The car wove through the heavy traffic at the pace of a tortoise. Everyone was out of their homes going in every direction. Motorcycles whizzed through the tiny spaces between the heavy traffic, risking their lives for momentary happiness. Traffic wardens were at work, their whistles sounded every now and then. The pens inside their hand moved at fast speeds as they wrote down slips for the citizens that had decided to not abide the law. White street lights kept the heavy canal road from falling into a deep thicket of darkness, trees older than the country itself towering over the man made canal.

Zaara sighed, her fists rolled tight as she cursed her fate. Her three female cousins, Areej, Zainab and Zuneirah had claimed the pull out seats that were in the boot of the car, sitting with their legs spread our thanks to the ample leg room. Aurangzeb, the eldest of the bunch was driving the car with Humayun seated in the passenger seat. She had been forced to squeeze into the little space left after Rafay, Aman and Zafar felt comfortable. Her ribs were pushed against the door that kept biting into her soft skin — a bruise would be left in their wake she was sure.

Her hands itched to push Rafay's leg that rubbed against hers every now and then. The ceaseless chatter amongst the occupants of the car flew like a soft breeze, leaving her feeling left out, more than she ever had. Thin metal bangles that were almost always sliding on her wrists made soft bell like sounds as she pushed a stray lock of caramel hair behind her ear. Biting into flesh of her lower lip, her fingers fiddled with the zip of her handbag. Annoyance and impatience filled her being in the wait for the car to arrive at its destination.

An upbeat song played in the background, it's treble and bass playing with the strings of her heart. Her head throbbed with pain, the car finally whizzing past the signboards passing through underpasses before Aurangzeb finally steered the car towards the old food street. Her mouth watered as she waited in anticipation to taste the crisp shells filled with tamarind sauce and chickpeas to collide against the walls of her mouth. It had been far too long since she last had them — which her brain reprimanded was a lie, her father had gotten her gol gappe last week. In retrospect, any day without having munched on them was too long.

"Hey! Hey guys! There is another person in the car with us too!" Humayun cleared his throat, lowering the volume.

Zaara rolled her eyes at his almost taunting words, she still wondered why he had not turned out like his mother who was a gentle woman. She pinched the inside of her palms, keep calm. Deep breaths. Inhale and exhale, the soft voice of her father filled her mind. Shadows were cast on her face as they moved through the dimly lit roads. Her deep brown eyes looked even more expressive than they were usually, a sheen of water covering them. Were the tears? Rafay thought to himself, to shy to voice his claims.

"Of course Humayun. Let's interrogate our beloved Araa!" Areej nodded.

Araa, her nickname that her grand father used to call her. Up until last year when he was taken into the holds of a paralysis attack, leaving him bed ridden for most of the days. Gone was the usual, lively Burhaan Aleem Khawar, a man who once stood with his back as straight as an iron rod — now cowered on a wheel chair, a thin blanket on his legs as his grandchildren and children alike lived their lives in front of his eyes.

"Don't call me that". Zaara murmed with a strict voice.

"Oh but why Araa?" Rafay spoke, mimicking her voice.

"Because—"

"Because you don't deserve that liberty!" The rest of them completed that phrase for her.

"Acha theek hai, bas kaafi ho gaya". [Alright guys, that's enough.]

Aurangzeb rose to her defence, their eyes meeting for a micro second in the rearview mirror. She nodded her head in his direction, thanking him with a silent smile before focusing her gaze on the hullabaloo outside.

They had arrived at their destination. The small cracked streets with puddles filled with gravel and rain water dominated the once carpeted road. Tiny cement steps and slopes from the corner stores and small homes opened into the street, the doors thrown open wide as the children played in the street and their parents hung out with the neighbors. Here, life had a completely different meaning. Gone was the extravagant attitude that was possessed by the people that lived in lavish homes. Everyone was everyone's uncle and aunt. Unity was their only strength against the tide of life and it had continued to spread and strengthen over time. Generation after generation.

Stepping out of the car, Zaara's eyes took in the almost collapsing homes. The reminders of the past of her city. Of her Lahore, the one full of life and gardens that was once painted red from the blood stained clothes of refugees that arrived after partition. Of the city whose flowers kept cover over the graves of the millions that had lost their lives for her. The city was as alive as any man. Its veins were full of blood and its heart lay in the centre of the old Lahore, in between the gates — thirteen or twelve? That was debatable.

The tall walls painted shades of cream and beige, with glass windows the colors of green and blue told tales of a time she could imagine only from the starchy pages of her many history novels. People still lived and hung our around the balconies, some windows were torn in their thin metal wool, it did not matter for the pigeons still fluttered around them. Not one of them, realized the grandeur of life that had once been a part of every day life.

Zaara took small steps, left to linger behind at the end of their group. She was fascinated by the fact that her feet, her body was at the same place where mighty historical figures had once walked. Time was a wonderful thing indeed. Years, hundreds of eons had passed. All had changed and yet all still, remained the same.

"O bibi thora tez chal lo!" Zafar's hoarse voice broke her reverie.
[O ma'am please walk a bit faster!]

"S-sorry".

She gulped, fiddling with the handles of her hand bag.

"Behtar, aur gum nahi jana. Mamo humein mar dein gai!" He spat.
[Good and don't get lost. Uncle will kill us!]

Zaara noded her head, albeit for whom? All of them had long left her behind to eat the dust of their foot. Marching along the sides of the road, she crossed the entrance of the food street passing the security guard a polite smile. Her veil hung low from her shoulders, almost grazing the slightly wet brick floors of the place. Unlike the rest of her cousins, Zaara did not practice hijab. She had been taunted for it many a times, but her heart never wavered. She was in the journey of learning more about herself and her religion. Zaara wanted to cover herself up, and she prayed real hard for the strength of it too, but she had vowed to not give in because of society but because her heart had finally found peace and reason to cover herself.

Zaara kept her eyes on the floor, lest she trip over a rock or step into a puddle — that had happened to her quite often. For a second her eyes fluttered towards the stalls, before training back to her cousins who had seemingly vanished into thin air within seconds. Panic gripped her throat, her heart lurched towards her mouth. She stilled in her place reminding herself to stay calm, all the while her hands shook lightly and legs trembled. Tears filled her vision once more, and she could later remember that one small one managed escape the grasp of her eyes. Women bumped into her, carelessly walking away. Muttering profanities under their breath as they did so. Her father would be here shortly, they would not abandon her, if they did she had mobile data and could uber herself home — she tried to make light of the situation.

Fishing out her phone from her purse she held it close to her chest, gripping it tightly before walking towards a nearby stall. The best thing to do, the wisest thing to do would be to stay within range of where she lost them, hopefully, sooner or later they would come searching for her. Biting her lip out of habit, coupled with a few bouts of nervousness, Zaara inched nearer to a stall. The small wooden table was covered in a white sheet of cloth, an array of glass bangles on display. A white filament bulb hung from the top of the wooden frame, wound loosely with a wire. Her fingers danced over the variety, from glass to metal, matte to glittery, the man was selling everything.

Zaara knew she had to get some matching ones with her clothes. A burnt orange —almost  rust bangles would do perfectly. Her lips straightened out from the frown, hints of a smile marking them. With the eagerness of a young child, her eyes hovered over the table, the owner bargaining with a few customers who fought against the outrageous increase in prices in the hour after the moon was sighted. A part of Eid, without which, you couldn't call eid, eid.

"Sunein woh wali chori dikhana".
[Listen could you show me those bangles.]

She pointed her fingers towards the one right below the man's chest.

"Yeh wali?"
[These ones?]

Zaara nodded her head with excitement, holding the delicate bangle in hand. It was made of glass, its thickness was barely more than a hair strands but the light dusting of bronze glitter on top of the orange glass made it ten times more attractive. Sliding one of them inside her wrist, she watched with glee as it moved around softly, not too loose and not too tight. With careful motions she removed them, holding them inside her palm with care searching for more options.

"Kitnay ki hai?" She questioned.
[How much?]

"Darjan teen sou ki". His tone held finality.
[Twelve for three hundred.]

"Do soo lagao bhai, yeh tou ziadti hai!"
[Charge two hundred man, this is unfair!]

"Baaji do so mein tou khareed hai, do soo sattar laga lein," he counter offered.
[Miss two hundred is the price I bought it in, how about two seventy?]

"Two fifty". Zaara spoke with confidence.

"Kitni karni hai?"
[How many do you want?]

"Do darjan kar dein".
[Twenty four.]

The man nodded his head, skillfully gripping the jute thread in which the rest of them had been tied together, counting with the tip of his thumb's nail. Wrapped in a brown paper and doubled with a plastic one, he handed them over. Zaara fiddled with her zip, as her phone began buzzing, her father was calling her. Holding up a finger towards the seller, she held her phone to her ear. Her father sounded worried over the phone, she could imagine his face pale like a sheet of ice, wondering where she had wandered off to. Zaara sighed, calmly explaining to him where she was, pointing out the renowned restaurants in sight.

Placing the money on the man's desk in a hurry, Zaara walked away with brisk steps. Forgetting that her bangles still lingered on the table of his shop. Her steps increased in speed as she caught the face of her father amongst the crowd, her fast beating heart stilled for a second. Relief flowed through her veins as she stepped towards him, his hands wrapping themselves around her shoulders as she took in deep breaths.

"Are you okay Zaara?"

"I am, when did you get here?"

"Just now. Where did you wander off to?"

"I was fascinated by the buildings and lost sight of everyone else," she sighed.

"Zaara". He sounded tired.

"I'm sorry abu. Won't happen again".

"Promise?"

"I promise!"

Only then did Khubaib nod his head in agreement, his stick patting the floor, leading her towards their family, the father and daughter deeply engrossed in their chatter failed to notice a man following behind them. The man's face was covered in agitation as he raced to catch up, muttering incoherent words under his breath, his shoulders brushing against people. Careless apologies thrown around as he did so.

"Excuse me". He called out loud.

Zaara stopped, pivoting on hearing such a heavy voice call in her direction. Confused, she stared at the man with sharp brows walk towards her, his hand extending out.

"You forgot this at the stall," he huffed, clearly out of breath.

"I—thank you so much—" Zaara stared at him.

"Dawaar. Dawaar Mehmood". He spoke in a gruff tone.

"Thank you Dawaar beta," her father thanked him in her stead.

"No problem, I'll take your leave then".

Those were the parting words as he got lost in the crowd a moment later, Zaara's heart beating with such fast flutters she felt it would fly off in any second.

Kuch tou huwa hai.
Kuch ho gaya hai.