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Happy independence day to all Pakistanis.

Life as she knew it.

She spun round and round, letting the music overtake her. Her mind was the only escape she had. As soon as the sound of the tabla changed, her feet changed their movement with. Oblivious to the men staring at her, she danced, just like she had been doing for the past thirteen years. Just like she had been taught to do. She had learnt how to please them, how to become their addiction. It was what she did, what they paid for.

At one and twenty, she was at her prime, as far as her profession was concerned. Nature had thought to bless her with the sort of looks that she needed. With slanting almond eyes that seemed to beckon whoever she gazed at, an aquiline nose and a cupid’s bow mouth, it was little wonder that they asked for her.  There was a greenish yellow tinge to her eyes which often made her wonder if she’d gotten the unique color from her mother or her father. But that was all that she thought of them. Around the age of thirteen she started to realize what kind of place she was being brought up in and she had cried every night, begging her parents to come save her. Eventually she had realized that they’d abandoned her and she’d locked any thoughts of her parents away forever.

The music slowed down. She twirled her hands around her face and slipped them lower, knowing that their hungry eyes were following them.  Her mistress had warned her not to entice all the men at once. Before her raks began, she had already judged who she would bestow her attention on. He didn’t look as drunk as the rest of them and she hadn’t seen him before. He was captivated, sure, but he didn’t look as lustful as the rest of them. He looked .. curious. That wasn’t the reason she chose him though. She didn’t have that freedom. She had been taught to choose people who looked like they were rich. Who would shower her with tokens, and pay the mistress as much as she asked. He looked like he was the sort, even if he didn’t come back again.

The music stopped. She said Aadab  and started to walk away, slowly so that the bells around her feet would tinkle at a steady pace, in the silence of the night, broken only by a few whispers and the sound of music coming from another kothi.  She went to a room, a dingy little quarter of sorts, which was only used when she took a break. A beaker of water, a stool in front of a large dressing table and her makeup was all it contained. She re-lined her eyes with kohl so that her eyes would look bigger, more shapely, had a sip of water and then waited for the little boy, who was learning how to play the tabla, to call her. Readjusting her dupatta, she heard footsteps and rose to go outside with the boy but when the door opened, it wasn’t the boy. It was the man she had chosen. Because he was standing right in front of her, she noticed the kindness in the brown eyes. Maybe she was imaging things. This wasn’t the kind of place where good and kind people often visited. She looked at him questioningly and he wordlessly handed her a string of pearls and then left. She had chosen well, she thought grimly.

As soon as he left, she was summoned. Wearing her newly acquired necklace she took a glance at her reflection and walked off.

Inappropriate shoe love.

I normally dont overdress. Im in my joggers most of the time. True story.

And i get bugged about it alot too. The only reason i wear joggers so much is because my feet have started acquiring lovely tans if i walk around in open shoes during the day. The lovely was pure sarcasm, btw. And since my university has blocks which are like two k.m.s apart, i dont really like walking around in fancy chapplain. Thus the joggers.

So i had to go to an aftari* the other day, and I didnt have anything to wear. (Typical). So i picked out fancy-ish clothes and as luck would have it i had the perfect shoes to go with it. They were 5 inch heels but oh well. Or so i thought. Overdressed is an understatement.

Lesson: Don’t wear high heels to fast food restaurants.

*Aftari : What we open our Fast with at sunset. Usually a dinner of sorts.