Leilah Usman awaits an acceptance from a university abroad so she can leave the country she never loved when she stumbles upon an ancient diary. Through the eyes of Mahrosh Irfan, she finds herself in a world so completely different from hers.
One w...
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Mahrosh flipped through the rasala, biting the inside of her cheek as she read about Detective Arsalan finding more clues to solve the murder case; it was the seventh qist* and she was hoping that the murderer might be revealed –
It was a wonder how she managed to read with the apparent uproar the house was in. Ammi had asked Abbu to call for the car from his office because she wished to go to the inner city for shopping. A ride on the car was a treat Mahrosh seldom avoided; but weighing the cons of having to survive through tortuous hours of shopping and the pros of a fun car ride made her politely reject the offer.
Her polite rejection would have been taken as anything but had Aleena not risen as a savior and offered to go with Ammi. It was apparent to Ammi which of the two; Aleena or Mahrosh; would be a better shopping companion, and for once in her life, Mahrosh got an easy way out.
"Mahrosh, we won't be back till dinner so you'll have to take care of lunch alright?" Ammi seemed anxious as she fixed her chaddar for the seventh time.
Mahrosh glanced up briefly, giving her mother a thumbs-up. "Worry not, Ammi."
How could she not? Ammi grabbed her bag, facing Dadi, "Make sure she doesn't burn the house down, Amma. I feel strange leaving you and Mahrosh alone. Why did Sidra have to leave urgently -"
"Ya Allah, go already, Samreen – nothing will happen with you gone," Dadi waved, "And don't forget to bring me something."
Ammi drew a slow breath, turning back to Mahrosh, "Your Abbu is invited to a dawat but I've asked Walid to come since he'll be home alone. Make sure-"
Mahrosh put her rasala down, getting to her feet, "Ammi, you've told me a hundred times. I get it, promise. Aleena is waiting for you in the car-"
It took another five minutes for Ammi to finally leave. Mahrosh stood at the gate, waving at Ammi and Aleena till the car passed through the narrow galis and the curious onlookers. The roar of the car's engine faded and so did the hold Ammi had over the house.
Mahrosh ran back inside, throwing off her shoes first. She had the entire morning to do whatever she wished, and what she wished most ardently was to read with no interruptions. The blanket was brought out, and the tea was made. It was a cool winter morning; perfect to cozy within her blanket and return to her rasala while Dadi retreated to her room to continue with her knitting.
Sakoon.* It was seldom that Mahrosh enjoyed such mornings; when the clouds shielded the blazing sun, the birds sang their anthems, and the turning of the pages replaced the tick of the clock as time trickled by. The once warm tea cup was now cold and empty, and the qist almost done with. Mahrosh' heart ached over the tragic love of Detective Arsalan and his boss' daughter, and it pounded to the mystery of the case-
