Abandoned pamphlets fluttered in the air as the atmosphere bustled up with literary enthusiasts indulged in healthy criticism. It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon in Bhopal and the New Book Fair was saturated with curious readers. Children squealed about, with coloring books clutched in their tiny hands, young adults rummaged through Fictions and mesmerizing stationery while the adults sprawled themselves throughout the area.
He browsed through the hard covered Classics as he simultaneously tried to juggle the shortlisted ones. An ebony, leathered book caught his attention. It was in no way different than the others. Apparently, it was the thickness that gave it away.
Keeping the shortlisted ones aside, he carefully pulled it out but ended up disturbing the pile. Rearranging the rest of them, he finally took notice of the book in hand. It had gathered unusually more dust. Frowning, he gently blew it clean and opened the partially worn out cover. A blank page unveiled itself. On flipping further, he was met with another blank one. It was then, on close observation, he realized that the page wasn't completely empty, there was something scribbled on the right end bottom corner.
Zoya Farooqui.
It read. The supposed book held no other word.
Curiosity got better of him. Gathering his other belongings, he quickly got his purchase billed and made his way towards his house, not far from the venue. The afternoon had turned even more pleasant as clouds hovered in the sky. Unlocking his apartment, he pleased himself with a cup of coffee and settled on his recliner.
Having gone through the Autobiography, Fictions and Classic, his hands picked up the intriguing book on their own accord. He aimlessly flipped through it again. What did he expect, anyway? It was evening by the time he wound up.
Engrossed in completing his long lost drafts, he realized that it was midnight already. Lying on his bed, he switched on the bed lamp and picked up the ebony object again. He grazed his fingers through the only ink that perched the page. It was delicately written, in cursive. Could it be a personal diary? He thought. But why would anyone give away their diary? Correction, their blank diary. The lamp was switched off and the book kept back as he slipped into yet another dreamless sleep.
*****
The morning Sun shined devilishly. It was Monday again! But the day died as soon as it took birth. It had been rather uneventful, so say the least. But this wasn't the fact that bothered him. What worried him was that The Day was approaching. The fateful day that had changed his life for the worse. It had left him hollow and broken. He had retracted into a shell he never knew even existed and every iota of time, he died a little. It was then he decided to give himself away. He traded his soul with the Devil. He indulged himself in a job that was just enough to make ends meet. It neither gave him satisfaction, nor happiness. But anything was better than nothing, right?
As he listlessly settled himself on his recliner, he took hold of the Diary again. Playing with the lean pencil, he decided to scribble something in it. What if the owner didn't like it? He could put it to some use afterall. As soon as he flipped it open, the revelation had left him flabbergasted. Call it shock, amazement, fear... anything. The page held a Diary Entry. A Diary Entry in the same beautiful cursive ink with which the owner had marked this as hers.
But how could it even be possible? He wondered. No one had access to his house, except him. No, not even a maid. He did not prefer intrusion in any form. And even if someone did break in, did he not have anything else to do than writing in a blank Diary in the exact same font?
The mystery spiraled deeper. He couldn't reach a logical conclusion. Sitting straight and rigid, he closed his eyes, so as to block away all the presumptions. Finally opening them, he gave the Entry' a read.
Diary.
I know it's been long, and yes, I missed you too. Where were you? You look a little worn out.
Anyway, I'm glad that you're here. Don't give me that smug look! I LIKE being solitary, but it does get depressing sometimes. How I wish you could've been a person. I wouldn't have been sitting here alone then. The weltering waves trying to sweep us away, the violet morning sky transcending us into a world unknown...ah, it seems too magical.
Well, since it's not happening and I'm gonna be here, alone, let me just make the best of it. I'll be strolling in the damp sand. Join me when you feel like.
Zoya Farooqui.
He went pale as the Goosebumps threatened his body. Was Zoya Farooqui real or just a figment of his so called vivid' imagination? Suddenly, he felt rejuvenated - like this little piece of mystery had instilled life in him. He wanted to know, to explore. He didn't care if it was a prank or a deception. His conscience implored him to solve it.
Color returned to his face and so did a smile. In this vast expanse, there was a certain Zoya who was exactly like him! She loved isolation but hated being alone. She confided in objects rather than people. She wanted to drift beyond. The smile grew wider with every revelation. He read the Diary again and again, and again as if trying to memorize every word of it. As if to memorize her.
He stood up and made his way to bed with the Diary, of course. Keeping it on his bedside table, he went to sleep, wandering into his world unknown.
The sky was violet with hues of red. The atmosphere was slightly misty but soothing. Cool breeze ruffled the faraway trees and the bustling waves added to the symphony. Here he was, standing ankle deep in transient sand which in its course of sweeping, tickled his feet.
He was aimlessly strolling when he came across a silhouette. It seemed to be perching on a seaside rock. His over curious mind prodded him to approach further as he took careful steps towards it. As the silhouette grew more and more definite, he could make out that it was of a woman.
He stood close enough to take in the view. She had long, beautiful hair which shined like a dark silk curtain against the sun. Her chin rested on her crossed over hands which in turn, rested on her scrunched up knees. She had a diary on her lap and looked straight ahead, as if hypnotized. Suddenly, she straightened up and turned her head. She looked startled and he had no idea why. Her almond shaped eyes widened. They were so easily readable. Like, right now, they reflected fear... and anger? She stood up abruptly and walked away. It was then he realized that he was the object of displeasure.
He sighed and strolled further, to where she sat a while ago. Scrunching up his knees, he crossed his hands, rested his chin on them and smiled. She was her.
*****
The alarm clock noisily disturbed his slumber. His mind was in frenzy. After all these years, this was the first dream he had had. A pleasant one, it was. He sat up in his bed and grabbed the Diary. There was another Entry', yes. But that wasn't it. There was more.
His excitement was soon replaced by anguish as he realized what day it was. He had taken a leave from work. Finishing his chores, he stuffed the Diary in his blazer pocket and left. This was his ritual for the past 7 years. No matter how hard he tried to break free, their memories always managed to cripple him.
He entered the graveyard as the two tombstones lifelessly waited for his visit. Replacing the old bunch of flowers with the new one, he made his way to sit in between them. His eyes welled up as he remembered how the three of them snuggled together in their cozy little bed. It was still the same, right? The fact that worn out grass had replaced the bed and death had replaced life could be easily ignored. Giving one last glance to them, he left the place with a heavy heart.
Turning off the ignition, he stepped out. This was it. Dr Mehra must be waiting for him.
"Good Morning Asad", said Dr Mehra cheerfully. He very well knew what day it was. How couldn't he? Asad was the only one undergoing therapy for the past 7 years. All other patients of his had completed theirs already.
"Good Morning Uncle", he said. Dr Ajit Mehra had been a family friend and his biggest supporter after the uncalled death.
"How are you feeling today?" he sat beside Asad and gave him a sideways, reassuring hug.
"Miserable." The reply hadn't changed. Earth had been round the sun a staggering 7 times but the reply hadn't changed.
They talked for a while, sharing good old memories like they always did. Their conversations would always leave Asad bittersweet but he didn't complain. He liked it. Knowing what his parents were like when they were his age was always heartwarming. But it was equally depressing. He felt miserable not because they died, but because he had failed them. Had someone else been in his place, he would've worked his heart and soul to make them proud. Even though he tried, he knew he didn't. He didn't make them proud. They told him to follow his heart, but did he? Did his work make him happy? Did his life make him happy? If not, then what did?
Although he didn't confide in people, he trusted Dr. Mehra. He wanted to share with him, his dream. Making up his mind, he pulled out the Diary from his pocket and opened it again; very well aware of the curious glances his Uncle was giving him. Flipping through the pages, he found something oddly familiar - a photograph. It was as though his dream had been imprinted. He noticed the same violet-reddish sky, the seaside rock and her.
Smiling at the portrait, he handed it over to his Uncle who was more than eager to take it from him. He lovingly smiled at the picture as well.
"So?" Asad asked on not receiving the expected reaction.
"It's a lovely photograph Asad." Dr. Mehra replied. Taking once last glance, he returned it back.
"You don't have any questions?" Asad enquired further. How could he not be the least curious?
"Well, um, is there something special about it?" He asked, confused.
"Don't you wanna know who's in it?" Everything was going over him. Ajit Uncle had always wanted him to socialize with people. And now, when he's finally making an acquaintance, his Uncle seems least bothered!
"That's funny! Seems like the 6 year old Asad's dazzling smile has blinded you!" He chuckled.
6 year old...dazzling smile...what? What was he talking about? It wasn't his portrait, it was Zoya's!
"What? No, no, no. You've got it all wrong! That isn't me Uncle. It's a girl's photograph." Asad replied, slightly annoyed. He hastily grabbed it back for scrutiny. He didn't have waist long hair for God's sake!
Dr. Mehra and Asad looked at the portrait together. Surprisingly, both were right on their part. While Dr. Mehra saw a little Asad with window teeth, he saw no one but Zoya.
He quickly placed the photo back in the Diary and asked his Uncle to read what was written in it.
"The Diary's empty." He simply stated.
"No it isn't! Show me!" He half cried. The cursive was very clearly visible to him, but why couldn't Uncle see it? What in the world was happening to him?
"Are you okay? Look, son. I know it has been really hard for you. Losing your Ammi and Abbu, so abruptly...you're bound to be disturbed. But that was 7 years ago, Asad. 7 years is a long time. Are you hallucinating?" Dr Mehra cautiously enquired as he soothingly rubbed his back.
He wasn't hallucinating and he knew it. Maybe, just maybe, the message, the portrait was meant only for him. Maybe, Zoya didn't want anyone else to know her.
He took a deep breath and spoke, "I think I am. It would be better if we end today's session. I really need some fresh air." Picking up his belongings, he left the place, tightly clutching the Diary in his hand.
*****
Driving to the sea side, he parked his car and found a secluded place. He needed peace. He opened the book and read the second entry that it held.
Diary,
I don't like intruders, especially when they poke my bubble. But today, I had one.
He was not only on my territory, but was gawking at me. His actions forced me to get up and leave. I swear I could've witnessed the sunrise, but thanks to him, I could only see it peeping through the horizon.
It was infuriating but equally intriguing. No one had visited the place in a long time. We had made a connection, me and the beach. But how did he end up there, in the middle of nowhere?
Anyway, I'm really tired - should put my hyperactive mind to rest.
Zoya Farooqui.
He smiled even though she called him stupid. She didn't say that directly, but that's what she implied, right? He was at a beach too. It wasn't the same though. The sky was painted in shades of orange with streaks of pink. The sea waves were roaring - out of joy or agony - he couldn't tell. The sounds didn't soothe him. Rather, they bothered him. He gazed at her portrait for a long time. Where was she? He wondered.
He drove aimlessly for hours till midnight. His haunting past and rejuvenating dream trailed him.
Back at home, he couldn't wait to fall asleep. He was curious as to what his dream held tonight. His body vibrated with excitement and soon enough, sleep engulfed him.
She was perching on the same rock. It was as though it belonged to her. He gently made himself comfortable beside her. She looked at him with fiery eyes but ended up flustered. Their proximity was bringing out her shy side. She looked away again, feigning ignorance.
"I'm Asad" He extended his hand.
"Zoya" She shook it. Her smile radiated warmth, comfort. One look at her, and he knew he was a goner. Her voice sounded like the most melodious soprano to him - he wanted to relish the reverberation. He could've gazed at her all day but then reality snapped in.
"So, um, what are you doing here?" Stupid. So stupid Asad.
"May I ask you the same?" She chuckled and he joined.
"I like beaches."
"So do I."
They sat in silence for what seemed like years. Her face glowed with an unknown light, making her look even more heavenly. It was as if the waves were crossing the ocean only to touch her, to feel her. In reality, he wasn't any less crazed. Who was she? And where were they? He needed answers. Before he could muster up his courage, she spoke up.
"How did you find me? I mean... people don't come here that often. Actually, people don't come here at all. So how is that you did?" Curiosity pooled her eyes. She was eager to know him as much as he was to know her.
"I wish I knew the answer."
"What do you mean?"
"I thought you were a figment of my imagination. But you're not. You're very real. And I'm happy that you are." He smiled at her perplexed expressions. "It might sound absolutely absurd, but this is my dream, Zoya. In reality, I'm asleep in my dingy room. I don't know what this place is, but I sure do know that I love it." He gazed at sun's wavering reflection. Had he glanced at her, he would've seen the awe her eyes had for him.
"You're from another world?" She sounded amazed. Who wouldn't?
"I like to call it The Alternate Reality'." He laughed lightly and she followed.
He was jolted back to reality and he didn't like it a bit! How he wanted to drown in her eyes, to listen to her voice, to run his fingers through her tresses, to hold her hand...
Magically, everything started falling into place. Day after day, his work seemed less bothersome, he started smiling more often. He would read and re read the Diary Entries. The meetings became a habit as they got to each other even more. They had striking similarities, he noted. They hadn't even realized when they started depending on each other.
They were there at the beach, snuggled close to each other. His fingers gently stroked hers as they sat in a comforting silence.
"What is it like there? The place you're from?"
"It's noisy and exasperating. Everyone is always in a hurry. There's no love, and even if there is, it doesn't last long. Every force in the world works to snatch it from you."
"That... sounds horrible."
"It indeed is."
"Then why are you going back?" She paused. "Don't go Asad." whispered Zoya, her voice barely audible. "Don't leave me stranded. I might be sounding desperate, but I need you. Your mere presence brings an unknown comfort and your voice, it's filled with all of the world's love. I've been alone way too long and I feel that you have been too. Don't go back to that horrid place where no one cares, where no one loves."
Asad was awed at her frankness. The fact that he was afraid to admit was so easily brought out in the open. He took her in his embrace and kissed her forehead.
"I won't. I promise." His voice was laced with determination.
"Really?" Her innocent eyes sparkled with joy.
"Yes" He smiled and leaned closer to her lips. In no time, they were captured in his as they shared their first kiss. Breaking apart, he said. "I'm here. Forever."
He woke up, his heart beating erratically. That kiss... it had consumed his body and soul. It had given him the last push he needed. No longer was he afraid of the decision he had been willing to take. He was determined now. Determined as he would ever be.
To his surprise, it wasn't morning yet. He switched on the bedside lamp, got off his bed and opened a drawer of his bedside table. Picking up a piece of cardboard, he lovingly ran his fingers over it. It was a photograph of his Ammi and Abbu. They were smiling at him. Their eyes glimmered with unmasked love. It was as if they had come to life, and most importantly, they seemed proud - proud of him for listening to his heart, for doing what made him happy.
Kissing the old encaptured memory, he turned the lamp off, probably for the last time. He settled back on his bed - clutching the Diary in one hand and the photograph in another. Contentment filled his body as he closed his eyes. He felt complete, pleased and free. Slowly, his grip went limp and his breath shallowed. Even though his body numbed, his face graced a smile.
He had slipped into his unknown world. He was finally beyond.
XXX
Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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