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Baatein Sufiana
He lingered outside her room's door for almost 30 minutes. In stark contrast to the quietness of the night, a raging storm of back and forth intentions was stirring in him. He'd lost count of how many times he'd made it to her door about to knock but pulled back. Asad Ahmed Khan was always the giver and the listener. He didn't seem to have it in him to ask of others. He didn't even know what he had to say but he found it impossible to shake off the fear and urgency he was now feeling. Every resolve of his built and broke countless times in that half hour. He cooled his parched, dry mouth with water several times. Much to his agitation, nothing he did could assuage his racing heart and pounding headache. He knew he had to let something out-anything-but how? Embarrassment, fear, urgency, restlessness, helplessness and so much more permeated his being all at once. It was a slowly building storm and he wondered what would happen if he let it peak. Just as he was swimming through his multitude of thoughts he realized that he had already knocked at her door-finally but involuntarily. A new rush of panic struck him. And just then, a surprised Zoya appeared at her door. Softly, she almost whispered, "Aap?"It was then that Asad realized his foolishness. What had he done? He needed to save himself from this failure, this embarrassment. What was he thinking? He had hardly ever called Zoya by her first name since they'd met. They weren't even on first name basis...he felt angry and frustrated at himself but the sense of urgency never left. But he managed, "kya...mein...apse baat kar sakta hoon?' He motioned toward the door and Zoya followed him out to the garden.
"Sab theek hai na?" "Ji". With that they took seat on a wooden bench in the garden. Asad sat with his hands clasped together and head slightly bowed, leaning forward, staring ahead into nothingness. There was a long gap of silence after that. When Zoya could not bear the awkwardness of their situation anymore, she offered a truce, thinking she knew the matter. "Mr. Khan mein jaanti hoon aap mujhe sorry kehna chahte hai kyunki mein kal wapis jaa rahi hoon. I'm sorry too for annoying you all those times I did" she offered. "Mein aapko dil se kehna chahti hoon ki I'm so grateful to you for letting me stay in your house-mera kaam poora to nahi hua par mujhe phupi and Najma mili. One way or another, I'm leaving this place after having found my family" He still said nothing and just looked at her, studying her face- he couldn't help his eyes from wandering over her face, her eyes, her nose, her lips, her hair that kept falling over her face. He was somber. "Aap...you... don't have to say that..infact hum log..mera matlab najma aur ammi ko aapki adat pad gayi hai. They will take it hard" Zoya smiled at him, despite the uneasiness that was intensifying in her as the night wore on, she was satisfied with their pleasant exchange. When nothing more was said, she got up to leave and walked away saying "goodnight Mr. Khan," smiling at him one other time.
She hadn't taken two steps when she was jolted backward by a strong grip on her wrist. Asad was now on his feet, holding her hand tight, his eyebrows knotted, jaw stern and heart pounding so hard he feared if it might just beat out of his chest."Zoya" he whispered with so much tenderness that if sound could touch, Zoya would have felt the softest caress all over her. But she stood shocked, her pounding heart matching every beat of his heart in intensity and vigor-she was almost lightheaded in those few seconds and might have been caught blushing the deepest red had the night not been her ally.
Zoya turned to face him. It seemed like eons had passed as they stood in a few more seconds of silence. And then Asad said, his voice unsteady and tender though it was just as serious as it usually was, and his eyes focused inches away from Zoya's face on some distant spot, head slightly bowed, her hand still tight in his grip "..shayad Najma aur ammi se zyada, mujhe aapki aadat ho gayi hai".
Zoya stood in shock unable to react. The color drained from Asad's face as he realized what he'd uttered despite himself and he dropped her hand. He ran his hand through his hair, mumbled an apology and disappeared into the house with long, quick strides. He found himself in his shower, getting drenched under icy cold water in the middle of the night, as if that would've countered the heat that was emanating from him after his confession. And then panic struck again. Was he clear enough? Did he say what he wanted to say or did he just leave her confused? How would be console himself after tomorrow?
The truth is that Asad Ahmed Khan had once already fallen in love with Zoya that one fateful day a few months ago, as he sat across her at the dargah. In that moment of spirituality, when he sat bare, without his guard and without his judgement, he'd been mesmerized by her sight. He'd wanted to avert his eyes but he'd been unable to do so, he'd wanted to reach out and wipe her tears, he'd wanted to just keep looking at her. There had never been a woman who Asad had ever glanced at and yet this woman had taken him by a storm, captivated him the very first time he laid his eyes on her. When had had closed his eyes in prayer, he had prayed for her that day-he had prayed for her tears. In his heart, he had dedicated that lit candle to her. His heart had reached out to hers and if he dreamt that night, he would have dreamt of her in his arms. In the middle of their spat of words, when she'd negated his assumption about her marriage, Asad had felt a strange calm descend on him momentarily. As fate had it, though, that night of dreams never came because of how their interaction had proceeded from then on; sometimes opposites attract and sometimes they collide and in their case, collide they did. But that doesn't matter. When fate plans a plan, humans are but mere puppets. He fell in love again with the same woman who had captured his soul for moments that day, but this time he became prisoner slowly, steadily, and permanently.
He didn't sleep at all that night. He couldn't. He lay on his bed, lapsing into periods of an internal storm and alternately, periods of bliss when he remembered with fondness the last two months with Zoya. The closest he had come to feeling what Zoya would feel like in his arms was when he'd carried her away from Akram and her forced marriage ceremony. He recalled with renewed regret the events of that day when his beloved was tortured mercilessly by the brute he trusted. And he recalled with nostalgia that feeling of having her in his arms-she was limp and unresponsive. Many nights since that day he'd felt a strange longing, he'd felt like he was missing out on some blissful warmth that could be his. It wasn't until a few days ago when he sought solace at his favorite dargah that he'd realized the truth of his feelings. He'd sat in the very same place he'd taken when he first laid eyes on that beautiful, solemn stranger. It was then that light had come to him. Only one face had ruled his mind in that quiet hour. It was then that he had answers. Tonight he wondered, ruing with longing, what it might have been like to have Zoya in his arms again, with her embracing him for all the love, warmth and security he desired to offer her with every bit of his being. He'd never know what it would be like to engulf his Zoya and to have her respond back this time.
They drove in awkward silence. After their strange, abrupt conversation yesterday, Zoya wasn't sure of what she could say today..neither was she happy enough to lighten the air with her shair-shayari. Silence seemed golden as she felt crushed under the burden of the emotion-laden air today. Asad looked ahead as he drove, never once paying attention to the passenger on his left. He, in fact, had avoided any opportunity of eye contact with Zoya today..except when they were about to leave home for the airport and he'd said "Chalein?" He laughed sarcastically at himself internally. His thoughts of her were consuming every fiber he was made of while he made a remarkably successful effort of not acknowledging her outwardly.
As he drove, he recalled his previous night when he'd made a fool out of himself in front of Zoya and also later in the night, when he'd heard his door creak open. It was his Ammi. He had straightened himself up as he sat on the bed and inquired why she was up so late at night. Dilshaad had come down to fetch some water when she'd noticed that the light was turned on in her son's room- a strict follower of his schedule that he was, this was unusual. She walked toward his bed "Sab theek hai na Asad?" "Ji ammi he replied" Dilshaad scanned him when he said a moment later 'ammi yaha baithengi kuch der?' She smiled and sat on his bed when her typically reticent son surprised her by resting his head on her lap as he stared at the ceiling and then closed his eyes in silence. Dishaad caressed his forehead."Kya wajah hai Asad" "wajah?" "Tumhare pareshaani ki?" "Mein theek hoon ammi, pareshan nahi, bas neend nahi aarahi" Asad sighed and closed his eyes. Dilshaad then knew. An hour later, she left his room, but not before telling him- "Asad, when you don't try, you will fail a 100% of the time. Learn to put your guard down, at least this once. Baaki tumhari marzi."
He loudly sighed in frustration as he gripped the steering wheel with all his might. Zoya looked at him and he immediately regretted his lack of self control. And then they resumed their silent, temporary companionship as the airport edged closer.
Asad unloaded her luggage from his SUV and placed them on a cart. He shut the trunk door and turned to face her. He managed a smile which she returned in silence after a brief period of hesitation. Zoya then extended her hand to him. "Thank you for everything Mr. Khan." Asad brought his hand out of his pocket and clasped hers, slowly and gingerly. Zoya closed her downcast eyes as she took in a deep breath before she pulled her hand away softly. Just as they were about to break contact she felt a firm grip on her hand.
Asad Ahmed Khan was just not ready for goodbye yet. His somber eyes glistened under the street lights as they pierced straight into hers. This time he wasn't looking away. This time his heart was still pounding, his head was nearly exploding and his feet had almost given away, succumbing to impending defeat-defeat that wouldn't bruise his ego but defeat that would leave his heart and soul numb and paralyzed. He let go of his grip, not breaking contact and slid his curved palm up until he was holding her by her arm, tenderly but firmly. He took a step toward her almost closing the gap between them as he fought the invisible hurdle that blocked his voice and said softly but with conviction "Zoya I have to ask you once before you leave- did you understand what I was trying to tell you yesterday?" all the while trying to look through her eyes into her soul. Zoya stayed quiet, still looking into his eyes. "Please say something? Your silence is killing me Zoya." he said in earnest. Zoya freed her left arm from his right hand breaking Asad's heart into a thousand pieces in that fraction of a second. He stood pained with a sinking feeling like he might have experienced only one other time in life-when his father left.
He took a deep breath, turned away from her, then pressed his lips together as he slid his hands in his pockets, as if he'd be able to gather himself after what had just passed. A minute later, he turned back- with the intention of walking her to the door. She was gone.
Panic seized him with renewed vigor, as if the rejection he just received never happened. He ran across all the entrance doors looking for his lovely one. He lost count of how many people he inquired about a girl in jeans. He had argued with the guard as he tried to get in but was not allowed to do so. He then walked back to his car, as he assaulted his fist with the metal in regret and frustration. He was shocked. Did she hate him so much that she couldn't afford him proper closure and goodbye? His mind rummaged through all the possible instances during her stay with them when he could have done things differently, when he could have seen her inner beauty earlier had he not been blinded by his preconceived notions. Asad hated himself in that moment.
Just then he felt a hand on his palm. He found himself peering into two kohl-laden, deep, moist eyes. In that second he went on yet another roller-coaster ride of shock and relief. He fumbled with his arms before settling on lightly holding her on each side by her arms. Her notice of his movement made him drop his arms to his side, conscious of the liberties he had taken, but his eyes still held her the same. A second rejection in a matter of minutes pierced and stabbed his already wounded heart. He was frustrated again. Was he so undeserving? Did she not understand how much he longed for her touch right now- all he needed was her touch, her assurance. They stood in silence again, but this time Asad looked away, unsure of how to react, how to breathe, how to stand, how to behave. He head was buzzing with questions and explanations but nothing seemed satisfactory and nothing made sense. Zoya then took a sudden quiet step forward, and in one swift motion flung her left arm across his nape and right arm across his back, standing on her toe tips, embracing him. Shocked as he was, he remained on guard and stood restrained, his arms still on his side as she clung to him, heaving. He spoke in a voice that was angry and hurt all at once: "Zoya the disappearing act you just did was sickening. I'm not going to be played with Zoya." She paid no heed to his tone and responded with tightening her embrace and burying herself into him with as much force her frame could muster. Asad instinctively threw his arms across her back with bold determination and overflowing love and buried his head in her hair- he couldn't -he would never let her part this time and he could care less for propriety this time. He pressed her whole form against his, raising her slightly off the ground, inhaling in her smell. They stood without movement as he held his precious one right next to his wildly beating heart while she sobbed in bursts.
"Are you ok?" "Yeah" "Tomorrow I will have a lot of questions for you." "Me too".
PS: ignore the typos please! Thought you guys would like some entertainment while we wait with bated breaths for tomorrows episode.
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