sonnets-and-starlight✨

1983 Balochistan,Panjgur 

The chaos of the city died down in this secluded part of Panjgur, the desert wind frigid against her blanket clad skin. Zarnaaz watched the firefly flicker outside, enchanted by their glimmer  but too scared to touch because her Ammi once told her they bite little kids.

She glanced back at her sister, scratching the pen against the piece of paper resting on her lap. “ Kya kar rahi ho aapi? Chitti likh rahi hoon?!” “shh ZARNAAZ!” she exclaimed out in a whisper, whacking her head lightly. Zarnaaz pouted for a moment, then looked up to see the sweet smile of aapi’s face. She was beautiful, skin pale as snow, nose beaked like a royalty, eyes big and hazel - her parents called her aapi the fortunate child, the better child, the constant attempts from the relative to pit the sisters against each other never worked, Zarnaaz was never envious of her, in fact she admired her, looked up to her.

“ Mihir ke liye likh rahi hoon?” She giggled snuggling into her side, not out of love solely but also to catch peeks at the letter. “ Sona nahi hai tujhe? Bas badmashi karalo, jaa so ja varna ammi ko bata dungi” “ Accha aur mai bhi bata dungi ki aap aur Mihir kya karte ho” Zarnaaz teased softly, flashing her milk tooth at her sister but saw her expression fall. 

“ Zarnaaz, kasam kha meri kabhi Ammi Abbu ke saamne kuch nahi bolegi” “Kya ho jayega Aapi? Aap toh pyaar karta hoon na unse? Toh aapki nikaah hogi” “ Oh pagal” She muttered lovingly not wanting to break her sister's innocent little bubble of what she perceived of their family. “ Nahi bolegi kha meri kasam” “ Chalo nahi bolegi pakka” 

She brushed back the hair out of Zarnaaz's face, watching her curl on the cramped up old wooden bed over the faded flower print bedsheets. Writing away under the oil fueled lamp, careful about any movement at the door, her eyes wandering back to back from the page and the gate. 

Main aakhirkaar college se ghar wapas aa gayi hoon, aur meri qismat achhi thi ke Khala mere saath zyada buri nahi theen - balke sach kahun toh woh ek bohat pyari khawateen hain. Maan-baap ka ghar toh yaad aata tha, lekin wahan ka mahool bohat azaad karne wala tha. Ab yeh jagah aur bhi ghutan bhari lagti hai, Mihir... aur sach kahun toh mera dil chahata hai ke main Zarnaaz ko bhi apne saath uss shahar wapas le jaun. Main janti hoon ke woh shahar khatarnak hai, lekin yahan ke muqable mein koi bhi jagah behtar hogi.

In sab baaton ko chhoro, main kab tak apne dukhro ka rona roti rahungi. Maine tumhare liye Economics ki kitaab mein ek khat chhupa kar chora hai - course two waali book mei. Aur haan, main kabhi-kabhi romantic ho sakti hoon, lekin iska matlab yeh nahi ke tum mujhe chherne lago aur mere honton ko choom kar unhe sooja do.

Aur agar yeh khat tumhein waqt par mil gaya, toh main Thursday ko park mein tumse milne ki koshish karungi. Lekin tum toh jantay ho ke woh jagah yahan se thori door hai, ho sakta hai Abbu ijazat na dein, toh agar main na aa sakoon toh naraz mat hona. Aur agar main aa gayi, toh behtar hoga ke tum woh chaand baalis mere liye tayyar rakhna! Mujhe khat likhte rehna, Mihir.

Tumhari Jaan,

Zoya.

I am finally back from college, to my luck khala wasn't too mean to me - matter of fact she was a lovely lady. Though I missed home, the experience there was very freeing. Now this place feels even more suffocating, Mihir and honestly I wish I could take Zarnaaz back to town with me too. I know that place is dangerous but anything would be better from here. Leave that I how long will I go on about my blues, I left a note for you in the economics course -two book and yes I can be romantic at times that doesn't give you the right to tease me or kiss my lips swollen and if this reaches you on time,  I will try meeting you in the park on thursday but you know its just a little far from here maybe Abbu won't give permission so dont get upset if I dont show up. And if I do show up you better have those chaand baalis ready for me now, keep writing to me Mihir

Your jaan Zoya 

1991 Balochistan,Panjgur 

The air was ringing with celebration despite the sun now drowning in clouds , its apricot seeping through painting the sky a pleasant orange that covered the mountain ranges in its hue. The dawn has made the air rather pleasant in contrast to the sweltering heat that usually fell open to the people in this season.

The vast land of the desert cluttered with people still celebrating the nowruz, dust storming at their feets people dancing in circles, loud laughter echoing around the place. Iqbal did not want to be here as a guest, in between the people he despised so deeply- the scowl of his face hidden beneath the keffiyeh, the cotton wrapped down tightly, only his intense brown eyes visible. 

Nowruz festivity was all over Pakistan, but Iqbal’s friend had insisted on him that this is where the festival is celebrated to its fullest

He was iritated getting served would rather be anywhere else than here.

The cup clinked against each other splashing some of the scorching hot liquid over Iqbal’s sleeves, he didn't yell didn't flinch just raised his gaze to see who had the audacity to do it, A young girl staring back at him with nervous eyes, her body panic stricken stiff, hands clutching the thin vibrant pink dupatta. Her face was ravishing to his eyes, everything soft, the arch of her nose, the arch of her lips, curve of her cheeks and her eyes doe and callow. 

“Zarnaaz bilkul akal na hai na tere mei! Itni badhi hogyi hai fir bhi saleeqa nahi sikha ek kaam ka” Her mom scolded her, Iqbal’s eyes fixed on her wandering eyes. “ Sahab maaf karna” She whispered, getting dragged out and scolded. Iqbal on the other hand wanted to see more of her expressions, he got up from woven charpai shocking his friend, “ Yeh kapde mil sakte hai badlne ko?” her mother looked back instantly stopping her taunts, facing him with a polite wide smile, “ Ji sahab bilkul” Her mother walked him down to the small mud house, Zarnaaz still by her side squirming under his gaze or maybe from the scolding she is going to receive later for her careless- ness

“ Rufat! Rufat! Tujhe bola rahe hai” Her mother halted her hand  stilled that was searching the diwaan, but her grip was already on a soft cotton suit. 

She grabbed Zarnaaz into a side, her voice low and only meant for her ears“ Mai jaa rahi bahar dekhne, aur khabardaar tune isse jarurat se jyada baat ki” it was a plain threat, and she complied immediately her head dropping in fear of her mother. 

“ Yeh lijiye” She handed it to him quietly making sure to keep a colossal distance from the frame of a man if not then see her mother’s wrath. Apart from her mothers blatant threat he himself was intimidating, his broad shoulder, tall stature seemed to flood the already small space, and his half covered face igniting more mystery- his voice and accent polished clear enough for her to understand this wasn't a local, but a city man from a presumably rich family judging by the watch on his wrist. 

Zarnaaz got a feeling in her stomach from how he was looking at her and immediately dismissed it as fear because that's all she knew, 

"Agar aapki aali-janab par koi giraan na guzre, toh kya aap az-rah-e-tashaffi is daag ko saaf farmane ki zahmat karenge?"

"If it is not a burden upon your noble self, would you kindly take the trouble to cleanse this stain as a gesture of kindness?”

It had to be a joke for him to speak in such elaborate ways but he didn't laugh so it surely wasn't, and not like it was proper of her to laugh in front of him - “ Ji nahi meri hi galti thi meri zimmedaari hai iske saaf karna”

The silence was uncomfortable but only for a second before it turned into Zarnaaz panic when she saw his hand going to the edge of his kurta ready to take it off in front of her. She squeaked loudly “ yaha nahi!! Mera matlab yaha nahi please aap udhar us kamre mei badal li jiye”

City boys are shameless, she concluded yet again,no modesty, no respect for the maiden standing right there. She could hear the rustle of the fabric, getting pulled over his skin and her heart fluttered with a strange sensation once again, his hand squeezed out giving her the chai stained clothes. She watched his hand; it was rough from what she could only perceive as some sort of physical labour, a lavish looking ring shining on his middle finger and she couldn't ignore how evidently large his hand was compared to her.

“ Mohatarama kya hogya?”  He spoke, his voice still somewhat muffled beneath the keffiyeh but unmistakably manly and deep, “ Vo.. Voh kuch nahi” She hastily snatched it off his hand realising how hard she was staring, glad that there was a door between them. 

"Agar main ne sahi suna hai, toh aapka naam 'Zarnaaz' hoga, ji?” Not to talk more than necessary, her Ammi word ringed in her head making her retreating to answer with a simple hum “ Hmm”

“ Umar kya hai aapki?” Not polite, not polite at all, “ Bees” She replied back for a reason she didn't know herself. “ Kunwari hoon?” This time the voice was a rumble from his side, making Zarnaaz get alert instantly.

“ Dekhiye aap se kya matlab hum kunwari hai ki nahi, mai bas narmi se baat kar rahi hoon kyunki mere vajah se aapke kapde kharab hue iska matlab yeh nahi hai ki aap mujhse aise nizi sawaal puchonge”

“ Lagta hai aapke yeh ke logo ko aam baatchit bhi ghaliz lagti hai, khair kya kar sakte hai” The door opened, he stood tall, though Zarnaaz couldn't see his face but still discern he was being obnoxious very obnoxious, lazily leaning against the wall looking down at her making her feel shorter. 

“ Yeh Ammi saaf kar degi, aur aap hume ainda se pareshan mat karna varna”

“ Varna? Varna kya kar legi aap Zarnaaz? Jis.. Jagah se aap hai vahan ke logo ko yeh shayasta andaaz shoba vaise bhi nahi deta” It was a direct insult to her community to her birth land, but Zarnaaz nerves were too rattled to say anything. “ Aur jis tarah se aap dar rahi hai usko dekh ko toh nahi lag raha aap kuch kar sakti hai”

He walked over to her, making Zarnaaz pause her feet glued to the undone floor. Inching so close she could smell his expensive cologne, feel his hot breath against her skin making her scared and aroused both at once. 

“ Mera maqsad aapko daraane ka nahi tha, balki bas ek tehzeeb yafta baat rakhne ka tha, par dekh ke lagta aap gair mard ke saiy se bhi darti hai toh mai chalta hoon” His hand reached holding the long loose lock of her hair, twirling the waves around his finger leisurely savouring the fresh rose water smell of it before walking past her without a word, his movements slow and unhurried.

Iqbal held the thick cigar in between his fingers, the ashy smell flooding the air as he walked to his car , unable to endure the loud chaos of the people, “ Yeh ladki kaha ki thi?” he said his voice a farse of calm, the eagerness peeking though

 “Kya?” he asked confused about the sudden unusual desperation in his tone

  “ Voh ladki jisne mujhe pe chai giraayi thi”

 “ Pata nahi bas is ilaake ki nahi hai itna pata hai” Iqbal took out the steel engraved lighter, the vines and line put on the body with strikes and punches of hammer carving out each delicate pattern. He never served to others, not to his friends, not to his father not to anyone so he did not raise his lighter to the awaiting cigar on his friend’s lip and just tossed it to him.

“ Naam se dundh sakte hai?” Iqbal mummered jaw clenching around the cigar, taking in a long puff

“ Kya?” His friend stopped halfway 

“ Naam. Se. Dhundh. Sakte. Hai?” He repeated clearer this time taking the cigar out of his math

“ Pagal hogya hai?”  The friend let out an awkward nervous laugh not understanding the strange ‘joke’ he was playing with him but fell silent as soon as he saw the dead set look on his face.

“ Oh dimaag kharab hogya hai? Haathi rakhega ghar par aur yeh paise leke nahi karte voh sab”

Iqbal's head stayed fixed forward,eyes glancing to the man he calls his ‘friend ’"Ab zubaan se ek lafz bhi na nikalna, varna tum apni maut ka khud dawat de rahe ho." 

1991 Lyari

Life was hard for Zarnaaz who moved here only two years back, taking the bus every day in the torrid heat to reach her college with the sad decision of having to leave her cooler room every other day and mostly it was all too hard to navigate with no elder sister on her side, her aapi always described this place as some sort of heaven but Zarnaaz couldn't see it the, the town too bright, the streets too crowded the air too stuffy in comparison to the vast space she had back  home or maybe it was heaven because Ammi Abbu wasn't there with her aapi when she was here for college.

Their home was a modest middle class one here, standing in between the usual narrow homes ,a three story house and a cramped old styled balcony from Zarnaaz’s room. The teal blue paint peeling off after 10 years of staying strong against the unpredictable weather of this town where her morning started with masjid’s loud speaker and ended with street dogs howling and singing- the dogs a headache for Zarnaaz. 

It was yet another morning of her getting used to life here that didn't come with ease and bravely abandoning her cooler to get ready for college- a long ‘tight’ - considering the family she was in- pink kurta that fell below her knees, a kurta she picked off the street market and got after much whining to her Ammi after an ultimatum to take the widest dupatta she had with it.  

The ivory white embroidery  creating asymmetrical diamonds across the fabric was a fault of the making of it but not crooked enough for people to notice unless close enough and the only two people close enough was her group of two friends in which one person was her herself.

Zarnaaz ran down the steep stairs, careless until the reality of her home hit, she softened her stops walking with precision bare feet padding on the grey and white tile floor, 

The small dining table was jumbled up with four plates, hot piping tea and fresh aloo paratha that had her drooling and wanting to start eating right away which she knew wasn't meek and docile girl manners that her mother demanded her of. So she stood quietly by the chair waiting for her Abbu to finally put down the newspaper and start eating, those three minutes were excruciatingly long  for hungry Zarnaaz who wanted nothing more to dive in. 

“Aajo, thalle baitho” 

“Chalo, baith jao. ” 

 Her khala said peeking half out of the kitchen with a long warm smile that touched her eyes, wiping the sweat bidding off her forehead with her dupatta. Zarnaaz sat herself down watching the butter sizzle and melt over the stuffed paratha reluctantly to take a small bite instead of the large one like she wanted, even in small bites and extra time taken to chew it down it disappeared off her plate in mere 10 minutes. 

“Hai ni meri Gul, tu kinni suk gayi ae, kujh hor khaa meri raani dhi.”

“Hai Allah meri Gul, tum kitni dubli ho gayi ho, kuch aur khao meri pyaare bacchi”

Khala chimed instantly after discerning the disappointed look on Zarnaaz face, placing another fresh off the tava paratha on her plate sharing smiles. 

“ Aur khila do usse aise hi pata nahi iske shareer ko kya hogya, aap isse sar pe aur chada leti”

 Her mother clicked her tongue in disappointment hurrying out the kitchen finding some relief under the whirring fan slouching on the chair. 

“ Hat!  Ohnu chhad, tu das tu kujh hor khaana ae” 

“Hat! Usay chhoro, tum batao tumhein aur khaana hai?” she said sweetly, her wrinkled gentling caressing the curve of Zarnaaz's chin. “ Aisa hi chalta raha toh is se kaun nikaah karega” Zarnaaz loathed how every conversation in this house carried itself to be about her body, she was bonely thin as a child - made fun of and when puberty hit suddenly her body was not hers anymore, it was to be hidden not a shape to be in sight and the worst of it all she had gained weight significantly around where it wasn’t considered modest and proper earning taunts from her mother all her days about this. 

She stayed quiet, the delicacy now feeling ashen in her mouth, a hard thing to swallow down her throat. “ Pata nahi kaun nikaah karega is se” Her eyes welled up despite her efforts.

“Hale viyah di ki lor hai? Pehlan ohnu parhan deo, apni degree poori karan deo, te meri Zarnaaz jinni sohni ae, koi vi munda ohde te mar javega!”

 “Abhi shadi ki kya zaroorat hai? Pehle usay parhne do, apni degree poori karne do, aur meri Zarnaaz itni khoobsurat hai ke koi vi mard uss par mar mitega!” Zarnaaz shook her head, reaching for her backpack hanging behind the door. “ Rehne dijiye na khaala, Allah Hafiz” 

The bus was crowded and with her luck she rarely won the bingo of sitting down, that was not all she hated but the fact this whole town was safehouse for gangsters in plain sight, riots and curfews in morning did not help the case of living with parents who believed she would get kidnapped the moment she stepped out. 

The strands of hair escaped her braid, sweat making the baby hair sticking to  the forehead it was SWELTRING and over that the yard sized dupatta was a hefty to manage, she was outside, none of her relatives live here no one would know if she just put it away into her bag. 

 Juggling between guilt and comfort Zarnaaz chose the latter for today trying to avoid the obvious stares at her bosom. Like Lyari, college was also not what she preferred over her house in Baloch, but  fate does its thing. When Zarnaaz's parents ran out of money they had no choice but to move to the very place they hated, because only khala let them in, and it was only and only her Khala's generosity that she wasn't wed off at 16 and actually studying she knew she had to be grateful but it only felt worse. 

Before this Zarnaaz didn't know freedom, it hurted more when it dangled right in front of her, the normal life and she couldn't have it . Watching boys and girls her age live their lives to the fullest staying out past 5 in the evening, watching sunset from the streets and not having to sneak to use the balcony to catch a glimpse. Not worrying about how loud your footsteps are and calculating how wide your smile should be around non mehram men, or if your kurta covered your already covered knees - all of this would have remained conventional if the city did not flash chimera,dreams of freedom.Zarnaaz would have gone all her life with it but now submitting to these norms of her life set an ache in her heart.

From the time Zarnaaz entered college she didn't know how to act, too scared and unaware of what to do with the overwhelming flood of people who spoke,dressed, and behaved so differently from her. She would stare and them trying to understand their ways which people misunderstood it for Zarnaaz judging them, and most women who led a life like her often considered themselves superior to the woman who dont but Zarnaaz wasnt like that she only the had pure curiosity of a child- the irony was that they had deduced her character like they were expecting her to do. 

Only one person saw Zarnaaz wasn't hostile or proud, just very scared, Ulfat. She very quickly became her guide to this world, telling her the noxious truth that shrinking down here doesn't get you sympathy but only a pass for people to step all over you. 

Zarnaaz was late yet again, rushing her way to the classroom -for the first time after ages her luck worked the professor only entered the classroom second after her she quietly moved her way to the end of the room sitting alongside Ulfat on the old wobbly wooden bench. “ Vaah aaj toh bahut hot lag rahi hai” Ulfat whispered, nudging her with her elbow. “ Hot kya hota hai?” She whispered back, setting her backpack down on the floor “ Tum soni maan le” “ Toh fir tum bhi hot lag rahi hoo” She said with a sweet smile plastered on her face,Ulfat coughed to cover up her laughter.  

“Classes skip  nahi karna chaiye Ulfat” Zarnaaz said nervously,keeping up with her friends pace “ Are bunk nahi kar rahe hai, bata aaj tak tumhe us sir ki baat samajh aayi hai? Nahi na? Mai toh bas humaara waqt zaya hone se baccha rahi hoon”  She found her feet walking her to the usual spot the one behind the college building ground, under the tree’s shade on the dry soft grass which she found solace in -quiet and serene much like her village in baloch, tempting to find a break to sit out here even in the summers. 

“ Ab bata kya kya kiya vaha jaake” Ulfat asked about the short trip she made last week to Baloch 

“ Apne qarya jaane ke toh mauka hi nahi mila,Abbu hi gaye bas kisi tarah se ghar vaapis lene koshis kar rahe hai”  “Kuch baat badhi?”

  She asked idling pulling and tearing the grass “ Pata nahi mujhe kuch nahi batate, bas tehwar mei maza aaya, apni nowruz sabse acchi baloch mei hi lagti hai, kabhi tum bhi chalna mere saath”  Ulfat nodded resisting the urge to pull on Zarnaaz plump cheek, “ OH sochna bhi mat, mujhe daane ho jaate hai” “ Accha theek hai theek hai! Itni din rahi vaha aur kuch nahi hua” “ Hua toh ..ek ajeeb sa aadmi tha”  

Zarnaaz told her experience about the masked men, how rude and insolent he was. She deemed he was a city boy from his mannerisms and tone and asked what was the feeling that she felt in her stomach. “ ZARNAAZ?” “ Batao na” “ Tumhe vaham hua hoga , dar ke vajah se ho raha hoga” Ulfat said refusing to believe that her sweet friend would feel ‘that’ way  “ Par voh alag tha..” 

Zarnaaz knew fear. She felt it everyday looking at her parents constricting in her throat, heavy on her chest making her mind numb, the way he watched her did scare her partially but the pooling feeling in her stomach did not make sense to her. “ Tujhe aaj tak koi ladka pasand aaya hai?” “ Voh ek baar cinema mei nahi dekha tha..kya naam tha uska Aamir khan voh accha laga tha, par yeh alag tha ! batao na kya tha Ulfat!” She whined clinging to her, she was her google and she was supposed to tell her everything “ Haye Gul tu mere saath reh ke bigad gayi hai bilkul” “ Maine kuch galat kiya?” “ Galat nahi par-” “Par?” “ Jab waqt ayega tab bataungi” Ulfat said, looking down at her with a loving smile. 

The guy whistled passing by making both of them pause and look up “ kitna chipkengi isse kabhi humse bhi baat kar liya kar” Zarnaaz teared up instantly, Saif had been eve teasing her since he saw her in the library last year. No matter how hard she tried she found it hard to speak up in front of men, because she knew their hits hurt hard and the constant memory that ringed in her head was her father's blows. She couldn't even look her father in the eyes let alone fight with this guy.

“ Zarnaaz kitne nakhre karegi, sabko pata hai jitni tu shareef banti hai bilkul nahi hai” He reached closer, Zarnaaz hid behind Ulfat feeling ridiculous hiding behind a girl who looked more frail than her, tall and slender compared to her physique .

“ Nikal jao yaha se mai phle hi bol rahi hoon” She grabbed Zarnaaz hand, dragging her to a more crowded place for their safety, the college corridor alive with people and laughter sunlight creating shadow after each thick pillar. Zarnaaz glanced back to find the guy still following,her hands getting shaky around Ulfat.

“ Are ab pat bhi jaa” “ Please mujhe nahi karni aapse baat” she spoke up for the first time in a broken whimper making both Ulfat and Saif shocked,before Ulfat remembered she had to stop in. “ Sun liya nahi karni isko baat ,nikal yaha se lafandar khika! ” she taunted ,putting in effort to hide her own fear. The offend in his eyes was evident, he was close now standing right in front of Ulfat glaring down at her “ Tameez se bol le” “ Tum aur tameez? Ek saath sahi nahi lagte yeh do sabhd” “ Kiski taraf daari kar rahi hai? Is balochi ki? Iski jaise ladkiya bas sher mei dhanda-” Ulfat hand moved faster than her brain, the slap echoed of the hallway, loud and clear in the cluttered environment making people gasp and stop their conversations halfway. 

Ulfat had been trembling herself, masking her fear with a pride full tilt of head ;she had now slapped a son from a gangster family in front of everyone. For a moment he looked like he was going to lunge at her right there, but he saw and calculated the situation first - way too many people around here for him to unleash that part here. “ Haraamzaadi” He snarled in disgust, turning on his heel to leave

“Chal chal jaa na!!!tu haraamzaada! tera baap hharaamzada!!” Ulfat shouted back, running in an empty classroom with Zarnaaz, her cheeks red with fear and shame, while Zarnaaz was looking at her like she was her aapi, like she had put the stars and moon at her feet. “ Ulfat.. Tum toh bahut strong hoon, mujhe bhi sikhao na” The pureness of her voice diverted her mind, making her laugh out loud, Zarnaaz followed letting out a rare full laugh, her  shoulder shaking with thrill. 

“ Auditorium mei baith te hai, vah bahut log hai vaha nahi aayega voh pareshaan karne” “ Aaj kuch hai college mei?” She asked catching her breath  “ Haan voh joh naya major bana hai voh speech dene aaya hai, Pakayega thoda bahut par is chutiye ke muh lagne se toh accha hai”

Zarnaaz had forced Ulfat to sit with her on the third row, Ulfat who wanted to lounge on the end of the hall did her normal shenanigans but from here she had to sit quietly and listen or get scolded. She watched her friend pout and cross her arms, “ Please na Inaya maam ne dekh liya tha hume , fir peeche baithi toh mam ko kya lagta” “ Tum abhi school mei thodi hoon?  Kisko fark padta hai professor kya soch rahe hai” “ Par Inaya mam bahut acchi hai” Ulat gave her a fake scoff, resting back in the chair completely. 

The auditorium had been washed and overly cleaned in anticipation of the prestige guest now giving it a sterile hospital like smell, the old man speaking at the podium things no one was interested in, the bulbs in the room working overtime.

Followed by a loud rumble of claps entered the guest of the day - Major Iqbal, a young man who got to the post so early that he was a celebrity in the terms of his popularity. He was tall, noticeable even from Zarnaaz's seat, faded brown shades resting on his nose concealing his eyes from the room to an extent, it wasn’t for the sunlight but the power this man felt from the fact that no one could look him in the eyes. She had expected him to be older, and less of how dashing he looked and to be dressed in normal formal shirt pants, but instead he was in a navy blue  pathani suit paired with an English vest and night black oxford shoes. Clean shaven and thick waves of hair that were to be above his shoulder ,long enough to touch the nape of his neck, sleeked back neatly he was all polite smiles, his mannerism screaming the dignity and elegance he was made of.

He made his way to the podium, raising the mic so it matched with his height “Assalamu Alaikum”. Zarnaaz did not hear any word of the speech after it, the sound his voice reverberated with the mic feedback sent her into a stupor with how deep and captivating it was. By the time his speech has ended Ulfat had poked Zarnaaz at least three times to get her attention but of course it didn't work. She saw him walking off to the backstage his steps stopping for a second, even under the glasses she felt that gaze,that burning gaze before he departed now with a slight tension in his back. ‘I am probably making up things’ she told herself, “ ZARNAAZ!” “!!” “Kaha kho gayi hai?” “Voh-” 

“Zarnaaz” Inaya called out, “ Tumhe bola rahe hai backstage jaldi jao” 

They looked at each other confused, why call her backstage? Did they get to know what Ulfat did to Saif, but they were only calling Zarnaaz, what for?

She moved slowly, eyes darting around in nervousness and she was not even carrying her dupatta left it off in her bag so had draped Ulfat thin white dupatta over her head and shoulder loosely, the backstage was dimly lit under the light of the yellow warming up bulb, and there stood Iqbal so close, surrounded by three more of her professors. 

“Yeh meri student hai, Zarnaaz” Inaya said her hand patting Zarnaaz shoulder, “ Yeh aapko college dikhaayegi” 

Iqbal smiled andZarnaaz saw it, the smile too predatory to be polite before he eased it to formality, perplexing her if she was in a fictitious haze.

a/n - let me know if anyone wanted to added to the TAG LIST !!!um yes ulfat is also adopting people here as well, already letting you know Iqbal going to be an toxic ass :) , ya all please dont hate on Zarnaaz she is just a little slow , and can you guess what happened to her sister?