"Kisi kay baap sai nahi darti mein! Aj abba aajain sahi, tum sab ki shikayat na ki tou mera naam bhi—"

[I am not afraid of anyone's father! Let dad come home, if I don't lodge a complain against you all then my name is also not —]

"Zaara!"

"Kia dadi abhi tou climax ana tha meri acting ka!"

[What grandmother the climax of my acting was yet to come!]

"Tumhara tou roz ka hai meri jaan, neechay ajao, iftari ka waqt honay wala hai".

[This is you every day activity my life, come downstairs, it's almost time for breaking fast.]

Saying so, her paternal grandmother, Saleema exited her lavishly decorated bedroom, leaving a huffing Zaara behind her. Pivoting, she looked at herself in the mirror once more, her brown hair was glossy under the tube lights, the choppy ends of her long bob brushed her delicate shoulders that were currently hidden under the starchy material of her cotton candy pink shirt, a sky blue chiffon veil thrown in her neck with a delicate gold lace around the edges. Her khussas smacked the marble floors of the large mansion she lived in, the thin anklet in her ankle on display as the capris style trousers raised a few inches above.

Zaara Khubaib stood at an average height of five foot five inches, with a slender build and cheekbones that could cut for days. Her chocolate brown eyes were always swimming in the warm waters of happiness, a winged eyeliner always covered her almond shaped eyes. She was the true joy of her family, being the youngest of course called for that. Zaara's mother, Alina Khubaib had passed away when she was two years old leaving the girl with barely any memories of her. To her, her entire world was her father and dado. Not to forget the tiny puppy she had just bought a week ago after years of convincing her family. Chuck Zaara Khubaib was the newest addition to the large family.

In the heart of Lahore's old streets where life still continued to thrive stood an age old home. The jharoka's, with their outward caving red bricks had continued to stand true to the test of time. The home was built in the forties, soon after partition and generation after generation, the wealthy Khawar family had continued to reside in it. It boasted of eighteen bedrooms — most added by the grandsons of Aleem Khawar, for their ever growing family.

Now, Aleem Khawar's grand daughter-in-law, Saleema resided behind the four walls of the home with her four sons, and one daughter. Her eldest son, Khurram had married a woman with the most gentlest of spirits, Haya. Their union had been blessed with two sons, Aurangzeb and Humayun — both of whom lived out of their native country for work purposes. The second son, Kaleem, had refused to marry and his only companion in his old age was his youngest brother's daughter Zaara who was a burst of sunlight in his dim life. Son number three, Husham married his cousin, Humeria and they had one daughter, Areej and two sons, Aman and Rafay.

Khubaib, Zaraa's father had only one child, the apple of his eye. He had raised her painstakingly, never had he refused any of her wishes — saying no to her was impossible for him. All he had was hers, even his life, which he would give with a wide grin for her joy any given day. Lastly, their sister, Anya was a widow with two daughters, Zainab and Zuneirah, with a son Zafar. They were of course famously referred to as the devils by Zaara, whose every action was under their constant scrutiny.

At the age of twenty one, Zaraa was in her second last year of university. Her father had given her free reign to study anything her heart desired, and her family had placed bets that whatever she ended up choosing would be nothing but cause of shame — however, her father had smiled, with pride when she of her own accord decided to enroll for a degree in finance. Even with her cheery and loud personality, Zaara preferred to stay inside the four walls of her palatial home, reading in the large library that was brimming with books, or strolling in the large garden at the back of their home.

"Aagayi meri shehzadi".
[My princess is here.]

Her father smiled upon noticing her figure near them in the large open veranda, the cool breeze of April brushing their skins and mobile fans whizzing behind them. Smiling at her father and favorite uncle — and she made sure everyone knew he was her favorite — she took seat on the armrest of her father's chair. Wounding her arms around his neck, Zaara placed a soft kiss on his temple, his moss green eyes twinkling with happiness as he patted her back.

"Ho gayi humari guriya ki assignment?"
[Has our princess completed her assignment?]

"Darasal Kaleem taya abu,"
[Actually Kaleem uncle,] she fiddled with her fingers.

"Chorein beta Kaleem, rozay ki halat mein thak jati hai Zaara".
[Let it go Kaleem, in the state of fasting Zaara gets tired.]

"Dado gets me". She nodded her head in triumph.

"Of course she does, she doesn't see you watching movies all night does she?" Her father pinched her chin.

"Abu that was our secret!" She whisper yelled.

"Sorry!" He bit his tongue, holding the ends of his ears in faux sadness.

"Rehnay dein, sab janti hun mein"
[Leave it I know everything] Zaara huffed.

The cheery atmosphere was not long lived, however. Her aunty Anya huffed, snorting in their direction as the sirens for the iftaar began to sound. Per tradition that had continued to be followed generation after generation, the family would break their fasts sitting on the floor of their veranda, on floor mats strewn around with dishes piled up in the centre. Khubaib, and Saleema were the only ones that sat on the chairs behind their family. With Saleema's advancing age it was not possible for her to sit on the floors and Khubaib struggled due to the kneecap injury he had suffered five years ago in a car crash.

The dastarkhwan (what the cloth is called on which food is placed on the floors), was filled with a variety of dishes. Tonight was the expected chaand raat (the night a new moon is sighted), the women of the house had gone all out with the preparations. The spicy shami and minced meat patties that were to Zaara's left called her name every now and then. Dates and glasses of cool milk were passed around first, after which the decadent food was tore into. Shuffling on her legs, her back right in front of her father's legs she fought to get the last samosa, a pout marking her lips as her cousin, Zuneirah beat her to it.

"Zuneirah baaji mujhe khanay dein na," she begged.
[Zuneirah sister let me have it.]

"You snooze you loose". Her other cousin, Zainab replied in her sister's stead.

Zaara was a woman with a sensitive, sniffing she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, stuffing her mouth with the remaining part of her fritter. Her eyes, glossy as she looked over the largely empty dishes. It was her responsibility to serve her father snd grandmother first, and she always ended up in a disadvantage with her aunts filling in the plates of their son's. Her aunt Haya tayi was busy fawning over her son's Humayun and Aurangzeb who had arrived early in the morning to celebrate a month off of work. The other two, Humeira tayi and Anya phopho too were busy filling the plates of their ravenous kids. Sometimes she could not help but wonder how it would feel like to have a mother who fought the world for you.

"Yeh lein, naraz nahi ho".
[Here you go, don't be upset.] Kaleem ran a hand over her veil, passing a warm samosa.

"Par yeh ap ka hai taya abu".
[But this is yours uncle.]

"Aur ap meri beti hain, ap khain ya mein khaun, hisaab barabar".
[And you are my daughter, you have it or I have it, it's the same thing.] He smiled affectionately.

"You're so sweet and my favorite uncle!" She grinned.

Kaleem smiled in her direction, nodding his head as he filled his own bowl with dahi bahray. The call to prayer had been called and as everyone got done with their feasts, they moved to their bedrooms to pray. The sun was setting and the time to pray was after all, running out. Zaara, collected the dishes, helping the house help clean before she ran upstairs, entering her bedroom. Hers was the largest out of all her cousins. At one point it belong to her uncle, however, as she grew older he traded it for her room claiming he had no need for such a big space.

The bedroom had a large window with white chiffon curtains hanging down from them, brushing the top of her furry white carpet. The window had a little seat with a round white cushion, her favorite spot to read on. Behind her princess style bed with a pastel pink canopy, fairy lights hung down from the walls. A study table and vanity completed her bedroom, a small attached walk way linking her room to her private en-suite and large closet. Completing her ablution with cold water she hastily wrapped her veil around her head in a tight knot, praying with focus.

She sensed his presence before he actually even entered her bedroom. She could recognize the sounds of his heavy footfall even after her death. The scarping of his walking stick helped her confirm her doubts. Zaara, turned her head, her hands still raised in prayer as her father entered her bedroom. Tears fought their way to the top of her eyes and heart as she thought about the way her family, save for three people, treated her. Her heart ached, thinking of the way her mother's family refused to meet her.

Khubaib sat himself down on the lavender ottoman, sighing. If someone would walk into the room of his daughter they would think a Disney movie threw up inside of it. Everything was pastel, glittery and full of sparkles — he only wished that her life would remain like that forever. To himself he was a father that had failed. He wondered many a times if he had been too cruel on her by not remarrying and bringing a woman that could nurture her like a mother, yet then again, what if she treated his precious flower worse? His heart sunk to the pits of his stomach as she wrapped her hands around his waist, sobbing into his stomach. Her warm tears wet the material of his shirt, and he could do nothing but silently run his hand through her messily tied hair.

"Chalo bas meri jaan chup kar jao, bahadur bachay rotay nahi hai". He spoke softly.
[Okay my life stop now, brave kids do not cry.]

"Nahi hai ap ki jaan bahadur". She spoke between sobs.
[Your life isn't brave.]

"Yahi tou ghalat fehmi hai meri jaan ki. Bhala iss duniya mein meri Zaara sai ziyada bhadur kon ho sakta hai?"
[That is where you are mistaken my life. Who in this entire world can be more brave than my Zaara]

"Anyone can be," she shook her head.

"Why do you cry so much? Who hurt you?" He whispered, wiping her tears.

"Sab kartay hain. Ap keh gharwalay aur ap ki biwi, sab tang kartay hain". She sniffed.
[Everyone does it. Your family and your wife, everyone hurts me.]

"My wife is your mother".

"Mother's don't leave their children. Meri tou mujhe akela chor kar chali gayi".
[Mine left me all alone.]

"Zaara darling, some works God does for our betterment. Maybe your mother dying young saved her from a line of diseases that would have caused her pain in her latter years. I know it hurts you, especially with everyone in our family doting on their kids without care, but you have me and dado and Kaleem taya abu. If He took someone, He also compensated, did he not?"

"I hate when you talk sense to me". Zaara sniffed.

Khubaib laughed on seeing her fake anger. Wiping her tears, he kissed her forehead, blowing protective verses on her face. Wordlessly, Zaara turned around, sneaking her wide tooth opalescent comb from the bed, handing it to her father. She closed her eyes, letting the tension from her muscles drop as her father continued to brush her hair softly. There was perhaps no one who could love her as hard as her father could. Maybe, not even her own mother. Feeling his hands form a three strand braid, Zaara tapped her feet against the carpet playing with the ends of her veil.

"Will you go with your cousins to the chaand raat bazaar?"

"Will see".

"You should go okay? I know you enjoy going there, it's just my knee hurts otherwise I'd have taken you myself". He spoke, kissing the top of her head.

"It's okay. I'll ask Kaleem taya abu to come with me".

"Alright, come on let's go downstairs and see if the moon has been sighted yet or not".

Before the two could make their way out of the bedroom, a huffing Kaleem entered the room. A large grin on his face as he motioned for his brother and niece to look out of the window, where a thin delicate new moon was shining from behind the clouds, right above a minaret of a small mosque.

"Get dressed Zaara your cousins are leaving for old food street in a few minutes".

Lahore's old food street was home to some of the best food but also just one of the many places where Eid bazaars were arranged.

"Akelay?" She whispered in a panicked state.
[Alone?]

"You'll have your cousin's there, it's alright Zaara, the rest of us are following too. We'll just take a bit more time, and no you will leave with the young ones. They can not bully you!" Kaleem pointed.

Leaving the young woman no option but to reluctantly walk out of the bedroom and into a already occupied backseat of their Land cruiser. Her body crushed against the door of the car, no one moving around to make space for her.

Ramadan Mubarak guys!!
I hope you liked it

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