“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?”
“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.
