In mid-summer day, when the sun swooned out its light, over the cascades of little buildings tucked tight together, in a little corner of Lahore.

Not too far from society and the rush of traffic, but not too close either, to what was known as the 'center' of this vital, myriad of a city.

With the wind breezing lightly, despite the bright heat, with the wonders occurring of one's dreams and hopes, we can only believe that such a remarkable day, where tummies twist tightly, and lips dry placidly, eyes wet with no regrets, and hearts pummel in every thought of gratitude for the little and big things in life. Because with us knowing, or, not, every single cell and particle lays a place, and value in our lives, in submission to their Rabb.

Yes, you might have guessed it by now, it was amid the glorious month of Ramadan, and Zara was standing on the rooftop, listing out all her favorous answers to her next-door neighborly-friend's fervent questions.

"Chocolate pudding pie sprinkled with cherries." Zara answered, picking up a wet shawl from the laundry basket by her feet, and throwing it lightly into the air, with her fingers tugging it on one side, till it fell prettily over the string.

"Woah!" Eshaal commented, leaning over the wall between the two houses, her eyes widening. "Okay, okay, Zara- I get how much you like desserts, but I can't make that for Ahmad Bhai. He's only my brother. Not some celebrity star coming over."

Zara folded her arms. "So, you're saying that you would make such a delight for some celebrity star, and not your brother? Unbelievable."

Smiling smugly in response, Eshaal shrugged, "You just don't know how brothers are like. You might see them with the most innocent and angelic roles on TV, or, read them up in books. But, girl, in reality- there like... like... born to haunt you!"

Zara didn't bother to reply to these 'brother-tease' comments, and instead picked up the next cloth to hang.

"Anyways," Eshaal broke off from her personal humor with lasting effects on her sparkling eyes. "How's your story going?"

"Story?" Zara straightened her Nani's magenta dupatta, pulling off a separated white thread from its corner. "Oh- you mean that story... "

"Eh, of course, I mean that story- wait... are we talking about the same story?" Eshaal frowned lightly. "Don't tell me you've left it, or, started another, or, just felt uninspired, or, some cat spilt coffee over your notes and your dramatically sighing for Dawood to come and lift you up to your feet till you get enough fill of inspiration and-"

"Don't go that far," Zara mumbled, her expression calmly scrutinizing enough to make Eshaal blink, then chuckle sheepishly, pulling back her tongue.

Zara let a smile fill up her face, jotting down all the points of Eshaal's assumptions, and simply answered: "It's the Musa's story. And, no I have not left it, nor started another, and maybe a teensy bit uninspired but not entirely- and no cat spilt coffee over my notes- how dare the thought even occurs, I save my notes on the laptop! And, whenever I'm struggling with writing- Dawood really isn't any help."

Eshaal blinked at her, parting her lips to ask what she meant by 'Dawood isn't any help.'

But Zara only, turned her flushed face away with the memory coming into vision in her mind's eye.

The memory goes...

"Musa left his home?" Dawood had asked, bluntly.

"Yes! It's so emotional!" Zara answered him back, dumping her head over her arms on the table.

The two of them were sitting on a cafe table, and usually, when couples come to a divine evening, they would refer each other to problems and solutions of reality. But Dawood in his state, found himself thinking thoughtfully over the idea of his wife relaying her worries on a character that she, herself, wrote the character left the home, and yet she did not know why- so, just as any non-writer in this situation, he suggested kindly with a warm smile:

"Why don't you make him come back then? Problem solved."

Zara lifted her face slowly, the uncover of the shock that widened her eyes made Dawood grin sheepishly- before her next statement made him fall into the hole of dumbness.

"That's impossible! First of all, he left his home due to his father's wish. Second of all, if I do that, then what's the point of writing this story? The plot won't develop."

In this terminal issue, Dawood took a sip of latte, and tapped his fingers on the edge of the wood. Seeing Zara in this state, made him revolve over a question.

"I don't get it. Why write a story that makes you upset- and you still go with it?"

Zara shook her head. "I'm not upset. Who told you I'm upset-"

Dawood hummed in disbelief. "You're not....?"

"Nope," Zara's lips curved into a bright smile, chuckling lightly. "It's called a writer's emotions. That's all. I'm having no troubles at all, habibi. Everything is in tip-top shape and oh, do you want to eat that...?" Zara pointed at the cherry tart on his plate.

Dawood shook his head airily.

"But you just said you were-" Dawood was going to say 'complaining about your writing for half an hour', but seeing her at ease in just the pop of a bubble, he zipped his lips and let his shoulders relax.

Never question a writer's moods. Dawood wrote it down in his mental notes.

"Zara! If you're done blabbering with Eshaal and hanging up the laundry, can you be a dear you truly are, and get down here right this moment!"

Zara snapped out of her memory, unknowingly a loving smile having taken over her lips, as she nodded in greeting towards Eshaal, and picked up the empty laundry basket swiftly. Ah, truly, it was a wonder what was to become of Musa now?

_ - _ - _

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Time paced like a lightning bolt. The moment I slept in, was the moment I woke up. At least, that's how it felt like.

Usually, when there's a big day the next day people can't sleep.

They are wide-awake, alert, not at all in composed attitudes. They are restless, turning side to side, counting sheep and making up all sorts of images for what the future day would bring.

But I, however, despite knowing the fact that I should be in a similar state as my cousin, Bilal, who I could hear knocking on the other side of my wall just because he likes to- I wasn't in that state.

I was calm. At peace. Restful. Yet my eyes were wide-awake.

The next morning was Monday's cloudy morning. Under the breeze of Islamabad's beauty and peaceful twitters of the birds love of singing after sunrise, me and my cousins: Bilal, Karim, and Saleh bhai, stepped out to the porch dressed in our newly-pressed uniform.

I didn't think I found it at all comfortable being all dressed up. But since I was obliged to, I didn't have much of a choice.

Saleh bhai, being the eldest, already slipped into the black Mercedes car at the front, next to Uncle's hired driver's seat.

Karim oozed Bilal with pointed remarks to drop making a fuss of his tie, (yes, Bilal was a bit of a 'perfectionist' at his looks, despite being just a kid) while I held onto my Spider-man school bag, shuffling towards the car behind them.

My cousins were nice. Not too bad. Despite  most of the time disappearing into their own activities, they were nice. But nice to each other? Not really.

I remember me and Appa having quarrels once and awhile.

Once I took her doll and chewed the head off to annoy her which resulted to her shrieking out her ear-splitting cries till Baba  came to the rescue and scolded me. He then, cradling his daughter in his arms and that surely settled her down. When Appa disappeared around the corner at ease, Baba slipped a chocolate in my pocket, promising that he'd get me some Batman, or, Superman figurine.

Did he, though?

But other than those conflicts Appa was always there for me.

At every trip, slip of tongue, embarrassing, mishap in my life- she was always there for me, with her kind words, beautiful eyes, and warm comfort. I'd say she played that role on mama's behalf.

But Bilal, Karim, and Saleh bhai? Their 'brotherhood' freaked me out.

School wasn't bad. Teachers were nice, educated and better at speaking English than my last battered school in Murree.

I was obviously in Bilal's class and he was the most popular kid in it. You should've seen him the way he wowed the other boys at sneaking in some 'amazing' bubblegum in the classroom. He always bolted his hand up in the air at every question asked by every teacher in every class.

I guess the only notice I ever got from anyone in the school was the fact of being Bilal's, or, Karim's cousin. Saleh bhai went to another campus for he was way older than the three of us.

Okay, back to the point. I was fine with that. Not that I got much notice in my previous school, but this school.... it was larger, bigger, fancier and a bit, not entirely, but a bit intimidating.

Oh-ho. How stupendous is a thought of something, and the next minute your baffled out?

Screams.

Shrieks.

Shouts.

Constant.

It was break time, and every one was out in the sun-beaten yard to play in sweaty shirts and command other kids through the obstacles of games and glories in such an age of children.

Hopscotch. Basketball. Pakan-pakrai (tag game). However, did I know that a wrestle show would be involved?

Nah.

But guess what? That's what I was hearing, while I was seated peacefully over an empty bench with the Oliver Twist book laid on my lap.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

First, I didn't bother seeing a group of boys further down the yard clamped together and bolting their fists into the air simultaneously.

But then as the group neared my well-chosen territory to 'read-away-from-the-commotion' (which having said proved wrong... since the commotion was nearing my bench).

Hardly focused, my conflicting eyes could not even get over to the next sentence on the page, and it was annoying.

I hardly get annoyed. At this point, I felt like instead of bolting a fist in the air like the others- I would rather bolt a fist at every boy who was trespassing my beautiful reading corner.

Yes... I hardly get annoyed, but the noise was the limit!

I snapped the book shut, raised my hardened eyes and I saw a sight to behold.

My gaze having passed a few shoulders of the boys that were circled around the two wrestlers, I saw my cousin's red-cheeked face sweaty edged and bruised. Bilal!

I threw my book away, jumped to my feet, pushed between some boys, and then got to the middle. It was a horrifying sight.

This. Is. Exactly. Why. I. Hate. Fights.

There was a larger boy than Bilal- probably in an upper class than mine and Bilal's.

Bilal, despite his appetite being larger than mine, was in comparison to the boy that clenched his fists- a tad bit shorter. The larger boy's gaze hardened on Bilal's equally heated orbs.

"I told you to give me five bubblegums at break time!" The boy spat at Bilal, who despite, looking tuckered out, kept his stance.

"I told you, dude, I gave them all away!" Bilal uttered, flying his arms in the air.

"Oh, yea?!"

Another punch slammed down Bilal's stomach, landing him back-flat on the ground.

A cackle of laughters erupted around him from the others.

A drop of blood left Bilal's lips, while everyone amused themselves in watching and even the Big Bully Boy grinned out his playful teeth and that was when I had just about enough of this.

"That's enough!" I sprayed out my weak voice.

Silence spilled in.

Weird, icy silence as everyone's attention including the Big Bully Boy turned my way.

Suddenly, I felt like I should've kept quiet. I felt a tremble swoosh down my spine to my legs as the Big Bully Boy's prey suddenly became... yes, I find it hard to even say it.

Bilal, attempting to get up from the ground, shot me a glare which spoke: 'Dumbo, you should've stayed put!'

I, despite, having in that sudden urge of bravery jumped into the red zone, felt right then- plainly stupid.

"Oh, yea?" The Big Bully Boy spat at me. My nose cringed hoping that his spit didn't get into my mouth. Eww.

"So you think you can tell me and till when it is enough, huh?!"The big bully boy questioned, heatedly.

I... nodded.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

Never in my life- did I feel so uncertain enough to just nod.

In fact, never in my life did I ever have the need to stand up to a Big Bully Boy.

Never in my life, did I ever have to even meet a Big Bully Boy and never in my life-

Okay fine, I should stop... you probably get the point already.

Just what I was afraid of. A punch before I could even comprehend, landed straight at my nose. My head spun and I fell back-flat on the dirt beside Bilal. My eyes shut close and felt the heat of pain overcome me from all parts of my body. I wasn't as strong as Bilal. I probably laid there for a while, feeling ashamed and all sorts of terrible, sickening emotions battled through my heart. Fear. Pain. Cowardice.

I thought, as my eyes were squeezed tight, I'll get another hit. I might've even whimpered like a child... because I am that type. A small, childish boy who's not like the other big kids.

I'm not big, beefy nor a play hound. I thought I would be plunged at by the Big Bully Boy and as a coward, I froze there on the ground not even bothering to open my eyes and check my surroundings; not even bothering to even check on Bilal- but somewhere from the back of my mind a voice called. It was Appa's.

Fear is when you see yourself plunged in this place, where you see no end to it. Your heart pummels and those are the only sounds.

And, if you feel water streaking out of your eyes, that is completely normal, because by the end of the day- you're human.

You're weak.

That's how you're created, and that's how you've always been.

That's why we're told to relay our strengths, our trust, our hope in Allah.

Because the world will bound us down, but Allah will lift us up.

Her soft voice cooled my heart beat down and in a minute or, two, I slowly fluttered my eyes open, lifting my heavy head, and saw... that everyone had disappeared.

Except for Bilal who was sitting on the floor and an older boy, his brownish-head leaned close over Bilal's.

Just after the transfer of their whispers, and the older boy dusted off Bilal's shirt from the back before helping him up to his feet.

The older boy was Karim, I then recognized.

So much so, for me saying that their brotherhood freaked me out...

Karim having spotted me sitting up. "Alright, Spider-Man?"

I blinked at Karim. "What do you mean?"

Karim stared at me unbelievably before chuckling as he ruffled my hair playfully. "You scotched that freak off like a Spider-man would excluding all that 'spider-web power' and what-not... come on. Let's get you both cleaned off at the clinic."

Karim helped me up to my shaky legs. I was still utterly confused at what just happened. I looked over at Bilal, who seemed perky as much as I did.

"What exactly did I do?" I asked him, my voice sore and rusty for some reason.

Bilal glanced over at me- a flicker of something in his eyes which gave away that he was thinking of whether, or, not should tell me.

I knew he couldn't keep it in for long.

"You screamed..." Bilal shrugged, before adding with a smirk. "Ear-splittingly."

Just like my Appa.

Asalamualaykum
Introduced new characters now, are we? Who is your favorite so far?

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