1. The Joy

'Her vibe is dangerous!' .

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Life. A single word carrying the entire world on its shoulders. It is often associated with joy. It is almost always insisted that 'If there is joy in your life, you are living a good one.' Joy holds different meanings for each person. For some it is fueled by goodness, while others feed it the darkness the demons within them yearn for. However, for most joy is attained from a mixture of both, a grey that is the most underrated. 

Alas!

Introducing to you the different shades of joy; find out yours. 



She was walking in the well-lit corridor that led to the principal's office. Her white sneakers looked striking on the marbled floor. Paired with blue ripped jeans and a checkered shirt that showed a white vest underneath gave off a well-kept sense of fashion. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to her elbows. Plagued by worry, she glanced at her wristwatch and accelerated her pace. Her curly black hair hung over her shoulders and flowed to her waist. She was about to enter the hall that was lined with offices when she bumped into- a tower, it seemed. It was so sudden that she fell on her back before she could grasp anything to keep her upright. 

The guy walked on without sparing her a single glance. 

Her legs dangled in the air and before anyone could notice her, she decided to stand on her feet, a sharp ache in her coccyx bone released a grunt from her mouth in the process.

Her furious midnight, black eyes narrowed to slits and she looked up, ready to unleash her anger on this impertinent, too-good-for-anyone guy.

"Hey! Burj-al-Khalifa!" She shouted, spotting the tall boy ten feet away from her. 

He turned around and peeped at her.

"Yes, minion," he said wearing a bored expression on his physical features.

"I'm not a minion." The girl gritted her teeth in pure fury getting up from the floor and standing on her feet.

"But I surely am Burj-al-Khalifa," the boy stated nonchalantly; uncrossing his arms that were folded on his chest and walking away.

"All Goras (white people) are dumb," she muttered loudly, flabbergasted at his behavior.

"Good day, sir. You called for me?" she asked after opening the huge glass doors just ahead of her as 

a bald man who looked to be in his late fifties came into view. He was sitting on a chair behind a large mahogany desk.

"Ah, yes. Please come in!" he exclaimed. 

She trekked deeper into the office with confident long strides and sat on one of the chairs facing the old man.

"Miss Khan, as you are one of our brightest students," the principal started, "we want you to do more than just swotting up the books." 

"I don't swot up anything, Sir," she stated with a bitterness lacing her intonation.

"I know, I know," the old man sighed scratching his hairless scalp. 

"We want you to go to Murree for a few days for camping. It’s basically a training program for you to 

learn how to handle emergency situations and some other tasks about which you all will be briefed soon."

"Okay, Sir." 

"May I leave now?" She asked, getting up from the chair.

"Yes," the man replied as he stood too. "And Miss Khan! I don't want to hear any other complaint against you claiming you bullied some poor guy."

Minahil observed the short-heightened man with large eyes and replied, "I did not bully anyone and if I did then they probably deserved it." And left the office.

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.Taking large strides, she arrived in wing B and stormed into the lecture hall where all students were busy talking among themselves. The girl strode up to the stage and roared indicating a brazen act, 

"Hey, you motherfuckers! Talk to my face when you do. Stop going behind my back, you idiots!"

The students' faces were a mask of shock, agape with horror at hearing those foul words from her. 

"Minahil," a girl wearing spectacles exhaled out tiredly. 

"I'm sorry, you are not motherfuckers," she apologized but in a tone that didn't quite match her statement. "You are more than that which is indescribable."

With a satisfied grin on her face, she sauntered the stairs and sat beside the girl who had called her earlier. 

The whole class had gone silent. She carelessly tapped the handle of the chair with her fingertips and it echoed in the entire room. 

"Minahil, how could you say that?" The girl asked with an air of fright and astonishment.

"I didn't say anything wrong," she lifted her shoulders rakishly. 

"No one died, you are allowed to speak," the sound of her voice clamored in the broad hall and gave way to the hushed murmuring among the students of different races and from different countries. 

"Minahil, you never speak like that," the girl stated looking at Minahil, who was chewing a gum, and shook her head in negative.

"I got angry, Yara," she told sighing, "those brats complained to the principal. Man, can you believe it?" She laughed at the end of her sentence.

"Minahil-" Yara started to say something, but Minahil stopped her and asked her to come to the playground with her. 

She slung the straps of the bag on her shoulders and walked out of the class.

"We don't have practice today," Yara thought it necessary to remind her.

"I know," Minahil answered. "There is a basketball match between us and the university boys from Rawalpindi. Zaviar invited me."

"Okayyyy," her friend stretched gracing a knowing grin on her lips to which the rowdy girl did not pay any heed.

She slumped her bag down and sat on the middle stair steps.

She unhung a pee cap from the side of her bag and wore it, for she had no sunglasses with her. 

Mubashra sat in Indian style and rested her back on the brink of the step behind her.

"Zaviar is such a loser he is not going to goal at all," Minahil commented when Zaviar waved at her. 

Yara laughed at her friend's comment about her cousin who was always trying to get her attention.

"You do see that he likes you," Yara said.

"I don't like him in any way. He just makes me feel ashamed by playing in such an absurd manner," 

Minahil retorted and took a bottle from her bag and took long gulps of the mint shake. 

"Yes, Abraham." The deafening charivari along with loud banging and whistling attracted the attention of everyone present there except for the boys playing fiercely.

"The queen bee with her groupie!" Minahil said scrunching up her nose to which Yara laughed.

Their team won the match and sharp noise of clapping, hooting and party poopers rose in the

ground. 

Minahil's face held a blazing appearance for she felt their team did not win because of her cousin

Zaviar. They owed their success to Abraham Chauhdry, her rival.  

"You didn't play well Zaviar" she said as soon as he approached them.

Other boys and girls were gathered around Abraham. She glared at them and then turned her gaze

to the boy standing in front of her and heard him, "We won, that is important," he shrugged and

took the water bottle from Yara.  

"Thank you," he said to her and drank it whole.

"I so much despise this Gora," she announced while riding up the stairs with Zaviar and Yara

flanking her. "The Pakistani boys are much better than them." 

"Just because you couldn't have colorful eyes and blonde hair doesn't mean you should be jealous of

the one having." She locomoted her body to look at the face of none other than Abraham Chauhdry.  

He was standing two steps behind her. His electric green eyes were contracted into narrow slits due

to bright sunlight. His blonde hair shimmered in the sunshine. Minahil was too busy glaring at him

with a contorted face that she could not give him a sarcastic comeback.  

"I'm a proud Pakistani, Miss Khan. Unlike your corrupt comportment, it is my honest suggestion that

you don't make such racist comments as you know this is an Embassy College." He said with a proud

smirk on his luscious full lips and sidestepped her to go away. 

His admirers followed him praising his act leaving Minahil burning with uncontrollable fury. Her

nostrils flared and jaw clenched.  

"Bastard," she muttered under her breath. "I'll get you back for this," she claimed loudly and

stomped her way out of the ground. 

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."Minahil what happened? Have you swapped the party and now you are a companion to the angels

because the descendant of Devil like you can't be happy over the success of her enemy."  

"Who said he is going to win?" Minahil sniggered whilst turning to face Yara.

"I have bought the whole team," she declared making Yara gasp loudly. "That Gora and his brown

friend alone cannot win this game!"

"Today I'll see the ashamed face of that Abraham fucking Chauhdry!"

Yara was about to say something when her voice was cut short by deafening noise.

"Abraham! Abraham!"

There erupted loud yells of his name.

Minahil looked to the front and her jaw clenched fiercely.

Abraham was raised in the air by the wild spectators and his followers.

She looked around to find the boy whose head she was going to have and to her pure astonishment

found him caught in a choke hold by none other than Kabir Ahmed.  

She hit the fence with her fist and flinched when her skin got pierced.

The boy whom she had bribed choked out something. Kabir pushed him away with force and his

eyes burning with anger looked at Minahil.  

Minahil merged herself in the ground and left the ground. Yara had already gone. .

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.She was going to the parking lot to get her car when she heard voices behind her.

"Abraham, dude do you know who was dying to see you win this game with all the glory!"

That was not a question.

She fastened her pace but the voices did not halt. They got even nearer and even more clear and

taunting.  

"Miss Khan! Who else? She ordered the whole team to not goal and let our Abraham do it."

Kabir said in an overly excited tone.

"What dude, seriously?" Another voice chimed in.

"Yeah, dude. Sometimes I think she is in love with our tiger."

At this comment, she furiously turned around and found five boys along with smirking Abraham and

Kabir. She glared at them heatedly.  

"Oh, here she is!" Kabir posed as though he were surprised at seeing her.

He stepped forward and threw a smug smile her way.

"Missy! Today is a party regarding this victory and you'll be our guest of honor!" Kabir said winking

at her.

"Yes," all the other boys hollered monotonously.

And her blood boiled with utter rage.

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.She was pacing in her room, her curly hair flowing like waves on her back. Her one hand was

pressing the phone to her ear and other was massaging her temple.  

"Pick up the damn phone!" She was chanting angrily.

"Yeah, Minahil?" Yara looked to be in a hurry.

"What are you doing?" Minahil asked patiently.

"Getting ready to go to the party."

"Don't tell me, Yara. You are going to that damn party. I'll kill you," she shouted.

"Oh God! Stop, Minahil. Their parties are the best in the whole city and I know deep down you also

want to go there!" Yara snickered.  

"I would die but will never go to any of their parties. And I would kill you too if you step even a foot

there." 

"C'mon, Minahil."

"Go to hell!" Saying this furiously she cut the call.

It wasn't in her hands otherwise she would have killed that Abraham and his so-called infuriating flirt

friend and her own betraying friend.  

Her blood was boiling at 500 degrees thinking about their satisfied grins and her own

embarrassment. She threw her phone and it hit the wall before sliding to the floor.  

"What has got into you?" Arya, her elder sister, said peeking into the room.

"Just leave me alone. I'm in no mood to listen to your rants," Minahil said whilst glaring at her.

"Suits you," she closed the door and then said loudly. "I was just going to ask you if you wanted to go

for shopping and afterwards we could eat something."  

"Wait, I'm coming," Minahil said loudly and ran to grab her phone and card. 

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How was the chapter?

English translation to the Urdu words will be provided with words.