Maryam gracefully balanced a stainless steel saucepan in one hand and a delicately designed tea stainer in the other. As she poured the freshly brewed tea into two delicate porcelain cups, a warm, aromatic fragrance filled the air, enticing the senses. Chai cascaded smoothly, forming a gentle swirl as it settled in the cups.
With utmost care, Maryam carried the cups towards the cozy living room, her steps filled with a gentle grace. The soft carpet beneath her feet embraced her with each stride, muffling the sound as she moved.
Approaching the breakfast table, she placed the cups gently in front of her parents and brother, the gentle clink of porcelain against wood marking the beginning of their morning ritual.
Resolutely, Maryam turned away from the table, Walking back into the inviting warmth of the kitchen, she opened the hotpot, unleashing a gust of mouthwatering fragrance. The tantalizing aroma of flaky parathas and fluffy omelettes mingled in the air, creating an irresistible symphony for her senses.
Taking a moment to savor the anticipation, Maryam finally served herself a perfectly cooked paratha with omelette. With a touch of rebellion, Maryam chose to distance herself from her parents' presence, settling atop the cool kitchen counter, a solitary retreat where she could relish her meal in solitary bliss.
She sat indian style on the counter in a black plain shalwar kameez, the loose braid framing her face allowed some of the dark locks to fall gently framing her fragile features, as she leaned forward to take a bite her collarbones peeked out of the round neckline of the kameez and her fair complexion added a subtle allure to her appearance.
As she savored each bite, the flavors danced on her palate, creating a sensory symphony that momentarily transported her from the demands of the outside world. In this fleeting moment, suspended between independence and familial bonds, Maryam found solace in the simple pleasure of her solitary breakfast.
After finishing her breakfast, she went out of the kitchen to the courtyard to help her mother with the laundry.
Ahmed walked out of the house after having his breakfast and made his way towards his shop. Arriving at his destination he promptly opened the shutters of the shop and went inside to set up everything for the day.
He was organising the shelves ensuring that everything was in its place, as he focused on his task the familiar sound of entrance bell broke the silence, announcing the arrival of a customer.
Ahmed looked up and smiled warmly as his sister shabana entered the shop.
'Bhai jaan wese ap se ye umeed ni thi'
(Brother we were not expecting this from you)
Hearing his sister, ahmed frowned.
'Kis bare mein bat kr re ho apa'
(What are you talking about sister)
'Ab masoom to na bane bhai jaan apny maryam k nikah krwa dea btana b zaroori ni smjha, chlo smjh ati h bare logo me ki h shadi lkn hm to apny hain, hme to btana chahiye tha'
(Dont act innocent now brother, you got maryam nikahfied and did not even bother to tell us, i understand that her in laws are influential people, but we are your relatives you should have at least informed us)
Listening to this his frown depended.
'Apko koe galat fehmi hwi h baji'
(You are mistaken sister)
'Mje koe galat fehmi ni hwi h ap ye dekhein'
(Look at this.)
Saying this she showed him Musa abaan shah's official Twitter account where he had tweeted the picture of todays newpaper with a caption 'That is my wife ffs.' And then there was some time mentioned for a press conference. People had already started retweeting it. 'That ffs was personal😂' and many other such retweets.
YOU ARE READING
DIRTY POLITICS
Romance'Kia kregy aap' (What will you do?) 'Wahi jo har shohar apni biwi k sath krta hai' (What every husband does to his wife) Musa Abaan Shah had a singular ambition - to ascend to the position of prime minister and uphold his grandfather's esteemed...
