'A political empire, a forbidden love'
Hamdan Gillani, the only son of political leader Samreen Gillani, refuses to fall into the dirty world of politics, and instead fights against corruption, even if it's in the form of his own family. His mother...
I was with Hamdan's sister on the evening of the Valima.
Sabeen looked gorgeous, Ma Sha Allah, having gone all out as the groom's younger sister. She wore a high-waisted pink lehenga with a long-sleeved blouse, and there was white silver embroidery all over the outfit. The sheer dupatta had a heavy silver border, with pink flowers and silver-sequined leaves all over it. The border was also lined up with tiny mirror work, making Sabeen sparkle everywhere she walked. Her short hair was pinned back with silver sparkling pins, and her make-up was light but beautifully done by the stylist.
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Seerat Appi, had chosen a dark olive shade shalwar kameez, with the kameez almost reaching her ankles. The hem of the kameez was designed with golden patterns, and the neckline had tiny golden and emerald green sequins. The dupatta was black, with golden and dull-green designs, and a golden border at the ends, as well as golden hand-stitched embroidery. Her hair was in an up-do, dotted with golden beats. She had adorned herself with a heavy gold set, possibly an heirloom of the Gillanis.
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Meanwhile, I wore my own designed outfit, and I felt like I was dreaming.
The ivory blouse with silver sequins felt tighter than when I'd last tried it, and I had to struggle a little to put it on, but it still fit. The lehenga, same as the blouse, with a light blue border, brushed the floor until I slipped my feet into the high-heel silver sandals. However, the idea of tripping over and hurting myself- i.e. the baby- was too scary, and I asked Sabeen to let me wear my silver wedges instead, making an excuse that the heels were too uncomfortable. My hair was in a bun, with the ends curled, and two curls flanking my face, and the sheer light blue dupatta with a heavy silver border and silver sequins dotting it, was pinned neatly into place on my head by the stylist.
We were going to do something different. Normally, for a Valima, the bride and groom enter the hall together. But since we skipped the other ceremonies, Sabeen suggested we do something differently. The sister- both Hamdan's and mine- were going to walk me into the hall, where Hamdan was already going to be waiting for me.
