PART 10:
The next morning, Zoya woke up with a gentle but sweet ache all over her body. She lazed around in bed; her arms caressing the soft sheets of her bed. There was inexplicable sense of peace and harmony within.
"I guess that's how one feels after a hangover?" She chuckled, "aur maine tho sharaab ko haath bhi nahin lagaya." Her large, expressive eyes had a mischievous glint. The evening at the deck had been perfect; like a page from one of her favorite romance novel or Shahrukh Khan movie
As she moaned and groaned lazily, her hands felt a soft cloth on the bed "arre yeh kya hai? Oh!" She recalled. "Yeh tho Mr. Khan ki shawl hai. I better return it. There is still a price tag on it. I wonder if he purchased it for someone special?" She was a bit disheartened with that thought. The thought of seeing him again got her out of bed promptly.
After a quick shower, she went down to his cabin in the basement wing. "It's so dark and dingy out here," she frowned.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
To her surprise, his cabin door was ajar.
"Mr. Khan?" She tiptoed into the room. His cabin was smaller than her walk in closet at home. With no windows, it looked more like a prison cell than a luxury cruise line cabin. "Bechare Mr. Khan, has to live in such conditions? Abbu could have gotten him a better cabin."
"Mr. Khan? Mr. Khan?" She looked around; he was nowhere. It was unlike him to leave the cabin without locking his door. "Hope he is okay." She was worried. "I guess, I will have to thank him later." She sighed and bent down to place the shawl on the bed.
To her surprise, she saw a copy of the 'New York times' on his bed.
"Wow! Haven't seen this newspaper in a few days. Wonder why Mr. Khan is reading New York Times?"
The newspaper made her homesick. Abbu's day always started with this newspaper. She perused through the pages and was intrigued by an advertisement. Someone had circled the ad in ink.
The ad read: WILL AWARD $1 000,000 (1 MILLION US DOLLARS) TO ANYONE WHO CAN GIVE ME ANY NEWS ABOUT MY MISSING DAUGHTER. SHE IS 21, FAIR, 5'6" WITH LONG HAIR AND BLACK EYES. INDIAN ORIGIN.
There was a photograph of Zoya with her father's phone number at the bottom of the ad!
Her heart skipped a beat. She covered her mouth with both her palms; not surprised by the ad. Zoya expected abbu to do something like this. What surprised her was Asad's interest in the ad. If he worked for abbu, why would he circle the ad? He had fooled her all along. It all made sense now. He had admitted that he needed the cash. Is that why, he had been so interested in her? She was his golden goose; and he wasn't even abbu's agent.
She checked the date on the newspaper. It was two days old- the day she had boarded the ship. That meant he knew who she was all along. Conscious about his status in the society, it didn't surprise her that abbu had not mentioned her name on the ad. Asad knew everything about her. She trusted him more than anyone on this ship. The dance and dinner were his way of trapping her so she would never suspect his intentions.
Her hangover vanished in seconds. Instead, she was seething with anger.
Zoya trashed the newspaper and dashed to her cabin. Tears of anger and betrayal rolled down her eyes. She shut herself in her cabin and cried her heart out. She realized the world was a harsh place; this was no fairyland and he was not her prince. He was using her to earn those million dollars.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
A knock at her door startled her.
She wiped her tears and opened the door. Asad stood there with a quizzical look on his face, "were you just there in my room?"
"Y-yeah." She looked away, "just needed to return your shawl. Thanks!"
Asad was surprised; she sounded detached and cold. Perhaps, she was feeling awkward after last night's dance.
In a way he was glad; he wanted to apologize for getting carried away himself. He didn't want her to misunderstand his intentions. The ambience and the moonlit sky had gotten to both of them.
"I-I was in the Laundromat when you came to my room."
"That's okay. Can you leave me alone please?" She tried to shut the door on him. He resisted the door with his arm and frowned, "lekin Ms Farooqui, aisa kya hua? I hope you are not upset about last night….that was just a-a-a," he was at loss for words.
"I really don't care what you think about last night. Please leave, will you?"
"Zoya! I deserve an explanation for your erratic behavior!" Asad lost his temper.
"Main kisko explanation deti hoon aur kisko nahin, that is my decision! Please LEAVE!" She forced the door shut on his face and ran to her bed.
Asad was perplexed by her behavior, "pata nahin yeh ladki kya khaakar paida huyi thi? What mood swings! Wonder what goes on in her head?"
A flustered Asad walked back to his cabin. He looked at his clothes he had just picked from the Laundromat. He had washed all his shirts barring one. The white uniform shirt from last night still lay unwashed. Asad picked up the shirt and smiled. A red lipstick mark on its shoulder reminded me of their evening together. They had gotten so close during the dance. Her face had rested on his chest; the fragrance of her hair was still fresh in his nostrils. He folded the shirt and placed it in his bag. How could he ever wash this one? Even though he knew the evening meant nothing to him, nor to her, but that lipstick mark would always remind him that a part of her would always belong with him.
The ship came to a halt. They had arrived at the next port-Genoa in Italy. Zoya knew what she had to do at that moment. She stuffed her clothes and belongings into her bag and left her cabin. Zoya was not a very organized girl, as she had been spoilt by Badi Bi and other housekeepers all her life. She did not check the drawers in the dresser. Asad had safely placed her passport, travel documents and the envelope with her aapi's address in the drawer the other night.
She picked her handbag and roll-on suitcase and disembarked the ship. Zoya had a plan. She would take a plane or a train ride directly to Istanbul; not return to the ship.
Asad searched the ship for Zoya. He was hoping to find her in a better mood. Despite her snub, he was looking forward to exploring the beautiful town of Genoa with her. Her knowledge of history and her creativity made sight seeing more enjoyable. He was disheartened at the thought that she might have disembarked without waiting for him. Nevertheless, he walked over to her cabin to check. For some reason he had an inkling, that all was not right. After all, she had been a trouble maker from day one.
When she didn't answer her door, he forced himself in with his master key. His worst fears came true; her luggage was gone! Before leaving, he checked the drawers and was reassured to see her passport and the envelope. "Bewkoof ladki! How can she get anywhere without these essential documents? Inkey bina wo kahin nahin jaa sakti." He placed the passport and envelope in his pocket. That would ensure she couldn't runaway too far.
After reaching the harbor, he tried to look for her everywhere. Genoa was a beautiful and picturesque town, but Asad's focus was Zoya and her whereabouts. Finally, a fellow passenger mentioned that she had disembarked on one of the earlier boats.
He scratched his brain and wondered why she was in such a hurry to leave the ship? Suddenly, he recalled the crumpled newspaper in the trashcan in his cabin.
"OH NO! She must have seen the newspaper with the ad in my cabin." He rolled his eyes, exasperated by her impulsiveness, "I bet she thinks I will turn her in for the cash." In reality, he had found the newspaper with one of the other officers on the ship. The officer had been staring at the picture on the ad, trying his best to recognize the girl in the photograph. Asad had purposely whisked the newspaper away so no one would get to Zoya. "I know she is on a mission to meet her aapi. I was going to help her get there. Silly girl! Wonder where she is now?"
Asad called the local airport, train and bus stations alerting them about their missing cruise passenger.
In the little time he had known her, he knew that Zoya would have a hard time leaving all the beautiful and historical sites without checking them out.
He spent the whole day searching different restaurants, museums, art galleries, but was unable to locate her. He was right. Zoya had indeed decided to spend a few hours in Genoa before leaving for Istanbul. After all, Genoa was the birthplace of Christopher Columbus and the place where the first pair of Jeans was ever made!
She was not the best of planners. Sightseeing took priority and she decided to purchase the tickets later. As she sketched and explored, she lost track of where she was but fortunately for her, Asad kept missing her by a few minutes wherever he went. It was like a cat and mouse game. Zoya managed to escape barely minutes before he reached the same location.
Asad was getting worried about her.
Oblivious of the fact that someone was desperately searching for her, she finally took a cab to the airport. At the ticket counter, she smacked herself for her callousness, "Ya Allah! Looks like I forgot my passport in the ship." She looked at her watch. It was time for the ship to sail off. "May be I can take a private boat instead. They wouldn't care for a passport. I can pay them cash."
Asad in the meantime had eliminated most places from his list.
Their cruise ship was about to sail off. Asad took special permission to delay the departure. It had started raining heavily and the captain was not very thrilled about delaying the departure further.
"Sir, please let me keep a rescue boat. I will join you as soon as I find our passenger."
"Why are you worried about her? She has voluntarily left the ship. Didn't you say all her belongings are gone too? We can't wait here all night long," the captain tried to reason with Asad.
"Sir! I promise, I will join you as soon as I can."
"You know young man, you could be fired for this, but I like you. You are hard working and care for your passengers. OK, keep in touch with the radio. Hopefully we will see you soon, or at our next port-Naples. Okay?"
Asad stayed at the port for sometime thinking about his options. The airport, bus and train stations denied checking in anyone with the name Zoya Farooqui.
He strolled in the rain and pondered. What if she was planning to take a private boat? They wouldn't care about travel documents; she could just lure them with cash.
As Asad walked along the wet coastline, he wondered why and what he was doing? He was completely drenched. Thunder and lightening roared angrily in the horizon. Had he gone crazy? Ms Farooqui was quite a character; a lunatic to say the least, and there he was acting equally foolish. She had run away from home; so why did it bother him that she had gone missing again? He felt restless; partially responsible for losing her once again. He should have told her about the newspaper ad.
Just as he approached the harbor, he saw a young lady trying to talk to a sailor in a distance. It was HER! An overwhelming sense of relief mixed with joy filled his heart. He had almost lost her, second time in three days, but someone somewhere was looking out for her. He glanced at the sky, thanked Allah and ran towards her. He noticed the sailor shake his head, refusing to take her over in a boat on the rough seas.
With her bags covered in wet sand, lying at her feet, she sobbed relentlessly; her palms covered her face. Salty tears and raindrops rolled down her cheeks. She felt lonely in this foreign land, with no passport and no contacts. Even Mr. Khan had betrayed her. Why had she acted so impulsively and callously, she asked herself and bawled louder.
Just then she felt someone lift her palms from her face. Through the haze of her tears and the rain, she looked up and saw Asad standing a few inches from her. His face was stern but eyes looked at her with tenderness. Water dripped down his face, his clothes were as drenched as hers.
"Will you let me take you to your aapi Ms Farooqui? Itna bharosa hai mujhpar?" He stood there with her palms cupped in his strong hands.
Zoya was stunned at what she heard. How did he know everything?
"Aapi? How do you know all this?"
With his right hand, he pulled out the envelope and her passport from his pocket, "because you are so careless Ms Farooqui."
"I-I am sorry," she was embarrassed, "I should have been more careful."
"You ought to be sorry. Aap bilkul pagal hain." He squeezed her palm slightly with his left hand
"I thought, you wanted the …the…I mean."
"Jaanta hoon, aapko laga ki main paise ke liye aapke abbu ko inform kar doonga?"
Zoya nodded and lowered her eyes, "haan maine yahi socha tha.."
"Haan, ek baar mann tho kiya tha, lekin paise ke liye nahin, aapki hifazat ke liye. Agar paise chahiye hote tho main pehle din hi aapke abbu ko phone kar deta. Why would I have bothered to wait this long Ms Farooqui?"
"Phir kyun nahin kiya?" Zoya looked at him innocently.
"I had found this letter from your aapi in your bag." He replied softly
"Oh! Will you come with me to Istanbul?" She asked hesitantly
"Do I have a choice?" He smirked and picked her heavily drenched bag, "let's go."
"To Istanbul? Right now? How?"
He glared at her, "yes of course," he replied sarcastically, "they are all just waiting for high highness to show up in this weather."
"No need to be so sarcastic, okay?" She rolled her eyes, "it's your good luck that you found me."
Asad shook his head and walked over to the nearest hotel.
Zoya followed him, a dj vu feeling hit her. Once again, they would have to spend a night at a hotel instead of the ship.
"Are we going to get a chopper again?" She asked, excited at the thought.
"NO! We will take a bus to Naples tomorrow. Aapke abbu agar chopper fund kar dein, tho we can. I don't think this cruise line wants to go bankrupt by just rescuing her highness from every port!"
"Okay! Okay! Mr. Khan, you don't need to drag my abbu into every conversation. If you really want the million dollars, you can have them."
"Sorry Ms Farooqui! Yes, I am in need of money but I wouldn't do it this way."
"Why not? Aap mujhey Istanbul le jaaiye, aur phir abbu se paise collect kar leejiye."
"Life is not that simple Ms Farooqui," he swallowed a lump in his throat, "come on, let's check in now."
She didn't argue anymore; he was definitely hiding something from her but this was probably not the right time to probe his past.
"They just have one suite," he sighed, "you can have it. I will hang out in the hotel lobby tonight."
"No Mr. Khan. Please. We can share- I mean-I mean, suite hai tho zyaada jagah hogi na?"
"I can't spend another night in the hotel bathtub," he scorned, "the lobby would be more comfortable."
She held his wrist, "don't embarrass me further Mr. Khan. We will manage. I promise I will behave this time."
He relented and nodded his head, 'let's make it clear right now Ms Farooqui. If there is only one bed, you will sleep in the bathtub, alright?"
"Agreed!" She followed him obediently.
Zoya was lucky that she had her bag with her. She promptly went into the bathroom and changed into a dry outfit. Asad settled in the living room and left the luxurious king sized bed for Zoya. There was a sliding glass door separating the two rooms. He shut the door, to give her some privacy.
Even though they were both aware of each other's presence, they kept their distance all night. The glass door remained shut, reminding them of their boundaries they had to respect.
Sleepless, they both got out of bed and walked towards the glass door. Neither dared to open the door. Asad skipped a few heartbeats as he gazed at her wet hair caress her beautiful face. There was an invisible tension between them, the glass door adding to the conflicting thoughts that crossed their minds.
Finally, Zoya couldn't take it anymore and opened the door, "I am hungry Mr. Khan! Shall we order room service?"
"YES!" He took a sigh of relief. The awkwardness had vanished as soon as the door was removed from the equation
They settled down to eat after their delivery from room service.
"Mr. Khan, aapke ghar mein aur kaun kaun hain?" She asked, chewing on her breadstick.
Feeling relaxed, he replied with a poker face, "ek biwi hai, ek rakhail hai aur dono ke do-do bachche hain!"
Zoya was aghast; her jaw dropped to her knees as she stared at him in disbelief, "WHAT? Are you crazy? Then why did you buy only one shawl?"
Asad suppressed his smile, "aapko koyi bhi bewkoof banaa sakta hai. You are so gullible," he got up and put the dishes away on the tray, "nahin ek bimaar maa hai aur ek behen. Bas yahi dono hain. Main bas unhi ke liye jeeta hoon," his voice cracked a little, "cruise par bhi issi liye aaya hoon. Meri ammi ko cancer hai."
Zoya noticed that Asad's eyes were glistening with tears as he spoke about his mother.
"Bahut chaahte hain na aap apni ammi ko?" She kept her plate away and touched his forearm gently, "I am sorry Mr. Khan."
"No, that's okay," he had turned his face away to hide his tears, "haan unhoney poori zindagi ek single mother ho kar mujhey aur meri behen ko sab kuch diya hai. Khair rehney deejiye," he shuffled his feet as he was not comfortable talking about his personal life with anyone.
Zoya felt bad for Asad, "I can understand how you feel Mr. Khan. Ammi ke bina zindagi kitni adhoori hoti hai." She felt her eyes moisten. Both turned away from each other.
"Goodnight Ms Farooqui!"
"Goodnight Mr. Khan!"
Unknowingly, they had both touched a sensitive chord in each other's hearts. Their throats were bogged down by the heaviness of the emotions, but their hearts felt lighter after their conversation. Their mothers, although absent, had as if helped bridge a long lost connection between the two of them.
…to be contd…
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