© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

Sorry about the delay, guys! I'm going to try and be more regular with this story as well! 

*

Ifra

The sound of Gulab Jaman led me upstairs early in the morning to the roof of the haveli annexe. 

"Good morning, Gulab Jaman!" I greeted the beautiful parrot.

"Morning! Morning! Morning!" It repeated. 

I then turned to the beautiful laughing doves beside it, once again admiring their beauty. 

"Grumpy!" The parrot squawked. "Grumpy!"

I whirled around, almost expecting to see Huzaifa, but he wasn't there. Gulab Jaman probably just really enjoyed the nickname. I moved back over to the talkative bird. "Listen, you are going to get me in trouble. Shh!"

"Trouble! Trouble!" Gulab Jaman repeated. 

"Great. Now you sound like my mother. She always calls me trouble too." I laughed. "And she's going to kill me for comparing her to a parrot." I sighed. "I'm going to be blatantly honest with you, GJ. I know we just met, but I feel like I can trust you. Do you want to know why I'm actually here? I'm here because my Mama was getting a little too obsessed with the idea of my marriage..." I shook my head. "Papa kept asking her what's the rush, my Mamu, my Khallas kept asking her what's the rush, but she's panicking, I don't know why." I tilted my head to look at the parrot. "Why would I willingly through myself into a life of responsibilities when there's so much that I want to do first?"

The sound of footsteps made me turn. 

Robin smiled at me as she approached me. "I used to talk to my pet cat. Seriously, animals are amazing listeners." 

"I never had a pet, but yeah, I can see why anyone would want to have a counselling session with a bird or an animal." I smiled back at her. "It's ironic that I'm saying this because my father is a psychiatrist, and my big brother is heading in the same direction." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but marriage pressure?" She looked at me, sympathetically.

I shrugged. "My mother is usually such a modern, open-minded person, yet she also gives full regards to the laws of religion too. But now she's just panicking, for some reason. Maybe she thinks that nobody will want to marry me." I laughed quietly under my breath.

"I doubt that. You are clearly a strong, independent girl, and you're gorgeous." She said. 

"I think she secretly shipped me with the son of her best friend, Rohaan." I admitted. "I had a massive crush on him, but as we grew up, I realised that he's just a good friend, no matter how attractive he is."

"You think she's trying to set you up with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking." 

"Do you ever want to marry?" 

"Sure. In Islam we believe that getting married is the completion of half our faith, and of course I want that to." I stared out at Khwabpur. "I guess, I'm just afraid that my wings will be cut off after marriage. I want a partner who would not only support me, but will also be willing to accompany me in my travel adventures." My gaze dropped down to the haveli veranda where I saw Huzaifa in a tracksuit, having just returned from a jog. Taking a deep breath, I turned to Robin with another smile. "Until then, I'm going to enjoy my travel adventure of Khwabpur."

*

Huzaifa

I returned to my room after a morning jog and my phone started ringing. I glanced at it and saw that it was Zarnish Appi calling me. "Assalam Alaikum, Appi."

"Walaikum Assalam." She sounded grim.

"What's wrong? Abba Jaan and Amma Jaan okay? Khalil Bhai and Alishba okay?" I was immediately concerned.

"I'm afraid that you won't like what I'm about to tell you." 

"What is it?" I sat down on the bed.

"Amma Jaan and Abba Jaan ne tumhari baat pakki karli hai Shazia ke saath." She informed me.

*"Amma Jaan and Abba Jaan have fixed your marriage with Shazia."

"What?!" I shot back up to my feet. "What the heck are you on about?" 

"They are citing health reasons. They said that they can't wait any longer."  

"Appi..."

"I know, I know. I'm trying to convince them otherwise, but as I said, they've already fixed it with Shazia's parents." 

"Forced marriage is void. It's not allowed in Islam, so why are they doing this?" I was frustrated.

"Amma thinks that she can convince you." 

"Appi, I'm trusting you to handle this in my absence. Please." 

"I'm trying my best, Huzaifa. Why don't you do yourself a favour and find yourself a girl by then?" She laughed jokingly.

I immediately thought of Ifra in that green outfit last night at dinner, but shook my head to clear away the image. "This isn't funny, Appi." 

"I know, Huzaifa. It's reality." She sighed. "I don't even know how to change their minds now, but don't worry, I'll keep trying."

"Thanks, Appi. I have to go now. I'm here for work, and I need to get started." 

*

"You're quiet." Ifra pointed out.

"I'm not exactly a chatterbox." I muttered.

We were all walking through the village, our cameras ready, but I had lost all focus. 

"Yeah, you're just grumpy." She grinned.

I turned to glare at her. "Is everything a joke to you? People have personal issues. Have you no consideration for it?" 

She looked taken aback. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. Since we're working together, I just wanted to lighten the mood." 

I sighed, closing my eyes briefly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap." 

"I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries." Her eyes widened slightly, as she stared up ahead. "Oh my God! I want to go on there!" She pointed ahead.

I followed the direction of her gaze and saw a tractor at the edge of the field. "You want to go on that?" 

"Yes!" She rushed forward and spoke to the farmer, who eventually nodded and gestured for her to get on. She happily climbed up and got into the driving seat. "This is so cool! Robin, please take a photo of me!" 

Robin obliged. 

Ifra laughed. The light breeze played with her black hair and she placed her hands on the steering wheel. She took her own phone out and took a selfie. 

"Haan, Bhai. Bade focused ho?" Hassan randomly appeared by my side.

*"Yes, bro. You are very focused?" 

I blinked and turned to him. "What do you mean?"

He smirked at me, knowingly. 

"Shut up, Hassan." 

*

We walked along the edges of the fields, and eventually ended up at a small lake.

There were some kids playing in the water, and they looked curiously at us as we approached.

The sun felt hot on my back, and I put on my sunglasses. 

"There's so much peace here!" Soraiya said. "It's amazing. Syra was right." 

I stood to the side by myself, absent-mindedly taking photos of the fields.

"What's up with you, boss?" Hassan asked me. "No bossiness, no orders, nothing." 

"Bloody shaadi, that's what." I muttered.

*Shaadi: marriage.

"Whose shaadi?" He looked confused, briefly, before realisation dawned on him. "S**t, your shaadi? When? How?" 

"Apparently, my parents have fixed my marriage with Shazia behind my back." 

"Shazia? The neighbour's girl? When did you agree to it?" 

"I didn't. That's why I said 'behind my back'." I shook my head.

"So, remind me, what is the issue with marrying her?" 

"Sadday nal khelo!" A little boy called out to us from the lake.

*"Come play with us!"

Hassan looked at me with a grin. "Shall we?"

"I'm not going in there." I shook my head.

"Come on, Grumpy. Live an adventure." Hassan walked towards the lake and took off his shoes before stepping inside.

"Hassan, what are you doing?!" Soraiya looked startled.

"I'm living my life." He shrugged, as he lightly splashed the kids, who laughed. "Come on, Huzaifa. Scared?" 

What the heck, you only live once. I walked to the edge of the lake, set my camera and phone down, before taking my shoes off and wading in.

Even though my mind kept thinking of the potential germs, I felt my body and mind relax. I was definitely going to regret this later on, but for now I wasn't going to overthink.

"Smile for the camera, boys!" Robin called out, and the girls laughed. She then spoke into the camera. "Fun doesn't require wealth or luxury. Sometimes, all you need to do is loosen up a bit, and Huzaifa is the evidence of that."

My team laughed at my expense, and I just shook my head.

*

Ifra

I couldn't stop laughing as I saw Hassan knee-deep in the lake, lifting up his camera to film his surroundings. I laughed harder at Huzaifa's expression, as he felt clearly repulsed about being in the dirty water.

But seeing the genuine happiness on the children's faces made me smile. Simple things made them happy, whereas we moan about every little thing in our already luxurious lives. "Live a little, Huzaifa Ali. True unadulterated happiness like this is very rare in our lives." 

As he turned to look at me, a kid accidentally shoved him while playing around. Mr Grumpy lost his balance and fell fully into the lake, making me crack up again. He resurfaces, an annoyed expression on his face. He shoved his wet hair off his face, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"Nice bath?" I couldn't help teasing him.

His frown deepened but he didn't reply.

"You know, Ifra, there's a phrase 'don't wake a sleeping lion'. I think that applies here perfectly." Robin whispered, an amused smile on her face.

"Life is about challenges, Robin. And I'm always up for a thrill." I shrugged. "Even if it means to mess with the king of the jungle." 

*

We headed back to the haveli after that so that the guys, especially Huzaifa, could dry off. The whole we back we all pulled his leg, and I could feel him getting frownier and frownier.

Jannah and Zeeshan Bhai were waiting with lunch.

"How was it?" Zeeshan Bhai asked as we joined the couple in the dining room. 

"Huzaifa enjoyed a good swim at the lake." Hassan burst out laughing, earning a glare.

Samuel, Zeeshan Bhai's friend, joined us, greeting us with a warm smile.

I felt Robin shift uncomfortably beside me.

"Don't mind, yaar, but you don't seem like the 'swimming in the lake' type." Zeeshan Bhai smiled at Huzaifa.

"I'm not." Huzaifa replied. "This is all on Hassan." 

"So, how many times have you showered since we got back? Five times?" Hassan teased him.

"Shut up, Hassan." 

"Musa and I did that once, but he caught a cold." Zeeshan Bhai chuckled. 

"Syra's husband, Musa Bhai?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded. "Yep. He's also one who was always up for an adventure." 

"I hope you guys don't mind that we had aloo parathay prepared." Jannah announced, entering the room, followed by her staff. "We thought we'd give you all a true desi meal. We also have daal and roti or boiled rice, for those of you who prefer another option." 

"You're going through so much trouble, Jannah." I said.

"Don't be silly, Ifra. Syra's like a sister to me, and you are her cousin, and this is her team. I'm happy to do all this." She sat down. "Tell me more about yourself, Ifra."

"Well, I live with my parents. My father is a psychiatrist, and my mother is the head of digital marketing at a major company. My big brother is also following Papa's footsteps." I said.

"You had no interest in psychiatry?" 

"No, Syra and I developed this interest in this creative field together, actually. She loved her camera, and I enjoy filming and photography too, as well as editing digital content." I replied.

"It's a long way to come from home." Soraiya looked curious.

"I love adventures, and when Syra mentioned this to me, I grabbed this opportunity before I even got a chance to think things through." I shrugged. "But, frankly speaking, Syra is the only reason my parents agreed. She's in Islamabad, in case of emergency. Plus, I have two Khallas in Lahore who can fly out anytime." I paused. "You know, I was slightly uncomfortable about coming here alone. But I have felt so much warmth and familiarity since I landed in Islamabad. It's not just a emotional dialogue, but there is truly something else about your own homeland." 

Huzaifa glanced at me as I said that, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. But maybe it was just my imagination, because he immediately turned away.

*

"Come!" Jannah urged us. "A flutist comes here regularly, along with a puppeteer, and if you want to see culture, come out into the veranda." 

I would have been an idiot to have missed it.

I was the first one down in my group, actually, and was surprised to see a mini-gathering in the veranda. Foldable chairs had been set up, where some villagers sat. A puppeteer was just preparing for a show, while a flutist sat on a stool. Two women in colourful outfits stood nearby, dupattas draped over their heads.

"I specially asked them if they could come while you all were here." Jannah said.

Robin, Soraiya and I sat on some spare chairs, while the guys sat down on the steps leading towards the annexe.

"Khush Aamdeed." One of the ladies in the colourful dresses began. 

*"Welcome." 

The flutist began to play a sweet melody that sent goosebumps up my arms. 

"Kahaani sunayein ishq ki." The other woman began. 

*"We'll tell you a love story."

The puppeteer brought forward two puppets: a man and a woman, both in traditional outfits.

"Woh thi Sardar ki beti, woh tha ek bhatka Ranjha. Woh khoobsurati ki misaal, ek mehlon ki shehzadi.Woh aam sa aadmi, rozi roti ki talaash main..." 

*"She was the daughter of the Sardar, he was a wandering Romeo. She was an example of beauty, princess of a palace. He was an ordinary man, searching for a living."

"Woh pohancha haveli, ek umeed leke." The woman continued.

*"He reached the haveli, with hope."

The male puppet was now being brought forward, as if he was walking.

"Jo Sikander aaya is aangan main, ek meethi awaaz ne uske kadam rouk liye..."

*"When Sikander entered the veranda, a sweet voice stopped him."

The other woman started humming in a hauntingly beautiful voice, as the male puppet 'Sikander' glanced around, as if searching for the source of the voice.

"Us din to usko Qirat mili, ek nayi jeenay ki khwahish mili." 

*"And that day he met Qirat, he found a new desire to live."

The female puppet came forward, a dupatta over her head. 

"Par Qirat ek shehzadi thi, aur woh bhatka Ranjha." 

*"But Qirat was a princess, and he was a wandering Romeo." 

"Donon main jo ishq hua, ek nayi zindagi ki khwahish hui. Donon dekhe khwab naye, ke saath rahain woh umar bhar..." 

*"As the two fell in love, they wished for a new life [together]. They both had new developed new dreams, that they should live together forever."

Constantly, the flutist was playing the melody, but I now noticed that it seemed almost...sad.

"Par khwahish poori ho na ho, likhi yahan azmaish thi..." The woman continued narrating. "Sardar ko jab pegham mila, ke ek naukar ne ghustakhi ki, uske ghusay ki hadd nahin, saazish ki Sikander ki barbaadi ki." 

*"But whether the wish came true or not, a test awaited them..."
"When the Sardar heard that a servant [Sikander] had made a mistake, there was no limit to his anger. He conspired for the destruction of Sikander."

A third puppet had been brought forward, an older, angry-looking man.

"Qirat ko pyar se vaada diya, shaadi Sikander se hi hogi. Nadaan bechari, maan gayi, khushiyon se Nikah ki tayari ki." While the narration continued, the older puppet seemed to be talking to the female puppet. "Bhool gayi woh bechari, ke dushman-e-ishq zamana hai. Yeh ishq se nafrat ka rishta, to sadiyon puraana hai."

*"He promised Qirat with love, that she would marry Sikander. Naïve, she believed him, and prepared happily for the Nikah."
"The poor girl forgot that the society was an enemy of love. This hatred of love has existed for centuries."

"Woh dulhan banke jab aayi, woh uski khatir na aaya. Woh raat bhar tak bethi rahi, na woh aaya, na khat aaya." 

*"When she came dressed as a bride, he didn't come for her. She waited till late into the night, he didn't come, nor did a letter [message] from him."

"Kuch jhootay lafzon ke jahez ke sang, Sardar ne usay bidaa kiya. Sikander to na aaya, ik shehzade ke saath Qirat ko bhaij de." 

*"Feeding her lies, and false reassurance, the Sardar married her off. Sikander didn't come, but the Sardar got Qirat married to a prince."

The female puppet was shown to be heading off with a different puppet, dressed in a sherwani.

"Dhoka hua hai uske saath Qirat ka dil yeh maane na. Par yaadon ko dil-o-dimagh main kaid kiye, ruksat woh hui apne ghar se." 

*"Qirat didn't believe that she had been betrayed. But locking her memories within the depths of her heart and mind, she bade farewell to her home." 

"Par qudrat ne kuch aisa kiya, toofan ne rasta rok liya. Gaaon waapis unhain jaana padha..."

*"But the nature did such a thing, a storm stopped them. They had to return back to the village."

"Deewar-e-haveli pe woh jab pohanchi, kuch dekh ke uski rooh kampi. Baarish main, tez hawaon main, utha tha janaaza Sikander ka. Sardar ne usko maar diya, chupke se dafnane ka hukm diya, par qudrat Qirat ko le aayi, aur dekh li usne sachai." 

*"When she reached the bordering wall of the haveli, she saw something that made her soul tremble. In the rain, in the gusts of wind, Sikander's funeral was held. The Sardar had killed him, and had ordered him to be buried discreetly. But nature brought Qirat back, and she witnessed the truth."

"Yeh dekh ke uska dil toota, woh tadap gayi, woh seham gayi. Waada-e-ishq nibhaya tha, phir bhi Sikander pe bewafai ka ilzaam laga. Woh uski mohabbat main mara gaya, woh naadani main bikhar gayi."

*"Seeing this broke her heart, she suffered, she cowered. He fulfilled the promise of love, but Sikander still got accused of being disloyal. He died in her love, she shattered due to her naivety." 

The female puppet was shown to be crying.

Robin sniffed beside me, and I jumped. I'd forgotten about the other spectators. I had tears in my own eyes. The beautiful melody from the flute made the story sadder. The puppeteer had performed brilliantly. The narration of the women had created the perfect emotional atmosphere.

Fortunately, I saw Hassan recording it, because I'd completely forgotten to do so, I had been so engrossed by it all.

"Qirat aur Sikander asal main thay?" Soraiya asked the ladies.

*"Were Qirat and Sikander real?" 

One of the women shook her head. "Nahin. Yeh sirf ek kahaani hai."

*"No. It's just a story."

It had certainly felt real. "That was beautiful! Thank you for this!" I looked at Jannah.

"You're welcome. I'm glad that they were unable to come." 

"But why such a tragic love story?" I asked.

"Because the emotions felt by the spectators adds to the play. Happiness and mushiness is not felt as strongly as sorrow and pain, in my opinion." Jannah replied.

I noticed that Huzaifa had gotten up and gone towards the annexe shortly after the act had ended. Let me guess, Mr Grumpy found it boring.

But I then remembered his words: "Is everything a joke to you? People have personal issues. Have you no consideration for it?"

I felt bad. Maybe this story had reminded him of something personal.

*

"Didn't you like the act?" I cautiously approached him as he stood on the rooftop.

"The performance was brilliant. Everyone performed their job well." He simply stated.

"But the story...?" 

"Nothing more than a cliché tragedy." He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. "Can't you just enjoy something as entertainment?" 

"What's entertaining if people cry over it?" 

"People enjoy reading or viewing things that make them emotional! I don't see what's wrong with that?" 

"Isn't the life miserable enough that people need to witness or read things that would make them cry even more?" 

"Art is deeply connected to emotions, no matter in what form. So, whether it's actual art, or whether it's literature, or whether it's what we do. Photography and filming is a form of art. People view our work and feel various emotions: awe, happiness, sometimes sadness or homesickness. Art invokes emotions. I don't see anything wrong with people crying over it." 

He looked at me. "Let's agree to disagree."

"I feel like we'll be doing that a lot." I muttered.

A small, grudging smile appeared on his face. 

"So... who are you?" I randomly asked. "Are you some bhatka Ranjha?" 

"What?" He burst out laughing.

"What's your story?" 

He sighed, gripping onto the railing. "My family lives in Laal Baksh Mohalla. I struggled to complete my educations, winning scholarship after scholarship to ensure that I get to do so. Without it, I might not have even reached the point of college graduation. I'm a self-made man. I've worked hard to be where I am." He chuckled. "Maybe, I empathised with Sikander." 

I looked at him, surprised. "Really?" 

"He met a tragic end just because he wasn't of status." He whispered. "How many people suffer in this world because of their lack of status, or lack of bank balance?" 

"True." I nodded. "While this is fiction, people do suffer in love because of the differences in status."

"I wasn't talking about being in love. I meant generally."

"And I am talking about love, because that was a romantic tragedy act." I pointed down towards the veranda. "If both wish to be together, I don't understand why everyone is so bothered about the status nonsense." 

"Because all families want what's best for their children."

"But why is 'best' associated with money and wealth? I'd rather live in love, in difficult circumstances, than to live a comfortable and luxurious life, with no affection." 

"Because we live in a world that revolves around wealth." He looked at me again. "What will your parents say if you want to marry someone who can't give you the life that you're used to?" 

"They'll have their concerns, but they are not the type to simply reject over materialistic reasons." I replied honestly. "Their main concern would be that the guy is good." 

"And, would you personally trade your life of comfort in London, for something completely different?" He looked curious.

"As long as I'm loved and respected, I'm willing to compromise." 

We briefly locked gazes. 

"IFRA, COME DOWN FOR FRESH LASSI! YOU TOO, HUZAIFA!" Soraiya called out from downstairs.

Saved by the lassi.

The conversation was taking a very dangerous turn, otherwise.

*

Huzaifa

I thought about how impressed Shazia's parents seemed by materialistic things, like my car. Would they really have approached me, had it not been for my job and car? I had no idea, but my instincts didn't think they would have. 

However, it also got me thinking about how this was an easy rishta.  They were our neighbours, we all knew each other, they knew about our mohalla so it wouldn't be a shock for Shazia.

The only problem was that I just couldn't picture Shazia as my wife. I had no issues with her personality, and I prayed that she got a good spouse, In Sha Allah. I just didn't see myself as her spouse.

"Pasand di shaadi karni ay?" Amma Jaan had blatantly asked me once.

*"Do you want a love marriage?" 

But I had no idea what I wanted. Even now I had no idea. A part of me wanted to surrender and to just do what my parents wanted, but a stronger part of me disagreed.

Was I being shallow? Did I believe that a girl from Laal Baksh Mohalla wasn't good enough for me? "No, I don't feel like that. Dammit, why is this so confusing?"

"Confusing. Grumpy." Gulab Jaman squawked.

"Shut up, Gulab Jaman." I glared at it.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." The parrot kept repeating.

"Okay, either I have lost it, or you have." Shaking my head, I headed towards the stairs.

"Ifra." It squawked suddenly, stopping me in my tracks.

I looked at Gulab Jaman in disbelief. What?

The germs from the lake have invaded my brain. I've lost it.

*

Ha ha, genius Gulab Jaman! 

The group has started to explore Khwabpur a little now!

I hope you enjoyed the little tale of Qirat and Sikander, sad as it was! It took me a while to write out that scene.

Favourite part?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!