LAGAN IN ENGLISH ( PART 3)

Wedding preparations had begun in the house. Invitations had already been distributed. The food menu was finalized. Every day, a team of organizers would arrive at the house, and Daddy would instruct them about all the arrangements. The whole house had been freshly painted—it looked as if the house itself was getting married and being decorated like a bride. Even Mati had left all her other work to focus solely on the wedding preparations. At most, all her friends would arrive in the morning, creating an atmosphere that resembled a coffee party. Still, it all felt quite pleasant.

MUMMY was very concerned about her clothes. It seemed as though she wanted to get everything specially made for herself. She had even bought jewelry. But since Daddy had never interfered in her matters and lacked the courage to do so, he would remain silent, simply listening.

Falak Naz had been given ten days for shopping, and within those ten days, she had bought hundreds of items and spent thousands of rupees. Though everything in the house practically belonged to her, mummy  had already prepared countless outfits and jewelry for her. Still, she now wanted to buy everything in a modern style. She spent extravagantly and had numerous fashionable outfits tailored. Along with that, she had new jewelry made and bought countless shoes and handbags.

Daddy had already placed orders for everything related to the household. There was no blessing that she lacked. Most of her time was spent designing her royal attire. She wanted to wear something so unique and rare that no one in the world could match it. After much deliberation with her friends, she selected a very expensive and beautiful khamkhab fabric. She had intricate embroidery done on the dupatta and kameez, costing thousands. She had golden bells attached to her shoes, and similar bells dangled from her purse.

That day, the jewelry set she wore was made from real rubies, and the price of the set alone was fifty thousand rupees. The gharara suit had cost lakhs. All her friends said that she had tailored an outfit fit for a princess. And truly, wearing it, she would look like a queen...

But no one knew what was going on inside Falak’s heart.

Her inner state was strange and unique. She wanted that on the wedding night, she should appear before him as the most beautiful and enchanting woman in the world—so magnificent, so mesmerizing, so regal, and so captivating that the moment Afaaq laid eyes on her, he would burn with desire… be consumed… fall at her feet…

She wouldn’t even allow him to rise after his first prostration.

In her eyes, a woman’s external beauty was the greatest truth of the world. She had heard this many times before. She knew that men wag their tails like tame dogs before a beautiful woman. She wanted to throw the chain of her beauty around Afaaq’s neck—so tightly that he couldn’t move without her permission.

She was born with a nature that enslaves men. That’s why she was never a fan of marriage. She used to say that one shouldn't tie the noose of marriage around their neck too soon. But if one must marry, then a man’s entire world should revolve around just one woman… Yes, and she also used to say that a beautiful woman should have the freedom to live openly in this liberated world. A beautiful face is meant to be worshipped, to be desired, to be looked at with madness. A beautiful woman is like a charming doll kept in a showcase—every passerby looks at her with interest, even stops for a while. That’s the price of beauty, and beauty should always be valued.

Men shouldn’t be narrow-minded in this matter. They want all the freedom in the world for themselves but keep women caged. She hated cages—whether they were made of silk and brocade or of iron.

But yes, when it came to men, she did believe in shackles.

Despite all these lavish preparations, the priceless outfits, and breathtaking jewelry, her heart was restless. What was this restlessness? Even she couldn’t understand it herself. It wasn’t as though she felt any inferiority about herself.

She already knew a lot about men. She was raised in an environment where veils and hijabs had no place. She did everything confidently and without hesitation. She was extremely self-assured, and Daddy’s wealth doubled that confidence. If a woman possesses both wealth and beauty, she has no reason to fear. Circumstances will always support her.

But still, sometimes she would feel anxious. Who knows what Afaaq would be like? He hadn’t arrived from America yet.

Every day, she would wake up hoping that someone would bring news of Afaaq’s return. But everyone in the house was so relaxed, as if they were completely certain that he would come. Watching their confidence, she too would sometimes feel assured—"If they’re not worried, why should I be?" But then again, something would stir in her heart. A strange anxiety would settle over her. She couldn’t make sense of it.

Then she would imagine herself sitting as a bride. With that imagination, many more images would come alive. In her fantasies, she always saw Afaaq kneeling before her. "Afaaq would look so good kneeling in front of me!"

She was proud of her beauty, and apart from her outer appearance, she had nothing else to offer Afaaq. That was her whole world, and she had wagered it all on that. But she was confident of her victory, because she wasn’t someone who accepted defeat.

Everything she had ever wanted, she had achieved. Whatever she said, she had done. And now, just like that, the arrogant and stubborn Afaaq was gradually bowing toward her—and was coming closer and closer to bowing before destiny itself.

---

On the day of the wedding, the house was bustling with people. Not only were there numerous friends and acquaintances of Daddy and Muti, but Falak’s own circle of friends was no less extensive. And then…

There was an intense craze among the guests to catch a glimpse of her groom. A large crowd had gathered. Yet the arrangements were so impeccable that, despite the crowd, everything remained organized.

The serving of drinks and general hustle-bustle continued. Cars were arriving full and leaving empty, getting parked efficiently. Police officers were controlling the traffic. The place was lit like a stream of lights was flowing. The tents sparkled brightly. The shimmer of clothes and jewelry was almost blinding. Despite the biting cold, no one could feel the chill.

At that moment, Falak Naz entered the house through the back door. She had just returned from the beauty salon. She had gone there at 2 PM to get fully ready. Today, she had told the makeup artist clearly that every old saying about beauty must pale in comparison to her look. The day was meant to add not just four, but eight moons to her beauty.

All her friends were gathered around her, chiming in with their opinions. It took a full four hours to complete her makeup. And when she was ready, she looked like a celestial fairy, an apsara, or some heavenly being. No one could hold their gaze on her for long.

When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she was astonished herself. She had never imagined that such beauty was hidden within her. Now, her quiver of arrows was fully stocked. She began to feel pity for Afaaq’s heart, which was about to become the target of these arrows tonight.

Now, she was completely ready to witness the look of awe and fear on Afaaq’s face. Walking lightly, managing her magnificent outfit, balancing on the tips of her high heels, and gathering herself in a royal manner, she stepped into her car.

By the time she reached home, the house was overflowing with guests. But she didn’t speak to anyone and went upstairs through the back door.

Today, her friends had selected a room on the upper floor where the entire view of the ceremony below could be seen. As she reached her room, the remaining girls surrounded her.

“Oh God… Oh my goodness!”

Voices of astonishment echoed from all sides. No one could cast an evil eye on her beauty today. Everyone was showering her with compliments—

“Oh my God, Falaki! You look so beautiful today! Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” “You're going to kill him tonight!” “Poor guy… we actually feel sorry for him! He won’t be able to raise his head again after tonight!” “I’m jealous of his fate!” “Really, whoever Falaki’s groom is—he’s the luckiest man alive!” “Falaki! Forgive all his past mistakes tonight!”

Someone closed one eye and said mischievously, making the whole room erupt in laughter.

Seated on a large divan surrounded by pillows and her many friends, she looked just like a princess.

Her shimmering velvet sharara in rose-pink paired with a heavy ruby jewelry set made her glow. It looked as if a flame was leaping through embers. Her hair was styled in a high, elegant bun, and at the center of it, she wore a tiny crown. A large ruby sparkled among the white pearls. A delicate nose ring added the final touch. She truly looked like royalty.

“Oh Falaki! You should’ve been a princess of some kingdom. But then, why only rule over a heart? Well, she will surely become the queen of someone’s heart tonight!”

“Make sure to handle your Mister properly, got it?” her friends teased.

The girls were giving her all sorts of playful advice. Just then, the soulful, melodious sounds of the wedding band echoed—

“The groom’s procession has arrived!” “The groom’s here!”

The girls rushed excitedly downstairs and to the windows.

“Falaki, come see too!” someone called out.

But Falaki couldn’t move.

She had planned to witness the entire celebration with her own eyes—from the arrival of the procession to the end—but now she just couldn’t get up. Her friends called her two or three times, but she didn’t budge. Then they all ran downstairs, engrossed in watching from the windows.

It wasn’t that she felt shy.

She didn’t know what came over her. The sound of the band made her heart race.

She had heard band music at many weddings before, but never had she felt like this.

What kind of melody was this?

The music played in such high notes, and every note, every beat, struck directly at her heart. Today, she realized that the music of the band or the shehnai has a direct connection with the heart.

The wedding music filled her with a range of emotions—joy, excitement, passion, and melancholy.

As vibrant and full of euphoria as this moment was, it also stirred a sweet pain in her heart.

What did this pain signify?

The new life ahead with her beloved?

Separation from her parents?

Or stepping into a new journey?

Previously, the sound of a band would only excite her.

But today, it felt like the rhythm of the band had aligned with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

At times it sounded like a sweet melody, other times like a heartfelt calling.

Yes, every tune seemed to clearly say—

“Gori, your beloved is calling you… Gori, come!”

If only the beloved could hold her in his arms…

But with every such call, tears welled up in her eyes. Her heart felt torn, like it was falling apart.

The beloved stood with open arms, but the bride wept silently.

Was this the pain of parting from her parents?

No, that wasn’t it! They were nearby.

Then, was she sad about her marriage?

No, that wasn’t it either!

Then what was the reason for this nameless sadness?

The sound of the band felt like pointed arrows piercing through her feelings.

And she remained still, like a statue, seated on the divan.

Her heart longed to get up, to catch a glimpse of that tormentor with whom countless dreams were now tied.

But she simply couldn’t move.

Then suddenly, the band played its final note and fell silent.

Voices of celebration and congratulations echoed all around.

One of her friends turned back and said—

“Nikhat, if you don’t get up now, you’ll regret it. I swear, he’s a sight to behold…”

“It’s a view worth watching!”

“Oh wow! What a gorgeous car. And it’s decorated so artistically. And look at Afaaq—he looks so dashing!”

---

“Come quickly, please, quickly!”

As soon as she heard Afaq's name, her heart was at peace.

Thank God, he had arrived!
She had received the news of his arrival in the morning and had breathed a long sigh of relief since then.

And now, suddenly, the eagerness to see him began to rise.

Controlling her rapid breaths, she made her way to the window, but Afaq had already disappeared from view.
Perhaps he had been respectfully escorted inside.

The rest of the guests were being welcomed with garlands of flowers.

“Now you come, when Afaq is already inside!” a friend said with a laugh.

But even so, she made room for her by the window.

She smiled as she looked at the guests. There were so many.
Nearly a hundred cars had arrived, each exuding grandeur and pride.

A wave of pride swept through her heart.
Her Afaq was no ordinary man and was no less in status than her father.

When the announcement of the Nikah rose, she quickly returned to her divan and sat down.

Some people came upstairs carrying forms and registers, and then everything proceeded in a traditional manner.

She didn’t feel the need to be overly shy or modest. As soon as she signed the documents, she felt light and unburdened.

God! What agony she had endured for this one moment.

Would the marriage even happen or not…
Would Afaq change his mind…
God knows, would he even come back…
Was it all a joke…?
But no!
This was no joke. This was the biggest truth of her life.

She was now Mrs. Afaq.
Afaq was hers, her right—
And no power in the world could take him away from her.

After the Nikah, when dates and sweets were distributed, the wedding celebration reached its peak.

Falki’s friends kept going downstairs, bringing new and exciting things for her.
Now even she was sparkling, talking cheerfully.

“Don’t talk too much! All your charm will scatter!”
“Save your words for him… He’s not going to let you sleep tonight anyway!”

Amidst all this laughter and teasing, it was time for the meal.

Today’s feast was so grand that everyone could only say one thing—
“Wow! Wow!”

From the food tents, alluring and diverse aromas were wafting through the air.
Sheikh Sadruddin had truly spared no expense for his daughter’s wedding.
That’s what everyone was saying.

After dinner, people scattered into groups, each busy in their own type of conversation.
From above, the scene looked beautiful.
One group was laughing and joking.
Another was deep in conversation.
Some were focused on the women.
Some were just women gossiping about men.
The mingling of laughter and faces from different backgrounds had created a special atmosphere.

Today it felt as if joy and color had descended from the sky onto the earth, and the earth was now showering them on its people.

Falki felt a strange stir in her heart.
All this celebration was because of her.
She was spreading this joy.

And who was behind all this happiness?
Afaq.

For Afaq, she had taken a permanent step forward, and through that, spread so many joys and fragrances among people.

“Hey look, over there!”
A friend shouted from the road lined with rose petals.
“Where?”
Falki lifted her beautiful eyes.

“There! Where the lights are gathered like a drumbeat—do you see that glow? Your moon is standing there.”

“Oh…”

Finally, Falki had spotted him.
There he was, standing among some people.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Today, Afaq's appearance was completely different from what she had imagined.

She had expected him to wear a modern American-style suit, maybe a stylish haircut, a shining watch on his wrist, and an imported cigarette in his mouth, casually glancing around.

But he turned out to be completely the opposite of her imagination.

He was wearing a black achkan and white shalwar.
There was some light embroidery around the collar of the achkan.
On his feet were traditional Salim Shahi shoes, and his head was adorned with a turban.
Above the turban, he had placed his floral sehra in such a way that it looked like he was carrying a bundle of flowers on his head.

Perhaps he hadn’t felt right wearing the sehra in the usual way and had instead draped it over his turban.

Yes, he looked like a completely traditional groom.
She had never expected this from someone so educated and fashion-savvy.

She thought to herself that she would definitely ask him later whether this outfit was his own choice or if he had worn it to honor his mother’s wishes.

But she had to admit one thing—
Even in this outfit, he looked stunning.

He looked like a Mughal prince.
God had truly gifted him a graceful body and a beautiful face.

---

"And his attire carried grace and authority. A slight pang of jealousy stirred in her heart.
She wished Afaaq didn’t look even slightly good today.
She alone should shine in everyone's eyes.
Afaaq shouldn't outshine her in any way.
After all, how could a man, no matter how handsome or smart, ever compete with his wife? she thought as she stood there.
He did look good, but how did that compare? She herself was the very definition of charm.
Who could even stand a chance before her?
Tonight was a night of competition—and it had to be seen who would win.
Both of them were armed with their own charms.
No worries, she wasn’t nervous at all. She had the upper hand. Tonight, she carried the full treasure of grace and gentleness. She didn’t feel any sense of inferiority either. She was content. When the time comes, we'll see what happens.

Afaaq was standing quite far away. She couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling today.
From afar though, he did appear happy—chatting cheerfully with his friends.
Every now and then, one of the hosts would offer him food, fruit, or paan. He would smile, say thank you, and take a little.
Tonight, he was the center of attention. The guest of honor. The groom of the night. The moon in the sky."**

---

**"Is he walking with pride in his steps or not?" Falak was eager to know.
"Don't tell me you're planning to cast the evil eye now!"

A playful slap came from behind—Pinky had caught her.
"I’ve been watching you for a while now—you’re literally drinking him in with your eyes!"

Falak blushed and moved away from the window.
"Tonight, drink your fill of those glances—and let him drink too!" Pinky teased.

"Shut up, stupid! I was just looking casually."

"Casually, huh? Look at your face—burning in the fire of desire! Fool! Keep this up, and you might be the one to fall tonight!"

Falak looked into the full-length mirror. Truly, there was a strange glow on her face.

"What do you mean by 'fall'?" she asked, turning back to Pinky.

"You know what they say—'Love begins in the lover’s heart.' What if tonight, he becomes the lover and you the beloved?"

"Hmmph!"

Falak raised her nose proudly. "Don’t ever expect that! I’m not that desperate, and you know it!"

"We’ll talk again tomorrow morning!" Pinky winked.

---

"Alright, now eat something quickly. They’ve called you downstairs for the 'Arsi Mushaf' ceremony."

"He's going… and you’re dying to follow, aren't you?"

"I'm not hungry at all, Pinky."

"Yeah, every bride says that on the first night—'I'm not hungry.' Passion kills hunger, but if your stomach’s empty... the night can get tough!"

"You witch!" Falak cursed playfully.

"Just eat a little at least!"

The waiters brought in trays of food and laid everything out before Falak.
The aroma and steam from the hot food filled the room—but still, Falak had no appetite.
No bite was going down her throat. She didn’t even know why.

"Eat something, or you'll faint from weakness!"

She remembered she hadn't eaten anything since morning. Just one cup of tea in the evening.
Though she didn’t feel weak at all—she was too excited.
And perhaps that’s why she wasn’t feeling hungry.

At Pinky’s insistence, she took a little roast—but the very first bite wouldn’t go down.
She had to force it down with a sip of water.
Then she decided to settle for just firni and ate a full plate of it.

All her friends sitting with her upstairs had eaten to their heart's content.

---

Soon, a voice called out—"The bride is being summoned downstairs."
Falak’s heart began to beat faster.

Even though she thought she wouldn’t get nervous...

"Now begins the confrontation with that heart-stealer...
Who knows where the first blow will come from, and what it will be like…?"

Her friends dressed her up nicely and began leading her downstairs.
She, too, walked gracefully and calmly toward the decorated canopy set up specially for her.

"The bride has arrived!"
"The bride has arrived!"

A wave of excitement rose.
Everyone rushed to see her.
For a while, there was a lot of commotion.

Everyone looked at her like she had just been born anew.

Whoever saw her, only had praises.

Every tongue said the same thing—
"Mashallah! The bride looks like the full moon!"

Falak felt overjoyed when everyone said—
"Falak looks exactly like her mother did in her youth!"

And this was the one compliment Mrs. Sadruddin (Falak's mother) wanted to hear again and again from every man and woman.

That’s why she dragged everyone along to take a look at the bride!

---

A little while later, the groom’s name was announced.
And then he arrived with great grandeur, swaying confidently, and sat beside the bride on the sofa.
A beautiful fragrance wafted up to Falak’s nose.
Tonight, this fragrance overpowered every other.
She didn’t know which perfume he had used.
From his heavy presence beside her, Falak trembled slightly.
She didn’t know how this night would go.

It felt like all her plans and confidence were stumbling—but she didn’t let it show that she was nervous.
During the Arsi Mushaf (the mirror ceremony), the crowd was so thick that she couldn’t even see Afaaq’s face properly.

Then someone mischievously said:
"Why the fuss with the mirror? Just let them see each other directly!"

Then the photographers arrived.
Flashes sparkled from every direction.

"Look this way."
"Please, this way."
"Sit like this."
"Call him."
"You come."

It seemed like everyone was obsessed with taking photos—
As if getting a picture with the bride was the highest honor.

---

She was quite fed up with all the photography.
Turning here and there repeatedly, they had ended up seeing each other plenty.
Every time she stole a glance at Afaaq, he was smiling.
And his smile was so charming—it mesmerized her.

Was Afaaq truly as happy tonight as he seemed?
She kept asking her heart over and over.

Then the time for the farewell (vidai) came.

"Thank God!" she thought to herself.
People were just wasting time unnecessarily.
They had no idea how important this night was for the bride and groom.

She always thought of the farewell scene as a bit of a drama.
Even if no one actually felt like crying, they would still shed tears.
Girls were often thrilled deep down—excited about marriage, counting down the days.
But at the time of farewell, when the world was watching, they put on a show.

She had always feared this moment.

Although, she had complete faith in her mother.
Since her mother didn’t believe in such outdated traditions, she wouldn’t allow any emotional theatrics.

She was eager to see Afaaq’s mother.
And by chance, at the time of farewell, she came close herself.

She took her by the arm and said—
"Come, daughter! Let’s go home now."

---