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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"On a scale of one to ten, how much are you craving gol gappay right now?"
"And how do you scale it?"
"One meaning you wouldn't eat them even if they magically appear in front of you and ten being you want me to go to the bazaar to get them."
Aleena's gaze flickered towards Mahrosh, who lay on her stomach on the charpai. With Abbu, Ammi, and Dadi gone to attend a dinner party, it was only natural that Mahrosh was sent to Aleena's place; and with Walid gone, Mahrosh decided she wouldn't have it any other way. Aleena's eyebrows drew together, "The sun is about to set, Mahrosh. Are you sure we should go out at this time?"
Mahrosh shrugged, sitting up, "Why not? I know the bazar like the back of my hand. It won't take me more than fifteen minutes In shaa Allah."
Aleena watched Mahrosh get to her feet and grab her chaddar, before she raised her head as well. "I'll go with you then."
It was not often that Aleena agreed to accompanying Mahrosh to her bazaar-adventures, so Mahrosh jumped at the chance, getting Aleena's wheelchair for her. "Perfect! Let's get some jalebi too then."
The cloudy evening brought with it a chilly breeze that made the girls draw their chaddars tighter around themselves as they left the house. The setting sun created longer shadows, and the usual rush and vibrancy of the bazaar was fading.
As they neared the chowk, Mahrosh felt the eeriness in the air. Her laughter with Aleena faded as she made note of the vacant, empty stalls — with no trace of the shopkeepers. A chill ran down her spine as a buzz of voices from a distance caught her ears. What was goint on? The noise grew louder and louder till the source appeared in front of her.
The chowk was crowded. Groups of men seemed to have gathered, whispering and talking amongst themselves. She felt Aleena's grip tighten on her arm. The air felt thick and tense, and Mahrosh had to strain her neck to see what the commotion was about. She spotted the men in uniforms first, gathered around a house. The police?
"Saleem Nasir," a man whispered to his friend in front of her, "They're here to arrest him."
"What did he do? He's a respectable man."
"From what I heard, he has been talking about freedom too openly. The British won't like that."
Despite Aleena's tug on her arm, Mahrosh could not pull her gaze away. Her heart raced in her chest as she watched a middle-aged man being dragged out of his house; followed by the cries of his family. His wife's cries were the loudest as his children tried to cling onto their father's legs. And yet, it was the man's aged father that Mahrosh could not look away from.
"Mahrosh, let's go-" she was vaguely aware of Aleena pulling at her arm but Mahrosh remained frozen, her heart clenching inside her chest. The man seemed older than Dadi, his wrinkled hands clasped in front of the policeman, "Please-please," he sobbed, "He didn't do anything, let him go. Take me instead-"
