I have decided to let my hair grow this summer; to not tie a problem and a name to each strand and watch them fall, severed. I have decided to let it grow, to let it be free and dance when it pleases, how it pleases, so that it can tango with the words knotted into it, words I have been running away from, words I have been sending boarded on ships down the drain of my discarded memories, and memories of others.

Its indecisive. One minute, it lies on my shoulders, curved at the ends, and the next its dancing in the breeze, as I sat in the passenger seat of my friend's car. We were driving down an empty road at 10 PM and the windows were down. I could feel the cool wind on my face snatching the heat away from under my skin, and scattering it like breadcrumbs. He was laughing at something, and I was watching his smile from the corner of my eyes, only to turn my head and look at his hair holding hands with his eyelashes, and him singing along with the words being whispered by the car, drowning in the screams of the wind.

"What do you think it'll be like? University, I mean. Now that we're done with A-levels, I don't know if I should spend my time worrying about university admissions, or what I'm going to do with all this free time until then. I don't know if I should be happy, that finally we can breathe and unwind, or if I should be scared of going mad from loneliness from not seeing all of you every day." I said, even though I didn't want to. I wanted to enjoy the silence, and the feeling of the unknown that was staring right into our eyes, and its vastness – its beauty and horror.

Aahed turned his face towards me, looked at my face for a second and smiled softly, before returning his gaze back onto the road, "I don't know honestly, I just hope whatever happens for the best." You see, Aahed was the kind of person who thought out all possible outcomes before he started talking about something, and most of the times, his words held much more meaning than they seemed to.

It was this very underlying message I found myself searching for, a ray of sunshine in a pitch black that I could cling onto, that I could repeat to myself until it stayed. I sighed and looked out the window and into the sideview mirror. I could see at least four other cars, all cradling the rest of our friends. We were on our way to the park after our Farewell dinner from our school on the other side of the city, because we decided that it would be better than going to a café and sitting indoors. The weather was something that you wouldn't expect it to be in Lahore on mid-April night. It was moody, with cool winds and some clouds so still that you could convince yourself that they were statues around which other smaller clouds played tag.

We pulled up to the parking lot outside the park, and saw that most of our class had already reached, some of them having walked to the nearest café to get coffee. Aahed and I got out of the car, and as I was fixing my saree, Mustafa walked up to me, a cigarette dangling between his lips and the top button of his dress shirt open. He was about to say something, when I heard Abbi call my name.

"Geekay, come on we're going to get something to drink!", she was standing a little to the right with Aahed, Muhammad, Fatima and Adil, all of them looking at me, waving me over. With an apologetic glace at Mustafa, I walked over to my friends, already knowing that I was going to regret it in the morning because my feet would be screaming at me.

With us girls dressed in sarees, and the boys in well-tailored suits, people that passed us would always turn to look again. In Pakistan, our farewell dinners were as my parents like to call them, our 'desi proms'. The boys would as expected, wear suits – but girls opted to wear sarees, with a rare few in lehengas or shalwar-kameez. Most girls started planning what they were going to wear the day the second term of our senior year would begin. They got it specifically stitched with hand-picked fabric bought from hawkers and storefronts with their shutters pulled up in Liberty Market, pairing sequined blouses with hand embroidered, shimmering stitched sarees, or elaborate lehngas. I on the other hand, hand picked out the saree I was currently wearing from my mothers closet a week before the farewell. I decided on a deep, dark plum unstitched saree, with floral motifs made in a band around the pallu and the edge of the fabric, and paired it with a plain blouse of the same color. It was the same band of floral motifs that was now in danger of getting stuck in my heels as I walked with my friends down the side of the road.

The guys were having a conversation about food, obviously started by Izar, who had caught up to us without me noticing, and as always, he was the one asking the most random questions.

"hey, what's one food that you know you shouldn't eat, but you can't help yourself? For me it would be nothing...I can eat everything."

"Yes Izar, we know you can eat everything, and we know you do," I said, laughing alongside everyone else.

"Speaking of foods you shouldn't eat, how about we talk about those gulaab jamuns that Fatima stuffed in her face not two hours ago?" Adil said, while making eyes at Fatima, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh my god AAAAAAAAAA - it was so worth it. Trust me."

"Wait, how many did you even manage to stuff inside your mouth? There were four or five pieces, right? I swear it was so funny, and it was even better because Geekay started doing what she does best! It's like someone attacked her with a tickle gun and ran off!" exclaimed Muhammad.

"Bro she just needs a reason to start laughing and start rolling on the floor. You know I remember this one time that I was at her house, and Shahveer vaghaira were there as well, and all Shahveer did was wiggle his fingers at her. I'm not even kidding, he was standing at least four feet away and she just started laughing like she does when she can't breathe, sounding like a wounded walrus crossed with a car that keeps breaking, sh- "

"Aahed, oh my god stop it be quiet! You've already told them this story, now stop before they see it happen all over again." I started laughing again, but not as hard as I had done before. I couldn't help myself then, because when desert was served, Fatima was the first person who ran to see what it was, and she announced very loudly and jovially that there were gulaab jamun, small round sweets soaked and cooked in a golden sugary syrup.

She then proceeded to see how many of them she could fit inside her mouth, and the minute she put the second one inside, I was on the floor, and syrup was dripping down her chin.

While we were getting our coffees, my phone rang, and Aahed handed it to me since I had asked him to carry it.

"Assalamaikum Amma jee," I answered, only to find my sister Neea on the other side.

"Tiaaaaaa, how's it going, how was it, when are you coming home? Baba Jee is asking.", She breathed out.

"Tsk Neea, I told you before, one question at a time! I'll tell you the details when I get back. I'm with everyone at the park in Phase 5, and we're all probably going to come over after this, alright? Tell Baba Jee, yaad se, okay? Remember."

"Alright alright, I'll tell him. Stay safe an- "

"TIAAAA, WHEN YOU COME- ", I had to pull the phone away from my ear, because Nur, the youngest had snatched the phone from neea, something that always took me by surprise.

"Nur, calm down, don't scream in my ear please," I laughed, "now, what is it?"

"Tia I wanted to ask, will Aahed bhai be coming back with you? And what about the others? Izar bhai as well?"

"Yes Nur they will, don't worry, you'll get to play Tekken with them tonight. Now go and take a nap before I get back, so that you won't be tired, alright? Okay then, bye bye Nur."

When I got off the phone, Aahed was chuckling, because as much as I had tried to, the boys had rubbed off on Nur, and now he was like a mini version of them, always there, always teasing – but also always caring.

"See Geekay, I told you your brother likes us more than you!", said Izar.

After a while we were all standing in the park again, and the wind was blowing, faster and cooler than before. I walked a little bit to the side, away from the laughter and shrieks, and stood there observing. I closed my eyes, and I listened. I listened to the conversation, to my class fellows laughing, and talking about the farewell, about universities they were already thinking of applying to, about the future – and I imagined the wind carrying away their voices to someplace far away, as if somehow, if I was unable to hear them talk about the future, I could prevent it, and live in the present, in this very moment where I could cocoon myself in the wind and the pallu of my saree.

"What are you thinking about Geekay?"

I opened my eyes to find Mustafa standing in front of me, with yet another cigarette fixed between his lips. He really did smoke a lot.

"The future. The wind - and if you're going to offer me a cigarette."

He chuckled, "I don't have more, I'm sorry. I snagged this one from someone myself, but you can have it if you want.", he said as he held it out in his hand. He didn't have to stretch his arm much, because was standing close, close enough that I could smell cologne mingling with smoke, a slow dance to fast music that somehow seemed all too natural.

I smiled, and plucked the cigarette out of his hands, and brought it up to my lips and turned my eyes up to the sky. I took a drag, feeling the smoke enter my lungs, and closed my eyes. I handed him the cigarette and opened my eyes to see him looking at me with an amused expression on his face.

"what?"

"nothing, I was just thinking. So, everyone's going back to your place for a bit afterwards?"

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hello! im so glad that you read the first chapter. more coming soon. x

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footnotes:

Geekay - G.K, short for Gaitiara

Tia - short for Gaitiara

desi - brown, or from brown/indian/paakistani culture

lehnga - a long skirt, mostly fancy for formal wear

saree - a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia.

Pallu -  the loose end of a saree, generally draped over the shoulders.

Gulaab Jamuns - milk-solid-based sweet from the Indian subcontinent, and a type of mithai, popular in India, Nepal, Pakistan, the Maldives, and Bangladesh, as well as Myanmar. (wikipedia)

vaghaira - a term meaning etc. 

yaad se - remember to