Dressed in yellow from head to toe Paras was sitting around bunch of girls she called friends. They were all busy applying turmeric on her; that was the ritual when a girl get married. From days before she was cleansed with milk, beautified with rose water, dolled up with henna and immersed in all sorts of scented oils and herbs. It was then she will be ready to be presented to his law-fully wedded husband. She glanced at her mother, happily clapping to the rhythm of the dhol. She was only doing this for the pride her mother; a mother who was an essence of sacrifice and hardship. She had bear the fact that her husband had died in a riot between Muslims and Hindus and now the lot was after them for revenge. With a girl at a risky age she traveled alone safe keeping her from the eyes of the evil. Shah Mamu met them half way to their carefully chosen destination. From there they moved on inch by inch hiding from the malevolent gaze to the birth place of her mother. A forgotten haweli stood awaiting for its occupants. They found a Muslim family not far away from them and it was as if they were some long lost part of their lives, mixing up together sharing bliss and burdens alike.
One evening when Mulani sahiba, Sarah's mother had given her a day off, it was Sarah who broke the news to her about the boy next door. She said he was the best mate of his brother Jamshed and was immensely in love with paras. Giggling like a small girl, she pointed him out from the rooftop flying kite with Jamshed. Anger had boiled up inside her but she tried not to show her dislike to Sarah. The boy was handsome, tall muscular with cropped hair; the Black kurta he wore had brighten up his fair color. Any girl could have easily fallen in love with him. He had this built and exterior of a grown man but his face was soft as an infant. The point of displeasure was only a fact that he was a Sikh, Rajveer Singh; Son of sardar Hari Singh.
She saw the boy following her every day to the school but she chose to ignore him, thinking that he would eventually give off after a week or two. If accidently he would ever caught her eyes, both of them would pretend if nothing had happened. Weeks had turned into months but Rajveer still hadn't made a move. Thankful she was but also a little startle at his behavior. Every night when she used to pray on the third floor, he used to observe her from a distance climbing up the mango tree. She would pray for his protection and safety and when he would turn away to depart thinking that her prayers have ended, she would glance from the window and blow up Durd- Sharif on him for his well-being. She never knew when these things made her fall in love with him and one day Jamshed told her that Rajveer had accepted Islam for the sake of marrying her, she could believe herself. On occasions she felt as if he knew his magic has worked, she thought he had the knowledge that the spell he had cast on her was working because she was deeply and extremely in love with a boy she has seen but never met. A boy she had heard but never spoken to. She read his heart through letters and poured hers in responses. But here she was sitting around a bunch of girls she called friends who were getting her ready to make petals and flowers from henna on her hands. Somewhere in the design they would hide the name of his husband, Jamshed.
