Chapter 2

Vintage Flow

@Vintage_flow

 Chapter 1

 Some Book called Life

Her suffering terrified him – that kind she held under her skin. It made him wonder of each smile, each laugh she had cloaked her sadness with. It was astounding how much she had managed to hide within herself.

He would never be able to do what she did.

The hair on nape of his neck stood in fear, the grief of it all giving him shivers.

He held the warm mug closely between his fingers and spoke,

“What you did Miss Faaroqui…is just so brave. Not everybody has the courage to do what you did. You must not regret following your heart”

They sat in the windy living room on the cold marble floor between the sliding glass doors. Zoya looked at the coffee in her hand tapping her finger on the ceramic mug trying to make sense of the words he had said.

He was right, she would never – could never, regret the choice she made to come to India. The misery of not meeting her father would be a scar etched so deep, it would never disappear. But the knowledge that she was never abandoned, maybe faded it a bit.

She turned to look into Asad’s eyes finally, silently thanking him for being there. The mind failed to decipher the ugly reality if he hadn’t consoled her at her Abbu’s gravesite today.

“It’s just so hard to turn the page, knowing he would never be there” a tear ran down and fell off her nose.

He followed track of another from her eyes to her chin, tormenting him as much as it did her.

What do you say to something like that? How to lessen the pain?

“Who’s to say you have to right now?” he whispered after a quiet moment. “Sometimes the best thing to do is to let the pages sit still, let that moment pass you by. The pain stays – waning with time but it stays. And after that moment’s gone you just make sure you don’t close the book unfinished…never let it collect dust. Never… close the book, Zoya”

Her eyes stared back into his truthful ones, flummoxed; the man who merely spoke to her straight had just stamped life’s most valuable lesson in her soul.

An instant of weakness arrived, and she let him cradle her heart. Zoya sunk her head on his shoulder and more tears onto his white kurta. Even though his arms felt weak to hold her today, he wrapped one around her shoulder caressing it empathetically.

She felt the whole world had broke in today to rip apart her soul. Her bones were weary, each and every one of them hurt. So, she held on for dear life. Because she suddenly realised, once he let go of her, nothing else to ease this desolation would suffice.

***

“The flight leaves in five hours, I’ll be there before she knows. But please let’s not tell her for now” Zeenat spoke rushed into her mobile, her hands packing bags at the speed of lightning. “She had strict instructions for us not to come” she continued.

Dilshad sighed on the other end lost in the strength of the girl that lived downstairs. “It’s amazing how Allah writes everyone’s destinies. So much love to give and yet…”

Zeenat fell silent, hands paralyzed to pack anymore. She had more than dozen shikayats with her Allah Miyan tonight. Her poor little girl, reckless mind and a rebel heart whom the universe had refused to diligently love back.

Her phone call today had managed to shake the ground under her feet. Maybe deep down she had always believed nothing good was going to come of Zoya’s expeditions to India. But that belief didn’t stop her from praying for her child’s happiness every single night.

“Hum hain na Khala” she said back into the receiver “I’ll take all the love she has to give and then some. Humara khoon ka rishta na sahi, rooh ka toh hai”

Dilshad couldn’t help but tear up “Rooh ka rishta toh ab iss ghar se bhi ho gaya hai Zeenat”

***

Zoya stared out the window of her dark room watching the sun slowly rise on the horizon. Slipping away for a minute, she let its warm rays shine on her skin, dipping her in and out of state of blue. It was all a lie – happy endings, unbroken families, perfect lives – they were only make belief, none of it a reality.

So, she sat idly wondering if the chasing would ever end – of colors, rainbows and things that told her to keep going. If the intangible ache in her flesh and life would ever stop and rest.

The sound of doorbell brought her back. She reflexively looked at the clock.

5:50 A.M? Phuphi woke up at 7 and Mr. Khan had the key for when he went out for his jogs.

She sprinted outside but the whole family beat her to the main door. She understood why as soon as she looked at the guests who had arrived.

“Aapi?” she whispered shocked.

“How could I not come, my love”

And the next thing Zoya knew, she was in a big bear hug by Zeenat and Anwar.  They both stared back at her, tears in their eyes; wishing her sad damaged eyes to be an unfortunate imagination.

“Any hugs leftover for me?” a voice said into the teary living room.

“You came?” Zoya sighed emotional.

“Of course, I did” Noshini answered, curly black hair that reached her slender shoulders, her brown eyes were full of emotion.

They were best friends. From middle school to high school and high school to college, they always had each other’s backs; one picking up other if they fell down.

“I know you told me not to follow you to India and that this was only your truth to discover but it doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you when you need me the most.”

Oh, how she loved her Noshu! Always supportive, always so full of love.

No words came out her mouth, so she simply hugged all her family again.

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