FF: All of You || Ch. 1 'Jaise Banjaare ko Ghar' Pg. 4 - Page 3

FAFDA ! the wordsmith, your stories weave magic .Your writing style is exquisite. The beauty of these stories is that each one of us gets to interpret it in our own way. You are a connoisseur of short stories, your ideas are one of a kind. you my dear Shweta are a class apart.

It is a amazing start loved it.

Ooh, I just adore this idea! And it's a love story too, even better! :D

Chapter 1

I entered her house trying to go gentle on the door, not letting much of the snow follow me inside. Handed off my coat and scarf to Will, the house's caretaker. He was a nice man, his daughter was actually studying to be a nurse. It wouldn't be long before Will would retire from the years of service he's provided, but even though we'd all miss him, I felt a sense of pride.

I walked in further to be greeted by Mrs. Basu, who worked with Will. "She's eaten her dinner," she informed me right away... like she always did somehow. She says I'm an open book, but for the sake of my sanity I'd like to believe she always knows the query on my mind out of plain habit.

"Thank you," I assured her as I began my search throughout the house. I found a list of phone numbers and a cordless phone on top.

Bryant Kim

Stacy Cruz

Gina Manzoni

I recognized the names right away, they were editors. Stacy Cruz being the chief editor of one of the biggest publication houses in New York.

Wishing her luck on the endeavor was all I could do, I knew she'd hate it if I got in the way of her natural try for publication.

I saw the door to the master bedroom, what once was his bedroom, open. There was not a second question as to where she was. Slowly climbing my way up the stairs, I slipped out of my grey suit jacket letting it hang over my arm.

As expected she was lying on the chestnut carpet, along the glass window that led to the balcony. She looked at the swing outside longingly as it got covered with snow little by little, as if each and every snowflake's fate was predestined to align so perfectly on perhaps the most significant memorabilia of Asad. Yes, Asad, we never got to the "just call me Abbu" or even "uncle" level of intimacy. "Sir" used to be an occasional occurrence but he preferred Asad the most. It was how he'd introduced himself. I remember it all too clearly.

"I'm Asad Ahmed Khan" he introduced himself like an adult despite the fact that he was crouching on his knees in the rain. I remember Sir's eyes, they were intensely sharp but at the same time slightly deluded with uncertainty. Though the sureness in his voice made up for it, I never could forget the dilemma in his eyes. The driver was waiting with his back against the car, an umbrella in hand.

"I'm Rehaan." I answered my vision not at all affected by the rain. I remember him crack an amused smile for a moment there, the first of the very few times I'd ever see him smile at all.

"Well then, Rehaan, I'm here to offer you a deal. A deal that'll give you a warm bed, a hot meal, and an education. In turn you'll have to make one promise."

For a guy living on the streets to whom a newspaper clipping covered in chutney was the closest he'd ever get to an actual book, this was a dream.

"What promise?"

His eyes grew softer for some reason, "One day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in 10 years, I will ask you for something. And you have to promise you'll give it to me without a second thought or a single question."

It took the child hidden within my 11 year old yet tiresome exterior a few seconds to grasp the gravity of what he'd asked of me. I nodded my head.

He nodded his as well and got up. "Come," he said as turned towards the car.

"Wait, sir..." he turned, "How do you know I'll keep the promise? I could very well agree now and then refuse to even acknowledge it later," I pointed out skeptically.

He turned around and brought me over to his side, a firm but reliable hand on my back, "You can... but you won't," he said looking down at me, the conviction in his voice matched the previously absent confidence in his eyes.

As we were walking towards the car, I saw her for the first time. Her eyes fought the blurring rain on the window, she had caught me peering in. They were cautious for a moment, trying to figure out this stranger her father was bringing home. But it was all for naught because within the next moment, the crinkles in the corners of her eyes gave away her smile. But what I remember the most is how her eyes for the very first time made me feel like I was home.

"How was your day?" she asked still observing the snow.

"Not interesting enough to discuss," I loosened my tie seating myself against the wall across from her. "Yours?"

"Same,"

"I presume you've finished your novel. Well, by finished I mean finished re-editing it to the point where you're happy enough to send it to a publishing house so now they can edit it another 50 times."

"Well, not quite satisfied," she rolled over to face me, "But probably the closest I'll ever get to it," she smiled extending her right arm, the energy of the room suddenly yet subtly shifted as the longing in her eyes returned, but this time, not for the swing,

"Rehaan, idhar ao na?" she gestured towards the seemingly empty spot on the carpet next to her, "Bas thodi der," she whispered.

Smile. Lie down. Control your breathing. I told myself, but she wasn't quite helping.

"I should just accept the fact that you'll never tell me," She propped herself up against the glass window and practically mollycoddled my sleep-deprived head onto her lap, somehow. How she managed to do that to me, no matter how hard I tried to keep it together, was beyond me. And today I was shameless enough to not waste my time trying to figure it out. "And I," she said running her fingers through my hair, "...will just have to learn to work around that," she just stated combing my hair away from my face with her fingers.

And soon my fatigue began to disintegrate.

I pretended like I didn't know what she was talking about because, like I'd said before, it was just easier.

"Seen any good movies lately?" I tried to divert my attention.

"I know what you're doing Rehaan. I've known you for 15 years, give me some credit man," I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "And I know you find my lectures' irritating but I still give them! Why? In hopes that maybe one day, just once, you take a deep breath for yourself. Because a human can only go on for so long without breathing."

Her words were confusing, but they sounded nice, whatever they meant. "Alright so you can check lecture of the day off the list, moving on..."

She swatted her arm at my head as if there lay a fly. Pagal.

"Ab sach main batao, how was your day? How are things going with the expansion?"

"Well Alberta's known for oil, no particular other industries there really, so getting investors on board for the production site is getting kind of frustrating," I tried to keep it short and sweet, letting the words roll off my mouth and her mere presence giving me the comfort I refused to get used to, of knowing that they'd be heard.

But she looked down at me, with those big brown eyes, goddamn those big, beautiful, brown eyes. Her caress soothed my tense forehead and before I knew it, she had me talking.

"Also Mr. Shah just handed in his retirement notice, I doubt I'll ever find another financial advisor that's as wise and genuine as the old man. But I can't really blame him now, he was gracious enough to bring his experience to the table when the company was still a baby. I just, I hate being human sometimes. Because as humans we are made aware that all good things come to an end, that there's a 'the end' for every' once upon a time,' and how nothing lasts forever. There is no constant," I vented before closing my eyes and calming myself down for a second, "And well on a less severe note Samaira's pregnant, which is great and all, but now I'll have to find a replacement secretary for a year or so and I don't see where I can fit in a time slot for interviews,"

"And you can't even ask your secretary to schedule interview sessions for her replacement because she's kind of leaving. Oh my poor Rehaan whatever shall you do!"

"Oh the struggle!" I ran my fingers through my hair, "I'm not too worried, I'll figure it out, somehow."

"Why not ask Aahil, he's setting up his own business soon isn't he? He needs the experience," she suggested.

I couldn't help but laugh, "No I think I'll be fine," I got up.

"Listen I'm being completely honest with you, I mean just look at you, you're a perfect role model. How many 27 year old CEOs of successful brands do you know? Wait let me rephrase that, CEOs that weren't resultants of gracious piggyback rides?"

"Your father was one."

As expected, she was dumbfounded for a moment, pushing away the emotions threatening to resurface with humor, "Well he's kinda dead. And you're the closest we've got, so..."

"I can never, be him," I stopped her right there. "But I do agree Aahil needs a taste of the corporate world before he enters," I smiled trying to bring the atmosphere back to a lighter note, "I'm just not sure I'm the right person for that."

"Anyways," I looked outside to see the snow finally stopped, "I came by specifically to let you know that I'll be gone for a week or two," I looked back at her.

"Ab poochna padega to where?"

And thus the miracle worker, also known as Sanam, got another chuckle out. "To India. Bhopal. On business."

On business. Rehaan... you filthy liar you.

It was funny how in these 20 odd minutes I'd completely forgotten about this "business." Business that reminded me to get up now. I enjoyed the shelter of her warmth, believe me I did, more than anything else in the world.

But it wasn't for me. The foul mouthed open air and fairy-tale crushing realities of life seemed to have formed a strange bond with my outcasted soul. It was time to go back.

Song of the chapter:

[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDnLm1197oc[/YOUTUBE]

Comments: Literally, so, so, beautiful. When I heard the song I felt as though it was tailor made for Rehaan and Sanam. The link to the lyrics are at the bottom if you want to grasp the lyrics and also if you don't understand Hindi, it also has the translations. But basically, "Banjaara" literally means "nomad" but I find a more emotional connotation to the word in which I it can also be understood as it's person without an anchor to hold on to.

http://www.bollynook.com/en/lyrics/14544/banjaara/

RES! 😳

Originally posted by: SurbhikiPankhi

RES! 😳

Mine!


*runs off to go read*

Main parinda besabr
Tha uda jo darbadar.


Oh Shwetz!



Imma cry!


Why must he refrain himself from loving her?


He's a nomad truly. And then rescued. And then found his home. With her. Her big brown beautiful eyes.



Above all. Imma love Asad. I'm so very glad. I have no face for him in my head. I prefer it that way. I like the character.


But Rehan. He's a face. And I wanna run my hand down his hair. And I wanna ease the tense lines on his forehead. I want to tell him I like you too. You're home too.




Hmm.


What has Asad asked of Rehan? He's kinda dead, what could it be?


I'm so glad you decided to give us a good long one! I can get used to this! ;)


Nothing I SAY can properly equate to what I THINK of your writing, suffice that, you're real fine. Finer that fine. Finer that brilliant.



And I'm ever in love with Rehan.



So excited that you've got the plot figured out! Am eagerly waiting to see what happens next!



Love ya Shehzadi Shah!

Hi Swetha,

Silly the writing is not 'sucky'
i liked it
the way Sanam was constantly reaching out to him
but Rehaan was apprehendive
it's obvious they love each other
but why the distabce
i guess we will learn soon in the following chapters