Part 1: pg 1 Part 12: pg 79
Part 2: pg 6 part 13: pg 87
Part 3: pg 11 part 14: pg 98
part 4: pg 19 part 15: pg 106
part 5: pg 24 part 16: pg 114
part 6: pg 30 part 17: pg 122
part 7: pg 37 part 18: pg 132
part 8: pg 44 part 19: pg 141
part 9: pg 50
part 10: pg 57
part 11: pg 67
Part 20 onwards: Next thread- https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/3686497
Hi everyone
Finally, I have decided to write a full-fledged fan fic based on AsYa/QH story. Instead of writing an entirely new story, I have modified one of my old KYPH ffs to suit the QH characters. The original story was an interfaith love story but this based on the saga of two Muslim families just like the show.
Main Characters:
Asad Ahmed Khan: 26 year old handsome officer in the Indian Navy. Lives in Mumbai with his mother, Dilshaad and sister, Najma.
Zoya Siddiqui/Farooqui: 21 year old charming daughter of an affluent banker, Ghafoor Siddiqui in New York
The rest of the characters will be introduced as the story progresses.
FAASLE
Dil Ka Dard AankhoN mein Le Aaye
Yeh Kyon RishtoN mein Faasle Aaye
Sab Kuch Paakar Bhi, Phir Kho Diya.!!
Apne Haq mein Jo Kuch Faisle Aaye
- By Khwaish
PART 1
It was a Saturday evening, with most of the New Yorkers busy prepping for their respective social engagements. Restaurants, movie theaters, Broadway shows and hotels were all bustling with the high heels, trendy bags and designer clothes. The banquet hall at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York City was one such place where the glitterati and the affluent Indian crowd from the city had gathered to celebrate the 21st birthday of Zoya Siddiqui, daughter of Investment Banker, Mr. Ghafoor Siddiqui.
With $100, passport and a work permit, Siddiqui had immigrated from India 17 years ago with his wife, Zainab and four year old daughter. Soon after immigration, his wife of 10 years had passed away under mysterious circumstances. People speculated that she might have committed suicide. Siddiqui never talked about his deceased wife. Zoya had fond memories of her mother from when they had lived in India, but after moving to the US, all she could recall was isolation from her mother. Zainab barely spoke and spent most of her time on a rocking chair, in a quiet dark room.
As far as she could remember, badi bi or 'dadi jaan,' Zoya's grandmother had been her main caregiver. After his wife's demise, Ghafoor had surrounded himself with more work and spent hours on Wall Street, making money for himself and for others. His Midas touch had earned him the reputation of being the 'Indian Gordon Gekko.' Despite mingling with the tycoons of the world, he was a devout Muslim and very particular about his daughter being raised with proper Islamic values. Late nights, partying with friends, wearing revealing western outfits, or dating were all prohibited for Zoya. Amongst her friends, she was probably the only one who had not sneaked in a cigarette or a beer into their college dorm. Even though, Zoya had grown up with daily Namaaz, Friday Islamic School and religious practices, she couldn't fathom why she had to pray so many times in a day. On occasion, when confronted by her father, she had lied about her prayers; dadi jaan was of course always present to defend her dearest grand daughter. Since she had attended college, a rebellious streak had seeped in; lately she had started questioning her father's rules and obsession with tradition.
Columbia's undergraduate business program had welcomed the daughter of a successful banker with open arms. Although Zoya had an inclination for the arts, Siddiqui wanted her to follow his footsteps. His hefty donation to the school notwithstanding, Zoya spent most of her time in the cafeteria and nearby coffee shops with friends. Crunching numbers was just not her cup of tea.
"Uffo dadi jaan! Why do I have to wear this frumpy salwaar kameez to my 21st? Aakhir yeh kaisi sazaa de rahi ho aap mujhey?" Zoya asked with a big frown.
"Beti'yeh tumhare abbu ki khwaish hai'aaj party mein bahut badhe badhe log aa rahe hain'chalo jaldi tayyar ho jao."
"Sorry dadi jaan! You know I would prefer to wear jeans, but I can compromise and wear a long skirt with a blouse today'but no salwaar kameez for heaven sakes!" She rolled her eyes.
"Theek hai baba'jaisa baap'waisi beti. Ab yeh boodhi dadi jaan kya kare?" Badi Bi sighed with resignation, "lekin blouse ke sleeves full hone chaahiye'samjhi?" She had lived with a stubborn son all her life; his daughter was following suit.
"Alright'alright jaaneman," Zoya flashed her beautiful dimples and winked at her grandmother, "Allah kare aap jaisi dadi sab ko naseeb mein miley'.muah!" Zoya had perfected the art of flattery on her dadijaan, and frankly, badi bi didn't mind that. Ghafoor had no time to show any affection to his mother; Zoya was her only soul stirrer.
"Yeh ladki ek din mujhey tho zaroor pagal kar degi." Badi Bi smiled affectionately and left the room to change into something presentable for the big occasion. Under normal circumstances, she would have stayed away from the world of glamor, but it was about her laadli, Zoya. Also, Ghafoor had mentioned something about a surprise for Zoya at the party. Zoya would need her there, just in case the surprise turned out to be a nightmare. Ghafoor was capable of turning up with the most undesirable surprises, and now that Zoya was 21 with a mind of her own, who knows how she would react?
Dressed in a long black skirt, pointed heels, long sleeved red blouse, her darling Zoya looked like a princess.
"Kahin nazar na lag jaaye meri Zoya rani ko," badi bi placed a small black mark on Zoya's temple, that she promptly wiped off with a tissue, "daaadiii jaaan'please! Allah miyan'this is the 21st century'please no nazar ka teeka for me!"
As soon as she walked into the banquet hall, Zoya's eyes lit up at the sight of her friends. That her father had ordered the best decorations and catered from the most expensive caterers did not catch Zoya's attention. While the guests ooh-ed and aah-ed at the arrangements, Zoya surrounded herself with her college friends.
Ghafoor, a bit disappointed by his daughter's lack of interest in the business community; her perfect chance for networking gone waste, gulped down his drink and walked towards Zoya. He had promised to not raise his voice at Zoya today. He cringed at the sight of her outfit, and was not happy to see her back slapping an African American man standing next to her.
Badi Bi shook her head gently, warning Ghafoor to be patient today.
"Happy Birthday Zoya!" Ghafoor cleared his throat and stood stoically with his hands behind his back.
A hushed silence fell in the hall as the father and daughter came face to face; Zoya's friends cleared the way on cue.
"Thank you abbu!" Zoya smiled and nodded her head. How she wished that he would at least embrace or kiss her forehead like he used to do when she was a little girl. She couldn't recall the last time her abbu had hugged or patted her.
"Well'I hope you are enjoying this lavish party dear."
"Of course abbu! Thanks for all the arrangements," she stared at the floor, averting her gaze from him. She knew he wasn't happy about her outfit, but how could she wear a salwaar kameez amongst her friends? They had never seen her in one, and she wouldn't know how to react to their shocked expressions.
"Well, I have a surprise for my daughter on her 21st birthday!" Turning around to the crowd, Ghafoor made an announcement. A stunned Zoya looked around, her eyes searching for dadi jaan. She hated surprises, especially from her abbu. Last time he brought her tickets to a Sufi concert, and the year before that, he asked her to accompany him at his office for a whole day! That was the most boring birthday present she had ever received. She had vowed to never work in a corporate office like that.
"Come here Akram!" Ghafoor waved to a young man in a black suit, "here meet my daughter."
"Salaam alaikum!" The young man, tall, lean and clean-shaven with an almost 'plastic' smile greeted her.
"Hello!" An embarrassed Zoya replied politely. She was quite fluent and conversant in Urdu, but she didn't expect a person of her generation address her like that in public, perhaps at the Masjid, but not here.
"Zoya'Akram mere puraane dost ka beta hai'he is a very bright young man' just graduated from Wharton Business School with high honors!. Tum dono ek doosrey ko jaan lo'..main chahta hoon tum dono jaldi hi nikaah kar lo!" Ghafoor placed his arm around a coy Akram and smiled at Zoya, "can't get a better match than this for my daughter."
A stunned Zoya stood frozen, her cheeks as pale as the Chicken kababs being served to the guests. A collective gasp from her friends made her tremble in her heels.
"Abbu!" mustering some courage, " main'abhi nikaah ke liye tayyar nahin hoon." Her eyes averted, she stared at Akram instead. Something about his personality gave her the courage to rebel against her father.
"Sorry Zoya'the decision has been made. Main tumhara abbu hoon. Tumhare bhala bura mujh se zyaada koi nahin samajhta'tumhare yeh rang birange dost bhi nahin!" He gave her friends a stern look. Zoya cringed, hoping that her friends wouldn't comprehend his racist remark.
Zoya exchanged a few words with Akram and then politely excused herself.
Ghafoor was busy with his business acquaintances, a livid Zoya decided to leave the party before the celebrations. Badi bi was able to control her temper, and promised to help her once they were home.
Once she was home, Zoya shut herself in her room, burying her face in the pillow, "nahin'main aisa kabhi nahin kar sakthi'..abbu aakhir kaun hote hain mere saare faisle karne waale? Main is nikaah ke liye tayyar nahin hoon'.mujhey yeh qubool nahin hai!"
A worried badi bi decided to speak with Ghafoor in the morning, "Yeh Ghafoor ne theek nahin kiya. Bhari mehfil mein beti ka nikaah ka faisla kaise kar liye usney?"
Next morning, badi bi tried to reason with Siddiqui, but he was adamant about his decision, "Ammi! Main Zoya ka abbu hoon aur uske liye kya theek hai aur kya nahin'iska faisla sirf main kar sakta hoon'.aapka kaam hai usey samjhaana'wo meri beti hai, aapki nahin!"
Hurt by his words, badi bi receded to her room. Ghafoor was in one of his moods that would just escalate with more discussion. It was best to leave him alone for sometime.
Zoya overheard their conversation and decided to take matters in her hand. She knew that her father would not budge. Just like all the decisions of her life, he would force her into this alliance. This was the most important decision of her life, and she wouldn't let anyone dictate terms regarding her choice of a spouse.
Later that night, Zoya tiptoed into her abbu's room and took out an old box from his closet. She had seen this box several times in her parent's closet, but knew never to ask any questions. She took out a photograph and an envelope addressed to her parents. There was a return address on the envelope from a place in Istanbul, Turkey.
"Aapi, main aapke paas aa rahi hoon'.."
'to be contd'.
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