𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐀

6. 𝗢𝗵, 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗮 𝘀𝗮𝗽𝗻𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘁𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗶

‘Mujhe accha nahi lagta kisi ka aankh utha ke tujhe dekhna.
Kyu ke har koi karta hai, chand ki khwahish.’
~Mehek Syed

The aangan of the Noor-E-Jahan bungalow was illuminated with soft yellow and colorful lights.

It was buzzing with Bollywood wedding songs, letting the entire town know that the first grand daughter of Shaikh's Sahab was getting married.

A mandap of light yellow and magenta pink covered the aangan. Each wall was embellished with strings of marigold and white jasmine flowers.

And could they forget their favorite fairy lights? The whole aangan was lit up with it, giving it a fairytale look.

A small table which was covered with red silk, was kept in the front, in the middle for the bride.

"Baji, sharma kyu rahi ho? Sab apne ghar wale hi toh hai. Abhi daant phaad ke nahi hasoge toh kab hasoge?" Mahoor whispered in Hadia's ear while the bride's mother, Jumana, circled some notes of hundreds around her daughter's head.

Mahoor was sitting on the right side of Hadia and her other aunt's daughter, Rehana on the left.

Seyran and the younger sisters of Rehana, Mubashira, Fozia and Sobia stood behind Hadia.

Hadia smiled widely, "Ab thik hai?"

Mahoor winked at her, "Ek dum bawal hai."

Hadia laughed at her statement while the elders were in their seats, men having their conversation on God knows which topic and women, taking coming one by one to smear hald on Hadia's face.

Altan stood there a little in the distance. He didn't want to attend the ceremony as it was only family affairs and he was far away from being there.

But Zorawar forced him and buttered him up. Then too he didn't get convinced.

Arya shrugged and targeted his soft spot by saying how Mahoor will be there, all dolled up and how other men will also stare and enjoy the beauty which ignited the feeling of jealousy and rage in his body.

Mahoor was wearing a softly embroidered yellow short kurti which ended above her knees and it's sleeves reached till her upper arms. A yellow patiala salwar and odhni which was spread on her chest completed her look.

Golden Punjabi jhumkas hung in her ears as her hair were partitioned from the middle and were french braided from the front,  the remaining luscious locks were tied into a simple plait. A few soft tendrils peeked out from the sides of her head, caressing her cheeks. Her hands were adorned by the gajra which was made of mogra and roses.

She looked like a punjaban and when Altan saw her, she took his breath away.

He kept muttering Ma Sha Allah under his breath and prayed to his Khuda to keep evil eyes away from the beautiful soul.

If Mahoor was so enchanting, beautiful, alluring, magnificent to him, so how others couldn't see it?

And here he is now, glaring at her older cousins Rehan and Zubair.

Zorawar wasn't the problem for him because he saw the bond they shared but he only saw these two from afar and merely even talked to them.

Altan huffed. He wasn't a fan of Bollywood songs, he liked the retro ghazals; Rafta Rafta being on the top.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance as three kids were running around him and Arya, chasing each other.

"Yeh chote ande mera sukoon barbad kar rahe hai."