Gaana Gungunaana Chaaha Tho?- OS

Gaana Gungunaana Chaaha Tho – OS –With English Translation

Cohabiting in the same room had become a habit now. If one was absent, the other inevitably stayed awake till the other returned to their bedroom. Zoya tossed and turned around in bed. It was 2 in the morning. She relived their date from the evening. The way he had fought for her and held her protectively in his arms made her crave for his company. The sofa near the window was empty. Asad had not hit the sack yet.

"Yeh Mr Khan abhi tak sone kyun nahin aaye?" (Why isn't Mr. Khan asleep?) A worried Zoya stepped out of bed and scanned the bedroom. The restroom was vacant too. "Itni raat ko kahan chale gaye yeh?" (Where has he gone this late?)

She tiptoed out of the bedroom; got a sip of water from the kitchen and searched around with a flashlight. "Hope he is not sleeping in the living room."

The strums of his guitar chords caught her attention. They were streaming from his study.

"Uffo! Yeh Mr.Khan bhi na! Itni raat ko guitar bajaane ki padhi hai inhein? (Uffo! Why does Mr.Khan have to play the guitar so late at night?) Aaj tak mere liye tho guitar bajaaya nahin hai. Ya tho pehle Tannu ke liye bajaa te the, aur ab deewaron ke liye bajaa rahe hain! Kya mera status in logon se bhi neecha hai? (He has never played the guitar for me. Either it was Tannu in the past, and now it's the walls he is playing for. Is my status really that low?)" She growled and clenched her fists in anger, "aur ab mujhey sone bhi nahi de rahe hain! That's unfair!" (And now he is not even letting me rest)

His voice and the music became more distinct as she walked towards the study.

'Mera Mann, Kehne Laga,

Paas Aake Na Tu Dur Ja...

Chhune De Honth Tere,

Zara Sanson Me Apni Basa!!!

Hmmm...m...m...mmm!!!

Tujhe Apna Bana Lu,

Tujhe Tujh Se Chura Lu,

Tujhe Khud Mein Chhupa Loon...

(Nautanki saala)

She stood outside the door and listened to his soothing voice. The song sent a flutter through her heart. Zoya shut her eyes and imagined him crooning romantically in her ear.

"Kitna sundar gaana hai!" (What a beautiful song!) With soft steps, she entered the room quietly. With his eyes shut, he continued to strum and sing and didn't notice her settle down on the couch across from him.

"SUBHANALLAH!" She applauded once he finished singing.

"AAP?" He almost jumped up and turned red. Like a child who had been caught stealing candy, he was flustered and embarrassed. Asad placed the guitar aside and turned away, "aapko yahan aane ki permission kisne di?" (Who gave you the permission to enter?)

"Meri neend ne! Aapke gaane ki wajah se main so nahin paa rahi thi." (I was unable to sleep because of your singing)

"Tho ear plugs lagaakar soya keejiye." (Why don't you sleep with ear plugs on?) He scoffed.

"Agar aap mujhey bataa dete ki aap aaj raat Tansen ka avatar le rahe hain, tho main zaroor ear plugs pehen leti." (If I had known you would be in Tansen's avatar tonight, I would have gladly obliged to wear my ear plugs)

He rolled his eyes and straightened his white kurta,"nikaah ke baad har cheez par pabaandi ho jaati hai kya?" (Does one need permission for everything after nikaah?)

"Akele gaane par tho YES!" (YES, especially if you plan on singing alone). She folded her arms and smiled at him, "every good singer needs an audience." She leaned back on the sofa and settled in, too comfortable to move.

Her appreciation brought a faint smile on his face, "I know I am a good singer but not sure if you are a deserving audience."

"Oh really?" She sat up angrily, "kya matlab?" (What do you mean?)

"I sing for myself. Maine aaj tak kisi aur ke liye gaana nahin gaaya hai." (I have never sung for anyone else but myself.)

"Aapne pehle bedroom bhi tho kisi ke saath share nahin kiya tha na Mr.Khan? There is always a first time for everything, right?" (you had never shared your bedroom with anyone either Mr.Khan)

Asad turned red once again, "k-kya matlab aapka?" Her 'first time' comment made him look away sheepishly. He looked at her again; he was hoping she hadn't dropped the C-bomb on him. "Anyways, I have no choice regarding the bedroom. You know ammi!"

"Waise Mr. Khan, wo gaana aap kis ke liye gaa rahe the? You know…mera mann….paas aake na tu door jaa….what not? Kya tha wo? Did you mean it?" (By the way, whom were those lyrics meant for?)

"IT WAS NOTHING!" He sighed.

"Oh…I see," she hung her head with a disappointed look on her face.

"What?" He asked

"Kuch nahin.Mujhey laga- laga shayad," she blushed,"aap wo gaana kisi ke liye gaa rahe ho? I mean someone special?" (I was just wondering if you sang that song for someone special)

"I am sorry Ms- I mean Zoya- you should stop dreaming and start living in the real world. I told you mere gaane sirf mere liye hote hain."

"Alright!" She sighed,"I always knew you were selfish," she mumbled.

"Kya kaha aapne?" (Did you say something?) He asked angrily. He had heard what she had said and wasn't too flattered by her comment.

"Kuch nahin," she replied, "I was just thinking ki aap waise khaasa achcha gaa lete hain. Yeh talent kahan se aaya aapmein?" (You are a good singer. Where did you inherit this talent from?)

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I haven't heard phoophi sing…..tho kahan se aaya yeh talent?"

Asad's jaw line stiffened; he remained silent.

"Kahan se aaya Mr.Khan?" She was persistent.

"Mr.Rashid Ahmed Khan!" He replied sternly.

"Really? That's so nice Mr.Khan. Warna aap tho hamesha apne abbu mein sirf buraai hi dekhte hain. Yeh tho kitni achchi baat hai ki unka yeh hunar aap mein bhi aaya hai. Har insaan mein kuch na kuch achchai tho hoti hai na Mr. Khan?" (Isn't it great that you have inherited a good quality from your abbu? Just proves that everyone has something good within them)

"Zoya. I don't want to talk about that man!" Asad stood up, seething with anger.

She walked over and stood behind him. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder, "Mr.Khan, aakhir aap kab tak apni nafrat mein sach se bhaagte rahenge?" (Mr Khan, you can't keep running away from the truth)

He pulled away from her touch, "aapko unke baare mein baat karne ka haq nahin diya hai maine." (I haven't given you the right to talk about him)

A visibly hurt Zoya stepped back and turned her face, "waise aapne kaunsa haq diya hai mujhey Mr. Khan?" (what right have you given me anyways?) Her voice cracked; her eyes welled up, "at least aap ko itna tho pata hai ki yeh hunar aapne kahan se inherit kiya (at least you know where you inherited this talent). I have no idea what talents my parents had and what I could have inherited from them. Kabhie kabhie lagta hai ki shayad mere abbu ya ammi mein se koi zaroor shayari karta hoga." (At times I feel that one of my parents was probably a shayar). She tried to smile through her tears.

Feeling awkward and guilty, Asad turned towards her and touched her shoulder, "Zoya. I- I am sorry. I-I didn't mean it that way."

She wiped her tears, "Mr. Khan, mujhey nahin pataa hum dono mein se kaun zyaada lucky hai. Aap, jinhein apne abbu ke saath guzaara achcha waqt kum se kum yaad tho hai ya main jise kuch yaad nahin lekin itna sukoon hai ki unhone ne mujhey choda tho nahin." (I am not sure who is the luckier one of us. You- who at least spent some memorable times with your dad or me- even if I don't recall anything, can't blame them for abandoning me)

Asad pulled her gently towards him and gently wiped her tears with his fingers. In his imagination, he had rehearsed this scene several times- him consoling Zoya, wiping her tears. This was real and he was pleasantly surprised that he didn't feel awkward or hesitant; it felt like the right thing to do. She lifted her moist eyelashes and gazed at his face. Her eyes had the expression of a young heartbroken child. He wanted to engulf her in his arms and reassure her but hesitated. Asad couldn't trust himself and didn't want her to have any expectations of intimacy from him. As if she had sensed his feelings; she took a small step towards him. Her chest heaved against his strong pectorals. His piercing gaze remained glued on her face as his lips parted slightly. She shut here eyes and parted her lips in anticipation. Was this going to be the moment of their first kiss?

"Good night Zoya!" He pulled away and turned his back to her, "aap so jaaiye please." (Please go to sleep)

It felt like someone had just jolted her to the ground. Frustrated, she left the study in a huff. Incensed by his ambiguous behavior, she ran to the guest room and fell asleep on the bed.

Asad realized his folly and ran after her. When he didn't find her in his bedroom, he kicked himself for his insensitive and confusing behavior.

"I am sorry Zoya," he shut his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, "main tumhare kareeb aana bi chaahta hoon lekin darta hoon ki kahin zyaada kareeb aa gaya tho tumhein kahin hurt na kar doon." (I am sorry Zoya. Even though I would like to get close, I am afraid I might end up hurting you.)

Asad checked on her in the guest room and sat quietly beside her bed. She looked like an angel while asleep. He was remorseful about his behavior. Once she was fast asleep, he gently carried her in his arms to their bedroom and tucked her carefully under the sheets on his bed. He bent over and planted a faint kiss on her forehead and caressed her face with his finger.

She stirred a little, rolled over to her side, oblivious of her surroundings. He pulled the covers firmly under chin to make sure she was warm and comfortable and then walked back to the study.

NEXT MORNING:

Zoya woke up with the buzz in her cell phone.

She reached for her phone and stared at it with bleary eyes, "itni subah subah kaun phone kar raha hai?" (Who is calling me this early in the morning?) It wasn't aapi or jiju. They had a habit of calling at all odd hours as they generally miscalculated the time difference.

"Yeh video message kiska hai?" (Who has sent me this video message?) She started at the screen, bewildered.

She clicked on the icon and was taken by surprise by the video attached in the message.

Jeene laga hoon, pehle se zyada

Pehle se zyada, tumpe marne laga hoon

Main mera dil aur tum ho yahaan

Phir kyun ho palkein jhukaye wahaan

Tum sa haseen pehle dekha nahin

Tum is.sey pehle thhe jaane kahaan

Jeene laga hoon pehle se zyada

Pehle se zyada tumpe marne laga...

hmmm... ho..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlQljLA2KXo

(Thanks sheilekijavani for this wonderful VM on one of my fav current tracks)

Zoya sat up and watched the video several times. His voice, the video with their footage and the song sent her back into her dreamland. She forgot her anger from last night and smiled bashfully.

"Kum se kum replay button par tho rehem khaaiye." (Have mercy on the replay button). His voice interrupted her trance.

'Aap? Yeh aap ne kab record kiya? Aur kab bheja?" (When did you record this and send it to me?) She paused the video and looked at him.

"It was just a test video," he cleared his throat and replied sternly, "and don't get too carried away by the footage or the song. It doesn't mean anything. I just happen to like that song."

For a moment, she believed in his words but then looked around and realized that she had been kidnapped from the guestroom and transported safely to his bed last night. Asad was Asad; he would never change. His actions as always spoke more than his words. In this case, his songs spoke more than his words.

"I know Mr Coconut Khan!"

"Coconut?" He gave her a dirty look, "why coconut?"

"Ab aap samajh jaaiye," she rolled her hair into a bun and got out of bed, "bahar se sakht aur andar se naram." She winked at him, picked her phone, pressed the replay button and headed to the kitchen to prepare his morning cup of coffee.

He stood still and scrunched his nose, "coconut? I hate coconut!"

…..next one????...