Your Name...
Asad got out of his SUV, brushing off the creases on his suit, with his hands. Locking the car behind him, he made his way towards the place he dreaded the most. The place which was the final destination of a man, and the end of the lives of the people he left behind. He stood in front of the gates of the graveyard, looking inside, rows and rows of graves, a few people present inside, walking past through the graves, joining their hands in prayers occasionally.
Asad put on his aviators, less to sheild his eyes from the scorching sun, but more to hide away any signs of emotions they may carry. Before heading in, he quickly recited the prayer written on the gate.
His jaws were clenched, his hands fisted on his sides, as he walkedd rows after rowa, knowing exactly where he was head too. Although he came here only once a year, he knew exactly where his mother's grave was. He walked, stepping on shrubs, avoiding stepping on any other grave as the graves were closely together, a shopping bag dangling to and fro in his hands.
Then, he stopped walking. He was there. He looked on to the tombstone.
**
Zoya opened her door and peeped outside. She couldn't hear anyone. She had slept quiet late and that was why she woke up so late. Or maybe because she slept in a proper bed, in a proper room with a proper roof after ages. She wasn't ashamed of waking up late. She knew she deserved if. Life atleast owed her these small mercies, she though with a sigh.
She walked out of her room, dressed in the same clothes, her face now washed, her teeth now brushed thanks to the new toileteries Ayaan had kept for her to use.
She looked around the place, and upon finding no one, she made her way towards the kitchen. The kitchen was definitely nothing like the one she had back home, but she loved the interior of this one as much. she admired the black colored tiled, the brown counter. It was all well equipped and truly impressive.
Se saw a small note placed on the kitchen counter that instantly caught her attention.
Dear you,
I just realised I still don't know your name. I'm sorry for that.
I had to leave early today as Mr. Asad Ahmed Khan is not going to be coming to the office, so couldn't cook you a proper meal. I did make a quick salad for you though.
I also realised there might be things you need to buy for yourself, so I kept the money on the coffee table too.
Take the lift on the first floor and you will find many shops there and a super market too. Don't worry, you can pay me later. For now, please accept.
P.S I might be late, please buy the dinner for yourself too.
Ayaan.
Zoya smiled reading the letter. He was a good man, very thoughtful. She walked around the counter, to find the salad bowl on one of the shelves.
Zoya's eyes turned moist as she took the first spoon in her mouth. Finally the taste of fresh food hitting her taste buds after a long time, made her emotional. She loved it. It was delicious.
'Allah Miyaan, I can't thank you enough', she said out aloud, looking towards the ceiling.
Quickly eating her salad, she was about to go back in her room when her eyes fell on the coffee table. The money. Should she take them? Maybe not.
She started walking towards her room when her eyes landed on the almost torn pumps. Her eyes drifted over to her kurti and her worn out jeans. She gasped.
She forgot about the torn kurti. She couldn't face Ayaan like this eveytime. She needed clothes. But how could she go for shopping looking like this? Oh Allah Miyaan, what would she do?
She missed her mother who had always fretted about her clothes, who had always accompanied her with her shopping. She missed her father who showered her with his money. All of it. She missed home. She didn't want to live a life with a stranger, alone.
But she was not going to be ungrateful. She would be grateful of whatever Allah blessed her with. Afterall, that was what her mother had taught her, she thought her eyes getting moist.
**
Asad gently placed all pink flowers he had bought with him in the shopping bag, onto the grave. He was couched down, his eyes not leaving the tombstone while he placed the red and golden chaadar on the grave. Tears cascaded down his face, as his hands brushed the sand on the grave as he placed the chaadar.
'Waapis ajao, Ammi!', he whispered slowly, blinking away the tears.
His eyes fell a couple of feets away from him where a new grave had being dug, and a coffin being laid inside. A dozen men dressed in white stood around the grave. He averted his gaze and held it back on his moer's grave.
'I miss you, Ammi', he said before he raised his hands to his eye level, joining them together.
He prayed. Prayed for his mother's soul. Prayed for his mother's forgiveness.
As he stood up to leave, he saw a small boy aged about eight years old standing at the side of the tree, looking on at the grave being filled, by the people he had seen earlier. He looked on as the boy sat under the shade of the tree, looking lost. Asad looked on as the boy played with the shrubs on the ground.
A wave of flashback hit him.
He sat under the tree, playing with the tiny grass, while he looked on at his father and some other men he had rarely seen, lowering a box in the ground. He knew what was inside the box. His mother. But why were they lowering her in the mud?
'Would this bring Ammi back?', he had earlier asked his father. 'Is it a treatment, Abbu?'
'She is never coming back. Its her final resting place', was all his father had told him.
He watched on as they lowered the box in the grave. He sat their calm. Ammi would come back. He waited.
The minute an eight year old Asad saw his father and the other men throwing back the sand in the grave, his jaw fell open. Fear gripped his little body, as the sound refused to escape from his throat.
What were they doing? Why were they throwing sad on his mother?
He stood up, his feet too weak, and ran up to his father.
'Abbu, why are you doing this? Ammi won't be able to breathe!', he cried, tugging at his father's sleeve, trying to stop him from throwing the sand in.
'Abbu stop! Ammi can't breathe if you throw sand on her!', he kept crying.
No one listened. He cried and cried and no one stopped him. He saw helplessly as the grave was now filled, no sign of the box which had his mother. He dropped on his knees, on the side of the grave, no one coming to pick him up. For who always did that, was in the box, now under the sand. She was gone.
'Abbu, Ammi...', he spoke, his throat constricted.
'Gone', was all Rashid said.
Crying was all Asad did.
Asad walked towards the boy, his feet moving on their own accord.
'Why are you here?', Asad asked crouching next to the boy, removing his aviators.
'Mama's in the box', came the simple, innocent reply.
Horror struck Asad. He quickly stood up, and walked out of the grave yard as fast as he could. Tears rolling uncontrollably down his face, his heart broken in a million pieces once again.
He sat in his car, his hands on the steering wheel as his head slammed against it, unable to stop his tears. Why did God do this?
'Why Allah, why?', he cried in the car.
**
Najma walked down the hallway, to get herself some water, when she spotted it. That heart-wrenching sight she had to see every year. It killed her inside. She looked on through the open door to the study. She watched helplessly as his father wept looking at the photo. Her mother's photo.
She knew her father loved her more than anything in the world now, but she knew he secretly wished she was never born. It was not just her. Even her bhaijaan probably wished she was never born. Asad Bhaijaan, who'm she wanted to meet so badly, probably hated her more than anything.
Maybe that was why every barsi, she never cried for her mother. She cried for herself. She loathed herself for being so selfish. But she couldn't make herself cry for the woman she never knew. She detested herself for being the reason of all the pain in the lives of the two men she loved. Her father, and her bhaijaan.
Najma ran to her room, and threw herself on her bed, weeping. If she wasn't born, everyone would've been happy. Her bhaijaan wouldnt have hated her father. She cried for the two men she loved, she cried for her existance.
**
It was evening now and Asad walked into the lift of his apartment, pressing the button of his floor. He was exhausted. Today was a tiring day, he agreed. Butnhe was glad it was over. The pain wouldn't go away after today either, but atleast he was done with it all. Done with the visit to the graveyard, done with the sadqa, done with everything else.
He was going to have a long shower now. He was just trying to relax himself to divert his thoughts when he remembered a meeting he had to reschedule. He mentally slapped himself. He needed the file to read the project again and the file was with Ayaan. He fished his pocket for his phone when he realised he had no battery in his phone.
'Damn!', he said under his breath.
He stopped the lift a few floors below his own and walked out of the lift, towards Ayaan's apartment. He rung the bell of the apartment, hoping Ayaan was back home by now. Suddenly he remembered.
The girl.
She would be inside. He couldn't face her. Not after what happened last night. She was terrified of him.
He turned back to go when he heard the door click open. He froze, his back now towards the door. He couldn't let her see him, he had to walk away.
'Yes?', Zoya asked, her boddy hidden behind the door, so no one saw her kurti.
She was annoyed when the man standing at th door, did not turn towards her.
'Yes?', she repeated. 'Umm..Ayaan isn't home right now. I can tell him you stopped by, Mr.?'
Her voice. So melodious. So innocent, Asad noticed. He could not see her face, but he could guess a little annoyance in her voice. He could picture her squinted eyebrows. What was he thinking? He took a step towards the lift, when her voice stopped him from the back.
'Hey, please stop', Zoya called out.
He was probably someone related to Ayaan's work. She could take in the message atleast, Zoya thought.
'Excuse me? I can take a message', she said after a pause.
Asad didn't know why, but he wanted to see her face. He wanted to see how she was doing. Was she better now? He didn't know why he cared, but he couldn't deny he did. Her words had hit him like a blade, but his actions had hit her like one too. He needed to see her face just once,
He slowly turned around to face her, not knowing what her reaction would be.
Zoya saw him. Asad Ahmed Khan. Her body stiffened, and her hand on the door that kept it in place in order to sheild her, fell to her side. Her eyes widened, her throat dried. She wanted to run away, but she couldn't, she felt rooted to the spot.
Asad saw the horror replace the second ago calm face. He saw how her eyes went wide. She was terrified of him. He hated himself for this. But he couldn't lower his eyes. She was beautiful. Her full, plump, sensuous lips, her petite waist, her perfect curves, her innocent eyes, her pretty face. It all dod so little to keep his thoughts straight. He shut his eyes, to block the thoughts away. He should ask her if he needed something, he told himself.
But thats what Ayaan is there for, his mind told him.
'I-I just came by to get a file', Asad stuttered.
He had never stuttered in front of anyone ever before, he thought.
'Take your clothes off', his voice from last night kept reverberating in her head.
She wanted to close the door and hide, but her feet wouldn't move. Her mind wouldn't register.
The door swung to the side, revealing Zoya completely to Asad. He gasped when he saw her torn kurti. He remembered how he had torn it.
'You bloody rapist', her voice reverberated in his head.
'I'm r-really sorry about the-', Asad began, but the sight in front of him made him stop.
He saw Zoya's head shooting up to her head, and he knew this was no good. The doctor had said she was fine, but stress could weaken her. Wasn't she better then? Wasn't Ayaan taking care of her? What was happening?
'Pl-please go away!', Zoya spat at him, her eyes not leaving his face.
'Listen I'm sor-', Asad was cut off once again.
'Please go!!!', Zoya screamed.
Asad knew there was no point in trying to have his way right now. No one ever dared to cut him when he spoke. But this time, he knew he could not push it. No matter what a ruthless man Asad was, when he made a mistake, he knew he made a mistake. And this time, he had made a big mistake.
Asad turned around and walked over to the lift. He saw her face as the door of the lift closed slowly. The terrified look. Once the door closed, he threw his head back, closing his eyes.
Why could he not bear that look for him in her eyes? He had seen so many women dressed alluringly, then why did she evoke such different emotions in him? He had to stay away from her, or else he wouldn't be able to control himself.
**
Zoya sat on the leather black sofa in the lounge, her mind still dazed from the events of an hour ago. She was going to wrap a bed sheet over her and go down to shop a little with the money Ayaan had left her, but after that encounter with that man, she couldn't get herself to. Although she was terrified of him, she could not deny how his eyes looked at her apologetically. She had noticed how he had stuttered, which was quite confusing as the previous night, he seemed like a man in control.
Was he really sorry? Was it even his fault? The woman from the cell had sold her, could it be Asad Ahmed Khan's fault? He didn't even do anything to her. Ayaan had said he had even freed her from there.
Zoya threw her head in her palms, her thoughts confused when the door bell rang once again. She stiffened. She carefully walked over to the door and peeped in through the peep hole, promising herself to use this always from now on.
On seeing no one, her nose twitched with confusion. She opened the door and look around. No one.
She was just about to close the door when she saw a box on the floor, with a ribbon on top. Probably for Ayaan, she thought.
She picked the box and closed the door. She kept it on the coffee table and turned to go back, when curiousity got the best of her as she peeped to the side of the box to find a small card attatched.
'For you who opened the door', it said.
What kind of a salutation was that?, she thought. This didn't look for Ayaan. She flipped the box over and saw an envelope attatched. She opened the envelope, and her eyes turned wide as she read on.
Dear you who opened the door,
I'm sorry I do not know your name. I thought you may need this. I'm sorry for your kurti. Also, the small envelope inside the box contains a card. Call on the number written on the card, and order anything else you want to eat. Ayaan may be late today.
Please accept.
Asad Ahmed Khan.
She couldn't believe it. She quickly opened the package to find three pieces of salwar suits. She looked at the salwar suits in awe. Pink, white and red. She opened the little envelope to find the card like the letter had said. She read the letter thrice before she could actually believe it.
He had actually done this? Why? Was he sorry? Is she wrong in judging him like this? But then...? He was a whole different man everytime she heard about him or met him. The vulnerable Asad Ahmed Khan, the ruthless Asad Ahmed Khan and now a thoughtful one? Who was he really?
'I can never understand you, Asad Ahmed Khan', a voice escaped her lips.
A/N:
Feedbacks, please. 🤗 Its a long update, yes😆
Edited by -ElmoFuj- - 12 years ago
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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