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That was Amazing update..
They Both r MISSING eachother..
I guess ZOYA would be the PAYING GUEST in Asad's house.
Continue soon..PM me when u update..
Mariam...
PART 13
Saat samundar paar main tere peechhe peechhe a gai
zulmi meri jaan ...
o zulmi meri jaan tere kadamon ke neeche a gai
saat samundar paar main tere peechhe peechhe a gai
main tere peechhe peechhe a gai
na rasta maaloom na tera maan-pata maaloom
kaise mere pyaar ne tujhako dhoondha kya maaloom
seedhi tere paas ...
NEXT MORNING:
At breakfast, Zoya mustered the courage to have a direct conversation with her father.
"Abbu! Can I talk to you about something?"
"Hmm? Bolo?" Ghafoor replied without looking up, his head buried in the Wall Street Journal.
"Abbu! I am not interested in a degree in finance anymore. I want to quit Columbia."
That rebellious statement caught his attention. He threw the newspaper and removed his glasses, stunned at Zoya's statement, "What? Are you crazy? Pata hai itney acchey college mein kitni mushkil se admission milta hai? Mujhey laga tha ghar se bahar rehkar tum thodi samajhdaar ho gayi hogi, lekin tumhari baaton se lagta hai you still don't have any value for what you have! Duniya mein kitney aise bacche hain jinhey college jaane ki bhi kismet nahin hoti! What an ungrateful girl!"
Zoya rolled her eyes as her Abbu started one of his favorite monologues again, but this time she was not going to remain silent.
"Abbu, I want to be an artist. I know I have the talent and I will do well in that field." Zoya was firm.
"Artist? Matlab drawing aur painting? Ya Allah! Are you in kindergarten?" he glared at dadi jaan, "ammi, yeh kya bakwaas hai?"
Dadi jaan remained silent.
"Abbu! This is serious. I want to be a professional artist, not a business woman!" Zoya stood up from the table in anger.
Ghafoor was stunned to hear such determination in his daughter's voice. Dadi tried to console Ghafoor's anger, "beta, zara dhyaan se tho suno iski baat. Abhi do hafte ladki ghar se bahar rahi. Kya phir isey khona chaahte ho?"
Ghafoor recalled the nightmare of the past two weeks. He sighed and relented, "accha main pata karta hoon ki Columbia ka art program kaisa hai?"
"Nahin Abbu! Main US mein nahin, Mumbai mein art seekhna chahti hoon."
"Kya kaha? Mumbai mein? Tumhara dimaag tho kharab nahin ho gaya hai? Wahan aisa kya rakha hai?" Ghafoor stood up fuming.
"Abbu, I want to join the JJ school of art. I want to learn various forms of world art. Please abbu. I promise I will not disappoint you," Zoya pleaded.
"Ghafoor beta," dadi intervened, " Zoya ka itna mann hai tho jaane do isey Mumbai. Aakhir hum sab bhi tho wahin ke hain. Ek baar iska mann bhar jaayega tho wapas yahin aayegi. Tum tho jaante ho ki zidd se kuch haasil nahin hota. Aakhir beti tho tumhari hi hai na? Tum kaun sa kam ziddi ho? Yeh tho kum se kum tumse poonch kar jaana chahti hai."
Zoya was grateful to her dadi.
Ghafoor could not argue with his mother; he did not want to lose Zoya again, "theek hai, lekin mere dost Bilawal ke saath rehna. You have to be careful in a city like Mumbai. Bahut hoshiyaar rehna padhta hai wahan. You will not have your abbu to save you there."
Zoya was ecstatic. She ran and hugged her father, "thank you Abbu!" Silently, she said to herself "Abbu. Wahan mera sabse badhaa bodyguard rehta hai. Not to worry!"
Ghafoor patted her hand and asked, "jaane se pehle Akram se tumhari sagaayi kyon na kardein?"
Zoya's face fell, 'Abbu! Main abhi sagaai ke liye raazi nahin hoon. Kuch waqt chahiye sochne ke liye."
"Haan Ghafoor. Abhi jaldi kya hai? Akram bhi tho bahar kaam se gaya hua hai." Dadi came to the rescue again.
Ghafoor asked dadi, " theek hai. Jaise aap logon ki marzi. Waise, kya aap bhi jaana chaahengi ammi?"
Dadi glanced at Zoya and smiled, "nahin. Abhi issey meri zaroorat nahin hai. Abhi tho isey akele hi yeh safar tai karna hai. Jab zaroorat hogi, tab pahunch jaaoongi."
Zoya hugged her grandmother, "dadi jaan-you are the best!"
Zoya arrived in Mumbai and was received by Ghafoor's friend Bilawal Ali. She was very excited as they drove through the crowded streets and neighborhoods of Mumbai. Her memories of the city she was born in were hazy. She was taken aback by the crowds and streets teeming with people, "Wow! I thought New York traffic was bad but Mumbai takes the cake! Itni bheedh mein main Mr. Khan ko kaise dhoondh paaungi?" She felt dejected, but then cheered herself, "jab Allah mian mujhey yahan tak le aaye hain, tho Mr. Khan ke paas bhi le hi jaayenge."
Bilawal Ali had a huge mansion on Pali Hill, one of the affluent neighborhoods in Mumbai. He was Akram's uncle, but Ghafoor had purposely hidden that fact from Zoya. Akram was planning a business trip to Mumbai in a few weeks; what better way to trap his daughter into matrimony? Ghafoor had a knack of swinging things in his favor in most situations.
Zoya had been accepted as an exchange student at the prestigious JJ school of art in Mumbai. After fulfilling her formalities at the school, she ventured out in her search of her real destination.
The telephone exchange had a long list of Khan families. There were at least 50 Asad Ahmed Khans in Mumbai!
Instead of sifting through all those names, she decided to call the office of the Indian Navy in Mumbai, but received a rude reply, "sorry ma'am, we cannot disclose personal information about our officers"
Zoya went into panic mode, "Mr. Khan, kahan hain aap?"
To her dismay, Asad's phone number was unlisted in the phone book and even calling those 50 other Asad Ahmed Khans was of no help.
The Ali's were good hosts and made sure Zoya was comfortable and well taken care of. Of course, their interests were aligned with their nephew's, "Akram ke liye yeh ladki bahut acchi hai," Bilawal ali mentioned to his wife over dinner.
Zoya, of course, was too busy with her project, ' find Asad Ahmed Khan,' and didn't notice Akram's picture on the wall.
One evening, as she was getting ready for bed, she had a brainwave, "CRUISE! Let me call the cruise line!"
She googled the contact information on the cruise line they had sailed on.
After making a few phone calls, she was able to talk to the captain of the ship. Captain William was off duty these days and was enjoying his time with his family in London.
Captain William remembered Asad very well. His adventures with Zoya were almost a legend on the ship.
"Of course I remember you Ms Farooqui! How can we ever forget all your escapades? Aha! So you are in Mumbai looking for the handsome Indian officer? Let me look at the records and I will call you back as soon as I find Asad's address. I am pretty sure we have all his detailed information. In fact we just mailed his check the other day. I will call you right back!" Captain William hung up.
Zoya paced around, clutching her mobile impatiently. She fervently prayed,
"Ya Allah! Please meri dua qubool kar leejiye. Phir kabhie aap se kuch nahin maangungi! Promise!"
Her phone finally rang, "Hello? Captain Williams? Yes, let me write it down. Thanks a ton captain! You are the best!"
"Good luck Ms Farooqui."
After she hung up, she jumped up in the air and twirled around and did a victory dance, "Zoya, you are the best! Mr Khan, aap kab tak chupte rahenge mujhse?"
The next day Zoya was ready bright and early. Dressed in her denim jeans and navy blue top, she rushed through her morning routine.
She could barely eat any breakfast, "Bilawal chaachu, aaj college jaldi jaana hai."
"Lekin Zoya driver ko tho aaney do."
"Koyi baat nahin. I will take a rickshaw."
"Lekin beti tumhey aadat nahin hai rickshaw ki," Bilawal's wife, Rehaana protested.
"Chaachi, don't worry. Aadat ho jaayegi! Got to go." She ran out the front door without waiting for a response.
She rode a rickshaw for the first time in her life. Zoya was pleasantly surprised to find that Asad's neighborhood was very close to her art school. It was an old neighborhood with very narrow streets and "galis"-very different from her dad's McMansion in suburbia New York.
Zoya was not used to walking in the narrow streets where stray dogs, litter and human beings all co-existed. She passed by a few shops and finally saw a cluster of homes in a corner.
"Mr. Khan ka ghar. Hmm-ah-ah-#210 hai-.kahan hai? oh..oh…wo raha," she noticed a cute little house on the other side of the street. The house was a 2-storey home with a terrace on the top. She saw some clothes hanging on the terrace, but was disappointed to see only women's clothes hanging, 'Mr. Khan tho sirf apni uniform hi pahente hain. Zaroor dry cleaners ke yahan bhej te honge. I hope I am at the right place." She bit her lip worriedly.
She was about to open the gate to the house, when she saw a young lady in her early-twenties walk out of the front door, "ammi! Please darwaza bandh kar leejiye. Main shaam ko aapki dawa leti aaoongi."
"Yeh Mr. Khan ki behen hongi," Zoya hid behind a tree and observed.
The young girl with a round but pleasant face was about to sit in her little Maruti sedan, when a neighbor came up to her, 'Najma, ab ammi kaisi hain?"
"Pehle se theek hai auntie. Bas ilaaj chal raha hai unka," Najma smiled.
"Beti, Asad dikhaayi nahin de raha. Kahan hai wo aaj kal?" the neighbor asked.
Zoya's ears perked up when she heard Asad's name. She was at the right place.
"Auntie, bhaijaan ki posting tho Andaman mein hai aaj kal. Wo ghar par nahin hain." Najma replied.
"Andaman? Yeh kahan hai?" Zoya wondered. Quickly, she took her iPad out and searched for 'Andaman'
"Allah mian! Andaman tho bahut door hai!" Zoya's jaw fell to her knees.
"Dilshaad se kehna ki kabhie koyi help chahiye ho tho hum se kehna," the neighbor reassured Najma.
"Auntie waise main ek paying guest rakhney ki soch rahi hoon. Jo ghar par ammi ke saath bhi reh le aur thodi income bhi ho jaaye. Aap tho jaanti hain cancer ka ilaaj kitna mehnga hota hai," Najma's face fell.
Zoya felt really bad, "bechare Mr. Khan. Apni ammi ke liye kitni mehnat karte hain. Kaash main unki koyi help kar sakti. Kar bhi deti lekin wo kabhie nahin maanenge. Paying guest? Wow! What a brilliant idea. Now I know what needs to be done." Her eyes lit up at the thought.
Najma waved goodbye to her neighbor and started backing her car. Zoya took a risk and walked absent-mindedly behind Najma's car.
BANG! Najma applied brakes instantly, "Ya Allah! Yeh mujhsey kya ho gaya?"
Najma ran out of her car and saw a tall, young girl lying on the road in behind her car.
A crowd appeared from nowhere and surrounded the car and the wounded girl.
Just as someone was about to call the ambulance, Zoya opened her eyes and touched her head, "main kahan hoon? Kaun hai aap?" she looked at Najma and feigned ignorance.
"I am so sorry. Maine aap ko dekha nahin. Please can I call an ambulance? Kahan jaa rahi thi aap?" Najma was very apologetic.
Zoya tried to get up, but pretended to collapse again. Najma caught hold of her, "aap mere saath aaiye. I live right here." Najma thanked the onlookers, " main inhein apne ghar le jaati hoon. Aap sab jaa sakte hain. Thanks for your help," Najma helped Zoya to her feet.
Najma put her arm around Zoya and walked with her to her house.
"Nahin aap taqleef mat kariye. I am fine. AAAhhh!" Zoya winced.
"Nahin. Taqleef ki koyi baat nahin hai. Yeh tho meri galti hai. Chaliye main thodi ice laati hoon. Lagta hai aapke pair mein chot aayi hai. You might have sprained your foot." Najma helped Zoya to the couch in their living room.
"Kaun hai?" Dilshaad's voice floated from the kitchen, "Najma! Kya hua?"
"Ammi. Meri gaadi ki takkar ho gayi inse." Najma replied apologetically.
Zoya looked up at Dilshaad and tried to get up, " salaam o alaikum."
" Wa alaikum salaam!
"I am sorry." Zoya winced.
"Nahin, nahin baithi raho beta. Main ice laati hoon," Dilshaad went back to the kitchen.
Zoya nodded and sat down obediently. She was flattered by their hospitality and thought, "no wonder Mr. Khan mein itni tehzeeb aur manners hain."
After Zoya iced her foot, Dilshaad handed her a glass "haldi ka dhoodh-issey chot jaldi theek ho jaayegi." She insisted even though Zoya scrunched her nose with disgust.
Zoya forced herself to drink the concoction. She couldn't afford to not impress Asad's family.
"Beti kya naam hai tumhara?" Dilshaad asked.
"Jee---Zoya," She smiled.
"Bahut pyaara naam hai," Dilshaad smiled back, "what's your last name?"
"Sidd," Zoya didn't know why but she recalled jiju's words and stuck with her 'other' name, "Zoya Farooqui."
"Kahan jaa rahi thi aap? Main chhod deti hoon aapko." Najma offered.
"Main yahan paas mein hi JJ school of art mein student hoon. Wahin jaa rahi thi," Zoya answered.
"Oh really? Ammi used to teach there. She was a professor of art history. Lekin ab bimaar hain na, she has stopped teaching."
"Bimaar? Kya matlab?" Zoya feigned ignorance again.
"Ammi ko blood cancer hai. Ab wo kaam nahin karti Ghar par hi rehti hain." Najma's smile faded.
"Oh! I am sorry," Zoya lowered her head and pondered on how to break into their household.
She tried to get up, but collapsed again.
"Zoya. Aap yahin thehro. Main doctor ko phone karti hoon. Wo yahin aakar aapko dekh lengey, "Najma was concerned.
After the doctor checked her out, he reassured them it was probably a mild sprain, but Zoya was probably shaken up by the accident, "I would advise rest all day."
"Zoya, can I drop you home?" Najma offered, "where do you live?"
"Main actually America se aayi hoon. I am an exchange student. Abhi koyi permanent jagah nahin mili hai rehney ko. Bas yahin kabhie kisi friend ke yahan, kabhie kahin aur. I am still looking for a place to stay," Zoya sighed with pitiable expression.
Najma and Dilshaad glanced at each other. Their problem was about to be solved.
Najma sat down next to Zoya, "Zoya, agar aap chahein tho hamare saath reh sakti hain. You know as a paying guest. Mere bhaijaan aaj kal out of station hani. You can stay in his room. We were looking for someone anyways, kyunki main bhi din mein college jaati hoon. Ammi ke paas koyi nahin hota. Aapka school yahan se paas bhi hai. What do you think? Hamare yahan America jaisi luxuries tho nahin par pyaar bahut hai," Najma smiled at Zoya.
Zoya had tears in her eyes and instinctively hugged Najma, "I really like you guys. I would love to stay here. Aap log bahut achche hain."
Dilshaad also sat down next to them and smiled, "beti hum tum se kuch nahin lengey. Tum bas mujhey company dena aur apni art se mera mann behlaana," she caressed Zoya's hair.
Zoya was grateful, "thanks. Can I call you phoophi?"
"Of course!" Dilshaad patted her hand.
Zoya was lost in her thoughts as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Kya soch rahi ho Zoya?" Dilshaad asked
"Kuch nahin," she shook her head, "bas meri ammi nahin hai na. iss liye thoda rona aa gaya." Dilshaad gave her another hug and kissed her forhead, "aisa lagta hai ki tum ajnabi nahin, koi apni hi ho."
"Thanks phoophi."
Dilshaad and Najma were thrilled to find a solution to their problem. Zoya seemed such a nice and affectionate girl- the perfect houseguest!
"OK Zoya main jaa rahi hoon. We will bring your luggage in the evening…OK bye!" Najma left for college, reassured that ammi was in good company.
"Phoophi, aap mujhey mera room dekha dengi?" Zoya asked, anxious to explore Asad's dwelling.
"Yes of course. Aao Asad ka room oopar hai."
"Asad?" Zoya feigned ignorance again.
"Oh sorry. Mera beta. Navy mein officer hai. Abhi out station posting hai."
"Oh! I see," Zoya twirled her hair and smiled inwardly.
"Lekin tum oopar jaa paaogi?" Dilshaad glanced at Zoya's foot.
"Oh! Haan, lagta hai thoda better hai. Aapke haldi ke dhoodh ka kamaal hai shayad," Zoya saved herself from embarrassment, as she had almost forgotten about her 'sprain'
Zoya hobbled behind Dilshaad as they climbed upstairs.
Zoya noticed the simple decor of the house, with a few paintings on the walls and houseplants on the floor to decorate the interiors. She was used to seeing mansions with designer interiors, fancy rugs and furniture. Asad's home was as simple and honest as he was- and she loved it! She could already feel his presence around her as they came closer to his room.
"Yeh hai mere bete ka room," Dilshaad guided her to Asad's room, "if you want abhi rest kar lo yahan."
Zoya was awestruck and walked in with eyes wide open like a little child visiting Disneyland for the first time, "phoophi.Yeh tho bahut accha room hai. I love it! It's so neat." Zoya was of course thrilled about sharing Asad's room- his bed, his closet, his bathroom. She wanted to be a part of his day-to-day life; experience life the way he did, see the sunrise from his bedroom window; count the same stars from his bed near the window.
Dilshaad proudly said, "Haan mera beta apni cheezein bahut sambhaal kar rakhta hai."
"Main jaanti hoon," Zoya mumbled absent-mindedly. She did not realize what she had just said.
"Tum kaise jaanti ho?" Dilshaad was amused.
"Oh! Wo-wo bas aap sab se milkar lagaa. Aap sab hi itne acche log hain. Aapke bete bhi waise hi honge," Zoya kicked herself for the faux pas, "and-and he is in the navy na? I am sure they teach them a lot of discipline."
"Yes, you are right. He is very disciplined about everything. He is very particular about time also. We really miss him. Hafte mein ek baar hi phone kar sakta hai ship se. Main aur Najma har Sunday uske phone ka intezaar karte hain." Dilshaad's eyes became moist as she proudly talked about her son.
Zoya could tell that Asad and his mother had a very strong bond- a bond she could only hope of strengthening with time. With time, hopefully, she could win Dilshaad and Najma's trust and perhaps one day, even win Asad's heart forever.
Zoya gazed at Asad's picture on his desk- he was in his Navy uniform, looking dashing as usual, smiling at her with his piercing eyes.
She caressed the picture with her fingers and murmured softly, surprising herself with a sher she had read a while back-
'dil ki kitaab ka panna churaa legaye aap
?aankhon se neendh uda legaye aap
?aapki yaad me tadapne ki aadat nahin thi humien?
apni yaadon mein tadpaane sikha gaye aap….
…to be continued….. will update after vacation J
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