Warning:- a very random OS. Read it at your own risk.
Dedicated to Asya, James Morrison, me and all you guys.
BROKEN STRINGS
He enters his apartment all tired and weary, slams his laptop on the couch. Gulps down a glass of water in three mouthfuls and sighs.
Gets up and takes a long, warm and refreshing shower. Wears some casual clothes and grabs his guitar, opens the French windows towards the west of his room and walks out on the terrace.
The sun has already set in. It almost twilight. No birds sang, no wind blew, everything was silent, calm and serene.
He slumps down on the couch and starts playing his guitar. No tune clicked. He cracked his head for some tunes but nothing clicked, his eyes were heavy so he dozed off.
An hour later he slowly opens his eyes, his ears ring with a beautiful voice. A girls voice, clear, low pitched and musical. She was singing, probably to herself.
He knew the voice came from the other balcony behind him. He could see her if he stood straight but he didn't bother instead his fingers ran on the guitar.
He played the same tune she was singing.
Let me hold you for the last time
It's the last chance to feel again
But you broke me, now I can't feel anything
She stops singing, he stops too.
A while passes and she starts singing again, this time a little louder, he starts playing his guitar again.
Both have perfect synchronization.
When I love you and so untrue
I can't even convince myself
When I'm speaking it's the voice of someone else
Oh, it tears me up
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much
I tried to forgive but it's not enough
To make it all okay
You can't play our broken strings
You can't feel anything
That your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real
Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
Oh, what are we doing?
We are turning into dust
Playing house in the ruins of us
Running back through the fire
When there's nothing left to say
It's like chasing the very last train
When it's too late, too late
Oh, it tears me up
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much
I tried to forgive but it's not enough
To make it all okay
You can't play our broken strings
You can't feel anything
That your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real
Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
But we're running through the fire
When there's nothing left to say
It's like chasing the very last train
When we both know it's too late, too late
You can't play our broken strings
You can't feel anything
That your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real
Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
So how can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
Oh, you know that I love you a little less than before
Let me hold you for the last time
It's the last chance to feel again
The song ends. He smiles to himself frowning. Put the guitar aside and gets up. He leans on the end of the railing where he can easily see her.
She sat there, on the swing which was moving slowly. Her face towards the sky as she stared at the stars or perhaps beyond. He could see her crystal clear eyes and mature features in the dim moonlight. She was beautiful he thought to himself.
"Hi!" he said smiling.
Her attention shifts on him as she looked at him startled. But soon composes herself and replies,
"Hi!"
"That was beautiful... the song and your voice."
"Thanks. And you are a pretty good guitarist for sure."
"Nayh! I just play sometimes."
She slowly walks towards her end of the balcony. They were mere 3 yards away from each other.
"You know its my favourite song." He said
She smiled,
"Mine too."
"I have never seen you before."
"Thats because i just shifted here."
"I see."
There is a pause.
"I am Asad...Asad Ahmad Khan."
She nods, "Zoya ...Zoya Farooqi."
"Nice meeting you Zoya."
"Nice meeting you too Asad."
"I am sorry...i am a little sluggish in keeping track of neighbours."
"It's okay...i don't mind."
"Are you like done with setting the apartment and everything?"
"Nah! Not the least bit... there is a loads of it to be done...i am thinking of completing it tonight but am sure its gonna take me more than a day"
"Can i be of some help?"
"No i will manage...thanks."
"Seriously i will be glad to help... and i am free tonight...so i think you should not refuse this good offer."
She thinks for a while before answering.
"Okay fine come along."
"5 minutes."
She rushes towards the main door as the bell rang and opens it.
"Hi again." He says with a broad smile.
"Welcome to the mess." She says giving him way to come in.
He comes in glancing at all the packed and unpacked stuff.
"Ah! Piece of cake."
"Lets kick start then."
"Sure."
They are engaged in work, setting the furniture, curtains, books and many many more things.
Asad comes across some beautiful and colourful paintings.
"Whats this?" he inquires.
"Paintings." She offers.
"I can see that... whats in this painting?"
"Why don't you guess?"
He looks hard on the painting in his hand trying to figure out.
"I guess its a... tree... without leaves."
Zoya laughs.
"Have another look."
He looks at it again, frowning. She helps, "its a hand...these five branches without leaves, as you would like to call em, are actually fingers. The land is barren. Like a tree in a barren land craves for water to grow its leaves, this hand here also craves for desires to be fulfilled but grows old and weary and still has its sane, sustained and unfulfilled wishes."
He looks at it again, amazed.
"Yeah it does look like a hand."
"In abstract art you can take out meaning of your own"
"Abstract so abstruse."
Zoya laughs. Asad looks for the small signature t its corner, probably the artist.
"Zoe." He reads. "Never heard of her."
"Thats because i don't sell my work."
"Its you?...ZOya...Zoe...aaah My God really?"
She nods.
"Its amazing. Do you follow arts?"
"Nah not really...just a little hobby."
"cool"
Zoya smiles. He examines the other paintings admiring their perfection, excellence and flawlessness.
"Who would say you are not a professional." He continues after a pause. "By the way what do you do?"
"well am doin my Msc. Psychology and for living...i work as a radio presenter in a little private radio station."
"interesting ...a to-be-psycho i mean psychologist, who is an RJ, a painter, a singer and a guitarist too." He said picking up an old but well maintained guitar.
"No i don't play... this one here was my fathers, he loved playing it. This was his first ever guitar so he could never get enough of it...you see a string is also broken."
"Yeah...but you know they don't make such pieces anymore."
"I didn't know that."
and they get back to work.
---------------------------------------------------------------
They were almost finished with the setting. The clock strikes 10. both slump on the couch, exhausted and then laugh at their unexpected synchronization.
"Allah... i am starving." She said exhausted.
"Me too."
"I'll cook something for us."
"Leave it... you are already so tired...let's go outside."
"At this time?"
"Yeah... this place is alive throughout the night."
"Your wish then."
"Good." He laughs.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Both go change and gather their stuff. They stroll down the road towards the food street on the creek. The hustle and bustle on the creek was at its zenith. They settle on a silent corner and order some food.
"You read a lot, half of the time we were setting you books... who is your favorite author by the way??" he asks.
"yes i love reading... i have inherited that from my mother. For my dad fun was guitaring, sporting, long drives, trips and vacations where for my mother, sitting on a silent corner, sipping a mug of coffee and reading a book was the definition of fun.
Talking about my favorite book...its 'Gone With The Wind' by...Margaret Mitchell."
Asad laughs aloud.
"you remind me of Najma, my sister, she was also crazy about this novel...what's so special about it?"
"For me everything... i cant imagine a girl or ever a guy reading it and not falling in love with it."
"i remember the last time, it must have been 5 -6 years back, i guess it was 'The Great Gatsby'...and i don't even remember the writer." He chuckles.
"i hope it wasn't a course book?"
"Nay they don't include such books in MBA and even if it were a course book i wouldn't even have touched it."
"So you are an MBA?"
"Yes and working for a private pharmasuietical firm." He added.
"interesting."
"No its quite boring...i always feel like quitting it but then the lucrative package takes the better of me."
Zoya cackles looking at him intently.
"What?" he asked.
"You are good." She expresses.
"So are you."
They both are quite for a while. The food is served both start eating. He asks,
"So what brought you here?...hope you are not here in search of a husband because this town is full of geeks... just kiddin."
Zoya giggles.
"Nah!... i was previously livin with my aunt, that is after i lost my parents in a car accident 5 years back..."
"i am sorry."
"Thank you!... now she wanted to go live with her son in Malaysia... so i knowingly chose for doin masters here, which eventually brought me here...
And by the way i am not in search of a husband... in fact i expect one to look for me. "
Both crack up and start eating again.
---------------------------------------------------------
On their way back.
"Thanks for everything Mr. Khan."
"No big deal miss Farooqi."
"its like ive known you for ages... you are so easy to get along with."
"well that feeling is mutual."
He continues after a pause,
"i've been through a lot in my life. As they say there is good in every bad, similarly these hurdles and obstacles made me strong and tough.. Moreover, it has consecrated me with the wherewithal of knowing people well. I can easily make out the painted faces and the original people... and i've found you very original, very genuine."
"That's overwhelming you know... you don't get to hear good words about yourself from others so often."
"I hope you don't think i am flirting or something?"
Zoya laughs aloud.
"i think you are forgetting something here... the girl you are talking to is a psychologist... i can tell when you are lying, from the movement of your chin, from the colour of your skin, from the goose bumps on your arm, from the eye contact you make. Not easy to lie here hun."
Asad laughs.
"Really? Is it that simple?"
"yeah! Wanna experiment?"
"Sure."
He stops. She frowns at him. He stares into her eyes slowly taking her hands in his, intensifying his gaze. He slowly says,
"I Love You!"
Zoya cheeks radiate heat as they burn red at these unexpected words from him. Both stand still staring.
She breaks the gaze and repels back. Because she very well knew how eye contacts open doors to the hearts.
"Now you are being cheeky."
"still was it a lie or not?"
"I don't know." She starts walking again. Asad stands their smirking. He very well knew the answer but it wasn't safe to bother her soo soon. He follows quietly.
"That's not a good sigh Miss Psychologist."
She narrows her eyes.
"That's no sign okay."
The same minute her right foot hits a rock and she almost trips. Asad immediately supports her as she lands in his arms.
"Careful!" he says.
Both share an eye-lock. Again Zoya is the one who breaks away first, exclaiming an "ouch!"
"what happened?" he demanded worriedly.
"Nothing just a twist."
He helps her stand straight.
"Can you walk?"
"let me try."
She tries but limps badly.
"want me to..." he offers.
She interrupts.
"No i will manage."
"Okay... you can at least hold my hand."
She sighs but had no option. She reluctantly gives her hand in his. He holds her hand tightly in his.
She felt iron bars around her hand, it was so strong, the grip was so firm she felt as if they can never ever be separated.
He walks slowly matching her pace. They didn't talk after that.
Zoya was in a dance of feelings and thoughts, so was Asad.
They finally reach their apartment and stop to bid good bye.
Zoya says,
"After a long time i've had such a good evening."
Asad smiles back and sees a shadow linger in her eyes which he readily understands.
"Mee too!"
"Thank you!."
"Nothing is free in this world. I will as back for a favor sometime."
"Sure."
"Good night!"
"Good night!"
She turns back to leave. Asad calls her from behind; she turns back frowning.
He nears her till they are mere inches away from each other and almost whispers to her,
"We cant understand everything in life. After all life is not made to understand it, but to live it."
She knew the hidden meaning behind his words. Both smile back solicitously.
Some might was trying to bond two broken strings.
--------------------------------------THE END-------------------------------------------------------
Guns and Roses!
Please ignore any errors. I don't cross check.
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