The dream of my life is to lie down by a slow river and stare at the light in the trees — to learn something by being nothing - Mary Oliver

Foggy winter mornings. An overflowing cup of Kashmiri tea. Crisp bakarkhani, bought from the markets at Bhatti gate. A worn out sunday magazine. Hushed whispers. Giggles and secrets exchanged. Mundane things that made her life whole. Each of them was a jigsaw puzzle that connected and formed her personality. The steaming cup of tea with the smell of cardamom and flavour of spices infused sat on her tounge and rolled into her throat like a warm blanket covers one in the dead of the wintery nights.

Laila relished in the flavour of the tea, her head resting against her sister's shoulder. The two staring at the rust walls of the Badshahi Mosque. The thick grey fog had descended over its large courtyard. Only its tall minarets rising out. Down in the street, men with their carts had begun to come out. Tourists visiting the nearby streets for breakfasts. It was fascinating, that all of them on the same place lived lives of different kinds. Their perspectives were like white and black, a clear distinction in between.

"How did ustaad give you a day off?" [Teacher] Ayna looked at her.

Laila winked, hiding her face behind the off white mug. Her ear piercings dazzling as a ray of light fell on them.

"What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," she winked.

Speaking as if it were the most obvious of facts. Ayna slapped her lightly on the head, a smile creeping on her own face.

"Fairy Meadows. Yeh kidhr hai?" [Where is this?] Laila looked at her elder sister.

Motioning to the advertisement for a resort printed in the magazine. Its pages yellowed from the overuse. It was Laila's favourite magazine, she had read through it countless times, finding something interesting everytime.

"In the mountains". Ayna replied.

Her fingers dipping a piece of the fried dough into her tea. Relishing the flavour with each bite.

"Ayna baaji ap idhr gai thi na?" [Ayna sister you went there right?] Laila tilted her head.

Her eyes held a sheen of innocence. Her eyes losing focus as she thought about the time three years ago. Asma Bi and her daughters had accompanied the group of dancers. There was a huge party there and the men were supposed to be extremely rich and willing to pay a lot of money. That had been Ayna's first time and when they came back, the life in Ayna's eyes had dimmed.

"Hmm," she replied absent minded.

"One day I'll take all three of us here for a vacation!" Laila cheered, enthusiastically.

Ayna passed her a half hearted smile. Tears rushing into her eyes as she thought about her experience there. A bitterness filling her mouth as she wiped at her eyes harshly.

"That is if Asma Bi let's us," Ayna tapped her head.

"Tch—think big! Hum na apna randi khana daal letay hain. Phir khoob sair karein gai!" [We should open our own brothel. Then we'll travel a lot!] Laila clapped her hands.

"And whose going to pay the lifelong debt we owe Asma?" Their mother's shrill voice called out.

The two sisters immediately turned around. Their thick shawls drooping as they stared at their huffing mother. Sarah stood at the staircase with hands on her hips. Breathing harshly, her eyebrows raised in question. She stumbled over the overgrown weeds on the roof, standing right infront of them. Sarah pinched their ears, a gentleness in her actions as she glared.

"Shukar karo mein thi. Woh tum dono keh 'Three Musketeers' ya ',dain' hoti tou lag pata jana tha!" [Be thankful it was me. If it was your 'Three Musketeers' or 'witch', the two of you would have suffered!] She uttered in great disappointment.

Popping a piece of bakarkhani into her mouth, Sarah squeezed herself in between her daughters. Ignoring their shocked faces. She snorted at their reaction, taking the magazine and making a stick out of it, she hit them on their heads.

"Laila darling don't ever say this again okay? Those words about opening your own brothel house will be treated like blasphemy. Plus even seven generations of ours can't pay off our debt. It's a ruthless way they run things around here". Sarah ran a hand over Laila's face.

Laila nodded, her features morphing into ones full of sadness. She sipped the last of her tea, before laying her head on her mother's lap. Sarah's hands threading into them as Laila sighed.

"Why were you not taking your class today?" Sarah steered the conversation.

"Man nahi tha," [I didn't feel like it,] Laila shrugged.

"I wish the two of you could have lived a normal life. Not one where you sell your self for a warm bed and roof over your head". Sarah exhaled.

This was the one thing that had defeated Sarah's spirits. First Ayna and then Laila, both of her daughters could not escape this world. Like her and her mother before that. She wondered at times, that why had fate woven all her relatives into the thread of this career. It had taken her a year to cope with the death of her only friend in this hell. Many times she had looked at the letter and planned to make a run for it, unfortunately she could not put two young girls at risk. If she failed, her daughters would have to face worse. Atleast Asma Bi was her step sister, that gave her some reassurance.

"Saliha, Rabail and Anisa are lucky. They get to travel—" Laila spoke, absentmindedly.

"That is why they're lucky? I think they're lucky because they aren't randiyan or tawaif unlike us," [prostitutes or dancers] Ayna clicked her tounge.

"Ayna baaji. This is the only life I've known and I love it. All these shiny dresses and henna stained hands. Not to mention vying for your attention. And making money off of it? Does things for my self confidence!" Laila giggled.

Ayna groaned while Sarah slapped her forehead. The two were worried about Laila's free spiritedness. In this profession you had to keep silent and with Laila's cheerful, hyped personality, it would put her in danger really fast.

—

As the evening settled into the embrace of Lahore, all the residents of the Shahi Mohalla hastened their pace. Final touches were being added to the preparations for the evening. Especially in the brothel owned by Asma Bi, who was making preparations to leave for a party held by a political figure in DHA.

Laila ran around her tiny room adding final touches to her look. Ayna had already helped her with the liner, the khol and mascara already applied. She pinched her cheeks before adding a few swipes of the rosy blush. Not that she would need it, after all for most of the night she would be on her toes and the would be enough to give her skin a redness.

Laila tied the thick jhanjar around her ankles and fixed her green organza veil around her shoulders. She looked like her mother, dressed in a dark green lehnga with a blouse of the same shade. Her hands running over the gems studded all across, the sleeves ending at her elbows. Her hair tied in a sleek bun and motiya wrapped around it. It's fragrance caused the smell of her perfume to appear ten times more intense.

"Laila you ready?" Anya shouted.

"Coming!" She replied.

Wearing her copper coloured khusas, Laila ran down the stairs. Excitement bubbling inside of her. She was finally of age to attend those parties everyone gushed about. Although she had seen men in and out of rooms across their home, she had never really cared. However, now that she was about to take step into this world, Laila could not stop herself from shaking like a leaf.

"Laila you look stunning," Ayna gave her a smile.

Laila nodded, sensing something was wrong with the way Ayna had brushed her off. Usually her sister would gush all about her beauty.

"Laila MashAllah! I'm so happy for you. Finally you'll stop eating our head off. But my love don't go out of Ayna's sight okay?" Sarah kissed her forehead.

"Okay," Laila replied, still a bit irked.

Next thing she knew, she was being loaded into the bus with her sister on her side. Laila held onto Ayna's hand in a tight grip. Staring out of the window with a ghost of a smile. Her eyes widened as she saw the tiny, over crowded streets give way to large, carpeted roads and avenues. The homes, no longer toppled over each other. Instead they were spread out and humongous. Most had large lawns and sleek, polished cars standing infront of them.

"Ayna baaji yeh kitna saad ilaqa hai," [Ayna sister this area is so clean,] Laila whispered.

Ayna smiled at her. Her younger sister was so naive. This part of the city was clean. Yet it did not hide the fact that they were equally as corrupted and stained like them. Laila scrunched her face, sneezing lowly. At least the air was not constantly reeking of faeces.

"Laila you and Ayna will be part of the opening group. And Laila if a man summons you, you call me!" Asma Bi announced as the bus entered a large farmhouse.

The two sisters nodded their head, joining the group of seven women that stood upfront. Stepping out behind them. The other's were used to the sight infront of them. Yet that did not stop Laila from gaping at the posh place. They entered from a small black door at the backside of the building, her eyes taking in each detail.

The insides were painted a coffee colour with large lights all around. Three chandeliers hung in the large foyer that Laila caught a glimpse of. Marble stairs with thin black matte railings. They sneaked from below the stairs and into the large lounge. On one side a large group of men sat, their hands holding small glasses of alcohol. The musicians already set up as the girls took their place. Ayna passed Laila a smile before the two split up.

Laila took a deep breath, staring into the eyes of the audience. As soon as the tabla [drum] began to sound with rhythmic beats, Laila followed the group. Their movements, soft yet clear. Distinct lines between each step as they flowed across the floor. Once or twice, Laila felt the money flying in from all sides, hit her on the cheek. She grinned, relishing in the approval. Taking each step with even more determination.

Twirling around the rectangular floor, Laila moved with the elegance of a swan. A wide smile etched on her face as her nimble fingers cut through the air. Laila stared at the men from in between the circles she danced in. Her feet dancing along to the beats, the anklets making soft melodies of their own. She saw in the eyes of the men an appreciation. A hunger to have her. And never had she felt more powerful. She felt her body fill up with pride as their eyes followed her. Like a hunter stalks its prey.

By the time their performance ended, Laila was drunk on the power. A high like she had never experienced.

"Laila you've gotten quite a few customers. I'm impressed," Asma Bi applauded.

Her daughters might not like the girl but she knew Laila was going to prove to be a hen that laid golden eggs for her.

"She isn't ready!" Ayna interrupted.

Laila looked at her sister, baffled at the bitterness in her tone.

"I promised your mother she wouldn't entertain any client the first three nights. So she's lucky. But Ayna iska daman paak tum ziada deir rakh nahi pao gi!" [You won't be able to keep her pure for long!] Asma Bi smiled.

Leaning in, she whispered into Ayna's ears.
"Bas dua karo jo tumharay saath huwa woh iskay saath na ho!" [Just pray that what happened with you does not happen with her!] She fixed Ayna's dress.

Walking away with a proud smirk on her face.

RIGHT WHAT IS UP WITH AYNA?

WHO WILL BE LAILA'S FIRST CLIENT THOUGH?

THOUGHTS & COMMENTS