Bakht- Pt 1

(The translation for urdu dialogues can be found in the comments beside the text! All translation credits for chapters 1-6 of Bakht are solely the hard work of inkedwords0511)

*****

Paints, paints and paints.....

That was all Zaira Mir could see upon opening the door of her daughter's room. The whole place looked like it had been submerged into a sea of paints and each colour stood out in itself, making sure to prick her eyes and scream in silence that 'I'm there!'

"Zoya."

She controlled herself from yelling and gritted her teeth while calling her daughter's name. The one called out to gulped. She had taken refuge on the cold ground covered with a cashmere carpet and a brush rested in her hands that too was drenched in colours.

"How do you do... mama?"

Zoya chuckled sheepishly when Zaira Baksh groaned in dismay and shook her head at the insolent 22 year old who couldn't get a grip on her messy behaviour.

"Again?"

Zaira waved her hands across the mess Zoya had created and the latter could only shrug as if it were no big deal.

"Art is all about mess mama."

"Oh really? Then who'd be kind enough to clean this mess that you've created in the name of art?"

Zaira Mir herself was a renowned artist and seeing her daughter put all the blame for the mishmash in the room on her artistry would've been pretty amusing if she hadn't heard the same thing for more than a decade.

"You're about to get married, Zoya. A little sense of responsibility, would it hurt anyone?"

Zoya sighed to herself and gave a single nod to her mother. Her wedding was around the corner, roughly a week away. To take out her frustration, she used all the art forms she was interested in but in the end, all came out jumbled and not up to the mark, maybe because she was too busy dwelling about what her future held, especially since her to-be husband made no efforts to even know her.

"Zoya, you know we can delay the wedding if you want, don't you?"

Zaira sat beside her daughter on the floor and gently coaxed her. She knew the jitters though not as well as Zoya since she had a love marriage, unlike her daughter, who had agreed to an arranged alliance since she didn't have enough time to share her utmost love with any person outside her family and her art works.

"Mama, it's alright. Small steps, yeah?"

Zoya peeked at her mother's expressions and found her frowning. Taking in a deep breath, she kept the paint brush beside the canvas that bore the image of her mind- a maze of colours that made something she was having a hard time understanding.

"Mama, I'm fine. Just the usual jitters. Nothing to worry about, I promise."

She cupped her mother's cheeks and gave her a bright smile, one that made Zaira chuckle and smile back. The environment would've lasted longer if not for Zoya whose eyes widened and she quickly pulled her hands back. Zaira gave a confused look to her daughter but on feeling something sticking on her cheeks, Zaira tsked at her daughter who had the audacity to give her another one of her sheepish smiles.

"Sorry, mama."

*****

"Lana, are the canvases ready?"

Zoya addressed her secretary, talking on the phone as she strolled down the streets in white palazzo pants paired with a white top and a purple overcoat. Her mid-waist length black hair was secured in a high ponytail while a watch rested on her left wrist along with a few rings adorning her fingers. All in one, Zoya Mir was looking simply elegant.

"About that ma'am, Darya ma'am has apologised in advance since she wouldn't be able to upload any new photographs for at least two weeks due to some family emergency."

Zoya frowned at Lana's new set of information. Darya Malik, now Darya Radwan, had been a close friend and mutual partner in Zoya's small studio down the street. The latter brought pictures of nature that described beauty without any words being used and Zoya did the job of painting them down on a canvas, selling it to whoever wished to or simply keeping it in for her own satisfaction.

"Very well then. Any other pictures that are left to be done? We could use some to pass time and put it on our website that the shop will be closed from the end of this week to the end of the month."

"Will do, ma'am. What about your wedding preps? Your mother-"

"She wouldn't know. Don't you dare go whispering in her ears, Lana."

Zoya narrowed her eyes as though visioning her assistance standing in front of her with an apologetic smile on her face.

"Never. My lips are sealed, madame."

"They better be."

A few more work talks later, Zoya cut the call and paused in her steps to stare at her phone. She had his number but every time she hovered over it for more than a minute, she found herself retreating back due to nervousness.

Shaking her head, she kept the phone in her pocket and stared up at the sky. Squinting her eyes, Zoya couldn't help but wonder that in a canvas as big as the one above her head, she'd one day again stare at it and visualize the many memories filled with colours and experiences of her own. Just that, that particular painting will only be for her mind and no one else's.

The doors of her studio had come into view and Zoya fastened her steps. Stepping inside her humble work space, her wide smile turned grim on seeing Lana conversing with another female with a scowl etched on her face.

"Lana?"

Two heads turned her way. One of her sister, and the other of her-

To-be sister-in-law?

"Sameera?"

The said woman took in an annoyed breath and Zoya finally realised that maybe, they'd never get along after all.

"Thank goodness you arrived. Now, I just wanted to say that ma has asked you to meet her up at the mall for some bridal shopping in the afternoon. Of course, don't be late"

Saying that, Sameera Razdani walked out of the shop, leaving behind Zoya and her secretary in utmost winds of frustration.

"You said yes willingly?"

Lana scrunched her nose as she pointed at the spot where Sameera stood not long ago. Zoya chuckled at her and nodded her head, now slightly doubtful about her decision.

If he was anything like his sister, God forbid, Zoya wasn't sure how long they'd be able to get along or if they'd ever get along.

"Anyways, a few photographers have asked for a quick review on our website. Wanna give them a shot?"

Zoya put on a thoughtful look and nodded her head.

"A little bit of a beauty trip wouldn't hurt, would it?"

*****

"Mama, aapki beti kaha hai?"

Ayaan questioned running down the stairs. College was about to start in 20 minutes and he had to reach there in 15.

Zaira raised an eyebrow at her son while Azlan Mir hid a smile behind the glass of juice that he was taking a gulp of. If not for the looks, Azlan would've been doubtful that his baby boy was switched with someone else's on the day of his birth.

"Humari beti kuch kaam karne gayi hai. If you want, we can ask her to share some of her 'being productive' tips with you."

Azlan mocked his son who shook his head with an exasperated look.

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

"DNA test karwana hai?"

Azlan asked his wife who threw him a mean glare while Ayaan put on a hurt expression though the mirth in his eyes spoke a different story.

"Kya Mir sahab, come up with something new."

He teased his father who covered up his chuckle and playfully glared at him.

"College nahi jaana?"

Zaira butted in with a stern face. For the world, it was her husband who was supposed to be strict and proper but if only they knew the inside story.

"Haan haan, always in the rush to kick me out of the house."

"Ghar mein reh kar kuch kaam dhanda karte ho?"

"Nahi, but still."

Ayaan shrugged nonchalantly at his father's question and by the way his mother drilled holes in his skull with her eyes, Ayaan quickly stuffed in a toast in his mouth and ran out of the Mir mansion, screaming a quick goodbye to his parents who slumped down on their seats, knowing well that this was a usual occurrence at the Mir house.

"Oye, Ahzan kaha hai?"

Ayaan asked one of the students passing by. The latter pointed towards the canteen and Ayaan strolled in the direction with his bag tucked securely on his right shoulder though he wasn't sure whether it contained the necessary books, he'd be just fine for the day.

After all, optimism is the key.

To what?

A stress free life.

"Ahzan bhai!"

Ayaan patted the older boy's shoulder with a wide smile. Ahzan was a few years older than him and would often make visits to the college he had already graduated from.

"Phir se yaha?"

Ahzan slapped the back of Ayaan's head and scoffed before pointing at the samosa that rested in his hands.

"For this? Always."

"Acha woh-"

Ayaan was cut off when Saeed, another one of his friends came running into the canteen and went straight crashing into the table which Ahzan had made his throne for the time being.

The latter stumbled down his throne and went down to the ground while Ayaan lost his footing and would've met the same fate if not for the chair beside him.

"Abey oye, peeche jinn pada hai kya?"

Ahzan rubbed his forehead and questioned Saeed who looked flustered for a second before covering it up and darting his panic-filled eyes between Ahzan and Ayaan.

"Arey woh 3rd year students freshers ko tang kar rahe hai. Your warning clearly fell on deaf ears."

Ayaan frowned at his words. Ragging was pretty common on the college grounds but he had made sure to warn the ones interested in it to back off, lest they meet worse of it through him. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Ayaan shared a look with a now sober looking Ahzan and followed Saeed to where the supposed interaction was taking place.

"Come on dude, who even wears dupatta nowadays? Itni pyari shakal hai, let that useless piece of clothing go."

One of them tugged the ends of the cerulean blue dupatta that the girl was wearing. The latter tightened her hold on the material and shook her head. Ayaan couldn't see her face but the way she was shaking, it was clear how petrified she was.

"Itna kya sharmana? Humne bhi toh nahi pehna hai."

A girl from the same group tsked and tried to pursue her.

"Nobody likes a savi savitri anyway these days."

Another one spoke from the crowd. A huge circle had been created around the group of nasty raggers and the ones getting ragged but not one did come forward to stop the nonsense.

"Really? Looks like you know better about our likes and dislikes. Carry on, I wanna hear more."

Ahzan interrupted the session, casually strolling in the middle of all the drama and the boy that had clutched the girl's dupatta hastily let it go, stumbling on his feet a few times.

"Why so silent? Abhi kuch advice de rahe the na? Keep going. I'm listening."

Ayaan came in next and glared at the one who seemed like the leader of the cowards disguised in high class clothes and stupid smirks. Glancing once at the girl who was busy covering herself from head to toe with her just released dupatta, he nonchalantly stood in front of her, blocking the view of the boys from her form.

His back was towards her while his face screamed an underlying whirlpool of trouble for those who were involved in the ragging.

"H-hum toh bas, a-aise hi."

The girl who was asking her to remove the useless piece of clothing tried to mumble with confidence but was failing miserably.

"The principal would love to have a chat with you guys. Meet me in his room during lunch, yes?"

It wasn't a request that Ahzan had given. It was an order and they knew it. Giving quick nods, the whole group shuffled on their feet and within a few minutes, the campus was back to pertaining the rules of,

'NO BULLYING.

Be a friend, not a bully.'

Ayaan scoffed at seeing those posters around the campus but only if people were keen enough to follow it. Hearing a throat being cleared behind him, he turned around and took a few steps back to create an appropriate distance between himself and the girl whose face he could now see well and clear.

"T-thank you."

She whispered softly to him. Her voice was not much audible and he could clearly detect the underlying nervousness that she tried to hide.

Giving her a charming smile of his own, Ayaan playfully winked at her making her eyes go wide and the blush that was already covering her cheeks seemed to have deepened.

"Your welcome, little rose. I'm Ayaan, and you are?"

His attempt at being polite was met with another one of the lady's shy smiles and with a quick glance at his face, the girl introduced herself with a little raise in her voice and confidence.

"Amal."

**********

Sooo, how was it? Not up to the bar, but we'll reach it.

Another thing is about bullying. I'm pretty sure we all know how common that disgrace of 'we were just having a little fun' is. I never truly understood this concept though. How can you call staining someone's reputation, self confidence, their self worth, a form of fun? I mean, how can you live in peace with yourself knowing that you've scarred someone's memory with your little fun and 'no harm done'?

It's really surprising how years later the one who bullied sits and laughs like nothing happened, clearly forgetful about the torturous memories that he/she had given someone while the one bullied would form a shell, scared and doubtful about their own potential because of their words and fun.

It's said that the worst thing one can call upon themselves is a tear of pain that one shed due to them. Remember, the inaudible curse given from the depths of ones heart is the most dangerous thing of all.

Please do not become the reason why someone lives in shadows of fear or worse, decides to take their own life due to your actions.

-Dilara💞

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