| Hawaaon Ke Paighaam | Messages Of The Wind

| The South Lawn |

Tum yun milay ho jab se mujhe,
aur suneheri mein lagti hoon
sirf labon se nahi ab toh,
pooray badan se hasti hoon...

Meerab walked. She walked slowly, her steps slowly padding on the marble floor as her butterfly embellished flat sandals sparkled in the morning sun. Entering her room, she walked over to the waiting dressing table, her face black but her eyes unfocused, but then at the same time, they contained an intense focus even in their downcast gaze. The eyes looking down and lost in unknown thoughts, she sat down onto the elaborate, cushioned stool which she had vacated mere minutes ago.

Mere minutes, and yet she felt like she was no longer merely the girl she had been when she had stood up from it. Setting her hands daintily onto her lab and straightening her back, Meerab sat and let the make-up and hair team around her continue their work. The hairstylist asked her a question, and it was the same question the woman had asked her a few minutes ago; the same one she had left to get an answer to. It was an answer she'd never received. Mostly because she hadn't asked the question she had gone to ask. And entirely because she hadn't been able to ask.

"Kaunsi jewellary decide huwi phir, Bibi Sahiba?"

Meerab loked up finally. And then blinked. And then blinked again.

"Khandaani kundan aaj karlein." She answered after clearing her throat.

Her lids falling and her lashing hiding her orbs once again, she took as a sureptititious a deep breath as she could manage.

'Itni aadat may daalein meri biwi ke khilaaf jaanay ki ke uska maqaam bhool jayein aap.'

She had left to get an answer to what jewllery she was expected to wear for the ladies milaad and get together in the afternoon, and of course, the recipient of the question had been Maa Begum. At least in theory. She'd hurried down in her blush-nude shalwar kameez, the Maa Begum-gifted and certified attire for the very ceremonial event, her hair half made, and had rounded the tall, grand pillars leading to Maa Begum's wing in whoosh.

And then deflated like faulty hot balloon.

Whoosh, indeed.

'Meraab tumharay saath Karachi mein shaadi sey pehle ghoomti rahi...'

It still, to this day, startled her when she heard Maa Begum speak about her in a way that rawly betrayed the other woman's contempt of her. It had been more than two years, and still, Meerab with all her tough exterior and will of steel, felt a swooping dip in her belly when she realised almost all her kind interactions with other woman had been a farce: almost like she had been tolerated. Her company suffered through. And that was stinging under normal circumstances. But when you had suddenlz mentally flip over almost twelve years of happy, cherished summers into summers during which she had been held in silent contempt where she'd thought she was being playfully indulged and guided, it made for mental storm. One she had fought almost every day since the night she'd had her world come crashing down on her and realised that sometimes smiling faces skilfully hid sinister intentions behind them.

Her eyes fluttered shut subconciouly shut, and a gentle 'tut' from the senior makeup artist had her opening them again.

That had been a lesson she'd never forget. Not until her dying day. But then, as time was going on, another lesson seemed to be unfolding in front of her. Sometimes, smiling faces did conceal sinister intentions. But sometimes, there were serious, solemn faces. And those faces concealed secrets which you didn't know much about, but when those faces, in all their solemn cloudiness allowed a crack in their expression to reveal emotion you'd never expected, it made you wonder what else thez were hiding behind that smooth, solemn mask.