BOMBAY ARTHOUSE:
Zoya walked in with her sunglasses on. Red, tired, swollen eyes wouldn't be the best way to start her job.
"ZOYA FAROOQUI!" An angry Ayaan stopped her at the elevator.
Zoya lowered her gaze, "I am sorry I am late."
Ayaan glanced at his watch, "just 6 hours late. Wow, lagta hai India mein naukri karna sirf aapka shauk hai, not a necessity. What else would one expect from a spoilt American girl?"
Zoya suppressed her anger. Her old self would have walked out on Ayaan and the art house. No one dare speak to her that way but circumstances were different. She needed the job more than the art house needed her.
They stepped into the elevator. Ayaan, furious and Zoya, agitated.
"I-I am really sorry. I had an emergency." She spoke calmly.
"Emergency? Agar emergency thi tho phone kyun nahin kiya? I can't tolerate such insubordination from my employees. Do you understand Ms. NRI Farooqui?"
His temper reminded her of Asad. Just the thought of Asad welled up her eyes. Instead of showing Ayaan her tears, she turned around, "Mr. Asad Ahmed Khan's ship had an accident. I was in the hospital."
Ayaan felt as if the elevator had just crashed a thousand feet below the ground.
"WHAT?" He was astounded, "kab? Kahan? Kaise? Is he alright?"
"They haven't found him yet but their Navy ship had a near total accident on some secret mission."
"YA ALLAH!" Ayaan squirmed and clenched his fists, "do you know when and where this happened?"
She shook her head.
"Oh, I am sorry Zoya, please come to my office." They stepped off the elevator and walked into his office.
Almost robotic in her response, Zoya quietly sat down on a seat.
Ayaan felt guilty about reprimanding her. He offered her a glass of water, "aap please tension mat lee jiye. I-I am sorry for yelling at you. Here, have some water. Please wait here. I will be right back."
She just nodded gently and sat motionless with a blank expression. She stared at the glass of water.
Her throat felt parched but not thirsty.
She was emotionally overwhelmed but felt numb.
She wanted to cry out aloud but her eyes were dry.
She was like the glass of water- half full but also half empty.
Why was she doing this? She questioned herself. It'd be easy to walk out at this moment. Isn't that what all her friends in New York would advise her? Move on, sweetheart. It's not worth it. He's gone. You were just asked to identify his corpse. His mom hates you. Your dad has walked out on you. You are no longer enrolled in college. Your employer just yelled at you. Your salary is peanuts; couldn't even buy you a decent dinner with friends.
No one would know. Just leave. Damn it! Leave!
Zoya gasped for air; she felt suffocated in that plush air-conditioned office
She stood up, removed her sunglasses to place them in her purse. As she unzipped her bag, she saw the SD card from her camera lying next to her phone. The photographs from their Victoria trip had not been printed yet. She felt the SD card between her fingers and recalled their memorable trip on the carriage.
At that moment, she knew she had two choices- leave the digital prints buried in the card forever or drop them off at a nearby store to print her memories forever.
With a faint smile on her face, she placed the SD card securely inside her purse and sat down on the chair. Destiny had made the choice for her the day she had met Asad on the cruise; she couldn't fathom a life without him. This was home; her destiny and her destination. It didn't matter what her friends would advise or how difficult her path going forward would be. The photographs would definitely be printed, she said to herself.
Even if others wanted her to forget everything, she wouldn't and couldn't. If that meant living with his memories forever, so be it.
As she shut her eyes and leaned back on the chair, she dreamt of her handsome Asad dressed in his Navy uniform with his dimpled smile; waving and blowing kisses at her'.
Bhula dena mujhe
Hai alvida tujhe
Tujhe jeena hai mere bina
Safar yeh tera, yeh raasta tera
Tujhe jeena hai.. mere bina
(Song in back ground)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8LEktKv9hs
Ho teri saari shoharatein
Hai yeh duaa..
Tujhi pe saari rehamatein
Hai yeh duaa..
Tujhe jeena hai mere bina
Bhula dena mujhe
Hai alvida tujhe
Tujhe jeena hai mere bina
Tu hi hai kinaara tera
Tu hi to sahaara tera
Tu hi hai taraana kal ka
Tu hi to fasaana kal ka
Khud pe yaqeen tu karna
Ban.na tu apna khuda... (x2)
Rashid stood at the door and watched Zoya lost in thought. This was the first time he had ever come to the upper level of the art house. Ayaan's message had devastated him completely. He couldn't believe what he had heard downstairs. Ayaan confirmed the news three times before the news could sink in. Seventeen years ago when he had been forced to leave his family, his only comfort going forward was the safety of his family. In order to keep them safe and protected, he had struck a deal with the devil. Little did he know that a devil was always going to remain a devil?
Only if he had known that his son was in that ship, he would have never warned Razia. Yes, they would have lost Crores but Asad would still be alive today. He wanted to bury himself alive; shoot himself with his collection of guns in the basement or as always drown himself in a deluge of alcohol- his best friend of the past 17 years. Alcohol was his best friend and had always helped him forget his painful memories.
When he heard that Asad's friend had still reported to work despite the tragic news, he felt belittled and ashamed of himself.
He didn't know what relationship this girl Zoya had with her son or his family but from what he could see, and what he had heard from Ayaan, he knew she was a special girl and perhaps his only connection to his past and his redemption. Dilshaad and Najma needed support more than ever. Even if he couldn't provide it directly, Zoya could be the conduit to his responsibilities towards his family. This could also be the beginning of severing ties with the devil forever. It would be hard as he was deeply entrenched in her web of crime and illegal activities. He didn't care about himself but if he could even unravel a small percentage of his wrongdoings, he would consider himself blessed.
"Beta!" Rashid touched Zoya's hand slightly.
She woke up with a startle and was stunned to see a tall, handsome, middle aged, distressed and weary looking man staring down at her. His eyes had a familiar depth and intensity in them.
"I-I am sorry I didn't recognize you." She withdrew her hand.
"I am the owner of this place. Mera naam Rashid Khan hai. Ayaan mera beta hai."
'Oh! I-I am sorry about today."
"Nahin Zoya," he replied tenderly, "It's not your fault. Galti," he averted his misty gaze, "galti jiski hai usey sazaa zaroor milegi. I understand your pain. Apno se judaa hone ka dard main samajh sakta hoon."
His words surprised Zoya but didn't seem strange. There was a genuine feeling of warmth and familiarity in his mannerism and body language.
"Aapko kaise pata?"
"Beta," he turned around and smiled at her, "tumhari yeh sooji aur laal aankhein mujhey bataa rahi hain ki Asad Ahmed Khan se tumhara rishta bahut gehra tha."
"Jee sir maaf kariyega. Aapne galat padha hai. Gehra thanahin, gehra hai. I am sure he will be back. Unhein kuch nahin hua hai."
Rashid placed his palm on her head and blessed her, "Zoya beta, aaj se tum hamare art house mein employee nahin balki ek ghar waale ki tarah ho. I will make sure you have no problems here and please treat me and Ayaan as your family."
She gave him a quizzical look, "aap aisa kyun kar rahe hain sir? Kya aapka bhi Mr. Asad Ahmed Khan se gehra rishta tha?"
"Tha nahin," he lowered his gaze, "hai."
'..to be contd'.
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