Hello lovely people!
Guess who woke up from the writing slumber 😗
Thank you everyone for the amazing words while I needed some time off.
It is a little hard writing anything after the wild last couple months I had. I really hope you all like what I tried to come up with and that my deluded romantic fantasies are still going strong. I am going to end the story in the next 2-3 chapters as I'd like to complete it and not keep stretching. Hopefully would be back with brand new khayali pulaos soon ❤️
And as always,
Happy Reading ✨
----------------------------------
9
“ Tu Hi Mera Jeevan, Tu Hi Jeene Ka Sahara ”
Anwar hugged his lost in thought wife as she walked back to their hotel room.
“Where did you come from?” she asked
“I followed to save Asad from your wrath but stopped when I saw you had it under control” She wiped a stray tear hiding at the corner of his eye.
“What is it?” Zeenat whispered concerned.
“I am so proud of you” Her frown deepened with her husband’s smile.
He lovingly tucked a hand under her chin “You, today, standing here reciting your concern for our Zoya in such a way makes my heart swell with pride. Your thoughtfulness; making sure his actions are not guilt-ridden, and not covering it with a ‘ladkon se galtian ho jati hain’. Before Akram, I saw the concern in your eyes too but at that time it was more for the societal concept of marriage. It’s made me fall so much more in love with you, seeing you grow and understand the fragility of relations in such a way.”
The stunned wife nodded in reassurance. She had wronged her daughter once with an atrocity named Akram; she would never do it again. If that meant Asad getting offended and walking away, so be it. She had thrown her “ladke waale hain” mentality where it belonged, in the bin, and rightfully started thinking about her girl’s happiness.
After all they were ladki waale, and had to make sure their ladki was loved right.
“I thought you were team Asad.” she teased deflecting the emotions and love for him brimming in her eyes.
“I’m team us.” he said placing his forehead against her.
🌼 🌼 🌼
Zoya paced and paced. Aapi’s anger had put her on edge, or maybe it was hers.
They had a great evening, he had danced for her, with her, cooked for her, nursed her wounds, tended to her with care.
And she was... angry?!
Her heart tonight was hanging by a thread. Any more strings pulled, and she would fall down the cliff.
It was no joke.
No joke, that she would be married to this man in a matter of days.
Married.
In. Days.
They both now knew; it was a make-or-break day tomorrow.
The final date. The date of answers.
The words that’d escaped from his lips in the recent past still echoed in her head when she closed her eyes; words that bruised her and made her ache.
She was mad because she wasn’t jumping for joy. She was getting married, and she wasn’t giddy with happiness and butterflies. Tears blurred her vision and frustration was the name of her mood.
Why does her life have to be so tragic? Why couldn’t she for once have it all, without the pain, without the trauma, without beseeching.
She was mad at her Allah Miyan. She was mad at Tanveer. She was mad at Asad. She was mad at herself.
There was no escaping it.
She decided to sit in the pity party she had thrown herself tonight. It would be over soon for she didn’t have the time to carry it along with her. Lifelong decisions had to be made tomorrow, she needed a clear mind. So, for tonight - just for tonight - she allowed herself the grief. She let tears take over, and wore the blanket
of her sadness,
of her hurt,
of not being trusted,
of convincing people her worth she’d die for in a heartbeat.
She braced it and just for tonight, faced it.
🌼 🌼 🌼
Zoya traced the outline of the discolored paper.
‘My wish list for the future husband’ the title read.
She still couldn't believe that he of all people had found it. Universe sure worked in mysterious ways. At least hers did.
Zoya Farooqui at sixteen years old had four wishes.
Wish 1 – My future husband would cook for me.
Wish 2 – My future husband would dance with me under the stars.
Wish 3 – My future husband would take me for a moonlit walk (preferably by the water).
Wish 4 – My future husband would bring me my heart.
She smiled at the last one. And all of them. What a simpleton she was. Although all still held true, she had some major additions to her stagnant list, like,
– My future husband would respect me at all times, even in anger, especially in anger.
She winced reminiscing Asad’s behavior.
– My future husband would love me, encourage me to grow, grow with me.
– My future husband would not hide his scars and pain from me.
– My future husband would be patient with me.
– My future husband would be my confidante.
– My future husband would help me bring back my heart.
She had made edits and additions to the last one. She had grown wise enough to understand that it was no one’s responsibility to bring her happiness. But her loved ones sure as hell can help her find it.
How would he ever decode that last one she didn’t know.
At the time when she had once written those wishes, she had felt lost and afraid. She’d learnt about her Abbu still being out there and believed a chunk of her lost heart was too.
Now thinking back on it, she truly never found her heart until she found Asad.
The bright morning had dissolved the existence of her pity party.
She had promised herself that she would never repress her emotions, even if negative. Letting them take over her soul for the night was the best decision she made.
Zoya needed to do that to be free. To love and accept. To feel the anger in order to let go of it completely before entering this new chapter of life with him. She knew very well that Asad wouldn’t disappoint tonight. Infact he would make it the hardest for her to even consider the word ‘no’.
She rolled over to the side of her bed thinking deeply now, how he might fulfill the other two wishes. So far, he had passed with flying colors.
She pondered some more, then putting the list down, headed to the bathroom of her suite. There was a date to get ready for.
Of course, he didn’t tell her where he was taking her. This man was nothing if not a mystery.
🌼 🌼 🌼
Staring at him from under her lashes, she concentrated on his face and tried to gauge the silence. He hadn’t said much today after he’d picked her up.
She couldn’t wait for them to reach their destination, but didn’t want it to come either.
The silence in the car was both welcoming and unwelcoming. She fidgeted with the edge of her white kurti.
It was a long drive from Bhopal, longest one they’d been on ever.
Allah Miyan, just where is he taking me? Aisa karte karte toh pahadon mein pahunch jayenge.
Asad was careful.
The phones had been charged to a full life and notifications were on the loudest setting. The last thing he wanted was to upset her family one more time.
For the most part, a veil of silence stayed between them, until she heard him hum in a low voice.
To say she was shocked would be an understatement.
What made him so confident and not a pile of wrecked nerves like her?!
Her heart jumped with every hum of his, the soft, smooth velvet voice doing rounds in her tummy, swerving the butterflies left and right.
Enclosed in the car with him, a sunset on the horizon, his cologne intoxicating her senses and voice soothing her ears, she found herself reminding how to breathe.
In and out. Inhale. Exhale.
A young Kishore Kumar called out to her lover on the radio, “Chukar mere mann ko, kiya tune kya ishara” his fingers drummed to the beat of the song on the steering wheel “Badla yeh mausam” the orange sunset reflected on his neat black hair. “Lage saara jag pyaara” Asad recited in a low voice. “Aaja tera aanchal ye pyaar se main bhar du” Zoya could feel, he was zoned out; as she was zoned in on him. “Khushiyan jahan bhar ki tujhko nazar kardu” She knew even in his unaware state of mind, his peaceful voice sang to her. Even if it was to himself, even if it was hushed, she heard him. Crystal clear.
The drive ended on a sandy beach. It was more of a national park than a beach. Zoya had heard about this popular location in Bhopal some time ago from her Aapi. They were parked towards the back of the building away from the tourist rush, in a quiet deserted area.
Zoya liked this about him. The introverted, shy side of him that looked for just her company and not the world.
It was after sunset now and the moonlight had started to peep through the clouds and onto the glorious water. It was also a little colder than she had expected.
She smiled secretively understanding the purpose of the location. It wasn’t just any walk under moonlight. It was surrounded by sparkling water, small wooden rocking boats, sand on feet and cold breeze kissing the hair - walk under moonlight.
As they circled the car, he reached out a hand to her. Zoya looked at him surprised. He stuttered a little as he spoke but carried on bravely, "Your wish was to walk under the moonlight, mine is to walk holding your hand."
The ice was almost gone, and his words melted away the rest.
His eyes, oh his Asad eyes. She saw all the tenderness in the world in those two brown eyes and wondered how she ever got angry at them.
She pretended to look around, away from his gaze for she was scared she would expose herself too much. Her cold hand now warming up in his, she was in awe of the beauty that was Bhopal.
It reminded her of a dream she used to revisit often when she was a child.
Beautiful waves of water, bathed in moonlight and serenity, a boat ashore, green land across. In her dream, she would go from one part of the shore to the next. In her reality today, she found her shore, her destination walking beside her.
🌼 🌼 🌼
{Song in title: Chukar Mere Mann Ko by Kishore Kumar}
You have done such a beautiful job with the growth of characters particularly Asad since he was so closed off. I loved reading how guilty he feels for not trusting Zoya when the whole Tanveer ordeal happened and realizing how much he loves her.
comment:
p_commentcount