Zarina

A child of prosperity, acquiescence and candidness brought eudaemonic fortune to her tribe.

Zarina had those big and astonishing green eyes, frail chassis, skin tone as fair as of clouds, long black hair and ideal height of 5'6 inches.

Hunting, chores, embroidery and archery was a child play to her. The life of village may not have been befitting for her but destiny and fate aren't for worshippers to decide.

An indigent lass, she was. Being the daughter of a farmer is being sacrificial. Life was ameliorate until her marriage was announced with a man she'd never seen before. Spending 19 years of her life in freedom would become a longing memory.

Zarina Isaac, uniting with the family of leading tribe. Two tribes combining as one, it was a moment of merriment but Zarina, how would your future turn out? Leaving your own fatherland, how wrecked your heart must be...

Sitting in the corner of kitchen, she was staring at the tawa ( A large convex pan for making tortilla).

"What are you thinking, Zarino?" her mother would ask.

"Nothing, Mor jana (dear mother)."

"The tortilla is burning. . ."

"Ah!" Zarina got back to work.

She layed a sheet and set up dinner over it.

"Zarina. . ." said her father.

"Yes, baba?"

"Tomorrow is your last day before parting, make sure to make it gratifying. . ." he'd smile.

She began to shed tears. Her mother joined her but her father remained serious. Something about his son in law convinced him to be gutsy .

Two days passed by in the blink of an eye.

"Zarina, Zarina, the woman of glory, your wedding is a blessing, Zarina, Zarina. . ." the girls were singing.

Zarina resembled that of snow in the desert. A long red dress wrapped her in beauty. The jewels couldn't tolerate her charm.

The people from Arman Tribe took her to Arman City. It took 3 days to reach.

Finally, tonight, she'd see her husband. She was sitting on a toshak ( Afghan sitting mattress) in her new room. She was still in her wedding dress.