I will not be surprised if I find you people asking who am I and what am I doing on this forum 😆 I've been gone for so long, I deserve these questions 😉
So it's 2 o'clock in the night and I'm posting something out of the blue means that this is a stress-buster for my umm stress 😆 I'm annoyed at life in general and that came out in the form of this OS 😳
I hope you enjoy reading it. Not proofread at all and I can't be bothered doing that right now. Likh lia yahi bari baat hai 😉
With her bag swinging wildly on her right shoulder and her open hair flying behind, 15-year-old Zoya Farooqi rushed along the corridors, hoping against hope that the Math professor was somehow miraculously late for a change. But even as she hoped this, she knew the chances of that happening were ridiculously slim. Even hoping for something like this was being optimistic to the point of stupidity because Mr. Kumar had never arrived late in a class in the living memory of the entire school. It was a common joke at the school that Mr. Kumar probably stays overnight at school as this was the only explanation they could come up with to explain his crisp entry in their class, sharp at 8 o'clock every morning.
Now, as if in contrast to him, it so happened that Zoya Farooqi had a record for never getting to the morning class on time. There were a few lucky times when she made it just as the teacher entered the room but never did she manage to reach early. It had almost become a sort of a ritual to see a flustered Zoya skidding to a stop just inside the classroom during the lecture and asking breathlessly, "Sorry Ma'am, may I come in?"
The class would laugh amusingly as she would hurry in with a sheepish, dimpled smile on her pretty face and slump on the nearest chair in sight and the teacher would continue without asking the reason for her lateness. There was a reason behind this nonchalant attitude of teachers as well. They knew better than to ask questions because Zoya came up with the most unusual excuses, which much more than often involved long stories behind them. Moreover, she was an exceptionally bright student, full on scholarship and excellent at everything she did, so mostly the teachers let her quietly come in, bearing her one harmless flaw with good humor. But this Math professor was different. He had the sense of humor of a steel ruler and he was strict. And Zoya didn't like him one bit.
The first time she was late for his class, he had asked her the reason behind her delay. Of course, Zoya had launched into a detailed explanation. "Actually sir, the thing is I wasn't feeling very good in the morning and I thought I should better skip school today... but then I remembered that you were supposed to deliver an important lecture today so it thought I should go... but then I thought what if I fell sick during the lecture? That would disturb the whole class, wouldn't it? Someone would have to take me to the nurse and they'll miss their lecture too. So I thought I wouldn't come. But as the time passed, I began to feel better so I thought why not go to school? I mean, it's not necessary that I'd fall during sick in class, right? So when I finally reached this conclusion and got out of bed, I was already running late but I swear I came as quickly as I could. I think I made it in record time. 14 and a half minutes on foot, that's not too bad, is it? Considering I usually take about 16?"
Bald-headed Mr. Kumar had stared at her with his mouth hanging slightly open while the class fought desperately to stifle their laughter, their eyes flickering from cheekily grinning Zoya to the dumbstruck professor. Mr. Kumar recovered after a moment and gave the class a warning look and the students quickly trained their faces into various expressions of somberness, ranging from polite interest to such grave expressions that were more appropriate for a funeral procession than for a class.
Satisfied Mr. Kumar had turned to glare back at Zoya and said shrewdly, "Miss. Farooqi, you don't look like you're sick to me."
"What do you mean sir that I don't look sick?" Zoya asked him, her annoyance flaring. "I had a high fever this morning and I most probably still do. Now the only problem is that my fever doesn't show... which is too bad because it would've helped with the detection had my face glowed red and blinked SICK every two minutes."
Unable to hold back their laughter, the class burst into sniggers and Mr. Kumar's frown deepened. "Silence! Alright you may come in, Miss Farooqi but remember this is the first and the last time I'm letting you enter my class late. After this if you're late, I would suggest that you return back to your home instead of disturbing me during my lecture."
Trying not to snap a reply at his obnoxious behavior, Zoya had made her way through the chairs to the back of the class and as usual, her eyes had landed on him briefly. His sparkling deep eyes were fixed on her. He wasn't the only one though. The whole class was looking at her in amusement but somehow, when he looked at her, she could feel it within the tingling marrow of her spine...
Zoya shook her head, breaking out of her reverie and returning to present as she skidded to a halt in front of the class door. Her heart sank when she heard the Math professor taking attendance inside the class. Gulping slowly, she pushed the door to the class open and stuck her head in just as the professor called out her name for attendance.
"Present sir." She answered from the threshold and the whole class whipped their heads to look at her, looking suddenly excited at what would now take place.
"Absent Miss. Farooqi." Mr. Kumar corrected her in his annoying nasal voice. "It seems you've forgotten what I said the last time that you were late..."
"No actually sir, I haven't." Zoya corrected him calmly. "I remember you telling me quite clearly that if I got late again, I should return home and not disturb your lecture."
"Precisely. Then what are you doing here?"
"I'm not disturbing your lecture sir. You haven't even begun so I believe, keeping your statement in mind, I should be allowed to enter the class right now." She told him confidently. She could feel the class's appraising eyes on her as Mr. Kumar's frown turned into an ugly scowl.
"You know what I meant when I asked you not to disturb me..."
"I don't know what you meant, sir." Zoya told him with as much innocence as she could muster. "I only know that you said I was not allowed to disturb your lecture and as you haven't started your lecture yet, I can disturb you and asked to be let in, right?"
Mr. Kumar resembled a boiling egg as he clenched and unclenched his fist before he spoke with gritted teeth. "You may come in Miss. Farooqi but this is the last time. From now onwards you're not allowed to enter this class once I've gotten here before you."
"Sure sir." Zoya gave him a cheeky smile as she quickly scurried through the chairs to find herself a seat. Her eyes met his and again she detected the spark in them. It was this quality of his eyes that differentiated him from all the other students looking at her... It was this quality of his eyes that made her self-conscious.
To her chagrin, the only empty seat in the class was next to him. Forcing her nerves to get a grip, she made her way to the seat and sat down next to him.
"Hi." Her voice sounded low and squeaky to her own ears even though she had tried to keep it casual.
He gave her a side-glance and nodded in acknowledgment. His entire posture screamed arrogance, from the way he sat slumping in his chair with his arms crossed lazily over his chest to his unbuttoned collar, loose tie, and rolled up sleeves. With his eyes now listlessly observing the professor over his sharp arrogant nose and his lips pressed in a line, he was the perfect image of a bad boy and his attitude supported that image effortlessly.
If Zoya was perfectly honest with herself, the truth was that Asad Ahmed Khan intimidated her. Or maybe intimidated was a strong word, he awed her. He was the only boy in their class who drove himself to school in his black Land Cruiser. There were rumors that he smoked though she had never seen him doing that but looking at him, she didn't find it hard to believe. He was filthy rich, the only son of one of India's leading businessman and the typical image of a bad boy from his long sleek hair to the careless way with which he carried himself.
Zoya, on the other hand, belonged to a very humble background. Her father was a clerk and hence, he didn't earn very much. It was through Zoya's sheer brilliance at studies that she was studying in India's top private school, full on scholarship.
"Class, take out your books. And like I always say, whoever doesn't have their book are free to leave this class. I don't want anyone sitting here without their book." Mr. Kumar let out his usual instructions and Zoya's heart sank as she fished in her bag for her book but couldn't find it there.
Mr. Kumar began making his round through the rows of tables to check whether everyone had their books out and Zoya's worry increased as she frantically searched in her cluttered bag for her book but it just wasn't there.
"What are you doing?" She heard Asad growl out in a low annoyed voice on seeing her emptying her bag on the table.
"I-I can't find my Math book." She relied in a voice ringing with worry. Now Mr. Kumar will ask her to leave the class and she'll end up missing today's lecture on logarithms. And Mr. Kumar had hinted just yesterday that this chapter was very important for their upcoming final exams.
Mr. Kumar was almost at their table and with a sad sigh, Zoya gave up; feeling a sudden urge to cry in her frustration. After all her efforts to attend this class, she was going to be turned out. As she was about to stand up, Asad slid his open book in front of her, stood up and made to leave the class.
"Where are you going, Mr. Khan?" Mr. Kumar demanded.
"I don't have a book, sir." He answered calmly before striding out and Zoya was left staring at the closing door behind him.
***
"Thank you." Zoya muttered sheepishly as she handed his book to him in the next class. "I'm sorry you had to leave the class because of me."
He shrugged lightly in response. "I don't listen to that baldhead anyway." He said offhandedly before walking off.
***
Zoya looked around the deserted stop and wondered when her Abbu will be free enough to come pick her up.
They had a party at the school that night and hence she had stayed till late. As soon as the party was over, all her friends had left on their waiting cars but her Abbu hadn't come to pick her up. Knowing that it could take him time since he travelled by public transport, Zoya had quietly exited the school and went to the nearest stop to wait for him. Being alone at the school with the teachers asking when someone will pick her up was uncomforting for her as well as for them.
It was one of the disadvantages of studying at one of the most expensive private schools in the city that being from a humble background, Zoya ended up being alone or different from her classmates due to her lack of money and luxuries. Not that she minded it. She tried to take it positively. She was studying at a school where her parents couldn't even dream of sending her, thanks to her full scholarship. Moreover her friends and classmates were all nice to her. It wasn't as if no one had offered to drop her off to her house, they had - only to meet with decline. Everyone in the class knew Zoya took favors from no one. She might not be as well off as any of them but her ego and pride never allowed her to ask anyone for their help.
As it was a winter's night, the sun already gone down and the road was quite deserted. She wished she could catch a bus or a rickshaw but her father had forbidden her from travelling alone saying she was too young right now. But standing at the stop right now, quite alone, she thought she would rather be in a bus or a rickshaw right now.
A couple of boys passed her as she stood there, commenting on her beauty in a sickening manner that made her blood boil as well as scaring her a little. It was not safe, being alone by herself after dark. Especially when she was all dressed up.
"Why are you still here?"
Someone asked from her left, making her jump a little. It was Asad. She hadn't heard him coming. He was still wearing the same suit he had worn to the party except the coat was now missing and his sleeves were again rolled up. He had the gift of looking like a model even without trying, she thought absentmindedly.
"Umm... I'm waiting for Abbu to come pick me up." She told him meekly. His eyes sparkled in the light of the streetlight as he took out a pack of cigarette from his pocket and placed one between his lips. Proceeding to take out his lighter, he was just about to light it when he seemed to notice her eyes on him.
"Do you mind?" He muttered as he looked at her from underneath his long lashes.
"Huh?" Zoya let out stupidly.
"I said do you mind if I smoke?" He repeated.
"N-No. Go ahead."
He continued to light his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke that she watched in fascination before it hit her that something was wrong about this situation. Why was Asad here?
"Umm... what are you doing here?"
"Apart from smoking, you mean?" He asked as he thrust his hand along with the lighter in his pocket and looked around in interest, the slightest hint of a smile gracing his lips.
"Yes."
"Waiting for someone from home to come pick me up. My car broke down." He told her casually pointing in the direction of his car, which was parked some furlongs away.
"Oh." She let out, not knowing what else to say.
Asad proceeded to sit down on the edge of the pavement and continued to smoke leisurely before he seemed to remember her and said, "You can sit down too, you know."
Zoya at first thought of replying that she was perfectly happy standing there but then she thought logically and came to the conclusion that it was better to sit especially since she had no idea how much longer she'd have to wait. Quietly, she sat some distance away from him and looked around her with interest, making sure not to stare at Asad too much.
"It's a little cold tonight, isn't it?" She ventured after a while trying to make some small talk.
"Yeah." He blew out a ring of smoke.
"Do you know smoking is injurious to health?" She blurted out before she could stop herself.
"Might've heard that somewhere." He agreed nonchalantly but it looked as if he was trying to fight back a smile.
"I think smoking is just another type of suicide that takes its own sweet time to end your life... In other words, while smoking you are slowly taking your own life without realizing it."
"Who said one doesn't realize it?" He tilted his head to look at her with a handsome crooked smile.
Zoya felt a mixture of surprise and aggravation at his words, "If you do, then how can you do this to yourself?"
"Like this." He mocked her as he blew out another ring of smoke.
Zoya's annoyance flared at his blatant mocking of her. "Fine, if you want to kill yourself then go ahead and do it. I would be least bothered."
"I know. No one would be bothered if I died. No one will cry. I doubt if anyone will even notice me gone." He smiled for the first time but it was a bitter smile. A smile that somehow made sadness erupt in her heart.
It was not true, her heart contradicted almost immediately. On those rare days when he was absent, her eyes searched for his sparkling ones all day long. She had gotten so used to feeling his eyes on her as she made her late entrance in class that his absence screamed aloud to her. He probably didn't even realize how much their one eye contact had come to mean to her. The realization surprised even herself.
She looked at him absent-mindedly toeing a pebble with his shoes and tried to think of something positive to say, to wipe that bitterness off his face. "You never know... Besides, even if no one does, you can be sure your parents-"
"My Ammi is dead." His voice was carefully emotionally detached as he cut her midway.
"I'm sorry." She let out apologetically, biting her lips.
"It's okay. According to your uh... assessment, I'm on my way to joining her anyway." He gave a crooked smile as he waved his cigarette a little.
"I-I didn't mean that." She squeaked hurriedly and he almost chuckled.
"That's alright. I don't mind leaving this world. It hardly is a place worth living." He said darkly as he looked around. The feeling of sadness in Zoya's heart grew. Why did he seem so unhappy with life?
"Life might be dark at times but it does have its moments of brightness." Gathering her thoughts, she contradicted him calmly.
Asad turned to observe her with interest before he smiled slightly, making his eyes twinkle. "You're right." He smiled wickedly and pointed towards the smoldering end of his cigarette. "My moment of brightness."
Even though she knew, what he was saying was wrong, still her lips curved up in a smile at the way he said this with his crooked smile. She looked away to hide her smile and when she turned back to him, he was throwing the finished cigarette on the ground before placing his shoe on it to snuff it out properly. Her eyes turned wide when she saw him taking another cigarette from the packet and placing it between his lips.
"You're going to have another one?"
"Hmm?" He glanced at her briefly during the process of taking out his lighter again.
"Not another one please."
"Why not?" He barked out a dry laugh, looking amused.
"Because I can't stand watching you wasting yourself like this. It's depressing to see someone showing so little regard for their life." She snapped, annoyed at his casual attitude about it. "I had heard that you smoked... but this much, I didn't even imagine."
"Where your imagination ends, Asad Ahmed Khan begins." He remarked arrogantly.
"Yes whatever. Can you not light that please?"
"Too late." He answered as he inhaled and then exhaled a cloud of smoke leisurely.
Unable to stand it, Zoya made a grab at his cigarette and held it at an arm's length. "No more smoking."
"You do realize that I have a whole pack in my pocket, don't you?" He asked in amusement as he pulled it out and showed it to her. She was surprised that he didn't have the faintest hint of anger or annoyance in his eyes, only that lively spark that she was fast growing accustomed to. She made a grab for the packet in one swift move, but he was quicker and pulled away resulting in the packet's cover tearing a little.
"No seriously, please don't. Think of it as a request. We've been studying together for so long and this is the first time I'm asking something from you... Don't smoke another cigarette please?" Her eyes turned to huge orbs as she requested in a imploring tone.
"Right now or ever again?" He asked in a thoughtful tone, a crooked smile again stretching across his lips.
"Not ever again would be heaven... but the chances of that happening are as slim as Mr. Kumar's late arrival in a class are. Zero. I mean why would YOU listen to ME?"
She smiled slightly and he smiled a little in response. Seeing him smile made her feel good in a way she had never felt before. He very rarely smiled. Only few had the pleasure of one being bestowed upon them.
Suddenly she seemed to realize where she was and looked around worriedly, "Why isn't Abbu here yet? I think he was probably busy with work when I called him and that's why it's taking him time. Who will come to pick you up? Your Abbu?"
"I don't have an Abbu. I only have a father." There was hesitation and bitterness in his voice again.
"Aren't they both the same thing?" She ventured cautiously.
"No. My father is only there to order me around, never give me time or love for that matter. I've never found him deserving of a title as loving and endearing as Abbu."
Driven by her nature, Zoya tried to be optimistic, "He probably keeps busy and doesn't get time..."
"Your Abbu is going to leave his work to come pick you up. My Abbu has never done that for me even when he's got nothing to do. He thinks it below him to look after me. The only thing he does is to boss me around and expects me to follow his instructions silently. I rebel whenever and wherever I can. The cigarette is one instance."
Zoya felt herself getting moved by his words, by his helplessness, by his need to be loved by his only parent. "He's your father. He loves you even if he doesn't show it."
"You don't understand..." He let out a hard chuckle. "You won't understand when you have a loving family who support and encourage you. My father has a problem with whatever I do."
"Maybe if you give up your bad boy image-"
The bitterest of smiles graced his lips. "If I give that up, people would start pitying me. That is my shield. You don't know how wounded I am beneath it." He then suddenly looked at her as if realizing he had said that aloud and ran a hand through his hair, looking uneasy at all that he had revealed and started looking in the other direction.
Thankfully, at that moment a rickshaw appeared at the corner of the street that pulled to a stop in front of them. A middle-aged man came out of it and hurried towards them whom Asad guessed to be Zoya's father. As soon as he reached Zoya, he began apologizing in a very fatherly manner. "I'm so sorry beta; I made you wait for so long. Actually, I couldn't find a transport and-"
"It's alright Abbu." Zoya gave him one of her sunny smiles.
"But it's not safe being out on the road after dark."
"Don't worry. I had Asad with me. He's my class fellow. His car broke down and he's waiting for someone to come pick him up." Zoya told him and Asad stepped forward to shake Mr. Farooqi's hand warmly.
"I think we should wait for Asad's car to come pick him up and then we'll leave?" Mr. Farooqi proposed to his daughter, winding an arm around her shoulders.
"No no. Please don't trouble yourself for me. My driver should be here any minute now." Asad declined hastily.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes a hundred percent. Thanks anyway."
"Bye Asad." Zoya smiled widely as she waved at him. Her dimples captured his attention for a moment. She had a beautiful smile.
"Bye Zoya." His eyes sparkled silently as he nodded in his usual reserved manner. Zoya felt like complimenting his eyes, telling him that she loved that sparkle in them but she realized her Abbu was with them so hastily she got in and waved him once again.
Asad waited and watched patiently until Zoya and her father had boarded the rickshaw and went off before walking over to his 'supposedly broken down' car, he seated himself in and cranked the engine, which roared to life without delay.
A small peaceful smile played on his lips as he sped towards his home. As if by instinct, his hand reached in his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes. He always smoked while driving but as he pulled it out, the ripped cover seemed to capture his attention. He looked at it with interest for a while before carefully placing it back in his pocket. It would serve as a remainder for him to never to smoke again.
As his hand came up after stuffing the packet in his pocket, headlights of a large truck shone in his face out of nowhere. To avoid the headlong collision, he swerve to his right and smashed the huge trunk of a tree... He felt his head hitting something hard and the sound of glass falling. His chest throbbed with a blinding pain against the steering wheel he was slumped lifelessly against. Something warm and wet dribbled the side of his forehead.
He tried to open his eyes but his eyelids felt heavy. He felt himself drowning in a pool of darkness and felt panic erupt inside him when suddenly an image painted itself effortlessly on his close eyelids that soothed him instantly. The image of a young girl with dimpled cheeks smiling and waving at him as she got inside a rickshaw.
The faintest trace of a smile graced his lips. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen...
The darkness enveloped him completely and life drained out his eyes which were sparkling moments ago.
Zoya Farooqi would never find out that his eyes sparkled only while looking at her...
THE END
You want to kill me? Then kill me 😆 But please leave your reviews first 🤣
Love,
Fari ❤️
