Mere Dil Pe Fateh Lehraane, Meri Rooh Ko
Bhigaane, Ye Noor Kahan Se Aaya
Chapter 116
"AARRGH!" Asad did his best pirate
imitation as he slammed a fist on the steering wheel. He slowly maneuvered the
car to the side and pulled over.
"Asad calm down. It's nothing big. Don't be
so upset!" Dilshad chided him for such a violent reaction.
She'd never seen him lose control like this
over a minor setback. They'd all glanced anxiously at Zaid to see if his
father's outburst had woken him up.
No, Zaid slept on.
"Yeah, Mr. Khan, it's no big deal. I can
help you fix a flat tire in seconds. I know cars like the back of my hand,
trust me."
Asad took deep breaths.
And even more deep breaths when he heard
those words: "trust me."
By that time Zoya had already unbuckled
herself and opened the rear passenger door.
Asad wheeled on her. "No! Do NOT step out
of the car. I'll do it." He unbuckled his seat belt.
"But, Mr. Khan---"
"Zoya, I said no!" he hollered as he got
out.
Zeenat smothered a giggle.
Her son-in-law had wised up to Zoya's
tendency to jump in and be the fix-it expert. Zoya's enthusiasm for mechanical
projects was persuasive if not contagious. She and Anwar would cross their
fingers but cheer her on. Then behind her back Anwar would bring in a pro to double
check Zoya's handiwork. And surprisingly Zoya's workmanship held up.
Asad shrugged off his suit jacket and
clawed the tie at his neck while muttering curses. This was not his day
obviously. The universe was conspiring against him getting lucky.
Asad sighed.
Or may be this is what having kids meant.
Though how did parents ever get alone time to even produce a second
child?
His head felt fogged up with the
evaporating fantasies of thongs and heels and the encroaching dread of changing
a flat. When was the last time he'd done it? Did he even know the steps?
Shouldn't be too hard, right?
Asad shook his head to clear it.
He needed his wits about him. It was late
and not too many cars were out on the street"which was good and bad. The flat
was on his side of the car"one sideswipe by a drunken driver and it could all
be over.
He rolled up his sleeves and snapped the
trunk open. But of course, Zoya wasn't one to stay put. Asad gritted his teeth
when he heard the door slam and heard the rapid clicks of her heels. He saw her
round the car as he was rooting around for the necessary tools and
supplies.
"Zoya get back inside," he hissed. This no
time for our trip-fall-catch routine.
"Mr. Khan, it'll go faster if I help. I
know exactly what to do!"
Of course she would! "I don't need your
help! Now get back in."
"But---"
Asad pulled her by her elbow to the side
and tried his best to talk calmly. Why didn't she get it? And why in god's name
did the tire have to bail out on them right now! He had a good mind to kick it
in a childish tantrum.
"Babe, it's past midnight. Do you even know
what kind of attention you'll attract standing by a stalled car?"
Flashing that near-naked back? In those
ball-burning heels?
He stifled a groan.
Zoya's eyes had already widened in alarm.
She sucked air. No, she hadn't thought of that. Allah miyan, what's wrong with
this country?
Asad cleared his throat. "Do you really
want me to take on Bhopal's finest gundas at this hour? Or do you want to get
home in one piece for some hot and heavy action?"
She bit back a moan. "Then I'm calling
Ayaan so he can help you."
Asad's head dropped back and he sighed. "Fine.
Do what you have to do. But just stay in!"
If it kept her inside the car and out of
sight, then yeah, anything was fine. She could call Dhoni too if it kept her
happy--and safe.
She'd just ended the call with Ayaan when
Raziya called. "Why didn't you text? Have you reached home safely? I'm sure you
forgot like always!"
Zoya explained what had happened and Raziya
fretted. She calmed down only when told about Ayaan coming to the rescue. She
mumbled something about kids these days not listening to grown-ups and acting
too smart for their own good. Couldn't they have stayed back at the Siddiqui
house then this wouldn't have happened? She hung up abruptly after more
grumbling--didn't she tell them that it was too late? Did they listen? "Apni
man-mani karte ho!"
"Aunty---"
Nothing.
And of course, Bhopal's finest gundas
seemed to have a thing for Asad and Zoya too.
Asad had jacked the car up and was removing
the tire after loosening the lug nuts when two bikers swerved around the car
drunkenly. The one in the back chugged from an open beer bottle and sang lewd
songs.
Zoya's sinking heart echoed Asad's.
No, it wasn't that they couldn't take these
losers on. The Jahanpanah and Jhansi ki Rani duo had taken on much worse and
kicked serious butt. It was just that this was going to be one more annoying
roadblock to delay a well-earned night of passion.
Asad tried to ignore the men as they buzzed
around like mosquitoes hoping that they'd get bored and drive away. He just
prayed that they wouldn't get too close and see three women in the car. And
please, Zoya, just stay the hell inside and don't try to be a hero.
The hooligans gunned their motors and
started to play a cat and mouse game with a man who looked well-dressed and
urbane--he'd make an easy mark and probably wouldn't put up too much of a
resistance--these yuppies never did. They edged closer to Asad pretending to
bump into him and taking several swipes at him. He jumped away to the side
deftly dodging their attacks.
Some stray cars zipped by, scurrying away
from the potential of random violence.
Asad gritted his teeth as he lunged away
from one more drunken thrust and being fresh roadkill. He knew that a word from
him could imflame the situation further so he stayed silent and avoided eye
contact.
Inside the car Zoya was already rooting
around in her bag for tools she could weaponize as Zeenat and Dilshad
hyperventilated. Rifling through her purse her hand skimmed across Asad's
Epi-pen. Would this work as a weapon? She discarded the idea after considering
it for a second. No. Administering it would be clumsy and she didn't know how
it would affect someone without allergies.
Zoya glanced at Zaid.
Thank god he was fast asleep. Dobby mewled
and scratched at the door of his carrier so she released him. He'd be less
noisy when loose and possibly a weapon too; he'd proven his warrior credentials
time and time again.
Thank god too that she wasn't one of those
girls who changed their purses regularly.
No, Zoya probably had fossils and rich
ecosystems thriving in her bag.
Her hand wrapped around her favorite pepper
spray. Thank you Allah miyan! And Mr. Khan, aren't you glad that I didn't
listen to you and clean out my bag!
But she had one worry. What if the spray
was too old and wouldn't work when needed? It had happened to her once much to
her embarrassment--because she'd been trying to threaten Mr. Khan with it after
her "Aap shakal se hi lecherous dikhte hain," comment.
Zoya scrambled for the baby's diaper bag
and looked in the pocket in which she'd stowed her make-up for the party today.
Was there anything here that could come in handy? Yes, the hair spray can! She
popped it out, shook and uncapped it. She handed her curling iron and brush to
Zeenat and the can and nail file to Dilshad.
"Ammi, here you go. Squeeze this into
anyone's eyes if they try to act smart."
Sure, they'd locked their doors. But still.
Zoya was terrified for both Asad and Zaid. She pulled out Zaid'd swaddling
blanket and covered his car seat with it. What if these gundas smashed through
the glass? At least the blanket would protect him from the flying glass. Should
she unbuckle the car seat and put it down by their feet for better
protection?
Zoya prayed that Ayaan would come soon.
Raabert, hurry!
Outside, the bikers continued trying to
rattle Asad. They mistook his restraint for cowardice.
Big mistake.
As they tried one more slash at him, Asad
grabbed the handle bar to stop the wheel that was inches away from crushing his
legs. They must not have been very astute because they didn't see the muscles
in Asad's arms bunch and flex as he held the handle in a fierce grip.
"Sambhal ke!" Asad said in as brotherly a
tone he could muster.
"Abey, sambhal ke chal tu!" one of them
slurred as the other laughed.
Asad put his hands up and stepped back. May
be if he didn't entangle with them any further then they'd get bored and
leave.
No such luck.
When one of them grabbed his collar, Asad's
patience broke. His fist whipped out to take the pillion rider out. The beer
bottle smashed to the ground, the streetlight glinting off its dark jagged
edges.
The man's head snapped back as he toppled
off the bike and fell flat on his back. The impact left him breathless; he
cried out in pain.
The other guy was feeling brave. Outraged
at his partner being taken out he revved to aim the spinning wheel straight at
Asad.
Zoya knew that this was her window of
opportunity. She knew that Asad could take care of himself. But the guy on the
ground was just stirring and would strike soon. What if he tried to go at Asad
with the broken bottle and attacked him from the back? Not if she had her way! She
sprang out of the car. He'd fallen behind the car--out of the sightline of both
Asad and his accomplice.
"Zoya!" Zeenat called out in panic. She
tried to grab Zoya's arm. "Don't! Ya Allah yeh ladki!"
But Zoya was unstoppable. She had a plan.
She'd already snatched the hair spray canister out of Dilshad's hand and now
aimed both cans at the clown's eyes.
And squeezed.
Thank god there was no malfunction this
time.
The man screamed and rolled in agony.
Zoya kicked some of the broken glass under him. It pierced his skin as he
rolled over it and he yelled out and cussed some more.
"Serves you right, you--you luchha! Bloody
kam*ina!"
Before he could recover, she popped back
into the car and locked herself in.
Zoya didn't realize that she'd been holding
her breath until it whooshed out in relief.
She turned to check on Asad. He was still
grappling with the biker who he'd pulled off the motorcycle by now. The man's
head snapped hard when Asad smacked his nose with the heel of his palm.
The bike lay on its side, its wheels still
spinning wildly.
A truly incensed Asad had dragged the guy's
helmet off and now whomped him hard on his head with it multiple times. He
really wasn't in the mood to mess up his hands; he had better things to do with
them later.
One well-placed knee to the nose and
groin--a shorter and swifter version of the girls' S-I-N-Ging--and this jerk
was out too.
Zoya leaped out again to redo her spray and
broken glass routine to finish off this guy too. With a cherry on top.
"Zoya!" Asad hollered at her. What was
wrong with this woman? Why did she never listen to him?
But hey, she was furious at these men too.
For good measure, Zoya stomped on the goon's hand with her heel breaking his
bones. Another high-pitched scream and he crawled blindly into oncoming
traffic. Horns honked and wheels skidded and braked.
Curses rang out in the night.
"Mr. Khan, we've got to hurry before these
morons come to. Now don't try to stop me from helping you!" She moved toward
the trunk.
Asad brushed the hair out of his eyes and
blinked at her. Then again, when did this woman ever listen to him?
He was breathing hard.
This was not the kind of hard breathing
he'd had in mind a half hour ago.
They both turned on hearing the roar of
another bike. More gundas?
"Zoya, get back inside. NOW!"
Asad seethed. This was seriously getting to
be a bit much--a total dash mein bumboo to quote his brother. They were surely
stuck in the middle of some third-rate Indian soap opera that procrastinated
the lead couple's suhaag raat for months. Asad rotated his wrist and turned to
glare into the fickle night. By god, he'd pound the next ass that messed with
him to a fine pulp.
Ayaan flipped his visor up and waved out to
them. A guard from the Siddiqui house sat behind him.
Zoya and Asad exhaled.
She hadn't been more relieved to see Raabert.
Ever.
An equally grateful Asad shooed Zoya back
into the car and together with the other men he had the car up and running.
Ayaan shrugged his shoulders and pointed
his chin to the guard who was helping put away the tools. "So annoying,
Bhai! Mumani wouldn't let me leave the house without bringing this guy along.
Can you believe it!"
Meanwhile with some help from Zeenat, Zoya
rebuckled Zaid's car seat into place. The good boy that he was, he'd slept
through the whole drama. Good god, would he grow up watching his parents fend
off gundas on a routine basis? She hoped not.
Ayaan left after a complicated handshake
with Zoya and a quick pat on the back by his Bhaijaan. Funny, it seemed Bhai
couldn't wait to get rid of him.
When their eyes re-met in the rear view
mirror this time, there were no more shy glances filled with promise; an
impenetrable intensity crackled between them. It was a silent war cry; it would
smoke everything that got in the way.
Asad exited the bathroom with a towel
wrapped around his waist. He watched Zoya hum to Zaid in the rocking chair as
he toweled his hair dry. Dobby dozed by her feet--far enough out of the rocking
chair's way.
Zoya handed the baby to him and rose to
take a shower too.
Asad pulled her to his side with his free
arm.
"You must be exhausted," he whispered. Asad
tucked a finger under her chin. "Don't worry about me. Go take a relaxing bath
and get some rest after that."
Zoya rose up on her toes and kissed him on
the cheek. Then she turned around to go freshen up.
Asad looked down at Zaid's face and all his
fatigue and aches vanished.
To sleep like a baby was the best kind of
sleep, wasn't it? But that watching a sleeping baby could be just as mystical,
he hadn't known.
Until now.
He couldn't resist stroking the rounded
cheek and smiled when he saw the parted mouth.
Zaid's chest rose and fell in a timeless
rhythm keeping some cosmic time. His perfect half-moon eyelids quivered and the
dark lashes whispered against the lush cheeks. Asad bent his head to brush a
kiss on the smooth forehead. He couldn't resist inhaling the baby smell.
He looked down at his son and lost count of
all time.
He didn't realize that he was gently
rocking the baby as he walked up and down the room. He stopped to stare out of
the window feeling Zaid's slight weight in his arms.
Asad's trance was broken only when he felt
a soft kiss on the back of his bare shoulder. Zoya wrapped her arms around him
and the baby.
"You're still up?" she asked.
"I got lost in him," Asad echoed her hushed
tones. "Just looking at him is therapy."
"I know, right?" she whispered. "I was
thinking exactly the same thing when I was rocking him right now. I could watch
him for hours."
Asad moved to lay a tightly swaddled Zaid
in his crib and Zoya covered him up. She brushed the baby's hair off his
forehead.
"Sweet dreams, baby," she whispered in his
ear. "I love you."
When she turned around she couldn't help
but smile to see Asad's tousled hair. He was watching her with his arms crossed
over his chest. Zoya's hand rose to brush the father's hair off his forehead
too.
"Everyone's right, you know. Zaid looks
exactly like you," Zoya remarked softly.
Asad arrested her hand and held it to his
cheek. He kissed her palm. "And you love it."
"Yes," Zoya said simply. She did.
He pulled her to him and she sighed in his
embrace. It felt so right to be held like this.
"Asad, you're sure you aren't hurt after
that fight? I wish you'd let me ice down those knuckles."
"I'm absolutely fine. All these weeks of
punching away at my sandbag sure paid off." And all that pent up se*xual
frustration.
"Yes, you were a lean, mean fighting
machine," she murmured in his ear. They swayed lightly. "A pure joy to
watch."
But seriously, thank god those idiots
weren't armed. Zoya shuddered to think what could have happened. They'd come
under attack too often in the past--each grisly encounter flashed before her
eyes on a sickening loop: Akram's farmhouse. Mangalpur. Agra. The doll factory.
Mangalpur again---
"And you were my pepper spray goddess--as
usual," Asad drawled shaking her out of her spiraling descent into a cheerless
reverie.
"Don't forget the hair spray," she murmured
into his shoulder, inhaling his scent.
"Hair spray? You gave them a makeover too?"
She giggled quietly. "I did what I had to
do."
"You always do."
They fell silent and held each other in the
semi-darkened room. She felt him harden against her but had no energy for light
banter. Any other time and she'd have teased him with a, "I know that's not a
gun so you must be real happy to see me, Jahanpanah!"
But not now.
The crashing adrenaline had left her
drained. Zoya sighed in contentment as Asad lifted her in his arms and laid her
on her side of the bed.
He dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead,
"you're dead on your feet. Get some rest."
Zoya snagged his hand to stop him from
walking away.
"Asad," she called out softly. "I need
you."
"Shh," he whispered. "Later."
"Now."
Why else would she be wearing her ivory
satin slip that fell just a few inches below her happy place?
And that peek-a-boo thong with its
beckoning strings and straps that had yoked them together all evening in a wet
clasp?
She sat up and tugged his hand to her
bre*ast.
Asad expelled his breath that he didn't
even know he was holding and sat down by her side. As he opened his mouth to
protest again, Zoya covered it with her fingertips and shook her head. Her dark
eyes spoke volumes--just love me, please.
Those eyes were speaking the language his
body craved to hear. With a groan Asad swooped to kiss her and press her down
into her pillow. He understood perfectly: no words, just tender lovemaking,
please. And hurry!
She ran her hands over the hard planes of
his shoulders and warm chest as if she'd never touched them before. Her hand
crept down to loosen the towel at his waist. She wanted to feel his weight on
her, his heat on her--she'd missed that so much for so long.
Asad shifted to toss the towel to the floor
and covered her body with his. Her soft moan of pleasure made his blood simmer.
He feathered kisses along her jawline and then her throat.
Zoya arched her neck giving him better
access. Her body shimmered silver in the moonlight. He flicked his tongue to
tease the pulse at her throat.
Zoya's nails dug into his back. She parted her legs to cradle him.
"Zoya, I missed you so much!" Asad
breathed.
His thumb hooked under and slid the
spaghetti strap down as his mouth sought her cleavage.
Their heated bodies couldn't seem to make
up their minds--when he slowed down she wanted him to hurry; when he hurried,
she'd slow him down.
When he trailed kisses to her bre*ast and
sucked hard she writhed under him. She'd wanted this so bad.
Asad gasped as pure sweetness flooded his
mouth. He'd wondered about this new taste for months.
"Oh god, Zoya!" His eyes stung as he looked
up at her.
She watched his face. She'd wondered too
about his response to this change in her body.
"You're so beautiful," he sighed as he
dipped his head to tug at her again. Liquid desire blazed through and puddled
between her legs. Her knees clung to his sides and Zoya's hands fisted in his
hair. Her slip rode up to her waist. Asad hissed at the raw heat radiating from
her.
His hand moved to stroke her misted center
but it encountered the thong. That thong! He'd forgotten all about it. Asad's
mouth curved. "Good girl," he murmured.
And just like he'd lowered her strap he
hooked the thong with a thumb to pull it down. Very slowly. She thrashed under
him. His mouth followed to drag it to her knees. Asad's teeth skittered across
her undulating hips and then his lips moved up to drop tender kisses along her
inner thigh. Her bolting pulse and drugged mind tracked that tongue slowly
journeying up ... and closer. She wanted him to hurry; she wanted him to linger ...
one firm, steamy lick ... and she was bucking wildly.
"Please Asad, right now. Take me right
now!" Zoya sobbed.
He growled in the back of his throat as he
rose to do her bidding. He'd do justice to their thong fantasies some other
time; Asad flung off the silk and lace barrier not caring if he'd ripped it. He
couldn't wait either--feckless gods and goddesses and crappy soap writers be
damned to hell.
She cried out as he entered her and Asad
froze.
"Zoya, are you OK?"
Breathing hard she kissed his shoulder. "I
am, now. Don't stop, please!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, please!"
And he couldn't hold himself back as he
rammed in setting a demanding pace. Zoya bucked harder. She raked his arms as
he moved deeper.
"Oh god, you're so tight," Asad panted. "As
if it's our first time." And she convulsed suctioning him hard.
"Zoyaaa!"
She wept.
"Did I hurt you?" A worried Asad asked when
they held each other later.
She'd pillowed her cheek on his shoulder.
"Never," Zoya sighed.
"Then why were you crying?"
"I missed you so much."
Asad tucked her tighter into his side and
kissed her on the head. "Get some sleep now. There are no guarantees for when
or how often I'll wake you up for more Asad-Zoya happy times." Hooking a finger
under her chin Asad kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Cos. babe, I missed you
more."
He grinned looking down at her. She'd
already fallen asleep.
But Asad stayed true to his word too. He
gave her just a couple of hours to regain her strength. He wasn't going to
waste this night sleeping. There were too many virginal nights to make up for.
He let her sleep late the next morning as
he got ready for work.
She'd woken a little after 6 to change and
feed Zaid and then crashed again. Zoya slept through the baby's next waking up
and cooing. Asad carried him to Dilshad and Zaid had entertained both his Dadi
and Nani.
Asad came back to brush the hair off her
face and kiss Zoya, "hey sleepyhead." He took her hand in his and kissed the
top. "Zaid's with Ammi. Sleep as long as you want."
She mumbled something.
"Hmm?"
"What did you tell Ammi?" Zoya asked
cracking an eye open. Her lids felt weighed down by dumbbells and glued shut
with super glue. She was too sleepy to feel shame at what her mother-in-law
might think of her.
Asad smiled. "I told her that Zaid was
fussy all night and didn't let you get much sleep."
She mumbled again and turned over. The
sheet slipped off her bare shoulder to give him a delicious peek. Asad's head
bent toward her imperceptibly. He wanted to---
"Hmm?"
"Blaming my baby for keeping me up all
night when actually it was Zaid's Abbu!"
Asad blushed. He knew she'd say that.
"Fine, you can punish me when I get back."
As he was about to close the door behind
him, Zoya called out to him.
"Asad?"
"Hmm?"
"Come home early. After all, Zaid
supposedly kept you up all night too, right?"
"No babe, he wasn't the one who kept me up.
It was Zaid's Ammi. And if you don't let me go now, I'll make sure that you
don't get any more sleep."
"Shh, Mr. Khan, don't even think about it.
I'd better be able to walk straight when I get up or I'm going to kill
you."
He laughed softly. "Think of what I did to
you with every step you take today ... with every breath. And get ready for
Act two tonight. I have a bedroom wish list---"
She groaned. She knew exactly what would be
on the X-rated wish list of his. Her husband had dreamt up elaborate plans
during his term of forced celibacy and she was to be the erotic laboratory
subject.
"I love you," Zoya whispered. "And pick
your poison--I'll fulfill two fantasies on that wish list of yours
tonight!"
"Just two? I had at least four in
mind."
"Asad!" She reached around and picked up
the discarded thong from last night to throw it at him. He palmed it easily and
shoved it in his pocket.
"I love you too." He closed the door softly
after him. He'd already drawn the curtains so that the climbing sun wouldn't
disturb her.
A pang of guilt stabbed him as he pulled
out of the driveway. Had he been too exacting last night? But after that first
session of mellow lovemaking and a brief rest, Zoya had come alive for round
two. She'd straddled and ridden him hard and he couldn't take his eyes off
those glorious bre*asts kissed by a moonbeam.
He got hard just thinking about them
now.
OK, may be the fourth time was too much.
His errant tongue had darted and sought her hot center and she'd shuddered
awake calling out his name.
She'd been so wet, balmy, so ready for him;
he'd slid in for an exultant home run.
His shoulders still showed the marks she'd
left on him; she'd punished him by digging her nails into his butt.
His pocket felt heavy with her scent.
Asad groaned and swung a U-turn. He didn't
care about the blaring horns or the gaalis that came with them.
When he got home Dilshad and Zeenat looked
up in surprise.
"I forgot my thumb drive--so I decided to
take the conference call here."
They nodded and went back to gushing over
their favorite grandson. "We'll take Zaid with us upstairs so we don't disturb
you," Dilshad said.
He smiled when he heard Zoya in the shower.
She looked up in alarm when the door opened
but smiled too when she saw Asad enter. Naked and hard.
Asad walked into the shower cubicle and
bent his head to take her slippery nipple into his mouth; he tugged hard
trapping it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He'd craved this
touch and taste all morning.
Zoya let out a whimper as she writhed under
the shivery onslaught.
She felt the caroming sensations of that
tug travel right down between her legs. Another one had her knees buckling.
Only Asad's arms held her up.
He pushed her to the wall pinning her hands
up above her and interlaced her hands with his in a powerful grip that yanked
her bre*asts up even higher.
The water splashed and laved over them
unable to mute the soft cries and sighs.
Asad mounted her as their eyes locked in
that eternal embrace and he began to rock her. She tried to wrap her legs around
him but Asad wouldn't let her--he kept her pinned with his body.
"Asad, please, please, please! I need to."
He silenced all protests; it drove her nuts
as he knew it would.
The sensations rippling through her were
crescendoing and she felt powerless. She could feel the orga*sm within reach
yet it kept receding.
And he knew it too.
Zoya twisted and churned. She clawed at his
hands begging for a dual release from the torment. Finally he let her hands go
to hold her by her hips hitching her higher, pounding harder; and finally she
clung to his waist by her legs. Zoya contracted her pelvic muscles to punish
him and Asad grunted with the effort to control their crash.
The multiple rounds over the past night had
already made her flesh ultra sensitive. The slightest nudge as he cupped and
kneaded her butt and she was falling. Spilling and falling.
And so was he.
"Oh baby, baby, baby!" Asad's voice cracked
as he moaned against her throat shaking through the last throes of his passion.
"The day I've had enough of you will be the last day of my life."
"Asad, shut up!" Her eyes stung all of
a sudden. "Take that back!"
"Nahin, yeh nikaah nahin hoga!"
Nuzzhat gasped. She never expected to hear
these filmy words come from her mother's mouth. The words "no" and "nikaah" in
the same sentence? Her mother must be possessed by some alien spirit.
"Ammi, but----" Nikhat was aghast
too.
"No!"
Rashid and Badi Bi were equally taken aback
by Shireen's vehemence. And that too on such a topic.
"But Shireen, I thought you'd be so happy
at this rishta. We know and love Faiz ... and now that the kids have finally
agreed to marry then why would you object?"
"I do love Faiz. I have nothing against
him," Shireen spoke firmly. "I would have never said no to this alliance. But I
won't lose another daughter to the US."
"Par beta, these days there is Skype and
Facetime ... they can come every year," Badi Bi tried to explain to her
daughter-in-law.
"Ammi, if they want to get married so bad
then Faiz can move to India and I would have no objection to this
wedding!"
For too long she'd seen Najma and then
Nikhat pine away quietly for their long-distance husbands. She'd seen Dilshad
weep tears of blood when Najma left and Shireen's heart had quaked. Soon she'd
be in her shoes.
Shireen rose and stalked off to her
bedroom.
Nuzzhat too sprang up and rushed to lock
herself in her room.
Rashid rose to follow her but Nikhat held
him back with a hand on his arm. "Abbu, I'll go talk to Ammi. You check on
Nuzzhat."
"Ammi?" Nikhat knocked on the door and
opened it to step inside.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn.
Shireen was sitting on the bed twisting her dupatta in her hands. Nikhat
switched on a bedside lamp. Shireen sighed when Nikhat came and sat next to her
and took her hand in her own.
"Ammi, you're not happy with my marriage?
Is that why you don't want Nuzzhat to marry Faiz?"
"Nahin beta!" Oh lord. She hadn't
thought about how this would affect Nikhat. She framed her daughter's somber
face in her hands. "I love Feroze and Faiz. I would love to have Faiz as
my other son-in-law. But I can't let her go so far away after you've gone. How
will I live without you girls? Itni badi saza nahin do hamein!"
"But Ammi, Nuzzhat finally agreed! She and
Faiz actually like each other now." It had taken months but finally they had
these two exactly where everyone wanted. "Do you think she'll agree to marry
anyone else after this?"
Shireen's heart contracted. Yes, Nikhat was
right. Nuzzhat was more headstrong and stubborn than her older daughter. She
would stand up to her mother's decision and Shireen didn't know if she had the
energy or the will to face the relentless offense Nuzzhat would mount. She'd
already shown her mettle in arguing for and winning on the issue of her joining
the street theater troupe.
"I've already given them one daughter,
don't ask me for another one." Shireen had made up her mind too.
For as long as she could she would oppose
this rishta. She had never taken such a bold stand and this was a hard decision
to come to. She may have nagged to get her way in the past but eventually she
always bowed to Rashid's will.
But she felt too strongly about this issue
to not take a stand.
She didn't know how hard it would be to go
against her family. She didn't have Dilshad's spine or spirit, nor Zoya's
mad-hatter grit or courage ... But on this she was firm--not one more
daughter.
Nikhat saw her mother's squared shoulders
and sighed miserably. Somewhere a part of her understood her mother's grief. As
much as she yearned to be with Feroze she fretted about leaving soon for the
US. This was her home, her family. And she would be paying a high price to be
with Feroze. She probably wouldn't see her family in person for a good year or
so. Skype and Facetime were all good and fine, but could you touch each other,
feel a hug or a hand on one's head? Didn't she already know this from being
parted from Feroze for so long?
She gripped Shireen's hand tight. They sat
in silence. Nikhat would not say another word to persuade her mother. A mother
had a right to worry about her children--no one could convince her not to.
A part of her was actually proud of her mom
standing up for a daughter--too often she and her sister had felt the sting of
being mere sidekicks to their brother in their Ammi's eyes.
Nikhat also knew her sister best: Nuzzhat
was strong-willed and smart. She'd find a way to her destiny.
But for now Nikhat resolved to quietly
support both mom and sister--she had limited time with each. She would have
loved a marriage between Nuzzhat and Faiz. But may be the new lovebirds needed
their own love story and its obstacles to forge an ironclad rishta. She'd
silently root for it. But Ammi deserved to have her fears allayed too.
"Ammi says no!" Nuzzhat texted Faiz. She'd
figured out the time difference like the back of her hand by now. It would be
early morning there.
"WHAT?? You're not serious," came the
furious reply.
"I am. And apparently so is she."
He called up to continue their
conversation. If he tapped any harder on his phone it was likely to shatter.
"But why? Does she have something against our family? She loved Feroze Bhai!"
May be it was him that Aunty didn't like?
"She still does. But she hates the idea of
both her daughters being million of miles away from her."
"It's not millions of miles. And she should
be thankful that New York is at least 3000 miles nearer to India than San
Francisco." Faiz breathed a sigh of relief. So it wasn't him that Aunty was objecting
to. For a second there ...
Nuzzhat sniffed.
"Nuzh, hon?"
"Faiz, if Ammi doesn't agree ... I might not
be able to ..."
"Are you serious?"
" ... I don't know. I've never really stood
up to my parents on big things. Minor stuff, sure ... But this ..."
"Nuzzhat, this will probably be the biggest
decision of your life. And you'll let someone else decide for you!'
"She's not someone else, she's my
mother!"
He just didn't get it. He didn't get what
it meant to be a daughter--and that too a daughter in India. Invisible male
privilege couldn't understand how hard it was for a girl to oppose her
family.
"And she's kind of right, you
know?" Nuzzhat continued to explain. "Why do you have to be so far
away? Look at Ayaan Bhaijaan and Humaira--they have the luxury of seeing their
families every day. But Najma and Nikhat Baajis don't. And if I marry you, then
I won't either."
Faiz fell silent. He really had no response
to this. She'd known this before hadn't she? It was no surprise. He didn't just
spring this on her.
"When Nikhat Baaji leaves in a month I
don't know when I'll see her again. And I've never spent a day apart from her
since I was born!"
"Except when she went on her honeymoon," he
drawled softly.
"Faiz, you know what I mean!"
"I'm kidding. Of course I know what you
mean. I feel the same way about Bhai."
"But at least you've had some practice
being away from your family since you went to college." Nuzzhat was close
to tears. When she heard Faiz sigh she felt guilty for unloading on him.
"Look, it's not as if we're getting married
tomorrow," Faiz explained patiently. "Not before I've finished my
post-grad and you've finished your studies. Aunty has a good two years to
get used to the idea. We're just talking about an engagement, aren't
we?"
"You don't get it. Two years may not
be enough to get her used to the distance. And it's not easy for me to speak to
my parents so openly about my own marriage. It's easier for you. You're
expected to be independent and make your own life decisions." I'm not.
"Are you just venting or are we
seriously talking about breaking up?" His voice was subdued but tense.
Nuzzhat gasped. This wasn't the madcap Faiz
who'd patiently courted her over the phone, Facetime and Facebook all these
months, having ridiculous gag gifts delivered to her doorstep followed by
flowers and chocolates.
It was only last month that she'd finally
admitted to herself that yes, she was in love with him. May be she'd always
been in love with him. Even during their spats and leg pulling. Even when he'd
winked at her at Nikhat Baaji's nikaah and announced, "why mess with
tradition?" when everyone was teasing them about the Khan family
one-nikaah-one-sagai-free tradition.
She'd probably fallen for him because of
that outrageous sense of humor. And that temper--it flared up after a lot of
simmering but cooled down faster than melted wax. Omar Jeeju was funny too; but
Faiz had that extra zing of wry humor--it was snarkier and darker. It was a
personality that develops when one grows in the shadow of a golden child--the
elder sibling that could do no wrong. And Nuzzhat kind of knew what that was
like, didn't she?
She'd tried hard to put up a stiff
resistance all these months: I will not fall for him had been her silent mantra
initially. It's too pat, it's what everyone else wants for us and I won't be
that predictable. I won't let Naz aunty win. She'd hated the idea of the moms
making plans for the next nikaah within the khandan.
That script of jhat-mangni-pat-byaah I
won't follow.
Hah! The plans she'd made. The walls she'd
built.
And Faiz had smirked, teased, and shot them
all down.
"Nuzzhat?" Faiz prompted her. She
remembered what he'd just said. Breaking up?
"Can't I even vent without you thinking the
worst of me?" She felt anger bubble up inside her. "Will I have to walk on
eggshells with you each time I feel the need to say something that you find
mildly upsetting? You'd better not expect me to be one of those quiet biwis who
say nothing to oppose their husbands!"
He laughed.
"Faiz, I'm not kidding! This is
serious."
"I know, serious as a heart attack," he
quipped. "I'm laughing cos. you just admitted to spending the rest of your life
with me as my wife."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. If there was a replay button
on our conversation I'd have replayed it back for you so you could hear
yourself."
Nuzzhat frowned. "I just said that you like
twisting my words to make me out to be the bad guy. I never said anything about
breaking up. Or about marrying you."
"You said that I shouldn't think that you'd
be the kind of wife who walks on eggshells when expressing contrary views to
her husband. That sounds like marriage talk to me."
"Any husband! I was talking generically and
didn't necessarily mean you," she yelled at him in frustration.
"Oh honey, there's nothing generic about
me. I'm the real deal, not a knock-off, and you'll be marrying me. Only
me."
"Even if Ammi opposes our Nikaah?" Her
voice had fallen and the uncertainty crept back in though her heart had done
that twisty thing when he called her "honey."
"Even then. And I can't believe that you
are willing to give up so easily without fighting for us. May be I need to
rethink our nikaah. Do I really want to marry a girl who doesn't have the guts
to fight for me?"
"FAIZ!" He'd just been so confident about
their "real deal" status. So what happened now?
"Don't yell at me." He felt a stab of
justified anger too. "Do an honest self-check and tell me clearly--what's it
going to be: us, or your mom's fears?"
And he hung up without a goodbye.
She could have screamed. Here Ammi was
going to give her hell and there ... there Faiz was now acting up. How was she
going to juggle an upset mom and an offended overseas lover?
"Zoya Bhabhi!"
"Nuzh? What's wrong? Why're you crying?"
Zoya was worried now. She was used to Humaira or Najma calling her in distress
but not everyone's little firebrand.
"I'm not crying," she sniffed. "I'm so mad
that I want to kick something!"
"Ooh, do tell!" her Bhabhi gushed. "OK,
start from the beginning," she ordered as she settled with Zaid in the rocking
chair. He watched his mom's animated expressions as she talked with his
youngest Phuphi. He let his Ammi play with his fingers. She seemed to love
that. And he liked it too. He loved to feel her fingers throb and pulse against
his when she joined his fingertips with hers.
"You know about Faiz and me, right?"
"Who doesn't," Zoya teased.
By now it was an open secret in the family.
The only people who probably didn't know were Asad and Siddiqui Saheb. And even
that might not be true. They all'd seen the chemistry in Mangalpur and Naz
aunty wasn't one to keep silent about her jodi-making successes. Her social
media accounts had blared the Faiz-Nuzzhat love story loud and proud. Najma had
nicknamed them "Faizhat" but it was Zoya's portmanteau for them that had really
stuck: "Nuff."
"So, what have Nuff done now?"
"Naz Aunty called to formally discuss our
engagement but Ammi now says no."
"WHAT?"
Even Zaid blinked in fear. Why was his Ammi
looking so stunned and shouting? He started to cry.
"Aw, poor baby! It's OK honey, Ammi's right
here, and she's not mad at you." Zoya soothed.
He quietened though he continued to fuss a
bit. Zoya gasped softly when she heard Nuzzhat sniffle at the other end next.
"Nuzh baby, what happened to you now?"
"Bhabhi, Faiz calls me honey too ... but
right now he's not talking to me!" She bawled.
Ah. Now Zoya got it. "So he's mad at you
because Chhoti Ammi is against the nikaah. But why on earth is she even against
the nikaah? Where is she even going to find a better damad?"
Nuzzhat took deep breaths and said in a
small voice, "she says that doesn't want to lose both her daughters to the
US."
"Aww," Zoya whispered. "I kinda get it, you
know. I don't blame her." Zoya started to feel a crying jag come on. Weepy all
of a sudden, she looked down at Zaid and clutched him tight to her. He wailed.
And Zoya began to cry too.
"Zoya Bhabhi, is everything OK? Zaid?"
Nuzzhat wiped her own tears alarmed for the two of them.
"We're OK," Zoya croaked. "I just get all
weepy and emotional these days."
"I'm sorry I made you cry."
"It's not you, Nuzzhat. Aapi says that
Zaid's only way of communicating with us is by crying. And me? Well, the doctor
says it's hormones. Your Bhaijaan goes cross-eyed when both of us take
off."
Nuzzhat giggled trying to picture her
Bhaijaan juggling two crybabies.
Aww.
"How do you manage," she asked.
"I wouldn't know how to manage without Mr.
Khan," Zoya mused. "Somehow he calms us down. He'll play the guitar or hum, and
Zaid's eyes light up. He'll chirp and chant his own raag and they both take off
on their own riff."
"Bhaijaan is a great husband, isn't
he?"
"The best."
"Growing up I was always a little scared of
him, you know? I kind of just assumed that he'd make one of those stern and
conservative husbands."
Zoya laughed. "Truth be told, in the
beginning so did I! But he proved us all wrong, didn't he? I couldn't have
found a stronger champion or friend. He just somehow knows when to push back
against me, when to spoil me, tease me, when to let me be myself, and when to
fight for me."
Zoya blushed thinking of Asad and mentally adding
more things to that list: when to pin me against the wall and steal some sugar,
when to sweep me off my feet and silence me ... when to charm me or push me into being
a really bad girl that might need to be handcuffed or spanked---
They fell silent each thinking about the
men in their lives.
"Thanks Bhabhi," Nuzzhat said
finally.
"What for? I did nothing." Zoya smiled as
she watched a dozing Zaid"he clutched her finger in his fist. Tight. She bent
to kiss his forehead. Sleep tight, baby.
"You did everything. You helped me decide
what I want." What I really want.
As Nuzzhat hung up she took a deep breath.
Who was she kidding? She wanted what Zoya Bhabhi and Bhaijaan had. And for that
she'd need to roll up her sleeves and take charge of her life. Ammi, you better
watch out--I love you, but I'm not going to back down and take no for an
answer. And Faiz? Faiz, I love you too but you better smarten up! And you can
forget about guilt-tripping me into thinking that I'm a weakling just cos. I
don't always agree with you. Deal with it.
She whipped her phone out and texted him.
The fingers punching in the letters on the screen were as firm as her resolve.
"When you're done being a sulky little goat, call me and we can discuss a plan
of attack to get this show on the road--together. As a team."
She giggled. That "sulky little goat" dig
was so going to light a fire under his butt.
Five, four, three, two ...
Her phone rang on the dot.
"Maaiiin," he bleated playfully.
Nuzzhat fell off the bed laughing.
See? He always knew the right buttons to
press. And he knew how to be totally unpredictable. She really hadn't expected
him to be so good humored about being called a sulky goat; she thought he'd be
hopping mad. But then, that was Faiz--charming, contrary, and a livewire to
boot.
"So goaty, how do we do this?" he
asked.
"Goatee? I'm a beard now?"
"If I'm a goat, then ..."
"That still doesn't make me a goaty."
"Goatni?" Faiz teased.
"Haha, that's cute but I just checked--a female
goat is called a nanny goat."
"Right, and a male is a billy goat. So
nanny goat, what's our plan of attack?"
She started to giggle.
"Nuzh, what's so funny? Our plan of attack
is to play a laughter track?"
"Get ready, Billy. Bakra hamesha qurbaan
hota hai!"
"Main, aur qurbaan? Qubool hai!"
She'd laughed again when he said "main?" in
that bleating goat voice. But Nuzzhat gasped and moaned at his softly promised,
"qubool hai." She'd heard the smile in his voice and a fist of desire punched
her smack in the gut.
Aww. What a sweetheart. Though she'd have
to watch out with this one--he'd make sure to keep her on her toes.
Well, she was no doormat either. Bring it.
Song in Title:
Teri Meri Kahani (2012): "Allah
Jaane"
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