𝟐𝟏. 𝐏𝐲𝐚𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐢

"Chalo, chalo, chalo!" I call out loud into my cupped hands, standing by the staircase for everybody to hear me. "Shopping ke liyea gaadi 5 minutes me nikal rahi hai!"

"Ready!" Mr. Angrez says, the first one to be stepping out of his room, in his old miney linen glory. "Where's everybody else?" He asks.

"Humari dulhan is taking her sweet time." I tell him. He nods at first, but frowns at someone looking over my shoulder.

"But, Farah is here." He says, taking her name in that sexy British accent, making the American in me envious. Far-ah. Adding the subtle moan to her name at the end. Ah.

I swallow. "I meant Fatty."

He snorts at my words. "What?"

"I mean, he is the one taking the longest time. You're here, Dada jaan is sitting in the couch, Farah is getting her bag of snacks ready. It's only Fatty still upstairs in his room. FATTY!"

"Aagya, aagya." He says rushing down the stairs. "God, baj! You're so loud, I could hear you all the way in my bathroom." Fatty huffs past me.

"Ayn shikar ke waqt pe paykhana kyun yaad aata phir?" I call out after him.

"What did you say?" Muaaz questions, looking like a lost child.

"Uff Mr. Angrez, you're too cute sometimes. Fatty, get the car started!" I yell, before giving my undivided attention to Muaaz. "Shikar is hunting, paykhaana is bathroom...?"

"Basically it means, when it's the time to hunt, the hunter needs to use the loo?"

"Urm," I press my lips together, stopping the stupid smile that was threatening to spill. And I knew he was doing the same. "I guess."

"Muaaz bete," Dada jaan cuts in, much to my rescue. Muaaz stands straighter, walking over to where Dada stood and takes his extended hand in his. "It's an idiom, that loosely means..." He explains as they make their way to the front door.

"Ab kaun der karre?" Farha says when I can't seem to take my eyes off the retrieving figures of the two men.

"Tum." I tell her.

"Cards rakhliyea, bache?" Abbu inquired standing at the top of the staircase.

"Ji!"

"His cards ain't going to work here." You guys probably know who 'his' reffered to.

"I know."

"Buy something for yourself and the kids too." Abbu says.

"Thank you, I love you!"

"Bus, yeich baaki tha. Kisi aur ki shopping ke naam pe apni karlo." Mumma remarks.

"Bestfriend ki shaadi hai, lelene do. Main nahi liya tha Wajih--" Everybody falls silent, as Abbu comes to an abrupt stop. Mumma stops mid step, Farha holds the packet of Bingo chips she might me stuffing in her backpack. Even Abbu stops on the step as he feels all eyes on him.

It's as though he releases a breath before saying the words and finishing his statement. "--wajih ki shaadi mein. Suit banaya tha pura. Venue, cars, catering sub ka intezaam kara tha main."

"Aur aapki shaadi mein, Abbu?" I ask in the softest voice possible.

"Huh?"

"Wajih uncle the aapki shaadi mein?"

"He'd flown in from Manchester with Rehana and 6 months old Muaaz. He did all the arrangements like I had for him. Meko waxing karne bhi leke gaya tha, saala." Abbu let's out the smallest of chuckles, ruefully. Behind him, mumma taps at the corner of her eyes.

I decide to give the topic a little push in a quiet voice. "Was that the last time you guys had seen eachother?"

"No!" Abbu declines. "He'd visited every other year but after his parents died, we'd see him not as frequent as we did. I think, last trip ko 10-15 years hote."

I'm sure he knows the exact number of days but wouldn't give it away so easily. A horn smashes the bubble we were all in, bringing us back to reality.

"Anyway, you guys go and enjoy your trip

Cut to centuries of stuck- in- the- traffic later,we make to our first stop for the day, Maanyavaar.

"Bolo madam, kiya dikhaun? Dulha,dulhan, barati, sherwani,legendary, kurta pajama, kurta jacket, gown, saree, indo western, formal shirts, 3 piece suits bhi hai humare paas. Iske ilawa,Kiara advani, ram charan, ranveer Singh-- nahi,uska contract Khatam hogya shayad. Khair,occasion ke hisaab se bhi hai humare paas. Engagement, haldi,sanchak, mehendi, reception,roka, Sangeet, shaadi, sab hai. Kiya hona bolo aap."

"Wow!" Muaaz exclaimed, clearly mesmerized by his speed of speech.

"Barati ke liyea jo hai wo dikhao. Inke vaaste." Fatty says,gesturing to Muaaz.

"Ajju!" The middle-aged man summons someone, giving him the instructions to get which collection from what set. We take the moment to settle down with Fatty, Muaaz and I sitting in the forefront in that order with Farah and Dada on the chairs behind us.

"You have any colors in mind?" I ask Muaaz.

"Mm-hmm, not really."

"Good. Also, don't be very excited about the kurtas you see. We don't let them know which item we are interested in until we buy it. This way,we have more room for bargain."

"How do I signal that I like something?" He whispers like we're planning a secret conspiracy against them.

"Raise an eyebrow."

"After I try it on?"

"Of course! Sitting beside you, I can't see your full face to see your brow bounce."

"Teehee."

We straighten up after a tall pile of clothes is placed on the table infront of us.

"Aaplog ke liyea chai paani order karun?" He asks, reaching for the first packed kurta.

"Nahi, abhi nahi." Fatty turned down the offer as soon as it was offered.

"Shaadi ke pure functions hore? Haldi, sanchak, mehendi, manje? Haan bole to ek ek din ke hisaab se batatun."

"Poore functions hore."

"Acha hai. Kyun poocha boleto, aajkal simple shaadiyan hore. Khali nikah karke valeema dedere. Isme logon ka kharcha nahi hora, achi baat hai lekin humare business ko bhi loss hora. Sirf do jode kapde hona rehra logon ku. Dukaan wale kiya karna, band karlena dukaana?"

"Doosra business kholna." Dada answers. "Catering, decoration mein bhi utarjana. Poora package hojata customer ku."

"Ye sahi bole, chicha." He says, before showing us the first piece of the long day ahead. "Ye haldi ke din ke vaaste bataru."

We are shown one kurta after the other in all shades of yellow for the occasion of haldi. After swiping right and left mentally at each piece, I elbow Muaaz.

"Something click yet?"

"Negative."

"Itne ich hai aapke paas haldi ka collection?" I inquire, scanning the kurtas laying infront of us.

"Hona kiya hai wo bolo aap, uske hisaab se karinge apan."

"Kurta pajama ich hona hai bhai, aap..." I tune out Fatty's words, looking around the mannequins and scanning the racks of clothes.

"Wo wala dikhayiea." I tell him pointing to the third rack from the left. "Wanna try?"

"Yup." Muaaz gets to his feet. Taking the kurta that had chikankari all over in mellow yellow. He holds it against his torso, giving us enough to look at and nod in approval.

I cock a brow at him, conveying the message that I like it on him. In return, he too raises a brow as though saying good choice.

"Isko side me rakho. Aur dikhao aap, sanchak, Sangeet ke liyea."

As much as I thought shopping for a guy is much easier than for a girl, shopping for Muaaz turned out to be incredibly harder than I assumed. The haldi outfit was a smooth operation but after that nothing made sense.

"Ye try karo." I said, handing him a pista green kurta.

"The color is off, Noor." He conplains.

"How about this one?" Fatty asks, pointing to another pastel colored kurta with decent thread work.

"I hate pastels."

"I know, you've said it already."

It's true. He has been saying the same thing for the last 2 hours.

"It's not our fault bhaiya that pastel are trending these days." Fatty said with a sigh.

"Can we go?" Farah asks. "My snacks are done too. It's also time that Dada jaan eats something."

"Yaha paas me ek tiffin center hai." The man who's been showing is kurta after kirta suggests. "Idli, dosa acha milta udher."

"Theek hai, chalo." Fatty says.

"But, I'm not hungry." Muaaz and I say in unision.

"No worries." Dada jaan waves a hand. "Continue looking, we'll grab a bite and join you guys. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Aap dono ke liyea chai order dedu?"

"Ji, thank you."

"Aaplog isme se pasand karo, main chai leke aatu."

I continue tossing one Kurta over the other, holding it up for Muaaz to see and eventually reject it.

"Aah! Muaaz, kyu tang karre? Pick something."

"I can't cuz I've never done this before." He reasoned but I was running thin on patience.

Itni picky to main bhi nahi hoon.

"I know, but choose a color atleast. Or some kind of style so it's easy for us to finalize your outfits. Guess, your mum was right about warning me after all."

"How unfair, Noor. Just cuz I don't understand something doesn't mean I am a hard person to shop for."

"Maybe, but it sure means you're indecisive."

"Ok, i guess you're right." He shrugs. "You choose for me then."

"Me?"

"Yes, since I'm indecisive." He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin.

"Are you sure? I hope you're not saying this just for the sake of it."

"I'm sure, Noorie."

The nickname 'Noorie' sent something through my body. Shivers? I guess, but I felt something in my stomach too. Butterflies? But what about my heart that did a funny thing like. . . flutter.

I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes at his helpless expression. "Fine, but if you end up looking like a disco ball, don't blame me."

Muaaz laughed, "As long as it's a stylish disco ball, I think I'll manage."

With newfound purpose to make him look ethereal with mt choice of outfits, i start browsing through the racks of whatever was left, holding up all kinds of kurta varieties against Muaaz. "How about this?" I asked, holding up a bright green chikankari.

Muaaz's eyes widened. "Are you trying to make me look like a highlighter?"

I giggled. "Okay, maybe not. How about this one?" I picked out a kurta that would stop at his mid thigh that had tiny mirrors running down the length all over and held it up with a mischievous grin.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this your verion of a tracker on a human? Are you worried about losing me in the crowd? Lets not get started on the pink. It's hideous."

"Alright, alright," I said, shaking my head in mock frustration. "Let's find something more... you." My finger grazes the soft fabric before reaching out and grabbing the hanger. "It's either this or this."

I say, giving him a final offer. But Jahan Panah remained unimpressed.

"Nawab sahab, jaldi kariyea. Sirf Haldi ka outfit done hai, Mehendi ke options mere heath me hai. Shaadi aur Waleema ka Allah Malik hai."

Muaaz pursed his lips in thought. "They're both shit." He let's me know that these don't appeal to him one bit. "But this one is less shitty than the other." He says, tugging at the sleeve of the one in my right hand.

"Allah ka Shukar!" I exclaim, throwing my head backward.

"I'm doing this only for you, Noorie."

Uffffff, again with that nickname.

Fatty decided to stop by after we had finally chosen the Mehendi outfit. "How far have we come?" He asked, wiping the crumbs of Medu Wada from him around his mouth.

"Mehendi," I tell him with a bored expression while Muaaz just flashes him a sheepish smile in return.

"Shaadi and waleema I'll deal with." Fatty said.

"Sounds like a plan." Both men fist bump and we're on our way to check out.

⚜️

"Salman, wo Kareena Kapoor ki saree leke aao ji jaldi. Customer ko wait nahi karana itta!"

I hear Rizwan uncle's voice yell at one of his boys like he always does as we ascend the stairs to this gem of a store. We step into the brightly lit rectanglur room that had walls lined with shelves stacked with gliterring outfits of all kinds. Stepping out of our shoes, we step on the makeshift carpet made of gadda covered with white sheets.

"Aaiyea, aaiyea-- arey, aap hai." Rizwan, a middle aged man, lean shaven with a white head cap says recognizes all of us since we are his regulars, sitting behind the counter. "Kiya Dada, khairyat se hai?"

Walking around, he asks someone to get an area cleared for us. "Bolo, kiya dikhaun? Rajwadi sharare chalre abhi shaadi season mein. Simple boleto wo bhi hai Pakistani."

"Dost ki shaadi ke liyea kapde banana hai." I tell him. "Khada Dupatta aur saree."

He nods his head. "Naveed! Wo 2 tissue mein hai dekho bahar KD wo leke aao. Aur zardozi ke saree bhi bhejo."

Getting us settled on plastic chairs, we wait for Naveed to get our things. "Kiya haal hai Dada?" The young boy asked setting down 2 zipper vinyl bags of individually packed khada duppatas and gets down to unpack both.

"Allah ka shukar hai, miya."

"You wanna try?" I ask Farah, who shook her head in negative.

Soon enoigh, i was standing before the full length mirror, as Naveed draped the dupatta on me and set it like how a traditional Khada Dupatta goes.

"Coca cola color hai, nahi to rust brown hai." He tells me.

"Work dono ka same hai?"

"Hao."

"Color acha hai, beti." Dada says.

"Something new." Farah tells me.

Naveed drapes the rustic brown dupatta on one shoulder, adjusting the one I had on me already to the other over my abaya. "Ab compare karo."

"Hmm,"

I stare at the reflection, on the two similar looking colors yet different if you are a keen observer. My eyes catch movement in the mirror behind me, my gaze lands on Muaaz who was just making his way inside the store with Fatty infront of him.

"Aagaye bete," Dada and Farah get busy conversing with him while Muaaz and I communicate wordlessly through the reflection.

Suddenly the world around us disappeared. All the lights dimmed and blurred in the background. It was just 2 spotlights active, one on him and the other on me.

Slipping out of his shoes, he steps on the floor covered by white sheets. Muaaz had his eyes locked on me as I watched him approach. He pauses when he is right behind me, my back against his chest. He doesn't smile but just watches me, standing in a plain black abaya with 2 diffeeent dupattas on each shoulder, with such intensity, dark eyes shining under the white spotlight, I have no where to run and hide. My cheeks heat up in the process and I blame it on the heat radiating of his body.

He walks around, coming to stand right between me and the mirror. His hand reaching for one end of the heavy dupatta.

"What are you doing?" I ask when I notice him draping it over his head first and then dragging it down so it was also draped on me. It was like our invisibility cloak that formed a barrier between us and the world.

My heartbeat shoots up when I feel his warm palms cupping my face. All sorts of animals partying in my stomach as his face drew closer. The sound of my ramming heart was the only sound that rang in my ears as his breath hit my mouth. I shut my eyes, wanting to feel his mouth over mine when I heard someone call my name.

"--Kaan,"

Shut up, I'm in the middle of being  kissed!

"Muskaan!"

"Huh?"

And just like that, dil ke armaan aansuon mein beh gaye.

I'm brought back to the harsh reality, standing infront of the mirror all on my own. My shoulders starting to ache by the weight of the dupattas. I notice Muaaz in my reflection, gesturing to the one on my right shoulder with the tilt of his head and raised his brow.

My heart did a funny flip thingy as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep me from smiling.

Dream tha bhi to kiya, reality utni bhi buri nahi hai.

"Farah, what do you think?" I ask instead. "I might buy it." Now that Mr. Angrez has given a raised brow in silent approval.

She replies with a thumbs up.

"Final." I say and hand over both the dupattas to Naveed. "Saree bhi dekh lete the." I say to Rizwaan standing behind him.

"Uske vaaste Ammi ko leke aao, kal. Aaj to inki help se hogya. Saree samajh me nahi aati. Main bill banadetu." I gape at him open mouthed letting the words register in my mind.

Was it that obvious? Did my family notice it too?

I pay for my outfit, and thank the staff following my family out of the store. I didn't realize how heavy the single bag could get until I was struggling to balance it.

Turns out, our dresses are heavier to carry around the weeding hall but also out of the shop.

"Want me to hold the bag for you?" Muaaz asks falling in step with me.

"I'm good, thanks."

"I forget you're a superwoman, sometimes." He muttered, with a shake of his head.

"And I forget you're a gentleman. There you go, if that makes you happy." I say and hand him the pounds of weight I was carrying in a single bag. A loud "Phew!" comes out of me as I wiggle my forearm.

"Ah, I'm hungry." I say as we descend the spiral stairs and make it to the road. Since no one added to my statement, I turn to Muuaz and ask. "Are you?"

"Nah, not really."

"I'm genuinely surprised, Mr. Gentleman." He does a good job ay hiding his smile. "Fatty, Dada jaan, I want pani puri."

"Kaha hai bandi?" Dada asked.

"Over there." Pointing to the man with his bandi across the road, i grin.

"Of course you knew." I hear the roll of Fatty's eyes in his voice, if thats even possible. "Can we keep the bags in the car?"

"Sure, but first we feast. You in?"

"Is it gonna be spicy?" Muaaz cross questioned.

"I think. Have you not had pani puri before? Oh my God, do you even know--"

"I know what it is. Crisp puris filled with spiced potato, chickpeas, and tangy tamarind, served with a chilled, aromatic mint-coriander water for a burst of tangy and spicy flavors."

"That was very Masterchef-ish."

"I can also cook like a Masterchef-ish." He shoots me a lopsided grin.

"Oh really?" We fall in step with each other, conversing our way to the vendor down the quiet post 11pm street. Him with his hands stiffed in the pocket of his pants while I in the pocket of my zipper abaya.

"Mm-mmm."

"What are your specialities?"

"I can pull of decent dishes from the Indian cuisine, but English deserts are s my go to. Do you like pies?"

"Not apple." I scrunched my nose.

"Blueberry?"

"Now you're talking."

"I will make you the best blueberry pie you've had in your life."

"Itna confidence sehet ke liyea haanikarak hota hai."

"Haani-karak?" He frowns

"Dangerous."

"Ohhhh," Muaaz said like he has stored the word in his mental library.

"You and your struggle for Urdu." I shake my head with a sigh.

"I am making progress, Noor."

"Ok, let's test it. Speak to him and order us pani puri."

"Ye mere right hand ka khel hai." He said, not even trying to go for the hindi word for right. "Is that all you got?"

I cock a brow at him. "What are askinfg for exactly?"

"A good challenge."

"Hmmm," I take a moment. "Theek hai. Let's place a bet on whoever eats the most number of pani puri wins. And the loser has to agree on whatever the winner tells him to do."

"Using him already?"

"Cuz I know whose winning." I click my tongue, pointing my thumbs at me. "I am."

He leans in closer to my face, his eyes sparkling with challenge. "And what If I win?"

"Then I'll do whatever you tell me to." I stand my ground, holding my breath.

"What if you back out?"

"I won't. You have my word for it."

Kehne ko to boldi. Shamat tab aane wali hai agar main hargayi aur Mr. Gentleman jeep gaye. Allah ku malum kiya chalra iske dimagh me.

"Kitne ki plate hai?" Muaaz asks the vendor.

"15 mein 6." He replied.

"You guys joinin' in?" He asked Fatty and Farah and that's when I realised we had audience apart from the vendor.

"4 plate." Muaaz tells him, his eyes cutting to me with that glint in them. "Ready?" He asks as we are handed Styrofoam plates and offered chopped onion and minced carrot on the side.

"I'm always ready, Mr. Hussein."

"Oohhhh, were switching modes here. Ight."

Muaaz gets the first puri and I watch as he raises it to his mouth and pushes the ball of spicy goodness in. His face is a kaleidoscope of expressions, going from shock at how big the ball is to surprise as the puri explodes in his mouth. He shuts an eye close as the spice hits him like a wave once he starts to chew and swallow with a loud "Aaahhhh!"

"Too hot to handle?" I tease, popping my puri in my mouth.

"That would be me." He winks,and starting to hiss under his breath already.

"Cmon bhaiya!" Farah cheers, clapping her hands.

"Go baj!"

The first six went like a breeze. I was able to keep up with his speed of popping the puri with his thumb, scooping chole through the whole and dipping his hand in the pot of masala pani to putting it on my plate. And so was Muaaz. Although he has turned pink already, he was doing just fine.

Round two and three were manageable as well. Both of us had slowed down just slightly to hold one puri in our fingers as he served us the next.

"Paani?" I ask Muaaz, but he shakes his head and focuses on chewing instead. "Nahi hora to jaando, Mr. Angrez."

He shoots me with a playful glare, swallowing. "I'm doing just fine."

"Ye aakhri hai. Hogaye 4 plates."

"Do plate aur."

"Offo! Chalne doo!!" Our cousins cheered from behind us.

Through the next 12 puris, I lost my speed and was struggling to match his pace of serving me. I was down to 2 puris in my mini plate, 1 in my hand and the other in my mouth. My throat was burning, tongue almost numb from and felt too heavy to move.

I peeked at Muaaz who had 1 in his plate, 1 in his hand and 1 in his mouth. His gaze met mine and he glanced at my plate and smirked with a mouthful in realization that maybe, he was 1 plate close to winning.

But I wasn't gonna let that happen. Picking up momentum, I push my jaws to work harder to chew and swallow as fast and frequently I could.

"Hogaye 2 plate."

I sigh taking a breather. "Paani!"

"Kiya hua?"muaaz teased. "Haar gaye?"

"I only asked for water."

"Oh," he snorts, turning to the vendor. "2 aur."

Ammah! Insaan hai kiya hai? How can he eat 2 more plates of pani puri being from tje UK when I can't being a local.

Reluctantly, I clean my plate and gulp the water that collected in it. Pushing away Mt unwillingness to do this anymore, I set my eyes on the prize and give myself the pep talk i need.

12 puri. Sirf 12 puri hai mere paas. Kaisa khaungi, i dont know. Meko to ye bhi nahi malum ke agar main jeet gayi to condition kiya doongi. Aysa chance phir milega ke nahi milega. Lekin aaj, aaj 12 puritan meko khatam karna se koi nahi rok sakta. Muaaz bhi nahi!

I didn't realize I had shut my eyes to concentrate on my mental speech to myself. When I open them again, I'm stunned to see two puris already resting on my plate, with the third one on its way.

Quickly, gobbling them down in time. From the corner of my eyes I see Muaaz's plate empty waiting for the next one.

Bus karde! Kitna khata aur. Motions lag jainge tereko kal.

He turns to look in my dorection as though hearing what I just said and bounces his brows. "Haar gaye?"

"Ghalat Fermi hai aapki."

But that ghalat Fermi turned to his khush Fermi as the number of puris on my plate went from one to two to three with one in my hand and in my mouth.

And I knew then, I was fucked.

Looking from my plate, I see his plate was full too. But he did a better job at masking his khushi at my defeat.

"Ek aur?" He teased with watery eyes and runny nose.

I didn't want to say the word.

Silently looking at my plate while sniffling, I pick up the soggy goodness in my hands.

Hum se na ho payega. My insides said.

Screwing my eyes shut, I push it in my mouth but my mouth resisted with a 'blargh'. Forcing my jaw to move, I chew it as it is and force it down my throat.

I can't do this!

Shaking my head, I meet his glassy eyes. "All done."

"YEEESSSSSSSS!" He rejoiced, finishing whatever was left on his plate and tossed it in the overflowing pile of Styrofoam plates behind him. And running around the empty street like he scored a winning goal. "YES! YES! YES!"

I chuckle at his antics, feeling glad that he's happy. Fatty and Farah joining me. Even the bandi wale uncle couldn't help the smile on his face watching Muaaz celebrate.

He spins on his heel, and starts to walk towards me with that mega watt smile. I sniffle, raising my hand to tap at his eyes with the cuff of my abaya, feeling his burning hot skin through the cloth. Muaaz had me by surprise when he produced a napkin from his pocket, and wipes my nose.

"Blow," he instructed like you do to a toddler. Surprising myself, I do as he says and blow. He scrunches his nose at the sound and I couldn't help but laugh in return, my hand still resting on the side of his face.

🥻👕