Zaara's Eid Dress

Despite the crippling heat of the summers that forced everyone inside the four walls of their homes, preparations to celebrate Eid with full force were being made. No one, or nothing, could stop the people of Lahore from enjoying the festival to it's fullest capacity. The thought itself was highly unacceptable, after all this was a joyous occasion that bound everyone together. Rich or poor, woman or man, relative or stranger, everyone in the city was ready to be a part of it all. From decorating the walls of their homes with thin fairy lights, in the yellow and orange colors, to buying envelopes of crisp manilla paper to fill in with the eidi.

Inside the Khawar's palatial home, preparations were finally complete as the clock struck five in the morning. It was tradition to wake up early, before the sun rose so that the women could work on the days meal and the men could begin to get ready for the morning prayer. Over time, it had dwindled dying down, yet still fighting hard with it's last breath to overcome the new traditions. It toppled over the wave of the new generation that deemed it cool to sleep in late, to wake up only a few minutes before their father's left for the prayer, to hastily pull on their dresses with drowsiness inside their eyes.

While the home dozed off, the matriarch worked in silence with her train of servants. Heavy base copper pots bubbled with thickened milk and spices on top of the stove. The aroma of fresh cardamom filled its way through the ground floor of the home, knocking on the door of the occupants that slept — unknown to the delicacies that which were being prepared. Slaeema worked hands on, her hands moving with a calculated pace, massaging the spices and herbs into the minced meat forming uniform circular patties — lest any guest decide to show up.

The wizened gaze of the woman whose hair had turned grey over the years ran over the preparations one last time. Thoroughly scrubbing her hands with the soap on the industrial sized sink. Her wedding ring, the one with a small ruby encrusted on the palladium twisted with ease. The skin now wrinkled allowed for it to move as it please. She smiled with a distant look inside her eyes, reminded of what life was like in those early days of her own marriage. The ones with the shy, sweet innocent love she had wished her children would face in their lives too.

"Amma ap abhi soyi nahi?" Her eldest daughter in law, walked into the still brightly lit kitchen.
[Mother you didn't sleep yet?]

"Eid keh din kis ko neend ati hai?" She smiled wistfully.
[Who feels sleepy on the day of Eid?]

"Woh tou theek hai magar apni sehat ka khayal rakha karein". Haya smiled.
[That's alright but take care of your health.]

"Yeh baatein Allah keh haath mein hai, ab tou bas apni Zaara ki shaadi dekh lun uskay baad jab marzi dam nikal jaye".
[These things are in the hand of Allah, now I just want to see Zaara's wedding after that doesn't matter when I die.]

"And what about the rest of your grandchildren?" Her daughter, Anya retorted.

"Others have their parents to celebrate their weddings, who does my Zaara have?"

"Ap ko tou saari zindagi wohi eik bechari nazar aai hai". Anya rolled her eyes.
[All your life you've always found her to be the only poor person.]

"Amma about Zaara, would it not be nice if we married her to Aurangzeb?" Haya cleared her throat, speaking as she found the time suitable to speak up.

"Aur—angzeb and Zaara?"

"Yes, Aurangzeb and Zaara. I was thinking to marry them off when we host the wedding of Zuneirah and Humayun".

"I'd have to talk to her about it. Jo woh kahey gi wohi ho ga. Khair, ab mein ja rahi hun tum dono sab dekh lena".
[Whatever she says is what will happen. Anyways, I'm going now the two of you handle everything.]

Saleema's stern tone left no room for any discussions. With that air of finality she stepped out of the kitchen, her head held high.

📜

As the clock ticked towards six, the rhythmic and constant motions got closer and closer to ringing out loud like a siren during an emergency. Unbothered, deep asleep with her hands splayed across the white linen pillows, Zaara nuzzled her head deeper in to the soft feathers. Her legs were thrown over one of her pillows, another rested under her face now covered in slobber. The natural, wild curls in her hair a knotted mess behind her.

The bedroom was still covered in darkness despite the sun beginning to rise in the world outside. Vendors who dealt in goods like that of milk and vegetables had already started to make rounds in the water logged streets already. Their loud voices rang through the alleyways. Women and men alike rushed to their windows, servants made their way out on to the street to buy fresh produce. Pigeons and chicks skittered along the roofs of the old homes, they too were busy in celebration, clucking and pecking on the seeds thrown their way.

The blaring siren, of her alarm rang in her ear. Zaara groaned, slapping her hand on top of the red button, silence filling up the gaps left behind. Sighing, she shifted on to her back looking up at the roof of her bedroom. Sliding the back of her hand against her cracked lips she got out of bed, shivering under the cool air of the ac. Suddenly realization hit her. There was a reason that the air carried a different buzz inside of it. People were already lively inside the streets despite it not being the weekend. A muzzein's voice was sounding all around their property even though it was not time for Fajar. Eid! It was Eid today.

Excited at the prospect Zaara ran inside her bathroom, taking a hasty shower and scrubbing the dry henna off of her hands. The joy of the day being one that was to be celebrated to it's fullest, became reason enough for her to ignore the scratches left behind by the soapstone she had used to take off the dry henna with. Atleast, she thought to herself, there was no mark left on her face. That was always a win. The almost maroon shaded henna was a fair contrast against her fair skin, and coincidentally it would match the color of her dress a bit too perfectly.

The rust organza shirt came with a raw silk slip attached to it. Heavy zardosi work filled the front and sleeves of the shirt. Added shades of a deep brownish red was a contrast, gold thread work running all top of it. Flowers and patterns like the seas wave all slid towards the centre panel. Sequins and beads added in the centre of the large petals were the finishing touches. Her collarbone length hair was blow dried and then curled at the ends, the signature eye liner that curved against her doe shaped eyes slid on with perfection.  Zaara slid the bangles into her hands, suddenly reminded of the man with the smoldering gaze, who had her trapped with just one look.

Sliding her feet into the copper colored stilettos, the one's that had straps to wrap around her leg, she stumbled out of her bedroom. Her fingers fiddling with the organza veil, tossing it into her neck with careless motions. Zaara pouted her lips with the uncomfortable feeling of someone's gaze on her, turning she came face to face with thin air. A frown covered her lips. Sighing she continued to make her way down the large staircase. The stairs were one of her favorite parts of the entire mansion, they with their curving banisters that led to all of the four floors of the home were original to the property, just one of the few things that had never been changed even as time whizzed by.

In the baithak (seating area) of the home, voices could already be heard, ones full of joy as they greeted each other. Her senses ran wild with the images of the whole family hugging each other and for once wearing façades of calmness and love. Goosebumps ran down her arms as she heard her once stern grandfather speak in a slacked accent, words more than ever mushed together like the peas that were part of his diet. Gone was the fierceness inside his being, replaced with a delicate flower of a man.

The men had returned from the Eid gah (Eid prayers), it was visibly clear to her, as the servants rushed out of the kitchen holding glass bowls filled to the top with sawiyan (vermicelli), crushed nuts and slivers of almonds chopped on top, a geometric pattern to keep cover on the delicacy. Her mouth watered as her eyes found their way to the semolina pudding, the thin slices of coconut thrown inside called for her name unlike anything else.

"Arey idhr kia kar rahi ho? Andar chalo!" Her grandmother passed her a soft smile.
[What are you doing here? Come inside!]

"Was just coming dado".

The elderly woman nodded, her eyes looking at her face for signs of discomfort. Any indication that someone had said something to her beloved granddaughter. To Saleema, Zaara was more like a daughter too, the double relationship she felt with her warmed her heart making her fiercely protective of the young woman.

Fixing the pleats of her off white saree, Saleema reached out to pat Zaara's cheek. The gold kangan (thick bangles), that had been part of her wedding gifts glinted with just as much might as they had half a century ago. Zaara kissed the inside of the woman's palm in respect, wrapping her fingers around her warm palms and following her inside.

"Eid mubarak!" Zaara grinned in everyone's direction.
[Celebratory greetings!]

"Khair mubarak!" A chorus of voices rang out.

"Awaa!" Burhaan coughed with great difficulty.

Zaara smiled with tears inside her eyes, sinking to her knees in front of the elderly man. Her hands wrapped around his clasped ones, the pad of her thumb brushing the wrinkles on his hand.

"How are you?"

"Go-f". He swallowed.

Zaara kissed his cheek, forwarding her palm in his direction, a silent head nod was all that was needed for his hands to shakily rise in the direction of his wife. Saleema smiled, handing him the thick envelope with her eidi. Burhaan gripped it, although the usual strength in his hands had disappeared over time and it dropped into her hand itself. Tears dripped from Zaara's eye on seeing him in such a difficult position, his own eyes filling up with a sheen of unshed tears. Why was life so difficult?

"Bhai baaki sab sai nahi leni apni eidi?" Her father tried to lighten up the atmosphere.
[Don't you want your Eidi from everyone else?]

"Laye dein na. Intezar kis ka kar rahay hain?" She grinned, cheekily.
[Come on give it. What are you waiting for?]

With a pep in her step Zaara made her rounds through the large living room, hugging her aunts and uncles, extending her palm in their directions for her gift with a proud smile on her face. Her circle ended when she reached her father, who patted the top of her head in an affectionate manner, kissing her forehead. His arm wrapped around her frame, pulling her into him. With every passing day she reminded him of his own wife. She too had been like their daughter, so full of live. So vibrant.

"Dekhein Khubaib bhai eid ka din hai, jo maangein gai ap ko dena paray ga". Haya cleared her throat.
[Listen Khubaib brother it is the day of Eid today, whatever I ask for you have to give it to me.]

"Of course Haya bhabi, please tell me what I can do for you".

"I want you to give me Zaara's hand in marriage for Aurangzeb".

The words were more poisonous than they could seem. The father daughter duo broke apart from their hug, staring at the woman with wide, disbelieving eyes. Zaara stared at her cousin who stood with a shy smile on his lips, behind one of the pillars that joined the living room to the dining room. Dressed in a white shalwar kameez, his olive skin tone demanded attention. The specks of red in his otherwise hazel eyes captivated her. They took her to a dreamland, where she would have it all. Love and happiness. Coupled with the fact that she would forever remain in the arms of her father, not having to go too far.

"This decision — only Zaara can make for herself". Khubaib gulped.

Zaara looked at her father with a strange look in her eye. Shocked at the statement she settled herself on the sofas, a sinking feeling inside her heart. She thought of herself married to her cousin, yet anytime her eyes blinked and fluttered the face of Dawaar  Mehmood would fill her eyes. She had seen him for barely a few minutes and it seemed that her heart had lost itself to him — a thought she mentally reprimanded herself for.

"I need time to think this over".

"Take all the time you need," this time, Aurangzeb spoke up.

She nodded her head, the decision made inside her heart, already.

I promiseeeee next chapter is super fun hehe

Reminder : I'm going live tomorrow at 10:00 pm Pakistani Time on IG. We'll be talking plots and having a whole lot of fun.
Id- qanootshahid14