C H A P T E R   1

The legend begins...

 5:00 AM

June 12^th, 1857

Lucknow

British occupied India

Her heart was thudding inside her chest, sweat literally poured off of her. It was true; she was putting her whole energy, her whole body strength for what could be called, perhaps, her last struggle for life.

She was scared. She was terrified and she was literally running for her life with all her might, her nostrils flaring in and out rapidly, her fingers clenched into fists. And then, she realized that she was not sure where she was going now.

I don't care. Somewhere. Anywhere. Far away from all of this.

In the still darkness, she picked up the scent of the fires that were burning silently away in the distance. She realized that she was shaking, not  because of the typical morning coldness, but from fear

And then she heard some loud voices.

“Catch her. Stop her.” Somebody had shouted on her back.

She didn’t stop to look back, she could not afford to.

Now or never.

She knew, from here, either was no going back or she would be lost forever.

“Oh Allah, help me please.” She muttered in between her raspy breathing.

There was a complete darkness in front of her and she could not clearly see what was ahead of her. There were no houses nearby, just the endless rows of mango trees which were further adding to the darkness of the scene. From the mingled sounds of human voices and running footsteps, she could feel that the distance between her and the men following her was rapidly decreasing. She helplessly tried her best to run as fast as she could, despite of the fact that her light weight and thin figure was her only advantage in doing so. But her body had become unbearably tired now and because of extreme weakness, even it seemed to betray her. Her throat had become completely dry and so were her naked feet, wounded and bleeding due to continuous running on the uneven track.

It was then that she saw a small compound, some sort of small building visible a few yards away.

What was it? Some heap or fruit ware house?

The building was completely drowned in darkness and itself looked like an old ghost house or some haunted mansion. But she had no time to think.

In no time at all, she decided to take the risk. She had to, as there was no other option. Climbing a short flight of steps, she gathered all of her remaining body power and lifted her feet off the ground for a long jump crossing the water canal below which separated the deserted building from the mango plantations. Reaching there, she quickly entered the building as there was no gate. The place looked deserted, with no living being around. She managed to open her eyes as much as she could, trying to see through the darkness. She found it hard to believe that she was landed in a cold, damp, dark room filled with a large group of wooden crates. There were also big jute bags everywhere filled with mangoes and that is why she could smell the heavy but typical sweet scent of mangoes all around her. 

Suddenly, there was a silence-piercing knocking sound from outside and her heart jumped up to come in her throat. They had finally arrived to catch her, to get her back where she came from, a place where… she couldn’t think more. Quickly but hysterically, she grabbed a jute bag full of mangoes and opened its mouth. The mangoes dropped down onto the naked wooden floor. Emptying it completely, she put, or to be more exactly, wore the big jute bag around her body and sat adjacent to other jute bags kept there, hiding the large part of her body inside. She thought she was now almost invisible, camouflaged with in the bags, unless somebody could actually enter and check each bag individually. Leaning against the wall behind, she attempted to catch her breath.

As she sat panting heavily, she could hear footsteps quickly heading her way. They were probably approaching towards the entrance.

Trembling, she listened to the beats ahead.

Three…four. She thought to herself.

Four men. She took a deep but shuddering breath.

“Search for her at any price.” A heavy, grunting man’s voice came.

“Mahpara would kill us all.” This time it was another male voice, trembling clearly with fear.

“Don’t be scared too much Babu.” This time, a third man had spoken in an evil and excited voice

“She has so many girls in spare. It shall not make any big difference.”

“You are crazy.” The first man had replied. “This girl is really different. Mahpara herself is very touchy about her. She calls her Koh-e-Noor, her greatest and the most precious Diamond.”

“Just how the hell did the bitch manage to escape? Probably you two were as sleepy as usual to let the fruit go.” Babu’s voice came again through clenched teeth.

“It is not the time to argue about that, you bastards. We can fight about that later. Right now, find her or be ready for your worst fates.” Some fourth man had shouted.

“I think she can not be here. This ware house is empty and she is not that brave to get inside on her own. We should check the other road too, the one which leads to Faizabad.” One of them had suggested.

“Faizabad?” But why would she choose that road? She doesn’t even know the paths here. I think she must be inside. Just have a look and you would know.” Babu was firm and determined to find her inside.

Her body trembled. Her fate had finally come.

What would they do with her if she gets caught?

Taking her back to Mahpara was their ultimate objective but, before that, what these four notorious men could do with one weak nineteen year old girl in this haunted, deserted place... she could not think more as her senses began to leave her body and mind.

It was when she heard the typical sounds of horse’s hoofs nearing. Yes, those were unmistakably horse’s steps.

“Oh my God,” Somebody had gasped with worry.

“Who the hell this could be?” Babu had muttered anxiously.

“Some police man or King’s soldier?”

“May be some dacoit.” His companion had replied. “I had told you this area is especially famous for the dacoits and bandits. They often come here for shelter after doing their robberies and crimes.”

“What shall we do?”  

“Get back and leave. We can search for her on Faizabad’s road. If she’s here, dacoits themselves would treat her well, if you know what I mean. So, no need to look for her here. Now hurry up and leave.” This time, Babu’s voice was accompanied by the sounds of their running. At last, they had left but only to leave her in, perhaps, even greater danger.

The horse rider came nearer and had probably crossed the water canal to reach in front of the ware house.

There was a very short silence and then she heard somebody jumping on the ground. Perhaps, now the horse was being tied and the intruder was finally coming in.  She wondered whether it was safe to pop out but decided to wait…wait for her chance or for her death.

She sat in horror as the approaching footsteps hammered heavily across the wooden floor.

The final moment had come; she thought with sheer fear and closed her eyes, just like an innocent pigeon which, in the very final moments of its life, closes its eyes, not having the courage to meet the eyes of the killer.

The door swung open and somebody entered inside.

150 years later

11:50 PM

February 13^th, 2007

Karachi

Pakistan

She clicked the door open and walked into her room to answer her cellular phone that was ringing, perhaps, for the sixth time now.

“That was quick” was the greeting on the other end of the phone. It was her friend Nazneen.

"Oh, it's you." She said, clearly disappointed.

"Thanks a lot." She replied, sounding annoyed.

“Well, I was in the study. Dad had called me.”

"I’m sorry if I…”

“No, it’s okay.” She said plainly. "I don't mean it like ‘that’. I was just hoping..."

"I know you were hoping it would be ‘him’. Don't worry about it, he'll call."

"Not while I'm talking to you; in case you forgot, I don't have call waiting."

"Oh sorry. Good luck. Bye."

"Bye." She hung up quickly and glanced at her watch, the tenth time in ten minutes. The very initial drops of rain of disappointment began to bathe her.

Just how on earth could he forget this very special occasion? An occasion which had come for the first time since they had…

She couldn’t think more. Chewing her lower lip, she focused her eyes on the nearby window, gazing absent-mindedly on the beautiful, neatly organized lawn of her house which, tonight, more presented a black shadowy picture of darkness than the usual day-time greener scenery.

The typical contrast of enlightened day with the dark night often used to bring many thoughts and questions to her wondering mind.

That’s how life itself supposed to be, she thought, an intermingled contrast of darkness of miseries, sufferings and hardships with the light of happiness, comfort and joy. So far, it had been a brilliantly illuminated chapter of health and happiness in her life’s book, for which she was thankful to her fate. She had everything a young Pakistani girl of twenty-three could dream of; beauty, money, sports car of latest model, best education in country’s top-ranked business schools, always-helpful and supportive parents, a bunch of best friends and her love… her fiancé who, without a doubt, could be considered as one of the most good-looking and handsome guys she had ever met.

She sat on the chair of her study table and tried to weather the emotional storm raging inside of her.

What else a girl could want, she often used to ask herself with genuine concern. Still, she had no answer to the disturbing question if anybody asked that “Nashmia, are you completely satisfied and content with your present life?” She had tried many times to figure out the answer to this, but had always failed. Perhaps, it was just a doubt, or may be she was not enough busy in her studies so that her heart was wandering about these useless and time-wasting things.

She had been sitting for sometime before she noticed that her cellular phone had been ringing again. With heavy breaths, she walked over to the coffee table and lifted the phone.

The number flashing on the colored screen was, of course, his.

“Nashmia?” Tonight, his voice was more desperate than usual

Silence.

“Hey darling… I am speaking to you.”

No answer.

“Is anybody out there?”

Quietness.

“Alright, I’m sorry but believe me I didn’t do it intentionally and you know very well that I could not even think of doing such a stupid thing even for fun.”

“I do mind.” At last she spoke, sounding clearly annoyed.

“I know, my fair lady has really got some temper, but oh boy, don’t I love that?” He took a loud-enough-to-be-heard breath of relief.

“Why were you late?” She asked in a relatively softer tone now.

“Late? Gosh Nashmia, fear God. It’s just fifteen past twelve and…”

“You knew how anticipative I was for this day. It has come for the fist time since we committed to each other.”

“Okay alright, I accept, may be I was only a few minutes late. But you must also realize about the poor services of these damn busy cellular network lines, which are even busier due to all those loved birds like us in Karachi, wishing and greeting each other.” He tried to explain with clear honesty. “I was like trying for the last five minutes but every time it says line’s busy, please try later.”

“Okay, leave it.” She suggested at last. “Now what?”

“Now what?” He repeated astonishingly and then added.

“Janaab... I’ve not yet consummated this call of mine yet, so, happy valentine day my dear sweetie. Accept my honest, heartiest and the most passionate wishes along with many happy returns of the day. Tell me your wish and I would be privileged to oblige …”

In reply, she could not stop her natural laughter.

“Hey, ma’am.” He interrupted. “Your her-highness has no right to insult my utmost feelings like this.”

‘No, I was just laughing at your last sentence.” She giggled. ‘It was so funny. You sound like a genie enclosed in a bottle who, upon suddenly finding out that somebody’s set him free, asks tell me your wish master and I would do it for you.”

“My comparison with a genie on valentine’s night is not so romantic I guess. Is it?” His voice was filled with artificial anger.

“You should behave. Even genie can get people lots of things.”

“Oh I see.” A long breath escaped out of his lungs. “Don’t worry as I have bought a lot of gifts for you. You’ll see yourself when we meet.”

“Good for you. But I’m sure you won’t have forgotten how choosy I’m.” She said with a chuckle of amusement.

“That I know. After all a girl who chooses Numair Ali Khan as her mate must be the pickiest gal in whole school.”

“Oh ho… be down to earth, boy.” She was determined to tease him to the last, her favourite hobby which they both equally enjoyed. “You know you must be grateful to me for this mistake I made.” She blurted out funnily.

Suddenly there was a silence on the other side.

“Numair?” She called him.

“Come on yaar. You know I was kidding.” Her own voice had acquired a serious tone now.

“Well…” He said quietly. “I know you were but still sometimes I do think…” He left his sentence unfinished.

“Think what?”

“If…if you know what I mean. There are times when I really ask myself.”

“Ask what?”

“That would you be happy with me?”

As she heard him she, herself, was at a loss of words.

“I wonder what makes you to have these stupid thoughts.” She said blankly after a few moments’ pause.

“It’s you Nashmia.” He replied softly. “You make me think like that. No doubt, majority of times, you’re happy, kidding, having fun, playing around and all that. But there are times when…you are suddenly lost somewhere and it looks to me as if you’re having second thoughts or I don’t know what. I have noted this several times.”

“Now you’re scaring me.”

“Am only telling you the truth.” He insisted.

“Well...’ She tried to answer. “to be honest with you, it’s true to some extent. But it’s not related to you in particular. I mean it’s more of a generalized thing.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t get you.”

“I mean… you know.” She began to say slowly. “It’s like I’ve got anything one could desire or even imagine for. Money is there, me pursuing the best degree from the best school in town. I own the latest model car, have a loving father who’s among the top industrialists in the country, my mother who’s always supported me, a sincere and an honest husband-to-be friend like you, a big home which is almost like a palace for us but…”

“But?”

“The problem starts from here.” She breathed out. “I don’t know what to say after this ‘but’…”

“Tell you what?” He interrupted. “Sometimes, it’s just a psychological thing. We become so much caught-up in our own routine matters that we often forget to take care of what our hearts really want.”

“And what is that?”

“Change my dear.” He said softly and swiftly.

“Give yourself a break, honey. Go out, be happy, have fun and enjoy. Life’s too short to be wasted in worries and despair my dear.” He, himself, was full of life, she agreed.

“We would talk about it more when we meet tomorrow.” He assured her.

“Okay but where and when?”

“Well, of course somewhere nicer outside. As always, leave that to me and we would be having a fantastically memorable candlelight dinner.” As he finished his sentence, his voice acquired a romantic tone.

“Oho, flattering or flirting?” She asked naughtily.

“You would know when we meet.” He replied in the same tone. “Would let you know about the venue. Just be ready to depart at nine pm sharp, okay?”

“Done.” She smiled and after saying goodbye to him, slowly put down the phone back on the table.

‘So is it just so what he says ?” She whispered to herself as she prepared to sleep.

“I wish…” She again whispered to herself before she turned her bedroom light off. “And I really hope Numair that everything’s alright as you say. And it’s just the ‘change’ that I need and nothing else.”

 *****------------------------*****

Hot Pakistani sun shone through the white curtains of her bedroom. She turned over in her luxurious Victorian bed, ignoring the sun's call to wake up. Not to be ignored, it shone into a mirror standing on the right side of her bed, reflecting a bright glare onto her sleepy eyes. "Okay, I'm awake," she said groggily, sitting up. Satisfied with her acknowledgement of the new day, the sun dispersed its reflection, leaving Nashmia to rub her stunned eyes.

Today was Wednesday; she had to go to her class despite of sleeping so little last night. Her face fell a little, but brightened upon the next thought.

“Yes, indeed it’s Wednesday today but it’s also fourteenth February. Don’t miss the day, don’t waste the date.” As she spoke to herself, a satisfied smile parted her lips and with a revitalized mood, she left the bed and opened her large, neatly polished wooden wardrobe.

“Umm, what to wear?” She asked herself, looking through the cloths, trying to decide what to wear today.

“Jeans? My favourite outfit to wear while hanging out with buddies.” She delicately touched the collection of side-by-side hanging jeans which included jeans of almost every colour.

“Too casual for this romantic day.” She rejected.

“What next? Some nice hipster? Probably not, would look too mushy.” She reasoned to herself.

“I would like to wear something more feminine…umm.” She tipped her chin with her index finger, seeing and thinking.

“Oh yes, this would do I think.” She finally put her hand on a cream-coloured silk trouser and a maroon sleeveless blouse.

“Numair would like it too. Maroon is his favorite colour.” Just for an instance, she put the outfit over herself and looked straight in the mirror.

“Perfect.” She chuckled and rushed to the adjoining washroom for a shower and a change-up.

The truth of the matter was that Nashmia was strikingly beautiful. She had large, liquid, almost black eyes accented by long, dark lashes. Her eyes sparkled. There was never a day in Nashmia's life that her eyes didn't sparkle. Her heart shaped face was encased in flawless skin and adorned with an exceptionally pretty smile and perfect white teeth. If anything stood out about her, it was her smile. And, of course, not to forget her strength which was opposite gender’s weakness, her shiny dark hair which was long, loose and untamed. It gave her the appearance of an exotic, mysterious woman of unknown ethnic origin. Many of her friends used to tell her that she was a unique blend of both western and eastern features. Her tall height, fairly wheatish complexion, ultra-soft facial features and well-proportionate figure was a bonus from her father’s side. Her grand mother, when alive, had once told that one of her forefathers had married a British woman back in nineteenth century and because of that contrasting blend, their forthcoming generations were still getting some of those western traits in their looks.

Her figure was shapely and voluptuous. The nicely-fitted outfits she wore were a compliment to her delicate curves, defining soft ups and downs of her truly feminine body. Although she wasn't the contemporary ideal of a model waif-like figure, she carried herself with such confidence and raw sensuality it didn't matter. As Numair had once told her,

"Nashmia, you are ALL woman."

Smiling at herself with pride, she showered, shampooed, powdered and finally dressed. She twisted her hair at the back of her head, held it there with chopsticks, and left a spray of ends at her crown. Then she applied blush, mascara, and lipstick - all slightly heavier for the morning.

Giving final touches to her lipstick, she took her purse and moved forward.

When she entered the dinning hall for breakfast, her whole family was there. Her father, as usual, was reading his favorite English newspaper while slowly sipping his morning tea. Her mother was preparing to leave for her office, a famous large NGO where she worked as a media adviser and last but not the least, her younger sister Nigar, the funniest, naughtiest and the most full-of-life girl she had ever seen.

“Nashmia, wearing maroon again? Anything special today?” Nigar winked naughtily as soon as she got her eyes on her elder sister.

“Not anything that you should know of.” She hurriedly took a sip of tea and bit a slice at the same time, showing her eyes to her sister as a gesture to indicate their father’s presence on the table. “As I always say, grow up and start minding your business.”

“If growing up means wearing your valentine’s favourite colour on fourteenth February and going to special evening date then yes, I admit, I’ve not grown up yet.” Nigar’s comment came spontaneously.

“Jealous as ever. Aren’t you?” Nashmia smiled sarcastically, applying marmalade on the toast. “Don’t worry; your time would come too.”

On her remark, their father could not suppress his smile behind the newspaper he was holding.

“Not jealous. I am curious.” Nigar replied, still smiling.

“Curiosity is not good for health, especially when you’re already on strict diet schedule.”

“Who says that?” Nigar raised her brows in a protest.

“The other day you were saying that you would now be only on sea-food, isn’t that so?” Nashmia smiled sarcastically.

“It doesn’t mean at all that I would be only having all that white meat and stuff.”

“Then?”

“It simply means my dear…” Nigar’s grin broadened. “The more I ‘see’ the food, the more I would eat.”

On her sentence, despite of her hard effort, Nashmia could not stop herself from smiling.

“So, what are you up to today?” Nashmia finally asked, trying to look as much serious as possible.

“Umm, something very dry and boring.” Nigar made a bad mouth and brought the coffee cup to her lips.

“Physics?”

“Yeah, midterms!” Nigar replied in the same dry tone. “I’ve not slept a wink last night.”

“Studying?” Nasmia asked with a concerned look.

“No, I was preparing Haleem.” She replied her eyes in answer, as if not believing her elder sister could ask such a stupid question. “Of course yaar, I was busy memorizing the interpretations of all those laws of Newton and Einstein’s theory of relativity.”

“Really?” Nashmia asked in amazement. “You still read that in graduation too? I thought those are just for higher secondary levels.”

“Well… we still have them.” Nigar said with amusement. “in somewhat different and changed form.”

“Changed?” Nashmia asked, clearly astonished. “You’re kidding right? A law is a law, it can’t be changed.”

“It sure can, darling.” Nigar winked and added. “The present social scenario and cultural circumstances can have their impact on ‘physical’ laws as well.”

“Aha, like what?”

“Like the famous law of conversation of matter now says, love can neither be created nor be destroyed but it can only be transferred from one girlfriend to another girlfriend with some loss of money.”

“Haha, very funny.” Nashmia almost choked on her tea as she tried to prevent herself from laughing.

”Remember the first law of motion, alternatively known as law of inertia?” Nigar had just started.

On Nashmia’s nod, she continued.

“Today it states, a boy in love with a girl, continues to be in love with her and a girl in love with a boy, will continue to be in love with him, until or unless any external agent, for example, brother or father of the gal, comes into play and breaks the legs of the boy. "

This time, Nashmia did not try to stop herself from laughing. In fact, she could not. Usually, she was not used to laugh so much and was typically known among her colleagues and friends as someone who was not very funny by any means. And yet, her sister knew how to break her limits.

“Similarly, the third law of motion states,” Nigar, perhaps was relieving her own examination anxiety by sharing jokes with her on the breakfast table, which indeed was a good sign.

“The force applied while proposing a girl by a boy is equal and opposite to the force applied by the girl while slapping.” She kept on saying. The laughter in the room was now joined by their parents’ as well.

“Nigar, you’re forgetting something.” Their father spoke for the first time, showing his broad grin.

In response, both sisters looked at him with questioning eyes.

“There’s one more law, law of gravitation I mean.” His meaningful smile, like always, encouraged her more.

And this was what, both sisters, especially Nashmia were really proud of. Nashmia was alwys used to tell her friends that her parents were not like typical, traditional, conservative Pakistani mother and father who always want to impose their own authoritative, beaurocratic culture inside the home.

“I don’t want to be a father who earns a respect because of his fear imposed on his children instead of love.” Her father used to say, and this was true too. At times, during the conversations, picnics, outings and parties, he was just like an elder brother or more like a friend to them.

“I can share each and everything with him.” Nashmia had once told her friends with sheer pride.

“Man, I gotta leave or else would die due to excessive laughing attacks.” Nashmia first glanced at her smiling father and then at her wrist watch.

”Hey, wait. I’m not finished yet.” Nigar raised her hand to stop her from leaving.

“Nigar… behave. You would probably write these laws in your today’s exam too.” This time, it was their mother’s voice from the back.

“Believe me mom, I wish I could. I would have been a top scorer then.” Nigar grinned at her mother and then added.

“According to Newton’s gravitational law, the rate of change of intensity of love of a girl towards a boy is directly proportional to the instantaneous bank balance of the boy and the direction of this love is same to as increment or decrement of the bank balance."

 This time, Nashmia’s laughter was louder than ever.

 “Gosh, you’re unbelievably funny you know that?” She added with honesty.

 “I suppose that’s a compliment?” Nigar’s eyes sparkled as she asked.

“No, I am insulting you.” Nashmia replied in the same humourous tone. “Of course I am praising you dear sis. Keep this up, you’ll do wonders.” Wiping her mouth with the napkin, she finally stood up to leave.

“All the best darling. I know you’ll do well today.” She gave a small peck on her sister’s shoulder and waved goodbye to her parents.

“Thanks sissy. Wish you too best of luck. You’ll do even better.” Nigar winked wickedly and quickly bent her body on her right to save herself from the tissue box her elder sister had thrown on her before leaving the room.

They were three sisters in total. Her older sister, Naveena, already had the requisite two kids, doctor husband and beautiful home in suburban Westchester, north of New York City. Then came Nashmia herself, who had long since claimed the title in their parents' eyes of the child who would come closest to fulfilling all their dearest wishes.

The youngest sister Nigar was a typical younger sister, funny; fill of life with fantastically friendly nature. She was a real reason for the whole family to smile everyday. Nashmia, on the other hand, was relatively less talkative and expressive than other of her siblings and perhaps, because of this reason, she had the reputation of being the most mature girl of her family. And yet her present-mindedness, knowledge, self confidence and strong thought process added numerous sources of inspiration in her personality for others. She, at such a young age of twenty three, had developed her own ideology of life and had her own theories and concepts about how to spend it. Her definite vision and foresight had helped her a lot to set her definite goals for the future as a full-fledged professional and successful career woman. Through her planning, she knew where she shall be standing like after ten years. From the outside too, she knew her life seemed perfect. People in her class often commented that she must not have a care in the world.

“Of course dear, you only get one life.” She often used to tell her friends. “Extract as much happiness and joy as you can.”

“I often get jealous of you, you know.” Once Nigar had told her at night as they both prepared to sleep.

“Why is that?” Nashmia’s brows rose automatically. It was very unusual for Nigar to get in a really serious mood like she looked in that night.

“I’ve never seen a more balanced person than you. I mean, you know very well what to put where and when. When exams are near, you become the most terrible nerdy bookworm and when you’ve time, it seems you would have never opened a book in your whole life.”

“Priorities darling, priorities.” Nashmia laughed softly. “The key to success is to set your priorities and then be a moderate person in everything you do. Whatever you do and whenever you do, just be passionate about it and the nature would do the rest, whether it’s for fun or to learn.”

This was her philosophy of life, a philosophy which had only made her more proud of herself with time. She had never failed a single time in everything she had done whether in sports, studies or her hobbies.

“I don’t believe in fortune.” She had once responded very rigidly yet firmly to Numair when he had once told her that he was her afraid of the results of his finals and may be that was because of his bad luck.

“There’s not a thing in this world called fortune, Numair.” Her voice got softer in the next moment. “It’s all cultural bullshit and nothing else. We are independent human beings, capable of doing everything including designing and shaping our own fortune. You’re what you do. With hard struggle and untiring efforts, you could achieve everything.”

“Everything?” Numair had asked absentmindedly.

And for some unknown reason, she, despite of being always confident, did not know if to answer in affirmative.

“Yes, everything.” She had replied at last in the same courageous, fearless tone.

“Nothing is impossible.”

 *****------------------------*****

Numair came to her front door to pick her up the same evening, looking very spiffy in charcoal gray slacks and a black silk shirt with a banded collar. He drove a red sports car and his manners, as usual, were impeccable, she noted, as he held the door open for her as he picked her up from her house and again in the restaurant parking lot.

The restaurant, in general, was an exotic building, presenting a glamorous view alongside the famous sea-view of Clifton beach. It was particularly famous for its specific ‘youthful activities’ on Saturday nights, candle-light romantic dinners and ideal atmosphere for couples’ dates, providing them with sensual privacy and fantastic romantic surroundings.  Patrons dined in the atmospheric embrace of live piano music, flickering candles, and dimmed chandeliers, indulged in sweeping, panoramic views of the twinkling lights of the city and the dark beauty of the sea, visible through three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. The cuisine was Chinese and French of almost every variety.

As they entered together, hand in hand in the main restaurant, six or seven men stopped talking. Six or seven pairs of eyes followed her. Nashmia was taller than average, more statuesque than she liked and was used to being looked at, but so many fixed stares made her wonder if she looked more feminine today than usual.

“Know what?” He smiled, giving her a proud look.

“Hmm?” She ruffled a delicate silky curl of her black hair from her forehead.

“It makes me proud, possessive and yet passionate for you.” He answered as he helped seat her when they were shown to a table. Being in extreme corner and adjacent to the large glass wall, the table gave them an excellent sea-view bathed in silvery moonlight, making the scene even more memorable.

“When people look at you with eyes containing…” He left his sentence unfinished and gave her the menu card.

“Eyes containing what?” She was interested to know.

“Admiration for you and envy for me.” He smiled soberly.

“It makes me feel how lucky I am.”  He added with a grin and took the cigarette case out his jacket’s pocket.

“Is it just my looks or something else as well?” She looked at him with deep interest as he slightly bent his head to show the flame to the fore-end of his cigarette.

“Well, primarily yes.” He admitted as he inhaled the thick smoke. “But it’s not just that. I mean here we are, two lovers, together, with our parents knowing it and approving our relationship. Everybody is happy; we’re going to get married soon, no bone of contention in between, with no chance of revolt, without even a single possibility of any hesitation or disagreement from the elders.”

As he spoke to her, she realized it was true. How many couples like of them exist in this eastern society? She asked to herself silently. In a society where social barriers, cultural obstructions and religious hurdles were everywhere, they surely made one lucky couple.

Hell, what else one could want?

“One hot and sour and one chicken vegetable soap would be fine.” She listened to him, as he told the waiter.

“What about the food?” He suddenly looked at her and asked, smiling.” Chicken ginger and Chow main, as usual?”

Chicken ginger would be too heavy for tonight I suppose.” She gave her opinion. “Add prawn shawshlik instead.”

“From my side, I recommend the margaritas and the green chili on anything,” He told her as they glanced over the menu.

“Any drinks you two would like sir?” Waiter asked obediently as he wrote the order in his notebook.

”Just fresh lime.” He replied, seeing her node of agreement.

Once they had ordered, his attention was so focused on her that Nashmia felt as if he didn’t realize there were other people in the place.

“So, ma’am.” He chuckled amusingly as the waiter left. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“It’s our first valentine day together.” She smiled beautifully. “What could you think of?”

“Love, love and love.” He answered in a voice that was suddenly quiet, more intimate. He was looking into her eyes, searching them, and Nashmia was held in that dark gaze.

“Hmm,” She smiled but said nothing, slowly shaking the spoon in the soup bowl which the waiter had just put in front of her.

“You’re you silent?” Said Numair on a note of surprise.

She absently looked in his eyes but still said nothing.

“Thinking something?” His curious eyes searched hers.

“No!” She slowly shook her head. “I’m asking something from myself.”

“Asking what?”

“That… does this how love happen? Is this the same feeling most people seem to go crazy about? Is this what we call as love and nothing else?” She asked one question after the other but had to do it. Before she could be sincere to anybody else, she first had to be honest to herself.

Listening to her comments, he gazed deep into her eyes for what seemed like hours and she thought he had mind what she had said. But then he burst into a loud laughter.

“Did I say something funny?” She raised her brows, looking clearly annoyed.

“You know Nashmia, I knew you were going to ask this question some time.” He smiled. “Because it’s very natural to have such thoughts when you suddenly fall in love, all of a sudden, like a spark of electricity or a thunder shock.”

“Okay, let me make this simpler for you.” He raised his hand as if trying to elaborate his point.

“The only person who can solve your problem and tell you whether it’s love or not is…

“Is?” She asked back curiously.

“Is you, honey. Ask yourself few things and you would know. “His accent had become very sober now. “As far as I know, love is like no other feeling you have ever experienced. You can't stop thinking about the person; your heart skips a beat every time you see them. You don't care about anything else, and would do anything in the world for that person. You click on every level: hobbies, personality, likes, dislikes. It's the most amazing feeling in the world.”

‘Wow.” She exclaimed in wonder. “I never thought you could be this romantic.”

“I have just begun, Ma’am.” He smiled delicately.

As they talked, each of them could listen to the romantic beats of the musical score by Charlotte Church.
 

Voi Che Sapete (Tell Me What Love Is)

Tell me what love is, what can it be
What is this yearning burning me?
Can I survive it, will I endure?
This is my sickness, is there a cure?
First his obsession seizing my brain,
Starting in passion, ending in pain.
I start to shiver, then I'm on fire,
Then I'm aquiver with seething desire.
Who knows the secret, who holds the key?
I long for something - what can it be?
My brain is reeling, I wonder why;
And then the feeling I'm going to die.
By day it haunts me, haunts me by night.
This tender torment, tinged with delight!
Tell me what love is, what can it be?
What is this yearning, burning in me?
 

“Do you hesitate while telling me anything?” Numair had further asked, observing her very closely.

She shook her head in disagreement.

“Then you're in love when there is no hesitation in expressing yourself. When you feel you can share anything and everything. When you are not anxious about making a commitment.” As he talked, Nashmia carefully listened to his words. This was, in fact, the first time she had seen him talk like this. But she was glad he could talk like that too.

“When you are in love you will just know it.” He carried on. “There is no formula or logic to love. You just feel it in your heart, your mind, and your soul. The feeling is something you can't describe but can arise at any moment, triggered by a memory, a word or a thought of that special person.”

“Wow…” She ruffled her hair swiftly, smiling soberly. “I never knew you could talk so deep.”

“Well, as I just told you, it’s only the beginning ma’am.” He put his right hand on his chest and bent forward as if to thank her in primal gesture to show the man’s modesty.

“Okay Nashmia, now you tell me, what’s your concept of love?” He asked quietly.

On his question, she raised her eyes. He was looking directly at her.

“Well, that’s a tough one. Honestly I’ve never given it a single thought.” She expressed nervously.

“No problem.” He smiled soberly. “Do it now. Think about it now, because like me, it’s first time for you too."

“I know what you mean.” She nodded. “Okay I had read somewhere that…when no sacrifice is too big, no distance is too great, when every time I think of him, I feel happier than the moment before. When I see him in everything I do and everywhere I am. When his love in return wraps me like a warm blanket. Then…its love!”

“Haha.” He laughed decently. “How romantic.”

“You asked for it.” She replied daringly.

In answer he said nothing and just kept shaking his spoon absently in the bowl.

“You’re silent!” She asked, trying to search for any traces of annoyance about what she had just told but his face showed nothing.

“Umm?” He looked up at her.

“What’re you thinking?”

On her question, he shifted visibly on his seat and replied after a few moments pause.

“Close your eyes… and think.”

“Think what?”

“Think…that how fortunate we’re.” His tone became seriously sober. “Think about very few people in this world who are so lucky to have each other so soon, without any social hurdle or cultural obstruction.”

“Well, though I don’t really believe in luck but I do agree with that.” Her smile showed her honest agreement. “There’re not many people like us in this world. I’ve not forgotten even the very first moments.”

“What?” He inquired interestingly. “You mean how we met?”

“Not just that.” She closed her eyes for an instant and thought about the moment. “I even remember our first date.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She responded dreamily. “You know, it still seems like a dream to me.”

“Dream?” He put the napkin in his lap as the waiter served the order.

“Yeah… dream.” For a moment, she closed her eyes and thought. Yes she had not forgotten that. She even remembered the very minute details.

It was New Year's Eve. There she sat, all dressed up, in the company of many friends. The setting was an exquisite Karachi style upscale gathering, arranged in the big lawn of a friend’s house located in a posh locality of Karachi. Dazzling and glittering cocktail dresses were abound, all the pretty people from the city wearing seasonal styles and seasonal smiles. There were low whispers and soft, melodic jazz tinkling in the background.

Nashmia sat there on a high classic chair. She could feel the soft silk of her chocolate satin pants flowing against her body. In the glow of the candlelit table, she lazily drank her soda, heavy on the olive juice. Those around her were patiently waiting for the arrival of new expectations, the arrival of new goals, new faces and new places. They secretly and silently dreamed of another chance at another year.

“May I sit here?” Somebody had very decently asked. Many things rose to greet the stranger, first her eyelashes, then her eyes and finally her heart. She, for some very strange reason, found herself nodding and then…things could never be the same again. Although she did not know him at all, he seemed to be very down to earth. As they talked, she was so lost in the male charisma of this inspiring man she had met for the first time that she did not even note the loud bursting sounds of firing and fireworks that surely signaled the arrival of New Year. With the advent of New Year, Nashmia was turning her life’s book to open a new chapter, a chapter that contained many promises of more beautiful things to come.

When they parted that night, neither of them was very much sure about the future but both of them were quite certain about one thing. Their lives had been changed forever. Naturally, cell numbers and email addresses were mutually exchanged before they left.

She could not sleep well that night. She did not know why. The feeling was weird, yet she wondered what it was, just chemistry or more than that. She knew he would definitely call but did not know it would be very next day. With a pleasant feeling stirring deep somewhere inside her being, she lifted her cell phone to her ear and talked. As expected, Numair was quite friendly on the phone and had a warm, sweet voice that almost made her want to listen to him more and more.

Gosh, I can talk to him for hours without getting tired for a moment. She had thought and decided.

Some things were obvious. They shared many common interests such as music, movies, sports and having any sort of fun. They both enjoyed fine food, travel and the outdoors. Like her, Numair also came from a financially well-off family headed by an A-Class business man father, Farzand Ali, chairman of Farzand group of companies which dealt with cotton and textile business. His mother was a member of provincial assembly, a very active politician of her political party. So he, too, had a small family, an added plus point for any girl who might be interested in guys like him. His elder sister was a famous fashion designer and ran her own well-established boutique while his younger sister was pursuing her bachelors in one of the famous business schools of Lahore. Life was going well for both of them and so was their friendship.

In his third call, he finally asked her out. She was a bit hesitant at first, but her parents’ given freedom and their established trust on her made her to accept his offer.

“You know it’s my first date.”  She had said innocently while they sat together for the first time, all alone in the dark portion of a famous exotic restaurant of Karachi.

“And my thousandth. “ He had laughed.

“What?” She had shown her eyes to him.

“Dear, I’m just kidding. Of course it’s my first date as well. It could have been my thousandth if I’d met thousand girls like you. But fortunately, you’re the one and only of your own kind.” He had explained very beautifully and she had laughed in response.

“I’m originally from Lahore, do you know?” He had suddenly asked, staring directly in her big eyes.

“Really?” Her eyes grew bigger. “How come you’re here then?”

He told her that he was residing with his uncle’s family in Karachi only because of his studies and he intended to join his father’s business in Lahore after completing his masters in business administration. He also told her about his other hobbies, his interest in world’s top sports cars, his passion for swimming and his motivation to become at least Pakistan’s richest man, like Bill gates was world’s. Besides, he loved British accents.

“Do you know you’ve got the prettiest, sweetest and the most wonderful voice I’ve ever listened to?” He had told her very seriously, and despite of the fact that she never herself liked any of such direct personal remarks from any boy ever and always considered them to be of flattering kind, she believed him and for some reason that was strange even to herself too.

“And not to forget the lovely British accent you’ve got with it, not English really but more of a Scottish kind.” He sure had a very careful observation and a very strong acoustic sense.

“One of my great grand mothers was of British descent.” She told him, looking in his eyes as they widened with astonishment.

“Ah, that explains it.” He wiped his mouth swiftly with the napkin, as both of them finished their dinner.

“What was her name?”

“Her name?” She repeated, thinking hard. “Well, I don’t know, sorry.”

“No problem, I don’t remember even my grand mother’s name and yet she was your great grandmother, right?”

“Yeah,” She laughed, nodding. “What was your grand mother’s name by the way?” He asked again, looking as if teasing her.

“Umm…It was something like Mariam bibi, not quite sure though, but you see… are we here to discuss our forefathers?” He asked angrily. “Think about the future; forget past as it is of no use for us. Believe me, this is one of the reasons us Muslims couldn’t grow as a nation as we are always deeply drowned in our golden glorious past and doing nothing for the future.”

“I agree with that.” She said softly but firmly. “I have always hated the history as a subject. But it’s also true that family history and knowing about our ancestors is a different subject and has always attracted me. Anyhow, let’s forget it. So what were we talking?”

“We were talking about your beauty, weren’t we?” He chuckled naughtily.

“Oh, come on Numair.” She raised her hand to stop him but he continued.

“I was mentioning about your unique speaking accent, but then it’s not just the accent. It’s also about your complexion, your hair, your figure.” He kept on saying, meaning every word of it.

“Look Nashmia, I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable or anything.” He had interrupted himself during the conversation. “But I hate hypocrisy and the people who do it. I’ve to be honest with you and with myself as well. If I like anything in you and I’ve to praise you, I would simply do it. Hope you understand?”

She simple nodded, and gulped down her lemonade.

“Hey you’re not so talkative, are you?”

She smiled very gently in answer and replied.

“I am very much talkative at times. It’s just that right now I’m listening to you. It’s all very interesting. I mean, the way you talk and explain things related to your life.”

“I’m glad you’re interested. Otherwise some of my friends give me names for that.” He had laughed.

“What kind of names?” She asked with further interest.

“Baatooni, over-talkative, you know, names like those.” He said in an equally funny tone. “They say I could conquer the whole world through my tongue.”

Nashmia laughed and asked him to tell her more about himself and his family. The conversation surprisingly lasted over an hour. Numair also told her about Lahore and his work. He was more than shocked when he found out that, though she had visited Lahore before, she had never really witnessed the Basant there. He invited her to visit his home and meet his family in the next spring during the traditional festival of Basant. She accepted his offer with thanks and said her father had a very close friend there whom he was seriously thinking to visit in next few months. So, probably, they shall be meeting there pretty soon.

Throughout the chat, his personality was uniquely interesting and his manner was inviting. She immediately felt comfortable about meeting him again.

Little did they know that day, something wonderful and exciting was born.

Five months of letters, phone calls and endless computer e-mails on the internet followed. They both communicated in one form or another almost every day. Through their correspondence, a deep, intense relationship grew that bonded them together in ways neither one of them could fully understand.

The most important things that existed between them were trust and communication. Nashmia felt as though she could be free, open and truly herself with Numair. He told her he felt the same way about her. They could laughed together, both seeing the world through the same set of lenses. As Numair once said, "We are on the same page at the same time."

Nashmia couldn't quite remember exactly when things changed. Somewhere along the way, their relationship had taken on a new twist.

Neither one of them expected a romantic side to their friendship to emerge - yet both of them had suspected it from the start.

He proved to be irresistible. His charm, his warmth and his sensitivity were endearing. Although it confused her, she felt a strong attachment toward him.

The first thing that jumped out at her was his smile. He had a smile that touched her soul in ways she could not describe. His brown eyes twinkled. His face glowed. He had thick black hair with incredibly shiny touch. He had a slender build and stood as though he had not a care in the world. His posture was relaxed and confidant. He looked like he enjoyed life and was quite capable of having fun.

But sometimes, she cursed his beauty because with it came more frustration.

“Please bring the bill.” Numair’s call for waiter brought her back to the present. Oh God, where was she?

Today was their first valentine day together and here she was, completely lost in the wonderful memories of their very first date.

“You know what Nashmia?” Said Numair, observing her deeply.

In answer, she just raised her eyes to his face but said nothing.

“I was right last night when I said there’s a very strange thing about you. But there’s one more thing that’s very weird about you.”

“Gosh, Numair what do you actually mean by that?” His last sentence finally let her temper loose “Who do you think I am? A complex woman composed of many strange things? Is this what you’re trying to prove by psychoanalyzing and judging me since you’ve met me?”

“Hey…calm down…lady. I never meant that.” And like always, his friendly expression, his soft tone melted her heart right away.

“Dear…being your true friend and future life partner, I’m only trying to let you know what I feel about you. Besides, these of your features don’t really bother me. I just wanted to see how you personally feel about these and that’s all.” He explained very gently as she listened.

“And if me talking of these things make you uncomfortable, then I assure you, it would never happen again.” He tried to assure her.

“Oh, I’m sorry Numair. May be I reacted too emotionally. But you do have a point, it’s your right to think about me as person and this would definitely help us in our mutual relationship, I admit.” She said, her facial features had now become softened.

“Anyhow, tell me about this second strange thing you’ve noted in me. Is it positive or negative?” She asked curiously.

“I don’t know. Depends on how you take it?” He replied plainly. “May be it’s a small thing for you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I am really concerned about it.”

“What is that? Tell me.” She bit her lower lip. She hated it when he created such sort of suspense before telling her anything that she might be interested in knowing.

“Your nostalgia.”

His short answer left her in a state of shock for long.

“What?”

“Yes, you have this strange thing for liking the past… and while searching for the past you become so much involved in your own flood of thoughts that you often loose others… even yourself. Or in other words, you forget your present when you think about the past.”

“Is it bad?” She stared back at him.

“For me it’s okay, but don’t know about you.” He said briefly and motioned her to leave her seat as they both stood up.

She took her purse and glanced at her wrist watch. “Gosh, it’s almost twelve. I must really be going now.”

“Take it easy dear.” He said as he accompanied her to the vast parking lot. “It’s not the first time that you’ve been out of your home this late, plus… your parents do know whom you’re with and they trust both of us.”

In answer, she just stared at him and smiled but said nothing.

 “So is there anything in me you really dislike?” She had asked after few minutes as their car headed smoothly and silently towards her home.

He took a deep breath and tuned his head slightly to cast a sideway glance at her. “Are you joking?”

“No I’m serious.” She folded her arms on her bosom and closed her eyes for a moment, relaxing in the essence of the moments. “Mostly you talk about my pros and positives. I want to know about my weaknesses too because nobody’s perfect.”

“Well…” He shuddered inwardly and said, “There’s something which… which I am really scared of.”

“Come on Numair, stop kidding me.” She laughed loudly. “You can’t be afraid of me. Can you?”

“Yes I can and I am.” He said firmly. “Of the same thing we were talking about last night, about you being suddenly lost somewhere as if having second thoughts.”

“Oh, that!” She took a breath of relief. “Well tell you what, ask my family about this and they would tell you that I’ve been like this since my childhood.”

“I really hope that is the case.” He smiled and gradually slowed the vehicle and only then she noticed they had reached her home.

“So…” He looked directly into her eyes as he stopped the engine and waited.

“I’ve got something for you, wait here.” He told her with smiling eyes and got out of the car while she waited on her seat. He then opened the back door and brought something out.

“These are for you.” He said as he handed her the big gift pack.

“What is it?” She asked in amazement.

“Your valentine gifts.” He smiled again.

She accepted the gifts with thanks and smiling lovingly, put her bag on her shoulder.

“Where is my valentine kiss, by the way?” He demanded before giving life to his car’s engine.

“What?” She almost choked and glared at him with eyes filled with artificial anger. “No way.”

“Why not?” As usual, he teased her.

“For that you’ll have to wait.” She plainly refused, enjoying his growing frustration.

“See…very clever tease you’re. Aren’t you?” He said after a long cold sigh. “I am counting my breaths each day to see when this endless waiting is finally over.”

“Well, I’ve already told you.” She said quickly and got out of the car. “As soon as I’m done with my studies and as soon…”

“Okay ma’am.” He swayed his hand in a gesture of goodbye. “But do remember to come to my home in Lahore this spring. I am sure you and your family would enjoy the Basant to its fulest and…above all, I’ve to get our marriage date fixed now. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve to ….ummm” He threw an imaginary flying kiss in the air towards her and raced the car.

“You’re unbelievable Numair.” Smiling at the beautiful memories of the wonderful night that had just passed, she pressed the call bell.

About one year later, he successfully finished his MBA and permanently moved to Lahore to join his father’s large-scale business. Despite of the fact that both of them did not meet each other after their very first date, they continued to write long, passionate letters and Internet e-mails to each other laced with emotion, feeling and a sense of oneness. It was intoxicating, obsessive and addictive. It scared them both, but ultimately sucked them in to the point where they were hooked.

“God help me but I can’t wait to get you…it’s frustrating, confusing and yet ah, so intoxicating to desire and yet being so far from you.” He told her one night on the phone as she talked to him while lying on her bed.  

“You’re forgetting something.” She giggled, brushing her silky hair with her long, artistic fingers.

“What?”

“First deserve and then desire.”

“Well.” He said through clenched teeth. “Test me and you will see.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” She admitted. “So when your mother is calling here?”

“Tomorrow.” He replied. “She would give your mother the formal invitation for you and your whole family to spend Basant with us.”

“God, but I can’t wait.” Nashmia’s voice reflected her anticipation.

“Do you think your parents would agree?” Numair asked with a concern.

“They never refuse me.” She said confidently, smiling again. “Besides, I do make my point as these are the last holidays I would be getting before I finish my MBA. Also, I’ve already convinced my father for this. Gosh, we haven’t got a vacation in ages.”

 “Sounds good, well I better get going, I’ll talk to you very soon once our moms discuss it. Okay?”

“I would look forward to it.” She replied in happy tone. “Sweet dreams and goodnight!”

Numair’s own voice had now acquired a notable tone of satisfaction. Perhaps, he now knew that his dream of being with his love on this great event was about to become true.

 *****------------------------*****

Jashan-e Baharan, Spring Celebration or more popularly known as Basant-the Kite festival is an orgy of kite-flying, rooftop soirees, garden parties and equestrian events and is considered as one of the most distinguishing features of Lahore and Lahories. The yellow of mustard flowers and the Amaltas trees is the first colour to be sighted after the severe winters of the north. Spring heralds new beginnings and the colourful kites in the sky are a statement of this joyous awakening. Little wonder that Lahore is supposed to be the official kite flying capital of Pakistan.

Although, Nashmia had visited Lahore several times, she had never actually witnessed the Basant celebrations. That’s why the invitation from her future in-laws for her and her family was more than welcomed. Due to her consistent hammering, her father even took a two-day leave from his work and so did her mother. Nigar was already on her vacations, spending her holidays with her eldest sister in New York so it was just Nashmia who had to be with her parents. However, for her mother, the idea of staying with her in-laws before Nashmia’s marriage was not very appealing, yet Mr. Warsi convinced her by telling that despite of spending most of their time with Numair’s parents, they would actually be staying at his friend’s house in the same locality.

They arrived in Lahore on Saturday evening where Mr. Aziz, her father’s friend was already at the airport to receive them. The actual Basant was on the next day, however, tonight was the so called, much-awaited Basant night and they were going to have a traditional barbeque with Mr. Aziz’s family.

At Mr. Aziz’s home they all showered, changed and relaxed for a while. The dinner was scheduled at Eight pm and till then Mr. Warsi wanted to have his own time with his old time friend so Nashmia just preferred to stay in the dinning room talking with Mr.Aziz’s wife as she instructed the servants to make necessary arrangements for the dinner.

“Is it your first time here?” Mrs. Aziz had asked, smiling, as Nashmia peeked inside the big kitchen, watching the cooks busy in cutting the fine pieces of beef.

“Actually no.” She shook her head gently. “I’ve come here quite a few times. But this is the first time that I’m witnessing the Basant celebrations.”

“You’re lucky to have that, you know.” Mrs. Aziz replied, offering her the plate filled with dry fruits, her favourite. “People come to this place from all over the world to enjoy this event.”

“Yeah.” Nashmia ruffled her beautiful hair care-freely, showing her agreement. “And now the multinational companies have even added the commercial value to this.”

“Billions of bucks are spent annually here on this event.” Mrs. Aziz continued. “I am not against the celebration itself as this refreshes our souls and gives us a golden opportunity for a great traditional family get-together but…”

“But?” Nashmia repeated, throwing the dry resin into her mouth.

“In a country like Pakistan, where we have majority of people living below the poverty line…where we don’t have even basic facilities of health, education and security freely available for all, huge expenses like of these are a real slap on the face of our social system.” As Mrs. Aziz spoke, Nashmia noted a definite change of tone in her voice.

“That I agree with.” Nashmia said, chewing. “Gradually the middle class is being wiped off of our society and that time is not far when we’d have only two classes here, the super upper class, comprising of very rich people and, the degraded, lower class with the people without having the courage to even dream of those luxuries and facilities which we now enjoy.”

“That’s absolutely correct.” Mrs. Aziz smiled sadly. “And the irony of the fact is that no government so far has been able to cop up with this rapidly increasing distance between the people.”

Nashmia was about to say something in answer when her cellular phone rang. Excusing her host, she stood up from her place, took up the phone out of her purse and breathed.

“Oh, it’s you!”

“Who else it could be?” Numair’s voice on the other side was as fresh as ever.

“Your ghost?” Nashmia tried to tease him.

“Oh, lucky he would be.” Numair giggled. “But you would be scared.”

“How can I?” Nashmia asked with interest. “If it be yours…”

“Oh, I take that as a compliment.” Numair replied naughtily. “That you have so high esteem and love even for my ghost.”

“Haha.” She could not stop her laughter. “It’s impossible to win from you in talking.”

“It’s always a pleasure with you, ma’am.” Numair’s voice got fresher as he thanked her. “I am dying to greet you guys here, at my home. Yet, it’s still one day left and I can’t wait that long.”

“Hold you heart, baby.” Nashmia said seductively. “It’s not the matter of a day or two. You would actually have to wait for ten more months.”

“No…absolutely not.” Numair protested genuinely. “I just have to get you or otherwise I won’t be responsible for my own acts. You see, look upon it as your human duty to save a man who’s dying to get his love.”

“Patience dear…patience.” Nashmia smiled even more. “The fruit of the patience is always sweet.”

“But you can’t be sweeter than you already are.” Numair’s voice became a mere whisper as he finished his sentence.

“You can’t really… tell… until… until…” Her own voice turned into a romantic whisper in the end.

“Until what…Nashmia?” Numair’s voice now reflected a clear tone of desperation.

“Until…” She breathed heavily and shuddered inwardly. “Until nothing.”

“Well…” When Numair replied after a long pause, he sounded firm and fixed. “I’ve told my parents….they would ask your parents about our marriage date tomorrow at dinner.”

“What?” Nashmia had almost shouted, half in shock and half in excitement when she heard her father’s voice on her back.

“Shh... I think my dad is calling me. Okay, see you there tomorrow. Bye.” She said quickly and turned back to answer her father.

“You look great tonight you know.” Mr. Wars smiled as he saw his favourite daughter in yellow Kurti and narrow, skin tight navy blue jeans which clung to her legs like a second skin. Very unusually, she had tied her hair in a long braid that only added to her already attractive personality, giving her the classic ‘Basant’ touch.” 

It was true. Though he loved all of his three daughters affectionately like an ideal father, without ever discriminating between them, he always felt proud of the intellectual abilities, thirst for knowledge and level of maturity Nashmia possessed.

“Thanks dad.” She smiled back with affection. “Ready for the dinner?”

“Hmm?” Mr. Warsi glanced at his wrist watch and said.” I guess we all are ready. However, the dinner is not.”

On his sentence, Mrs.Aziz on their back was quick to respond. “No, Mr. Warsi. Dinner is ready too. Please proceed to the lawn so that we may have the joy of having the live barbeque tonight.”

When Nashmia reached the lawn with her parents, it was presenting a perfect scene of a barbecue extravaganza. Mr. Aziz had also invited some of his other close friends and so did his fourteen year old daughter, Rubab. The whole arrangement was made on the big grassy lawn of his even bigger house and looked superb in the moon light with kids running around, men over the heat and the hot gases of a fire, smoking food served on plastic plates, hot coals of charcoal ready to spread the scent of cooked food around, servants preparing the dinner tables and running back and forth to the kitchen or utensils area, women discussing, laughing, relaxing.

“Wow.” Exclaimed Nashmia with surprise and delight.

‘What for?” Mrs. Aziz smiled, holding her hand and bringing her forward to introduce her to the other guests.

“I mean, we too arrange our own family barbeque on every Baqr’Eid but, this looks too great.” Nashmia said with honesty.

“I’m happy you like it.” Mrs. Aziz thanked her and began introducing her to her friends and other guests.

Nashmia liked them all. In fact, she liked everything, the auspicious surroundings, the interesting food-loving people, then the food itself and the enticing, appetizing smell of meat being roasted and grilled on the charcoal. It was all very delicious.

"Serve all of the chicken pieces into the yellow plates and all the beef chops into the red ones," Instructed Mr. Aziz to one of the servants.

With typical Punjabi Bhangra songs being played in the background on powerful stereo surround, they all sat on the lawn chairs and ate, talking and laughing.

Nashmia too, had her own share of food. Though, usually she did not prefer to eat heavy but tonight was different. The irresistible aroma of the roasted, grilled meat enticed her taste buds and she forgot her own precautions which she used to give to her friends about not consuming too much meat to maintain the ideal figure. Late night, at one am, when they finally retired to their rooms Nashmia, to her own surprise, did not feel tired despite of eating relatively heavier food.  She could not figure out whether it was because of the excitement of meeting Numair and his family or was it because of such a pleasant change in her busy and hectic life. Whatever the case was, she was fully enjoying her visit to Lahore and wanted it to be even more memorable tomorrow.

  *****------------------------*****

“Do I look that desperate?” Nashmia asked herself, looking at her own image in the big wall mirror as she gave final make-up touches to her face. It was eleven a.m. in the morning and they were about to leave for Numair’s home. He had called twice on her cellular phone and was truly annoyed now as everytime she had told him that she would at his home in few minutes.

 “I think I’ve truly, madly and deeply fallen in love with this guy!” She concluded as she looked at her own image from upside down in the dressing table mirror. She wore dark yellow cotton suit consisting of Kurti, Dupatta and tight-fitting, narrow choori-daar Pajama, all yellow with only the Dupatta being blood red, adding a sharp but attractive contrast to her outfit. The one sided thin Dupatta did little to hide the firm and attractive ups and downs of her prominent bosom and so did her high, very high Kurti that even showed her full, long legs leading up to her curvaceous feminine thighs.

“So, is this what they call as love?” She asked herself in silence, giving final touches of maroon lipstick to her full, pouting lips.

She gave herself few moments to answer the question. Thinking, exploring and searching the answer when her mother’s voice from outside interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to where she was just a few moments ago.

“Nashmia, come here, we are about to leave.”

Throwing the lipstick on the table, she grabbed her pure leather shoulder bag and almost ran towards the porch where her parents were already waiting for her.

“He would drop you at Numair’s house.” Mr. Aziz told her father, pointing towards the uniformed chauffer who started the engine of the latest Mercedes on his nod. “And whenever you intend to return, just give me a call and he would pick you up. Okay?”

Nashmia gave a good bye peck to Mrs. Aziz as she waved her goodbye and finally got inside the car.

“You’re looking very nice and cute, you know that?” Mrs. Aziz had told her, smiling.

On her remark, she blushed and waved her hand back as their car left the porch and passed through the main gate to finally come on the main road outside.  

What they saw on reaching Numair’s big house was more than anyone of them had expected. It did not look like a family party at all. Instead, it more presented a picture of some huge gala or festival being held there. They were warmly welcomed by Numair’s parents and together with them, they all proceeded to the large poolside area of their house which, along with the roof top, were the areas designated to Basant celebratory activities.

“This really is the first Basant I’m witnessing and am really glad about that.” Nashmia exclaimed to Numair with delight.

“So am I.” Numair had winked naughtily in reply.

“What?” She replied with shock as together with their parents they headed towards the backyard of the house. “I can’t believe that it’s your first Basant.”

“Well, honestly speaking, it’s the first time that I am experiencing my own Basant ‘live’ in front of me.” He had whispered slowly, pointing at her yellow cloths and green bangles dancing in her smooth, creamy wrists. His instantaneous remark made her blushed.

After few moments, as Nashmia took her chair on the grass lawn of the poolside area, she noted that the whole side had been decorated as a Punjabi village comprising food stalls and booths advertising varied activities, all in an effort to entertain the guests.

The food items included Pani puri, chaat, Gol Gappey, Kachori, Kulfi, Sugar cane juice and lots more while arrangements had been made for dinner later in the evening. The stall where saag and makaee ki roti were available attracted the largest number of guests.

Once they all had polished of their hi-tea, they were directed towards the roof top where kite flying was in progress.

As Nashmia walked up the makeshift staircase, she could hear subdued cries of ‘Bo Kata’ accompanied by shots of mirth. It was a thoroughly entertaining scene, one strong enough to take one within its grip and she found herself drifting towards the kite.

Out on the roof, the shouting of exclamation and encouragement, mingled with an occasional burst of laughter coupled with background score of Punjabi Bhangra music, continued. Everyone was happy, enjoying the event to the fullest. White paper kites shimmered in the sky, diving and soaring as rival fliers jousted in duels marked by battle cries of Pecha and victory shouts of Bo Kata! Bursts of drums and trumpets marked the cutting of a kite’s cord. Men draped themselves in embroidered shalwar kameez with matching ankle-length scarves, little boys strutted in three piece suits, and women, all dressed in yellow cloths, had coated their hands with henna and stacked their arms with bangles.

“Wanna fly one?” Numair suddenly asked her in a challenging one, holding out a king-size kite for her.

“Me?” She asked back in disbelief. “But I’ve never tried for one.”

“There’s always a first time for everything baby.” His invitation was irresistible and so was his gesture.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy. I would help you.”

Straightening her hair in the fast-blowing wind, she followed him as he reached at the far corner of the roof. Calm air and a sunny day were most suitable for kite flying. One could see every one looking up and simultaneously shouting while the kites oscillated in the sky. Even those who were not flying kites were part of the rhythm — unfazed by cheerful crowd and the bustle.

“Now stand with your back to the wind. Hold the kite with one hand and the reel of string with the other.” He instructed, handing over the kite to her.

Nodding, she tried to do as directed.

“Yeah, that’s the way.” He encouraged her.

“Now let the wind lift the kite and as it does, feed out the line to the height you wish.”

“It’s…it’s tough.” She commented, jerking the string in her hands.

“It’s tough only in the beginning. Just keep on trying. You can do it, I know.”

Completely lost in the handling of the big kite she was holding, she almost forgot her surroundings and did not notice that gradually her parents and Numair’s whole family had gathered around both of them. They were all eyeing her first experience with kite flying with utmost anticipation and excitement.

“That’s great. Walk in the direction of the wind as you feed out the line.” Numair was practically guiding her with great enthusiasm.  

And then… for the first time in her life, she pulled the string towards herself while throwing the kite above. It immediately fell down.

“No problem.” Numair came behind her to hold the string himself while it was still in her hands. “Try again.”

“I can’t.” She said helplessly.

“Yes, you can. See, like this.” He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her nape. A weird sensational wave traveled down to her spine, making her whole body shiver from head to toe.

“Yeah, just do it.” He himself pulled the kite upward, while her hands still clutching the string.

“Oh wow.” She exclaimed automatically. “Oh, mom, dad, I can’t believe I’m actually flying it.”

Only then she realized that they were all clapping for her, smiling and laughing for her. Proudly, she let the string move forward on its own and it slid swiftly through her delicate artistic fingers due to the force of powerful Lahori wind and the kit went up and up and so did her own imagination. In that very memorable moment, she felt like she was going up as well, with the kite, flying, diving from right to left and above to down.

And then she saw Numair, who came forward, arms outstretched and smiling. She put her hand in his and was led before a vast and excited assembly to the sound of wild applause. There in front of her, recognized among the crowd, her mother and father both staring at her with love.

“It’s lovely…Numair. Thank you so much.” She jumped with sheer happiness like a typical seven year old school girl.

“It is, indeed. And so are you.”  He whispered closely.

She smiled back on his meaningful remark and saw the reflection of his words on his face.

And then it was non-stop fun with a singer exercising his vocal chords in the background and that too at a very high pitch which made conversation impossible. The guests were completely exhausted yet entertained by the end of the evening.

Later that night, the luxurious dinner was served at the poolside lawn. The lawn was illuminated heavily with a spectrum of colorful twinkling lights.  Good food customarily goes with Basant festival. Sizzling and spicy foods — a mixture of culinary delights by the best food vendors in the city was served to every one. The menu included fried fish, broast chicken, tikkas, biryani, nihari, murgh haleem, Balochi sajji and qorma.

It was eleven at night when the final moment came at last and during the traditional exchange of sweets, and intimate words of congratulations, it was announced that Nashmia and Numair would be getting married on seventh December, this year.

“Congratulations bhabhi, Mubarak ho.” Numair’s younger sister Sadaf had given a warm peck on her cheek.

“I would feel myself really lucky to have a beautiful and brilliant daughter-in-law like you.” Numair’s mother had gently kissed her forehead after putting a rose chaplet around her neck.

“Seventh December?” Numair had winked at her secretly once their parents discussed about their wedding celebrations. “Nine months away. I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“I would at least finish my MBA peacefully.” She giggled, teasing him. “Besides, nine months are nothing…time passes so fast.”

“Nothing?” Numair asked back naughtily. “Nine months are always of critical importance you know. One whole baby can be born…”

“Hey…” She glared deep at his face, showing him her artificial anger. “Nine months are nothing.”

“I don’t think so.” Numair had repeated, now smiling again. “Anything can happen.”

And she truly thought it was the most amazing, memorable and enjoyable event of Pakistan she had ever experienced…Yes this was what she had exactly thought until next morning.