FAASLE: Fan fic AsYa Part 19 pg 141 Jul 29 - Page 101

Fab update 😊 waiting for the next part

Originally posted by: ..Kirann..

Are we getting an update today??😃

Shit!! my spamming went to sea you are gonna update it on sunday 😭

please update karo na😒

Weekend is almost over and still no update! Why??:(

In the US, it's still Sunday afternoon...I am half way through the update. Will post it in the evening (US time)...aap log India mein subah padh lena :)

It's 3:07 p.m. right now. Will it be up by 5 or 6 today??:D

Di, trust me most of us don't even care at what time the update will be ready. All that matters is to read the next part, as Lon's as we get that, we have no complaints about AM or PM [B][/B] 😆

PART 19:

THE DAY AFTER EID

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Bhaijaan aap? Aap kab se knock karne lage?" Najma answered the knock on her room door.

"Tamatar, wo Ms. Farooqui kahan hain?"

"Oh I see. Zoya ko dhoondh rahe hain aap?" Najma chuckled mischievously.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asad asked sternly, "I just need to give her something."

"Kya hai is envelope mein?" Najma pointed at his hand.

"TAMATAR!"

"Ok bhaijaan. No more questions. Wo ammi ke room mein hain." Najma sensed his irritation. From experience, she knew that it was best to leave him alone when he was this grouchy.

"Thanks." He turned around and left.

DILSHAAD'S ROOM:

"SubhanAllah! You are so talented Zoya. I love this painting." Dilshaad admired the piece of art Zoya had gifted her that morning.

"Shukriya phoophi. I wasn't sure if you would like it. Aap tho khud art history ki teacher hain. I am still a student."

"Tho kya hua? Jo cheez dil se banti hai, wo kharaab ho hi nahin sakti."

Zoya flashed her dimples, "let me hang it on that wall, theek hai na?"

"Haan, wahan lagaa do." Dilshaad pointed to an empty wall next to her bed.

"Kya hang kar do?" Asad walked in, perplexed, "what's this?" He came forward to check the artwork. He was stunned at what he saw. It was indeed a beautiful creation but a bit too discomfiting. It was a cruise ship sailing in the dark ocean, towards a sunrise in the distant horizon with a silhouette of two people dancing on the deck.

"Isn't it beautiful Asad?" Dilshaad asked, "it says so much. Bilkul meri zindagi ki naav ki tarah hai, abhi andhere mein hai lekin sooraj ki kiran se zyaada door nahin. What an optimist you are Zoya."

Asad glared at Zoya. Was she crazy? She might as well have narrated the whole cruise story to ammi.

"Yeh boat ka idea kahan se aaya aapko Ms. Farooqui?" Asad scowled.

"Arre it's just a metaphor for life Mr. Khan. Aap bhi na. Har cheez ko itna serious le lete hain. Ya Allah!" Zoya rolled her eyes.

"What about those people on the deck?" He asked.

"Kyun phoophi ke saath koi dance nahin kar sakta kya? Maybe one day she will find someone to dance with?"

Asad and Dilshaad exchanged glances. Dilshaad's face fell as she averted her eyes.

"Ms. Farooqui! Do you realize what you are saying? How can you be so insensitive? Ammi, I am sorry yeh aapki NRI paying guest kuch zaroor se zyaada apne aap ko smart samajh rahi hain. Apni maryaada mein rehna seekhiye Ms. Farooqui!"

"ASAD!" Dilshaad held her son's shoulder, "Zoya ko kyun blame kar rahe ho? She is an artist and she has the right to imagine or dream what she wants. Mere hisaab se tho yeh couple mera beta aur uski bahu hai jo meri naav to kinaare le jaayenge. Meri maut aur zindagi mein ek aisa faasla bana denge ki main phir se jeena seekh jaaungi. It's just a matter of interpretation. Naraz hone ki zaroorat nahin hai. Now, please apologize to Zoya. Wo bechari itni sundar painting bana kar laayi hai mere liye. What a wonderful Eid gift!"

"AMMI! Aap bhi na." Asad scratched his forehead. If Zoya had been callous, ammi was being presumptuous, "ismein aapko beta aur bahu ko laana zaroori tha?"

Zoya was taken aback by Asad's reaction. She had made that comment on an impulse but realized it was indeed inappropriate. She was expecting joyful appreciation in his eyes, but she had managed to ruin his mood. Did he not cherish those memories from the cruise?

"Nahin phoophi. Galti meri hai. I should have been more sensitive. Let it be. This dancing couple is just an artist's dream. A no name couple," she glanced at Asad ruefully.

"Chalo Asad. Ab tum bhi sorry bol do. Bechari Zoya ne tho bol diya hai. "

Asad took the painting from Dilshaad, "let me hang the painting ammi," and mumbled, "bechari my foot!"

Zoya was almost in tears. Last night, he had promised his hand in friendship but the painting had created a big speed bump on the road.

She ran away and headed to the terrace for some alone time. Dilshaad shook her head and glared at Asad, "Asad, tum bhi na. Ek bholi bhali ladki ka dil dukha diya."

He lowered his eyes and pulled a stool to hang the painting. He took extra care while hanging the artwork; even installed a small light above the painting to highlight the various shades of the colors. With his back to Dilshaad, he couldn't help but admire the details on the painting. There was no doubt she was gifted and was touched by her gesture. Through her painting, it was clear that the cruise meant a lot to her and she had also given ammi hope and a desire to fight her cancer. He hated to admit but the cruise was a life-changing event for him too.

Remorseful about his harsh words, he picked the envelope and dashed out to meet her.

A perplexed Dilshaad just stared at him, trying her best to decipher his expressions. It was quite obvious that their guest besotted her son, but she wanted to give him some time to sort out his feelings. "Maybe I shouldn't push him. Jo uski kismat mein likha hai, wo hi hoga. Agar Zoya hi iski kismat hai, tho Allah khud raah dikha dega usko."

"Ms Farooqui?" Frantically, he searched for her everywhere, "kahan chali gayi? Hope she didn't run away from home. She is quite an expert at that." Before heading out of the house in her search, he decided to check the terrace.

There she was; she stood facing the street, her arms folded across her chest. He was relieved to see her.

"Ms Farooqui!" He ran towards her, "aap yahan kya kar rahi hain? I have been looking for you."

She turned around, "Mr. Khan, aap mujhey dhoondh rahe hain? Kyun? Meri jaisi insensitive ladki se aapko kya kaam?"

"Wo-actually-I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I-i am sorry." He stuttered.

"That's okay Mr. Khan. Main jaanti hoon that cruise is a thorn in your memories but I can't help it. That cruise had invaded all my brain cells; the only release for me was to put it on canvas. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"That's okay. Here," he handed her the envelope, "yeh aapka belated Eid gift."

"Yeh kya hai?" She stared at the blank envelope, "return tickets to New York?"

"Nahin. Aap apni marzi se India aayi hain, ab New York bhi apni marzi se hi jaayengi. Main kaun hota hoon aapko wapas bhejne waala." He had a faint smile, "this is a gift that will make you happy and maybe even change your life one day."

She gave him a quizzical look, "oh really Mr. Khan? Meri zindagi is envelope mein qaid hai? Phir tho dekhna padhega."

"Agar aap ek painting mein kisi ki zindagi qaid kar sakti hain, tho yeh envelope kya cheez hai."

Zoya smiled and shook her head, "Mr. Khan. Aap bhi na. Jitna aap rulaana jaante hain, utna hi khush karna bhi jaante hain." She opened the envelope and took out a letter.

"Bombay Art House?" She read the letterhead, "Ms. Zoya Farooqui, you are cordially invited to an exclusive exhibition of a private collection of art work from all over the world. This will also give you an opportunity to interact with some of the best-known artists from all over the world. Please present this letter at the gate as entrance is by invitation only."

She didn't know how to react. "What's this Mr, Khan? I would love to go for this exhibition but why would this be a life changing opportunity for me?"

"That's just my gut feel."

"Aapko kab se gut feel hone lagi Mr. Khan? Aap tho facts mein believe karte hain, gut feel se tho main apni zindagi jeeti hoon." She chuckled.

He shrugged his shoulders, "mujhey aisa lagta hai ki agar aap yahan jaayengi tho aapko shayad aisa koi contact mil jaaye jo aapki zindagi hi badal de."

"Meri zindagi tho badal chuki hai Mr. Khan."

He lowered his eyes and averted his gaze, "I –mean-this letter might help your professionally."

"I am still a student Mr. Khan. Itne door ki nahin sochi abhi maine." She was about to fold the letter but stopped when she saw a name at the bottom, "from Mr. Ayaan Khan?"

"Ayaan Khan? Yeh kaun hain? Aapke koi bhai wai tho nahin hain?" She chuckled.

"Bhai? NO! NO! I don't know who this Ayaan Khan is, but I know he is very influential in the art world here. That's why I want you to meet him. Bahut mushkil se yeh invitation mila hai. Yeh aapka Eid gift hai meri taraf se."

"Main India sirf ek Mr. Khan ke liye aayi hoon," she arched her eyebrow and smiled, "khair shukriya, aap is naacheez ke liye ek eidi tho laaye. What I do with the gift is my business. Exhibition mein jaaun ya na jaaun, yeh meri marzi. Filhaal mujhey aapke is Ayaan Khan mein koi dilchaspi nahin hai."

Asad was a bit disappointed by her reaction. He had expected to see an expression of joyful appreciation but she had dismissed his gift as if it was just a piece of paper. He had to pull through so many strings to extract that invitation. It was a prestigious exhibition and perhaps, he was a little selfish as he was hoping that she could establish a network with the art house and maybe even move to India permanently.

"Okay Ms. Farooqui. I have another gift for you," he replied on an impulse. He wanted to see her happy.

"Another gift?" Her eyes twinkled, "hope aap kisi aur Khan se meri setting na kar rahe ho."

"Nahin. BILKUL NAHIN!" He cringed at the word 'setting.' Even though, he had successfully deflected any rousing feelings for her, the thought of setting her up with someone else gave him the shudders.

"Then what?"

"Kya aap mere saath Mumbai darshan ke liye chalengi?"

"OF COURSE MR. KHAN! I would love that!" Her face lit up.

"Not on my back though," he smiled.

"Hmm," she pondered playfully, "okay, in that case can we see Mumbai on a horse carriage? You know, like those old fashioned Victorias?"

"Victoria?" Asad was amused, "I have an a/c car Ms Farooqui. Why bother a poor horse in this heat?"

"Nahin Mr. Khan!" She protested, "aapke saath helicopter, cruise, boat, jet ski, back, car---mmm---yeh sab kar chuki hoon. Agar jaayenge tho Victoria par hi jaaynege."

Asad rolled his eyes, "you are such a kid Ms. Farooqui. Theek hai, let's go and find a Victoria for her highness. Queen Victoria ke bhi itne nakhre nahin honge."

"Queen Victoria doesn't have a Mr. Khan either," she winked at him.

Asad sighed and shook his head with disbelief, "I don't believe it. Aap tho pagal hain hi, main bhi aadha pagal ho gaya hoon aapke saath."

"Poora pagal karne ka iraada hai Mr. Khan," she romped down the stairs. He couldn't but admire her zest for life and her ability to bring a smile on his face with her antics.

MUMBAI DARSHAN:

After a lot of search, they finally found a beautiful horse carriage with a well-nourished horse and joyful horseman. As they trotted all over the city, Zoya felt like a princess seated next to her prince charming. They started their tour at the Gateway of India, where Zoya clicked a number of photographs. Asad obliged and posed for her at various landmarks.

"Am I a model or something?" He asked, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, "aap har jagah sirf meri photos hi kyun le rahi hain?"

She removed his glasses and gazed into his eyes, "waise agar aap Navy officer na hote, tho I am sure aapko kisi modeling agency mein kaam zaroor mil jaata. Main tho zaroor hire kar leti aapko."

He became a bit self-conscious and covered his eyes with his glares again, "Ms. Farooqui, shall we go to our next stop? Warna poora din modeling mein hi nikal jaayega."

"I wouldn't mind that," She placed her camera back in her bag and ran back to the carriage, cheerful and happy.

Asad's wall of defense was showing signs of cracks. He was afraid that by the end of the day, the wall could possibly come down crashing. Whether it was the partly cloudy and musty weather, or the old style horse carriage ride or her allure; he felt giddy, filled with a sense of warmth and immense attraction. Even the slightest touch of their hands or thighs in the carriage sent an electric shiver down his spine.

To add to his misery, the horseman turned the radio on to an old movie song…

Mang Ke Sath Tumhara, Maine Maang Liya Sansar

Mang Ke Sath Tumhara, Maine Maang Liya Sansar

Mang Ke Sath Tumhara

Dil Kahe Diladar Mila, Ham Kahen Hamen Pyar Mila

Pyar Mila Hamen Yar Mila, Ek Naya Sansar Mila

Aas Mili, Armaan Mila

Jine Ka Saman Mila

Mil Gaya Ek Sahara,

Mang Ke Saath Tumhara…

(Naya Daur)

Whenever she looked away, he stole glances from her. Her hair furled with the breeze; her swan like neck and soft bare skin enticed him into a state of frenzy. At that moment, he was Dilip Kumar and she his Vyjanthimala from the old song.

"Kya hua Mr. Khan?" She caught him gazing at her, "aap theek tho hain?"

"Wo-wo-Di-Dilip Kumar-this song-I-mean-old song-a-aap shayad nahin jaanti ho."

She burst out with laughter, "gaana pehle kabhie nahin suna hai maine but lyrics are wonderful. Shayad aapko bhi lyrics pasand aa rahe hain, kyun Mr. Khan? Maang ke saath tumhara….mmm…nice song."

"GAANA BANDH KARO!" Asad yelled at the horseman, "waise hi itna shor hai sadak par! Kitna behooda gaana lagaa rakha hai!"

"Jee sahib," the horseman obeyed and promptly turned the radio off.

"Bechara taangewaala," Zoya sighed and leaned back, "shayad Jahanpanah Aurengzeb se pehli baar saamna hua hoga iska."

"Aurengzeb?" Asad frowned.

"Itni Indian history aati hai mujhey Mr. Khan. He was the only Mughal kind who hated music."

"I am not Aurangzeb. I love music. Bas itne shor mein-you know."

"Waise ek baat poonchu? Agar aap koi Mughal king ban na chaahe, tho kaunsa king banenge?"

"AKBAR!" He replied proudly, "he was the most righteous and hardworking Mughal king. I really admire him."

"Mujhey tho Shahjahan pasand hai." She sighed.

"Typical woman! He was a sissy. Just because he made the Taj Mahal, people call him great."

"Of course he was great! Aaj kal ke zamaane mein koi kisi ke pyaar mein itna badha kaam kar sakta hai?"

"I would say he was incredibly foolish. What a waste of resources."

"What a way to become famous all over the world!" She exclaimed, "he is my dream man. Koi insaan apni biwi se itna pyaar kar sakta hai? Uski yaad mein Taj Mahal khada kar diya. Wow!"

"Nonsense! Why do women always expect a man to do something like that?"

"Mr. Khan, in that case, I will re write history." She retorted, "jab bhi mujhey kisi se itna pyaar ho jaayega, main us insaan ke liye Taj Mahal se bhi zyaada memorable cheez banaungi. You know a masterpiece that the world would admire and say- wow aashiqa ho tho Ms. Zoya Farooqui jaisi ho."

"You are crazy!" He shook his head, "let's get off here."

'Yeh kaun si jagah hai?"

"Chowpatti."

"Chowpatti jaayenge, bhel poori khaayenge?" She hummed and imitated Aamir Khan's gesture from the famous song.

Asad shook his head but smiled inwardly. It was hard to walk away from her innocence and chirpiness.

It had been years since Asad had tasted chaat and bhel poori at a roadside stand on the beach. Zoya's enthusiasm and the way she relished all the spices made it worth the trip. As she popped a pani poori into her mouth, the spicy water dripped down her lips. Instinctively, he reached out with his hand. His fingers lingered lazily as he wiped off the spicy water and crumbs of the poori from her lips. They exchanged a silent glance. Zoya didn't pull back or remove his finger from her lips. Once he realized what was happening, quickly he withdrew and perched his sunglasses back on his nose.

"I-I was just wiping-I didn't want your kurta to get any stains."

"Yeah, I know." She lowered her eyes, blushing.

They spent the afternoon at various famous landmarks like Flora fountain, Jehangir art gallery, Prince of Wales museum and hanging gardens. Asad tried his best to keep a distance but his mind wandered dreamily while Zoya checked out the historical sites.

Later, they visited the Haji Ali shrine where both prayed for each other's success and Dilshaad's health.

"Ya Allah! Jo meri kismat mein likha hai, usey qubool karne ki mujhey himmat dena." Asad prayed in the men's chamber.

"Ya Khuda! Mujhey itni himmat dena ki main apni chaahat ke raaste par chal sakoon aur jo meri manzil hai usey ek din paa sakoon." Zoya prayed and tied a thread of faith at the marble window in the dargah.

They walked out of the dargah at the same time but stood facing each other in silence. There was something serene and pure about the Haji Ali dargah. People visited the shrine from all over the world, in the hope that their wishes would be granted. As they proceeded towards their carriage, an overwhelming sense of peace and bliss filled both of them.

It was late in the evening. The sun had set in the horizon; their horse carriage trotted across the beautiful queen's necklace, as Marine drive was often referred to, once the streetlights came on.

Zoya's hand rested on the seat; the rocking motion of the carriage made her drowsy. Asad gazed at her hand and then at her bobbing head. He placed his arm around her and drew her closer. She was fast asleep. She snuggled into his arm and rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair gently and caressed her cheek with his fingers.

She peered through half open eyes and glanced at his face.

"Mr. Khan?" She whispered.

He lowered his eyes on her face but instead of withdrawing, smiled at her and held her chin with his finger. Tenderly, he lifted her face and bent down gently. His self erected wall crashed; defenses relented. His lips drew her in. The fragrance from the musty air, smog from the cars, his cologne and her hair all melted into one as their lips brushed against each other, tenderly at first and then passionately.

The horse and the horseman, oblivious of their backseat activities, trotted lazily through the Mumbai streets. It had been a long day; the horse was tired and in no mood to hurry home and neither were the duo engaged in lip-to-lip communication.

…to be contd…