[Subhah Bakheir.]

Every morning, the sun shines just as much as my face glows everytime I smile.

Then why do you not smile more often, jhalli?

I'm smiling right now, okay?

Zaira, as you read this part you're smiling, okay? SMILE, cutiepie.

"Abbh yeh naa kehna ke phuppo aa rahi hain." I heard Haroon exclaim.

Alina shrugged, "Nahin kehti," she waited a few seconds before adding, "Mehwish bhi aa rahi hai. Aur woh, uss ka bhai, kuchh dinn baad woh bhi."

Duh.

Zindagi ke chhotte chhotte masle.

I ran to the kitchen to grab something to eat but saw mama bitching on phuppo.

I opened the fridge, making eye contact with mama, who, after listening and giving a courtesy reply to an unpleasing phuppo-related anecdote chaachi had reminded the kitchen ladies of, called my name. ''Baal baandhna shuroo kar do tum.''

''Kyun?'' I asked, despite knowing the answer.

Phuppo ko ghunghraale baal nahin passand. Aur taane sunn'ne se achha hai. Baandhne nahin hain tou istri kar lena, bla-bla-blah.

Mama ko laggta hai mujhe phuppo ki passand ke hisaab se jeena chaahiye. Apne qudrati baal kharaab karoon istri kar kar ke, sirf phuppo ke liye jo mujhe waise bhi passand nahin karteen.

Kabhi nahin.

I ran around the house and watched everyone's reaction.

I enjoyed going through the wave of disappointment dancing in the whole house and the variety of it's expression.

Haroon was whining in boredom, Ayan was living the last bits of his freedom out of the house, Nida was gossiping about Mehwish to Nooreh, and Maya...

Maya was composing an ode of pain.

Haha, just kidding.

But I really like Maya.

I thought Nida was the best and my best friend but today in the morning -after I gave up on arranging my closet- I went to Nida's room, where all the girls were. The mere act of advising them to not gossip made Nida think of me as self-contained. She laughed and told me that they don't have crushes to worship twenty four hours. They have more things to talk about.

And maybe she's right. My whole life depends on Atif Aslam and I'M OBSESSED WITH IN DINON AND ANJAANA!!

Itna khubsoorat hai. Gaana bhi aur woh khud bhi. Jab bhi dekhoon MashaAllah kehna parrta hai, kaheen meri hi nazar naa lagg jaae haseen aadmi ko.

♡♡♡

"Yeh koyi qaidkhaana hai? Kyun naa istamaal karoon main phone khaane ke maiz pe?" I jumped up on the countertop and clapped my ankles.

"Meri jaan, main kuchh nahin keh rahi tumhaare taaya abbu ko nahin passand." Taayi ammi said.

"Haan, Maryam ko mere joote nahin passand haun ge, woh bhi badal leti hoon; Ayan ko mere kapre nahin passand haun ge, poora closet change kar leti hoon; Maira ko mere lenses nahin passand haun ge, chashma pehen leti hoon; oh, Sahil ko tou chashme se nafrat hai, woh nahin pehen sakti; um, parosiyon se bhi poochh lein? Kisi ko agar mere saans lene ke tareeqe se taqleef hai tou woh bhi chhorr deti hoon. Phuppo ke liye baal straight karne hain aur taaya abbu ke liye phone chhorna hi hai tou parosiyon ka khayaal kyun naa rakhoon?"

"Zaira, n- Hamza? Kahaan the? Tumhaare abbu do martaba phone kar chuke hain." Taayi ammi complained.

I looked at the door. He came in and rudely opened the fridge ignoring taayi ammi.

"Aap naam nahin leti unn ka?" I know my eyes crinkle at the end and I'm so bleeping lovely agh, I wish I had a twin, Astaghfirullah but I'd go gay for her.

How has no one ever fallen in love with me?

This week is all about self-love.

Two days ago I hated myself for a second. I need to compensate every second of hatred with days of love.

Mr. Promise-breaker sat on the table in the middle of the kitchen, leaned back on his chair and curiously stared into my soul.

How do you curiously stare into someone's soul? Like, he was freaking lowering his brows in curiosity but he was also staring so deep at me, I was afraid my cheeks would have started flushing.

"Naa karo, dumbbells se nahin ttootte tou abbh ttoott jaaen ge."

DID. HE. JUST. SPEAK. URDU!?

Allah miyan.

"K-k-kyaa?" I asked, confused.

He just looked at my ankles, not even pointing hard enough and then back up to finish the can of soda.

And although at that moment I didn't understand, now that I write my diary I realise he was saying that because he noticed his dumbbells misplaced.

At that moment...

Ouf.

I'm becoming such a scumbag.

All of this is because of Anza kamini.

Had she not had a crush on him and pointed out his body parts in several clips or pictures, I'd not have lusted over his neck as he gulped the can down.

She is so bleeping frustrating, argh!

As I thought of it, he looked back at me and I startled and looked up at taayi ammi who was already giving me a mischievous smile.

"Sunein, naa main baal seedhe kar rahi hoon naa main phone chhorr rahi hoon, jis ne jo kehna hai keh le." I told her and jumped off the countertop.

♡♡♡

I wore my earphones and sat on my seat after taaya abbu finally came.

Despite all my attempts of making him look at me, he didn't see my rebellion. I cleared my throat one more time but all I got in return was papa's worried voice asking if I ate ice again.

I rolled my eyes and pulled my earphones out of my ears.

"Gyaara baje utth ke naashta karne mein jo mazaa aata hai woh chhe baje utth ke nahin aata."

Taaya abbu looked up at me but back down on his plate.

Fifteen seconds passed, he didn't say anything.

"Aap ne tou kabbhi nahin kiya ho ga. Haina?"

Wallahi the way these people ignore me... Main marr gayi tab samajh aaye gi innhain.

"Khair, video dekhi aap ne?"

"Acchi nahin thi."

He sounded so robotic, so monotonous.

Anyway, I knew it. I sent him Challa, Jab Tak Hai Jaan.

Because, why not?

Why not is such a potential phrase, we're someday definitely going to discuss it again.

"Achhi thi. Aap ke type ki nahin thi."

He looked up at me and I shrugged.

I could imagine him thinking, Tum log sab kharaab karne aaye ho iss duniya mein?

"Aap yeh soch rahe hain ke aaj kal ke gaane kitne baqwaas hain?" I asked.

Achha, got to think of a good song.

Haaye, jab gaane sach mein chaahiye haun, achhe waale, tab hi yaad nahin aate.

Waise tou bari bari baatein karti ho apni mausiqui ki passand ke baare mein, Zaira? Abbh kyaa ho gayaa hai?

This is giving me a stroke.

All I listen to is Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

"Riwaayati mausiqui abbh waisi nahin, lekin abbh jaisi hai waisi buri bhi nahin hai."

I heard a low, "main kyaa karoon iss larki ka?"

Mama is more melodramatic than I could ever be.

You know, whenever I sing I feel like I'm living the time of my life. Reaching high notes makes me so excited.

But to score high notes in a low voice? That is a wholeass new level of professional singing and I'm so bleeping talented. MashaAllah, MashaAllah. *pleading face*

Yes, I add emojis in my diary, do you have any problem future Zaira? If you do then you're boring.

Tsk tsk.

"Tana bana, tana bana
Bunti hawaa, haaye, bunti hawaa
Boondein bhi toh aaein nahin
Baaz yahaan... haaye

Saazish mein shaamil
Saara jahaan hai"

The way I held my breath here! I'm in bleeping love with myself man, I'm marrying myself.

"Har zarre zarre ki
Yeh iltejaa hai...

O re piya... haaye, o re piya."

Ya Allah, I did so good! I want to squeal so loud. I'm changing my Instagram biography.

married to myself *ring*!

A sullen and ominous silence screamed in the room all of a sudden.

Bleep?

Are we going to die today?

I love how, by the time I'm writing the diary, I usually already know what's going to happen next but I add suspense like a Hum Tv serial's promo.

Kyaa aaj ho gi Zaira ki maut? Jaan'ne ke liye dekhiye Zaira ne kiya jeene ka faisla, aaj raat aatth baje. ;)

When I was calmly taking a bite of my omelette sandwich, I saw Mr. Ladykiller ready to snort a laugh but trying his hardest to hold it in. He was slicing his throat with his hand when taaya abbu broke the horrifying silence by complimenting my singing and I pulled my slipping cackles in after seeing Mr. (I-never-watched-his-movies-idk-what-title-to-give-him)'s expression go all blank in lesser than a nanosecond.

"Haina? Mama gaane nahin deti warna zyaada achhi hoti meri awaaz."

I was still internally wheezing at Mr. Actor's expression when he looked at taaya abbu and rolled his eyes down to his plate.

The rest of the table was still silent and I couldn't help but call them namby-pambies in my head.

Oh man, I thought about how much he'd love QB's laung gawaacha, except the looks mama gave me... I chose my life over a song.

But when taaya abbu smiled at me, a small but noticeable twitch of lips... I felt like I had never been so proud of my gorgeous self.

I gunned my eyes at Mr. Promise-breaker.

"Mujhe Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan bohot passand hain."

"Tumhain? Tum sunti ho aise gaane?" Taaya abbu asked.

Mr. Promise-breaker noticed my eyes on him and smirked commenting, "You could perfectly do the role of a serial killer in any low budget movie,"

"Low budget movie, lol. I could do it in real life for you."

ZAIRA WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS OUT LOUD, YA ALLAH.

Thankfully, he chuckled and made the ambience warmer.

It wasn't a joke though.

I blinked my eyes to taaya abbu and grined widely. "Yeh Rahat Fateh Ali Khan ka tha."

I raised my brows and cleared my throat as if I were very proudly about to perform in front of a huge audience.

Mr. Promise-breaker picked the napkin to dab the corner of his lips and seductively bounced his brows when he noticed my eyes back on him.

"Saadgi tou humaari zaraa dekhiye,
Aitebar aap ke waade par kar liya."

My grin crept wider on my lips.

"Saadgi tou humaari zaraa dekhiye,
Aitebaar aap ke waade par kar liya."

He looked confused.

I imagined his point of view; 'Why is this awful asshole staring at me while singing this awful and awfully old song?'

Once he focused on the lyrics, his eyes involuntarily rolled as he put the napkin down.

"Zikr ik bewafa aur sitamgar ka tha..."

He put the jug of water down, understanding where it's going, "Shut the fuck up."

"Aap ka aisi baaton se kyaa waasta?"

After getting a little more confused, he continued pouring the water in his glass.

"Zikr ik bewafa aur sitamgar ka tha,
Aap ka aisi baaton se kyaa waasta?
Aap tou bewafa aur sitamgar nahin,"

I enjoyed this so much. So much. Today was a fun day. This hurt him. I loved that this hurt him.

"Aap tou bewafa aur sitamgar nahin,
Aap ne kis liye munh udhar kar liya?"

His hand stopped before the glass could reach his lips and I ran for my dear life.

I didn't expect him to run behind me but I turned to see him and screamed while rushing out. I threw a pillow at him on my way and wondered where it landed.

"Sirf aik gaana tha, bas aik gaana hi tou tha Mr. Promise-breaker!"

His hand whipped me to himself. I looked up in his eyes and used my hand to separate his chest from me.

"What hm?" He tilted his chin up questioningly, "What do you want?"

His Americano coffee eyes flustered me up.

"Taaya abbu ko Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan passand hain iss liye- Kutte ke bache!" I punched his chest when his hand twisted my arm behind my back.

I swear I don't use cuss words.

Sorry, taaya abbu. It's all because of your asshole of a son.

"What did you say?"

"Yahaan aa ke laro, maine bhi dekhna hai." Haroon yelled from inside and I swear if he was in front of me at that moment, I'd break his face.

"Kasam se taaya abbu ko Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan passand hain. Sirf aur sirf iss liye gaa rahi thi... tumhaari kasam."

I screamed as acutely as my throat could manage to when he gripped it harder and twisted it more, "Meri jhootti kasmein aayenda khaayi toh dekhna."

I'm halfway rolling my eyes when he twisted it more and I stopped showing that attitude. "Achha sorry, aayenda nahin karoon gi, I promi- mm? tumhaare saath promise?" -he tightened the grip- "YA ALLAH! kyaa masla hai tumhaara kamine aadmi? Nahin karoon gi abbhi kahaa tou hai! Promises nahin karti main abbh. Chhorro mujhe."

"Kaho Hamza."

"Kyaaaa?" That was the most Kajol kyaa I had had in a while.

"Hamza. Kaho." He loosened the grip a bit and pulled me closer. "Aur promise karo ke kabhie yeh... ajeeb... Promise-breaker nahin bulaao gi."

"What in the-" I stared in his eyes.

Naa-muraad kaise faayeda uttha rahaa hai mere adam-e-tahaffuz ka? Bewaqoof samjha huaa hai mujhe?

"Torr lo baazoo, mujhe farq nahin parrta- AAH!- Hamza! Hamza, I swear, I prom- I swear to God I'll never call you Mr. Promise-breaker ever ever ever again, never in this lifetime, never in the next. Never ever, no matter what."

I saw the pleasure and satisfaction in his eyes and gritted my teeth, wriggling my hand out of his grip but it seemed stuck there.

"Mhm, say it again."

"Behre ho? Pehli baar mein awaaz nahin- ARH HAMZA, main tumhain kabhie! Mr. Promise-breaker nahin bulaaun gi, tumhaari kas- nahin nahin, khudaa ki kasam." My voice shook. "Abbh khudaara haath chhorro."

"Again."

I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. I used my knee and mentally measured the space between my knee and his stomach but he pulled me closer and I almost fell on him.

"Say. my name. again."

"Bas. tard. dumb. stupid. idiot. asshole. You want more of it?"

His dimples dug deeper and he slowly let go of me.

Ya Allah, jahannum mein bhejein isse please.

I rubbed my arm and walked inside, embarrassed to think of it, but stopped at the main door and looked at him.

He was still there, rushing a hand through his hair while the other rested above his hip.

"Shikwa kiya gham ka tou namdida ho gaye
Tum tou zara si baat pe ranjida ho gaye?"

He turned to look at me and gave me a glare, but did he think I'm a coward? Why would I be scared of him?

"Janaab waada-e-faraamosh. That's what you a-AAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

I ran inside, up the stairs, slammed the door.

♡♡♡

"Zaira. Jaago. Mama ne kahaa hai tumhain maar ddaalein gi agar tum phuppo ke aane se pehle neeche naa aayi aur phuppo bas aane waali hain."

"Alina, dafaa ho jaao. Kal raat main bas Aadee ko stalk karti rahi hoon, sone ka waqt nahin mila, abbhi neend-"

I heard greetings downstairs and my speed was faster than Usain Bolt's when I sprinted towards the washroom.

I took the fastest shower ever and rushed out in a bath robe while the conditioner did its work.

I picked the first two pieces of clothing I saw and turned to Alina, "yeh ttheek hain?"

What- the heck is Janaab Waada-e-faraamosh doing in my room?

He sipped his cup of coffee while bouncing his brows with a smirk.

"Alina!" Yeh Alina kahaan marr gayi hai?

"What?" Alina asked and seeing her next to me made me scream because she was not here about a second ago.

"What is he doing in my room?" I asked and looked at him but there was no one except me and Alina.

Alina looked at me in confusion.

— H A M Z A —

"Aur uss ne mera proposal reject kar diya? Sab ke saamne? Poore college ke saamne?"

I laugh at Zaira's dramatic facial expressions and walk to the living room when she looks at me and rolls her eyes.

All the girls gasp and exclaim how impossible that is.

"Who rejected you, dummy?" I plomp on the sofa and bite on my apple, pulling a pillow on my lap.

She speaks through her clenched teeth, trying to ignore me. "I freaking know, right? Yeh, Anza ne kheenchi theen." She shows them some pictures from her camera, "Shaqal tou aik taraf, uss ke ilaawa personality check ki hai bandi ki? Chaar saal se jaanta hai kamina. Matlab, ghattiya taste imagine karo kuchh logon ka." She looks at me from the corner of her eyes as if I can't see her.

"Are you back biting, Zaira?" Nooreh comes in the living room and the drama queen rolls her eyes at her. "I thought Zaira, the perfect muslim, was against gossiping and back biting?"

She looks down at her phone. "Haw, Ahmad, you were on the call this whole time? Ya Allah, I'm sorry you had to hear all of that truth about you."

"As if you hadn't purposely put your phone on speaker to let me hear that clearly."

She grasps her squeal with her hand while her eyes sparkle with anticipation, then breathing slowly, deeply and dramatically says, "Ghalti se dabaa ho ga," and cuts the call to squeal loudly. "Acting check ki hai?"

Nooreh passes a mean comment before sitting on the sofa next to mine to talk shit about Zaira.

My phone rings and I click on the volume button without even looking at the screen.

"You are too beautiful to date an Ahmad anyway."

Zaira stares at me, blank and speechless.

I laugh at those round sparkling eyes and toss the apple to her before leaving.

"That's an Islamic name, you asshole!" She yells as she runs behind me.

I pull her with me to the other side of the road, "You're too beautiful to date someone with a voice like that-"

"-Uh, just say that you have realised I'm beautiful. You... don't need to insult others to compliment me... unless you're suddenly too obsessed and jealous?"

What- the...

I look behind at her and see her watching our hands closely, hence, that low and shy voice.

I leave her hand and laugh in a persuasion for her alluring eyes to shoot up.

"At least I don't have a crush on you."

She gives a confused; "What?" complimented with a; "khud ko kyaa samjhaa huaa hai? hain? Yunaani khuda ho t-"

The perplexity comes to an end and she stops on her tracks.

"Lekin maine..." She wonders to herself and a laugh escapes my lips. "NAAMURAAD INSAAN!" I hear fast footsteps behind me and get hit by her camera. "Tum ne. meri. roznaamchi parrhi!?" I watch the soft bubble of anger grow in her eyes and become a thick spark of fire.

It amazes me how she can rise from cute to beautiful in a second. Last night, at dinner, she looked dazzling. Ouf at the way she glanced, peeked and spied.

What's... roznaamchi? Diary?

I look at the clear path before turning to her and walking backwards, "Um... I don't see any problem there?"

"Tou gaur se dekho andhe, meri zaati roznaamchi parrhi tum ne-"

"For your information, Ms. Overly-hyper, it was on my bed, open, with a pen over the page I read."

"Oh,"

"I just returned it. I wonder how it got there, though? Err? Maybe someone barging into my privacy forgot the cl-"

"-Don't call it barging, please. It makes me feel bad about it."

I smirk, "you should feel bad after barging into someone's pr-"

"-You asshole, first of all, you actually allowed me. I know what I did was still wrong because from my point of view I was ba- whatever, but you allowed me! Second, I'm sure you read more pages. Third, I thought y-" She does some calculation in her head. "No, you don't need to know that. Fourth, there's nothing wrong in having a platonic crush but okay. I'll- Ya Allah! Did they change their... They renovated their house?"

Before crossing the road I look at the building she was looking at.

"Huh? I don't remember."

She mimics me but one glare at her and she's the cutest motherfucker out there. I look ahead to hide the smile that appears after her apologies.

"Oh and this... That's a... MashaAllah. OH DAMN THERE WAS A TANDOOR THERE WHERE DID THAT TANDOOR SHOP GO? IT HAD-"

She bumps with my back and inhales a painful breath,

"-the best naans ever." She removes her hand from her chest and nervously fidgets with her ring finger, giving it all her attention as if she hadn't seen it ever before.

"You're weird as fuck."

"Already? I haven't even told you what I think about this yet. Don't you think that... these places were there twelve years ago and many of them are still here but a few of them have changed but the land hasn't?"

I grimace at the meaningless words, "What about it?"

"Angoor ke chhilke, imagine these places having a point of view. They've seen so much, such drastic changes. Look,"

she stops and grabs my forearm.

"this building that has been here since forever, take a clip of it's vision from... what's the date to-? 25th August 2007 and today 25th August 2019. Imagine how many changes it has seen in all these twelve years. Isn't it crazy? How life changes... How, how things- don't you get it?"

She gets agitated after seeing my bewildered face.

"I get it but where the fuck did this come from?"

"Yehi touuu!" She clutches the sleeves of my blue t-shirt into her fist and pushes it on my arm before leaving me and I look at her to call her a weirdo, but my eyes and heart, out of nowhere, decide to coordinate and stop at her sparkling eyes. "You all are so fucking boring, don't you think about these things? These little things... You don't notice them?"

I keep staring and my heart keeps skipping beats.

"That decoration piece in the second living room upstairs, it... what if it had a perspective? Remind yourself of the time we bought it and now. It has seen us grow. The younger me touched the same parts of it that the older me did the other day- okay this doesn't sound like a huge thing but um... imagine a helmet from the world war two. Imagine touching that. Damn man, that thing has seen so much, it has felt- that's what I wanted to say! Imagine it having all the five senses. It has felt my touch, but it has also felt the touch of the man that must have worn it in the world war. Eighty years ago. Damn. Don't you find it unbelievable?"

For a while, I don't realise she's asking me a question.

"Don't... you?"

"You're literally the most beautiful girl I've ever met, zero jokes."

"Right? I- No one talks about these small little philosophies that everyone should have. They are so important." She emphasizes and I laugh.

I was talking about her- Nevermind.

"Do you do this all the time?"

"I wish I could do this all the time lekin hazaaron khwaahishein aisi ke har khwaahish pe dam nikle... The biggest khwaahish of mine is- khwaahish is a beautiful lafz. Lafz is a beautiful lafz too. Urdu is the most- Urdu sab se khubsoorat zubaan hai yaar, kyun sab urdu nahin bol sakte?"

"Yeh aap har waqt karteen hain? Tang nahin aati in bewaqoofiyon se?"

Her eyes sparkle so bright when she squeals, "Nahin!" Only to realise what I said and smack my arm with a total fall of facial expression. "Bewaqoofiyaan nahin hain yeh."

"Mhm. Phir kyaa kehte hain innhain?"

"Falsafe."

"The fuck is th-"

She grabs my shoulder and pulls me down, "-Philosophies, urdu bolo achhe lagg rahe the."

"Aap yeh parrh raheen hain yaa aap hain hi aisi?"

"Jamia -university- ki baat kar rahe hain?"

I chuckle at the whisper she did to say university, as if it weren't just us talking, as if the buildings would hear me asking her what jamia means and mock me, as if she wanted to save me from the embarrassment.

"Dumbass, where are you coming with me?" I ask when I realise how far she has come from home.

"Minar-e-Pakistan."

"I'm not going there." I groan, "Where the fuck... God, come. You need to go home."

"Where were you going? You know I don't mind even if you're going to... Mm, I don't care. I lowkey wanna go to all those places. I wanna see what it is like in real life. What their lives are like. I want to get to know-"

"-The fuck? Are you fucking nuts? I'm- I was going to meet a friend. You're... Digusting."

She stares at me, rolls her eyes and goes to talk to a stranger. "Minar-e-Pakistan kahaan hai?"

I drag her with myself, "You're also the dumbest girl I have ever met."

"You're contradicting yourself, sir. You can't call me beautiful and dumb at the same time."

"Have you not ever seen a beauty without brains? Oh, but how would you judge their intelligence? Everyone must seem smart to the dumbest being."

"Your definition of beautiful is quite different to mine. I feel like beauty- Wait, so... you called me physically bea... Main aisi baaton se phassne waali nahin hoon. Phassaana hai tou-"

"Zaira shut the fuck up, I don't want to hear a word."

I have to look down at her to confirm she's not crying because she goes more silent than black.

My hands feel the need to comfort her, "I didn't want to be rude, Zaira. Are you okay?-"

"THE HAM... You! You are asking me if I'm okay? You? You care? Even a bit? Huh? I thought I recieved messages of don't make a big deal out of it whe-"

"-You were better mum."

Right after I move my hand to her lips to shut her up, I notice the sweet, fruity but savory smell of her freshly-washed hair. It's some Garnier probably, but I don't remember this smell from anywhere.

"Your hair... smells great? But that's not what your room smelt like the other day."

I realise halfway that I messed things up but don't stop to take my words back.

This fruity smell mixed with a soft one was everywhere that day and it's so damn calming.

"You barged into my room?"

"I thought you were crying," I shrug.

"Wha-? When are you talking about."

I signal towards the park, "Be quick, I gotta go meet someone."

She takes slow steps ahead, "You don't need to wait, thank you for your help."

I watch her gasp and quickly pick her camera to capture that beautiful sky above.

She enjoys little things and I enjoy her perspective.

She comes to me after a few seconds, all angry, "IN CHHE SAALON MEIN AAJ TAK MERI ROZNAAMCHI KISI NE NAHIN-"

"-Oye, wahaan." I shoot my hand towards the scenery. "Paanch minute baad overthink kar rahi hai, bewaqoof."

[Shab Bakheir.]