Khub Parda hai ke chilman se lage baithein hain,
Saaf chupte bhi nahi, samne aate bhi nahi.

-Daagh Dehalvi

It was a grand house. Built-in the way that all old architecture of the city was found, but there were new and modern elements found in some places. He always did like seeing all the different architecture he could find in the different cities he travelled to, after all, he did get a degree from Harvard in architecture for a reason. 

Not that he would ever get to be an architect. He was the eldest, and he had a responsibility. To take over the party, to be a good leader. He enjoyed politics. He liked the power that came with the politics, he liked the way he could be a voice for people. 

So, he was more than happy to be a politician. He was glad that he would get to head the party. He has always been a person who craves for control, and order. 

Imagine his surprise when all of a sudden he had been told that he would have to marry a girl, whom he had never meet, just once in passing in a party. 

From that meeting, he had drawn a conclusion that Arisha Sheikh was a spoilt brat never taking anything in her life seriously. She had been handed everything she had wanted in her life. What was more was that she had no manners. She talked and walked unabashedly and did not care for what others might think of her.

He was sure that, that girl was a nuisance, she was never seen much in political parties like her younger sisters and when she was seen she was always found in corners. All that he had here about was not all that great either. 

So, he had come with one point in mind he will make an excuse and reject. He wanted a wife, who was intelligent could hold her own when needed who could navigate through this difficult life with him shoulder to shoulder, not a spoilt brat who knew nothing about life.

Zoraiz was brought out of his world of thoughts when he heard his driver open the door for him. Exiting the car he saw the mansion once again. 

While he was angry at this match he could not deny how advantageous it would prove for both the families, but nothing would ever make him marry that tomboy spoilt brat of a girl. 

Sheikh Sahab came out to greet them all. His father, his father's wife, his brother and him. zoraiz did a mental eye roll at the way all of them behaving as if they were all already family, and that he had agreed to the marriage. 

With the greetings done with, everyone started to move towards the house, or as it was titled the Haveli.

The interior of the haveli while modern had lots of old-time architecture inspired by Mughals but not exactly like that. 

Zoraiz knew he had to meet the girl today, Arisha. He took a deep breath and braced himself for that dreaded moment when he would have to bear the embarrassment of meeting her. He was saved though because many other people he knew due to the party meetings and collaborations in other states. 

So, he went around meeting different people, from different cities, all here in anticipation of the news that would be announced, which he will make sure is announced regardless of his decision regarding his marriage. 

He looked around once and was not surprised when he did not find anywhere near the party workers, or anywhere really. 

"Aslamwalekum, " came a sweet voice and Zoraiz turned to see the younger two of the Sheikh sisters there. 

They were much younger than him, but then again so was Arisha, while Arisha was still in her early twenties he was almost 10 years older than er in his early thirties. Another reason they would not be able to work well together.

"Walekumaslam," came everyone's reply. They looked well behaved educated girls, in total contrast to how their sister always looked while at such events. At least from what he could remember. 

He excused himself from the group and went get himself a soft drink. His brother also tagged along with him. 

"Bhai, (boi) are you sure about this. I mean get the girls are good looking and all but they are young, the one matched with you is younger than me," Zayaan asked him. His younger brother was a ladies man through and through and that showed even when he talked seriously, which was never really. 

"I will be saying Zayaan, I have my reasons, many of them, But this merger will happen anyway, so I suggest" Zoraiz was going to continue but he was interrupted when his father and Zayaan's mother came up to them. 

" What were you saying Zoraiz," his father, Mir Razdan asked. Even though the man was well in his sixties, he held a great power to him. A power which made his grown sons cower at times. " You will not be saying no, before meeting her, that was the deal," he said looking to pointedly at his eldest son. 

"Well, ji, if he is insistent on not marrying the girl then you can always marry my Zayaan to one of them, the elder two would be a nice match, and" Sufiya Mir, Zayaan's mother and Mir Razdan's first wife was a strong woman, but even she stopped mid-sentence at the glance Mir threw her way. 

"Zoraiz is the oldest son. He will take over the party as the chairman, and he will be fighting in the upcoming elections as well. He will need all the support he can get and this is the way to the top. He will need someone to stand by his side," Mir said with a finality in his voice that indicated to Zoraiz that convincing his father of hid decision will be much harder than he thought.

He kept silent but he knew his father well. Mir Razdan was a politician through and through. But he sometimes underestimated his son, after all, Zoraiz had learned this game from his father.

He will have to keep his cards close to his chest then. 

The rest of the party progressed smoothly only when it was time for dinner did he finally get to see her. 

They were all eating in the main dining room with a special few guests invited to the room, the rest were catered to in the main hall of the Haveli and some more sitting rooms. 

They were all just discussing the rising numbers of militants back at his home when he heard the sounds of some Ghungroo's which really was not a surprise since there were many female presents all from traditional Muslim families.

What was a surprise was when Sufiya Begum started saying, ' Mashallah' he and his brother's mischievous smirk while pointing him to turn around. 

He turned around.

Something that he will say was a great mistake on his part. 

Entering into the room was what he would describe as a siren. One made to allure him, enchant him, bewitch him. 

There she was, the woman he had been dreading to meet, the woman, who he could not believe he taught was not beautiful. 

Allah Khair.

He was in a trance trying to think back to a time a when Arisha Sheikh had been a lady. he came up short. But standing in front of him was a lady, well dressed, well mannered, soft-spoken, yet a strong aura about her, that said that she will make a great role model to others. 

She was everything he had ever envisioned for his partner, yet she was everything he had always despised in a woman. 

" Aslamwalekum," she said without ever looking up at him. 

He replied, "Walekumaslam," without ever looking away from her. 

They all sat down to eat and the conversation flowed from person to person. But Zoraiz was in a baffled state to really pay attention to anything other than her. 

She soft softly to his mother about so many things, in an angelic voice if he said so himself. Yet when talking to his father she had a clear mind, had her own opinions which she was not afraid to say. 

His father had been explaining to other about why some Kashmiri people sided with the Militants, when she spoke, " They do so because they do not see militants," and Zoraiz, Zayaan and Mir could not help but look at her expectantly to expand on this statement. 

"See, I get they are wrong, I get that violence is never an option, but no can deny that in this political game, the citizens are the ones who suffered the most. For those who do side with the militants, it is because they lost faith in the government. The government became an oppressor and the militants use that. They tell them that they will liberate them." Arisha said with such reverence and fire in her voice that Zoraiz had goosebumps. No one agreed with him on this point before. 

"Think of it like this, for them, the militants are the freedom fighters," Arisha continued but was interrupted in her speech by his brother,

"You mean to say that the militants are right," Zayaan asked a bit incredulously and a bit amused.

"No. Absolutely not, In Fact, they are worst than any terrorist group or any government. They take advantage of a community that has been left in deep psychological trauma. See we know that Gandhi and Nehru and even Jinnah were all freedom fighters, but for the Britishers they were terrorists, they had been labelled so, in some official reports back then. Similarly, the Kashmiri people think that the militants are their freedom fighters, they will be happy once they get a sense that the government does actually care for them." Arisha replied again with such confidence that ith left him speechless. 

That is until her father looked her way, " It is basic human Psychology to side with the side that promises freedom," and she kept quiet after that. 

But he had seen all he could need to see. She was all that he had told his father he wanted in his life partner. 

He was wrong in judging her in one meeting. 

He had no reason to say no to the match anymore. 

But as the night progressed he say just how constricted she was feeling. Other did not notice her glance to the clock subtly or, clench her fists. They did not notice her stiff smiles or the way her eyes always had a strong deep sadness whenever her father looked towards her. 

This was another thing he noticed. Her father Sheikh Sahab never talked to her. 

So, she was also in a similar boat he thought. 

She had been silenced rest of the night but that one conversation between his father and her was enough for Zoraiz to want to hear her opinions. He wanted to hear her voice again, not because it was angelic, but because it held weight and wisdom.

When it was time to leave he found himself wanting to get to take to her. Even if for a moment but he was never given the time. 

But he was amused when the youngest of the Shiekh girls Inaya came up to him. 

"Aapi says that she wants to meet you, I have left a number with your younger brother please take to her once," she said quietly and a bit scared and ran away before he could say anything. 

Getting in the car he looked at his brother who had a smirk on his face. 

"Bhai, If you don't want to get married to her then it's fine. I won't mind getting to know her instead." Zayaan teased his brother. 

Zoraiz looked at him deadpan. 

"Here you go, her sisters gave me this," Zayan said handing him a small piece of paper with a number written on it. 

He took his phone in his hand and kept looking at the number on his other hand. The ride to their hotel passed like this. They all retired to their rooms and he freshened up first. 

laying on his bed late at night he picked up his phone and left a message. 

You wanted to talk 
2:05 am

Yes, could we meet tomorrow?
2:06 am

He was surprised to see her replying coming immediately 

Yes
2:06 am

Great. 5 in the evening, The Elite Dance Studios. I'll send you the location. 
2:07 am

What had he just done? 

So, A bit longer. And also thoughts on Zoraiz. 
Did you like this chapter. Let me know your thoughts in the comments, and maybe vote if you liked it. 

Afaf xoxo