FAASLE: Fan fic AsYa Part 19 pg 141 Jul 29 - Page 4

Originally posted by: Jaren93.

Lovely start as always. Hmmm so waiting impatiently for Asad miya ki dhamakedar entry.

P.S. Please complete that AR ff of yours js main AR are childhood friends. The one which was mostly from Armaan's narrative. Can't recall the name.

Originally posted by: ranz

Bheegi how lovely you starting this- a real treat in store am sure!Thanx!

Originally posted by: CutielovesChocs

DIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!! *mutters incoherently while jumping up and down*😆

Tehzeeb and Angad...Zoya and Asad..HAYYYEEE marr jawannn!!! It was JUST yesterday that I was reading this story. And I'm going to read it again. You know why? Because I LOVE IT. Because the characters and different even though the story is same. Even though the AK magic can't be reproduced, this is the next best thing.

Hey...don't read the old one again. This one is modified for QH..so read it like a new story. Yes, AK were the original chemistry teachers for me

DI. I LOVE YOU FOR THIS! I remember sending you a gazillion PMs about doing something like this! FINALLY aapne meri sun li! 😆

yeah...aap sab ki sun li aur Asya ne inspire kar diya😆 Thanks for motivating me

You really won't believe it, and I know it'll sound cheesy but trust me when I say, that I keep coming back to read your FFs over and over again because they give me an inner sense of peace and calmness. I read them when I'm frazzled and worried and anxious and no matter what problem I have, it solves itself after I read your stories. Thanks a TON for being who you are and writing whatever you do.

OMG...I am sure you can read better things.

Amazing, brilliant and...ab kya bolu? I'm falling short of words.
Kudos! 😳

-Raina

P.S - The old 'Faasle' bhi dil se padhi thi, yehh waali is gonna be no different. Waise hi lambe comments milenge aapko! Hope you remember them! 😉😆

Kuch aur na sahi, I'm gonna stalk this one like MAD. 😆

Tussi tope ho tope, tussi zindagi di hope ho hope! 😆

You know I love long comments...so keep them rolling😃 The old faasle was one of my first stories, was not well written IMO, so hopefully I will rectify my mistakes in this one

Word Count: 1

PART 2:

"Aapi'.main aa rahi hoon," Zoya hid the photograph and envelope in her blouse.

Zeenat aapi, her half sister was 10 years older than Zoya; she lived in Istanbul with her husband, Anwar. Even though they seldom saw each other, Zeenat had always been a role model for Zoya. While they lived in India, Zeenat stayed with them but once they moved to the US, Zoya wasn't sure where aapi went. Abbu mentioned that Zeenat had gone back to live with her mom, but he had always been evasive about the details. As a child, she recalled abbu talking to her on the phone but with time, the calls became far and few between. Aapi would send her birthday cards every year with a cute message about her little sister. Seven years ago, she sent her wedding invitation card to a man named Anwar. Abbu had promised to take Zoya for the wedding, but as always his work took priority. She had been heartbroken, and had yelled at her abbu for the first time in her life. At 14, she was just starting to get a little confrontational, but her protests were squashed in a closed dark room- the punishment den that Zoya dreaded. She stayed in the room for 2 days before dadijaan convinced Ghafoor to release her. In defiance, she had stayed hungry and thirsty for the entire punishment. Ghafoor had regretted, and even apologized; promised to send her to Zeenat one day. That day was yet to arrive.

Zoya was determined to visit Zeenat. She searched her room for her passport. Even though Ghafoor had never taken her abroad, he made sure, she always had a current passport. For some reason, he had a fear that one day, they might have to leave this country on an urgent basis; hence their travel documents were always current. Fortunately, she had kept the passport in her room after she had applied for a 'study abroad' program last month. Of course, Ghafoor had reprimanded her for such a bold step, but at the back of her mind, she had a nagging desire to travel away from home, even if that meant without her abbu's permission.

ZOYA ZAINAB SIDDIQUI! That was her full name on the passport. It wouldn't take her abbu more than a few hours to track her down. He had contacts everywhere, and she would be lucky if she even made it to a travel agent without her father finding out.

"Hi Emily?" Zoya called her Chinese-American friend from college.

"Hey..what's up girl? How come you're still awake?" A sleepy voice asked on the other line.

"I need some help."

"What happened?" Emily sat up. It was very unusual for Zoya to seek help or call anyone this late.

"Your dad works in Chinatown, doesn't he?"

"Y-yeah."

"Does he know a shop where I could get a fake passport?"

"WHAT? Are you crazy?"

"Yeah'kinda."

"I am pretty sure I didn't see you drink at your party," Emily chuckled.

"Yeah'I am not drunk'.but I am crazy and desperate. Please help me Emily."

"Is it about that Akram guy at the party?"

"Sort of."

Emily took a deep breath, "alright. Meet me at my dad's store at 10 tomorrow morning. I am pretty sure he can help. Can I ask you where you headed?"

"Turkey!"

"WOW!"

"Please keep it a secret Emily. My half sister lives there. I want to spend some time with her."

"Promise you will stay safe?"

"Of course I will. Love you girl."

"Love you too. Goodnight!"

.

The following day, she left home early with her bags. To allay her guilt, she had left a note for badi bi, "dadijaan, main kuch din ke liye ghar se jaa rahi hoon. Promise main wapas aa jaaungi. Abbu se kehna fikr na karein."

Next, she had to procure cash. Abbu had given her a credit card on her 18th birthday, but using the card would be risky. She would leave a paper trail wherever she went. Zoya recalled that abbu had mentioned she would be able to access her bank account independently when she turned 21. With her bankcard in tow, she stepped into the bank for the first time in her life. Zoya was pleasantly surprised to see a million dollars in her account! Her abbu had his own way of showing affection to his daughter. She withdrew $100,000; that's all she could fit in her bag and purse!

Chinatown was an interesting experience. Zoya was shocked to find out that by paying a mere $1000, she was able to get a very real looking fake passport with the name ZOYA FAROOQUI on it. Farooqui was her mother's maiden name. Abbu would probably report her missing with her Siddiqui last name. Hopefully, by the time they figure it all out, she would be away from the mainland.

At the airport, she was unable to find a direct connection to Istanbul. The airport clerk gave her the option of flying to Barcelona, Spain from where she could get another connection to Istanbul. Zoya was reveling this tirade of decision-making. Abbu and dadijaan had always made decisions for her; she felt all grown up today, and even though her heart skipped a few beats, she replied, "SURE!"

The clerk was surprised to see a young girl pull out a wad of cash.

"WOW! You are going to pay by cash?"

"How does that matter to you?" Zoya snapped, "just give me the ticket. It's none of your business!"

"I am sorry miss," the clerk cowed down and mumbled, "what a brat!"

MUMBAI: A FEW DAYS AGO

A handsome, well built, young man of medium height, Asad Ahmed Khan smiled and hugged an elegant but middle aged lady, "ammi,

main bas do hafte ke liye jaa raha hoon. Please no rona-dhona!"

"Bhaijaan, aap pareshaan mat hona. Main ammi ka poora dhyaan rakhoongi," a cheerful slightly chunky and petite Najma quipped.

"Najma, ammi ki dawaa time se de dena."

"Of course bhaijaan!"

"Jaanta hoon Najma. Tum ab badhi ho gayi ho," Asad flashed his dimples as he smiled affectionately, "ammi ka dhyaan dogi. Tabhi tho befikr ho kar jaa raha hoon."

"Allah hafiz beta," Dilshaad smiled at Asad, "meri fikr mat karna. Tumhari ammi bahut himmatwaali hai."

"Wo tho main jaanta hoon ammi," Asad smiled back.

"Waise bhi apne dher saare poti pota ko dekhe bina main kahin nahin jaa rahi."

Asad rolled his eyes, "ammi! Aap bhi na! Allah hafiz!"

Asad was on leave from his duties as a naval officer in the Indian Navy. Dilshaad had been recently diagnosed with Leukemia (blood cancer) and was undergoing aggressive treatment at a cancer hospital in Mumbai. Her best chance of cure was a bone marrow transplant. That was an expensive treatment and Asad's meager salary from the Navy was not sufficient for the treatment. Dilshaad had raised both her children as a single mother. Najma was still in college; Asad being the sole breadwinner had a lot of responsibilities thrust on him at a young age.

As a means of earning some extra cash, while he was on vacation from the Navy, Asad signed up as a cruise ship officer for two weeks. The cruise was a 12 day Mediterranean cruise which started from Barcelona, Spain. Najma knew why her bhaijaan was going. Her kids reassured Dilshaad that Asad was leaving to get some experience.

BARCELONA AIRPORT:

Zoya had not traveled beyond the US since she had moved to New York at the age of 4. Spain was very different from New York. The airport was more crowded with most of the signs in Spanish. "Allah mian, I am so glad I had taken Spanish in high school," she sighed. She decided to spend a day in Barcelona before taking a flight to Istanbul. She hailed a cab and decided to check in at the nearest hotel. Barcelona was a very beautiful city; it was an old city as was evident by the buildings and architecture of the city. There were more people on the streets than she was used to seeing. Cars and homes were much smaller than one saw in the US. At a distance, she saw the harbor with a number of large ships docked at the port.

She asked the cab driver in her broken Spanish to divert the cab to the harbor.

As they came closer to a large ship at the seaport, Zoya's eyes lit up as she saw the cruise line docked at the harbor.

QUEEN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN- SPAIN TO TURKEY. The name initiated a flutter of waves in her curious brain.

"WOW! Wouldn't it be fun to go to Turkey on a ship?"

'ALTO! ALTO!" She urged the cabbie to stop.

"Yes'we still have some tickets madam," the person at the ticket counter informed her politely.

Zoya presented her passport and paid for a luxurious suite in the cruise ship. The ship was about to sail in a few hours.

She entered the large ship and was stunned at the enormity of the cruise ship. It seemed like she was inside a five star hotel rather than a boat!

Lost in her thoughts, she came into her senses when she heard her name in an Indian accent.

Na Koi Kisi Ke Paas Hota Hai

?Na Koi Kisi Ke Dur Hota Hai

?Pyar Khud Chalkar Aata Hai

?Jab Koi Kisi Ka Naseeb Hota Hai

"Ms Zoya Farooqui?"

A flustered Zoya gazed at the handsome south Asian man, dressed in a white uniform, staring at her intently.

"Y-yeah'that's me."

He gave her a quizzical look, "where are you from? India?"

"New York!" She replied vehemently.

"Well, I can tell," he snickered with a frown on his face. She knew he was judging her by the clothes she was wearing. A good Muslim girl shouldn't be dressed in a skirt in public.

"What do you mean?" Zoya asked angrily. She gazed at his name tag- CAPT. ASAD AHMED KHAN. He was probably a junior incarnation of her Abbu. Judgmental and old fashioned!

"Your cabin is on the fifth floor ma'am." He evaded her question and looked away.

"Thanks!" She replied curtly.

"Are your parents going to join you?" He asked as she tried to edge her way past him.

"Beg your pardon?" She felt slighted, "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS OFFICER!"

"Kitni badtameez ladki hai!" He mumbled as she huffed away in anger.

''..to be continued'''..