1 A Grand Festive Day is Destroyed

There was a lively bustle in our house. All the members of our family - starting with my grandfathers and grandmothers to me and my siblings, my great-uncles and great-aunts to my cousins - who had gathered in our house, were either busy in chatting like the talkative aunties, running around the house like hooligans, pranking people, showing silly and humorous magic tricks or helping one another in the already overcrowded kitchen. In the air hung the love of family bondings, the festive mood and the excitement of getting everything started right away.

But why all this hassle, tussle and babble in our calm house all of a sudden? Well, my brother, the king of my cousins and siblings, had just turned 18. On the 12th of August 2012, he had stepped into adulthood. What a grand time it was at our house! And a while later, some of our friends joined in and made the occasion a one filled with vibrant colours.

And finally, the big moment had arrived for my brother, Arhaan. After everything was set, we sang for him and he blew out the candles. No sooner was he done cutting the cake and giving it my mum and dad than all of my cousins, my little sister and I were on top of him to make him a mess of cake-makeup.

After that, there was not a moment to spare. I, the 16-year-old teen, was running around the place, doing everyone's bidding and serving people, like a waitress in duty.

"Asmah, serve them the cake, dear!"

"Asmah, fetch three jugs of water!"

"Four more chairs, please, Asmah!"

"Take your cousins to your room, Asmah!"

My name was just echoing around the walls of the house.

When my name seemed to had eventually stopped occurring and the rush had slowed down, I wended my way to my room along with my 7-year-old sister, Aysha.

My cousins were having a hearty time, laughing their heads off at the silly jokes each one of them made. We joined in their fun.

I had just cracked a joke and we were all laughing at it when a loud knock on the door.

"Hamsa (my name spelt backwards), you are wanted at the main door."

It was Arhaan. When I came out, he didn't greet me with his usual charming smile. I was greeted by what seemed like a worried frown.

"I wonder who it is," I thought. "The person out there is probably someone out of the invitees."

I went down the stairs of our villa, with all the anxiousness and adrenaline flowing through my body to find out who is it. I reached the door handle and pulled. What I beheld on the other side had destroyed the happiness of the celebration of my brother's first, and probably his last, birthday.

There were two girls awaiting me on the porch. The girl on the right was wearing a hijab with pretty, casual clothes - full-sleeved jeans jacket under which she wore a magenta pink shirt with a floral skirt and leggings. Everything about her was normal. She had no makeup.

Sarah Mehnaaz.

I had invited her. She was new to my school, and I thought of inviting her here to enjoy this valuable time with me and my family.

The girl on the left was wearing party clothes - neon coloured, tight sleeveless shirt that showed a lot of skin accompanied by ripped jeans. At least she covered her legs and wore a flannel. She was definitely NOT INVITED here.

Fareeha Emma Ahmed.

My ex-best friend, now a gangster and the best bully in our school.

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