finishing touches to her looks. Her eyebrows were threaded away to remove any hair that had grown out of line. Her thin lips painted a deep burgundy shade. She had applied a low grade foundation she had gotten for three hundred rupees. The shade was ten shades to light for her skin and the dark red blush made her look like a clowns sister. Her body was squeezed into an ivory white shalwar- kameez suit that she had worn for way to long but refused to give up on.
