Henna was on full swing. The Turkish festives were a little different from the traditional indo-pak culture. The bride wore a kaftan of red color embroidered with six contrasting tones of ochre, garnet, olive and saffron. Layered with embellishments from multihued threadwork of delicate tilla and mirror work, the dress represented a beautiful kaleidoscope of color and texture. A little exquisite gold crown fixed across her head while she sat in the middle, draped in quintessential silk veil. The sound of beating drums and claps were heard circling the bride in the middle as her neighborhood and family rejoiced the celebration.
It took Sarrinah to the memory lane of the day she was dressed in her traditional attire with her favourite favorite organza dupatta or his? Mind couldn't even reminsce a single shot of memory without his presence. He was there. Always there. Sometimes physically, sometimes spiritually. Even the time he was not apparently present, she made him real and evident as a matter of fact. She wrote him letters. She made sure to share every single detail of her life with him and even when her faith turned into his physical presence, she wasn't able to fully express herself. She could never tell him properly, how'd she feel? How'd she absorb and acknowledge the destiny that turned coincidences into fate. For some reasons, she used to blame the circumstances and people.
Later did she realize, it was never about materialistic hurdles. When something is meant to reach someone's heart, especially when it comes to love, it didn't necessarily require long essays or explanations. Sometimes it's visible in the way you look or the way you cook. She smiled at her thought. She couldn't believe that she learned to bake lemon tarts from Asli's mom in just a week.
Sometimes it's the way you wait. Sometimes it's being how sure you're of your soul mate.
Most of the time, it's in that one soft pull to prevent your slip, it's in that hand hold when you yearned assurance, it's in that one nod with a 'Don't be afraid I'm always beside you' silent smile, it's in that one warm hug when you collapsed carrying the burden on your shoulders, it's in that one tissue paper that wipes the erupted volcano with one stroke of love. It's in love. It happens, when you're in love.
"Sarrinah??" It was Asli's Mom, calling her when Asli looked at her in concern. She could barely hear them in noise but understood their gestures and joined them.
"It's time bachey! Where is Bahar?"
She looked around and saw Bahar holding a lot of small daff's (a musical instrument) in a silver tray. Sarrinah gestured Bahar to join in and all the young girls settled in circle around the bride to begin the most important ritual of henna. Asli's mother and her mother in law sat on each side.
They began to make a henna circle on both of her palms when the all of the young girls around had to beat daff with high and low pitch. Istanbul's moonlight saw Sarrinah Shams laughing her heart out for the first time. She enjoyed the rituals actually. Norhan joined in hurriedly, holding a daff when Sarrinah shook her head at her late incoming. The new romeo-juliet in town and their never ending phone calls.
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RANJISH HI SAHI [𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖉]
Espiritualتم سے رنجش بھی ہے اختلاف بھی اور کچھ ع ش ق بھی ᴍᴀɴʏ ʟɪᴠᴇs ᴇɴᴛᴀɢʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ; ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴᴅs, ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇs, ғᴜɴ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋs. ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡɪɴ? ʜᴜʀᴛ? ᴛʀᴜsᴛ? ʟᴏᴠᴇ? ꧁ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ɪɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴜʀᴅᴜ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ (ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ ɪɴ ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅ...