Meher •completed•

Meher

When I was six, Baba had got me my first doll. I vividly remember her, my best friend. I had named her Sameera, she had huge eyes and wore a red bridal outfit, I would play with her all the time and one day I wed her off, wed her to another doll.

Bachpan ki nadaniyo me shayad shaadi ka koi mol nahi tha. But now that I had grown up, I knew that wedding someone wasn't just a game, being someone's wife was about much more. (We would be house when we were kids, then wedding held no real significance, I did not know what the sacred bond between a husband and wife meant)

I was in my final year of degree in fine arts, I just 21 when my life reminded me of Sameera, turned me into Sameera, jis tarah Sameera ka nikkah ek mazzak tha, ek khel uss he tarah mere nikkah ne meri zindagi ko bhi ek khel me tabdeel kar diya. (The way I wedded my doll in the game of house, the same way life turned my life into a game after getting me married.)

I am Meher Butt and this is my story.

•••

Life had been smoothly sailing till the summer of 2015, I had just turned sixteen this summer.

The house was decorated with my favourite pink carnations and rosegold balloons had carpeted the floor.

Zohra Khala had brought my dress from the boutique and the three tyre cake was already resting in the kitchen. All my friends and family would arrive in an hour.

All those English movies I binge watched with Junaid bhai made me excited about my sweet sixteen, for reason unknown.

"Meher why aren't you ready meri jaan." Amma called out as she stepped into our living room trying to fix her earring. (My dear)

Amma had single handedly made arrangements for the party, she said it wasn't a big deal now that she had been running the house for 28 years all alone, such parities didn't faze her.

Amma and Baba had had a love marriage, Baba being an orphan wasn't accepted by her parents so they had decided to elope. Amma says it had been the bravest and the best decision she had taken.

"Just heading up Amma." I replied. "Is Daniyal bhai and Baba home ?" I asked her.

"Not yet meri jaan but he will be go get dressed." She said shooing me away.

I wasn't ashamed to say I was a pampered child, the youngest of the three siblings, my brothers and father had spoilt me rotten.

Baba owned several sugar mills in Pakistan which he had himself built from scratch, my oldest brother Daniyal was a software engineer and lived in Silicon Valley in the USA, where as Junaid bhai helped baba with his business.

And then there was me, the youngest I was 9 years younger than Junaid bhai who was the middle child.

Baba had gone to pick Daniyal bhai up from the airport, he was coming home after four year, so naturally the party was more for his welcome than for my birthday, but I didn't mind sharing my moment of glory with him.

I quickly slipped into the dress Amma had gifted me, it was white silk kurta with intricate handwork paired with white pants and a white dupatta with gota work, I wore my favourite golden jutti (footwear) and lined my eyes with khol braiding my hair in a fish braid.

The familiar sound of Baba's Pajero made me scamper quickly down the stairs towards the door.

"..buss Amma a little tired, the long hours of the flight just takes away all your energy." I saw daniyal bhai complaining while hugging Amma.

"Bhai." I called out loudly gaining his attention and launched myself at him. I had missed him so much.

"Oomph!" He said stumbling a little after being thrown back by my extra weight. "Choti, ab tu moti bhi ho gayi hai." He said wrapping his arms around me, I had clung to him like a baby money to it's mamma. (Oh little one you have become quite heavy)