She is, Afaaf
عفاف ; Chaste, Virtuous, Decent , Pure.
A beautiful young woman with sparkling brown eyes.
He is, Zaryaab
زریاب ; Rich , wealthy, possessor of gold.
A handsome young man carrying the secrets of world on his shoulders.
She runs.
He ru...
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Afaaf Khan
I dried my hair with the towel as my eyes remained transfixed on the tiled floor. For the night we had to stay in a small guest house not very far from the main town. And Zaryaab was kind enough to pay for my room however I could have paid myself.
The room wasn't big rather small with a bed along the wall and a sofa and table opposite the bed. A window opened at the front of the two storied building. And attached bathroom. Just as I was shown my room. I had locked the room and had gotten in the bathroom to take a bath.
And now as I sat drying my hair, I couldn't help but think over Amma's words. The fear her voice held as she had talked to me. Keeping the towel away, I ran my fingers through my brown hair and walked to the window.
Late afternoon had fallen upon the land and rain had stopped. Punjab was a beautiful place. And it's districts were even more beautiful. Most of the land was agricultural with fields and farms all over. It almost looked peaceful as I stared at the spread fields.
A knock distracted me as I turned around. Grabbing my white dupatta from the bed, I placed it on my head before running my hand over the white shirt I wore.
" Yes-" I said from behind the door.
" Afaaf-" I heard the now familiar male voice making me sigh.
I opened the door, just enough that he could see my face.
Zaryaab stood tall as he scratched the side of his neck.
" Would you come out for dinner? Actually they don't serve dinner." He explained making me cast my eyes down and nod.
" I'd come outer maghrib-"
" Yeah sure, I'll knock." He said abruptly and turned around before opening the door opposite to mine and going inside.
I chewed the inside of my mouth, staring at the now closed door. Shutting the door, I bolted it before walking over to the table. Taking the prayer mat, I spread it on the floor before wrapping my dupatta around my head.
Standing on the prayer mat, I raised my hands for namaz. Minutes later as I said Salam, my hands curved into a creasant as tears freely flowed down. My lips remained shut yet my heart pleaded to ALLAH. Seconds turned into minutes and I felt myself succumbing. Lying down on the prayer mat. I closed my eyes, my drowsy state lulling me to drown in the pools of sleep.
*
I walked besides the man silently. As we both walked back to the guest house in the dark night. People of the town were not owls of the night and as we returned from dinner, most of the houses were already blind of light and asleep.
