Twinkle With Hope

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“Subb bakhair, Noor.”
“Subb bakhair, Nazia.”

The princesses giggled at the sunshine, kissing hello to a new morning. This day would be different, much different than the rest.

It was the day of the Royal Ball. Everybody would be waiting for them, and they’d finally make their grand debut to The Palace.

Everything was going to be perfect, even the stars.

Their Prince Charmings would arrive in a couple of hours. Such little time, so much to do. They’d better start now.

Nazia jumped out of their bed and ran to their wardrobe, flooding with gorgeous dresses of silk and satin.

Tracing her hand over their beautiful textures, Nazia whispered, “Will it be pink or purple?”

“You know it’ll be purple.”
“Always!” whispered Noor.

“But look at the perfect textures of this Pink Silk. Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous? I think you should wear this one.”

Nazia ran towards her sister, the dress in hand, as Noor gracefully left their bed. She pretended to have a closer look at the gown, but her heart knew what she wanted. It always did.

She didn’t even have to peek into the wardrobe to know the shade, it was evident.

Nazia, on the other hand, stormed out dress after dress, trying to figure out the perfect shade, texture, size, and fit. She spent hours on it and still couldn’t breathe in the possibility of selecting one of them. She had to have all of them.
Noor rummaged the jewellery cabinet. Pendants, earrings, bracelets, rings, anklets had a mini cyclone in the room.

The lipstick, carefully applied, their eyes, perfectly smudged with kohl and their cheeks blushing with hope.

It was all happening too quick.
The girls were growing up.

Nazia giggled as she gracefully stepped towards Noor with their tiaras.
“Gorgeous”, Noor whispered.

They’d been dreaming of them since they were three years old.
Those tiaras were meant for them and they were meant for those tiaras.

Nazia struggled to walk in those pencil heels and Noor tried to string her dress.
There was too much of colour all around, and this was everything they ever wanted.

And oh, the gorgeous sun slowly bidding farewell to the horizon brought the perfect setting to the sound of hooves on the pavement outside!

“They’re here”, Noor whispered.

Nazia gasped as she sprinted to the windows, pulled out the blinds and peeked outside, for just one little glimpse.
“Hurry, we can’t keep them waiting, can we?”

The day went by as a chaos of velvet and silk, heels and makeup, hope and tiaras and the mirror smiled as Nazia sat Noor down and gently put the tiara on her head.  

The girls squealed as they twirled around their beautiful silks and satins.  

“Do I look fine?” Noor nervously questioned her little sister.
Nazia giggled at that and whispered, “You look perfect, Noor.”

Noor smiled at Nazia, the glitter on her dress equating that in her eyes, and whispered, “So do you, little Nazia.”

Sunday afternoons were always special for those little girls.

On Sunday afternoons, sixteen year old Noor wasn’t blind. She could see the entire world, and more and thirteen year old Nazia wasn’t dyslexic.

On Sunday afternoons, the girls didn’t hear tongues clicking feigning sympathy nor did they hear the unwritten silences.  

On Sunday afternoons, the girls didn’t share their room with seventeen others in the Orphanage they grew up in and they didn’t wear torn dresses, tethered shoes and old ribbons.

On Sunday afternoons, when everyone went off to sleep, snoring away to their dreams, the girls giggled at the sunshine and walked tall with tiaras on their heads, instead of shame.

On Sunday afternoons, Noor and Nazia twinkled with hope and played hide and seek with grace, dreaming in their finest. 


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