Tune Kya Kar Dala, Mar Gayi Main, Mitt Gayi Main, Ho Ri Ha Ri Ho Gayi Main, Teri Diwani
Chapter 61
When a dizzy Razia nearly collapsed in the bathroom she knew she'd have to go to the doctor. There was just no way out of it any more.
She hobbled out and lay weakly on the bed.
Her phone rang and she groped for it blindly.
"Hello," she squeezed out painfully. She hoped it was Humaira.
"Did you get the money?"
Her blood curdled. The call she had dreaded all these days. She turned the phone off and smashed it on the wall opposite her.
What was the point anymore? Let her do whatever she wanted. It was all over anyways.
Humaira hadn't called. It had been nearly a day and a half since she heard her voice.
She knew. He had told her by now.
Razia could feel it in her punctured gut.
Rashid had taken his family and left yesterday. No words, no note, just silence all around her. More servants than family in the house now. A gilded rotting mausoleum.
Another wave of nausea hit her and she nearly passed out. Why wasn't she getting better? She had broken down and finally started a regimen of self-prescribed painkillers. But they were playing havoc with her mind. Or the pain was making her delirious.
She just couldn't tell anymore.
When she had walked out of the cabin that day she could barely hold herself upright. Thank god she was wearing red. The blood wouldn't show. She had worn it to camouflage Tanveer's blood on her clothing.
But fate loved laughing at her and her plans.
In their scuffle she hadn't taken into account the strength of a much younger woman. A much younger woman on a diabolical high. When she had killed before, she was young herself. A lavish lifestyle and lack of practice had obviously left her soft.
She had pretended to fall in the bathroom and cried out in pain. When Tanveer came to investigate Razia had smugly slammed the door shut and pounced on her.
But that wretched woman was like the lizard tail that grew back; always landed on her feet that one.
Somehow Tanveer had twisted her wrist and turned the knife into her side managing to slice through her skin. Partly injured herself, she had nearly filleted Razia.
She was that angry.
"You thought you could kill me, dump me in a bag and roll me away to decompose somewhere?" She had panted while Razia grovelled on the floor. "Oh you will pay for this, Bi!"
Opening a connecting door to the cabin next door, she had barked at Razia, "clean up this mess and get the hell out of here. I will give you a week. Get me that money or else. Next week, the price goes up by another crore." And she had slunk away leaving her weakened nemesis in the dank room, impotent with fury.
Zoya stretched awake in the early hours of the morning, replete. She could only think of how Asad had blotted the pain from her heart last night. The fresh aches and bruises had replaced that bone deep agony which had felt unending. Blushing and requited, she turned to face the window and saw him sleeping with his head at an uncomfortable angle. She knew he must have kept vigil over her the whole night.
Her eyes stung. And heart brimmed.
Thank you Allah miyan! I'll never complain again. I always fought with you for taking away so much from me. I will thank you everyday of my life for giving me so much more.
She got up pulling the sheet snugly around her, and stroked his forehead. "Asad," she shook him awake gently. He stirred. Dropping a kiss on his head she half-dragged him to the bed, pushed and tucked him in. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
As the sun climbed in the eastern sky, she rose to draw the curtains to preserve the darkness. More nap time for her warrior.
Freshly showered and fortified with coffee, she decided to poke around on his laptop hoping to hear the recording in his absence. This time she really was ready. She had her jahanpanah's strength and power coursing through her blood like a jolt of caffeine. She wouldn't let something from 18 years ago even scratch the surface of what she had right now.
It was gone.
She sighed.
Mr. Khan, you tricky sonova"-. OK, you sweet, sweet over-protective Akdu!
She knew she could retrieve a deleted media file with no trouble at all, but it would still take some time.
And she was feeling too mellow and lazy.
When Asad came out almost three hours later he saw her perched on the sofa gazing moodily into space.
"Hey," he said softly, leaning against the door jamb. Turning to him, her dimples deepened. She glided into his open arms. "Hey yourself," she replied shyly.
Eyes closed, she inhaled, "umm, you smell so good."
"Are you OK?" he nuzzled her nose with his.
"Umm hmm," she answered, head still bowed, eyes still closed in prayer.
"Look at me." She covered her face with her hands.
He grinned.
Her not meeting his eyes was because of shyness, and not because she was hiding her pain.
Thank god.
He wrapped her tighter against himself. "So?" he whispered hotly in her ear. "Last night? Great or greatest?"
"Asad!" she hid her face in his shoulder.
"Nine or a ten?"
"Mr. Khan! Behave yourself."
"Funny, last night all you wanted me to do was misbehave."
Her laughter bubbled over and warmed his soul. But she still wouldn't look at him.
"Six or Goal?"
"Touchdown! Game, set and match! Happy now?"
"Very. Re-match?"
"Here, drink your coffee and give your lust a break." She broke away and sat down to pour his coffee.
"Sarey lust pe coffee phenk diya aapne."
She rolled her eyes and muttered, "not for long I'm sure."
"Lust lust na raha, pyaar pyaar na raha," he sang.
She looked up with delight as she handed him the dainty Royal Doulton cup.
Mashallah!
A singing romantic jahanpanah was simply irresistible.
In between sips he continued, "dillagi humein tera, aitbaar na raha"
Smitten, she inquired, "isn't it zindagi'?"
He ignored her. "Lust lust na raha, pyaar pyaar --"
"Oh what the hell!" She snatched the cup from his hand, thumped it down on the table, and dragged him to the bedroom for a lusty re-match and some checkmating.
"Wait,"he protested even as he allowed himself to be led away, "I'm not done with my coffee as yet."
She glared at him and pushed him on the bed with both hands. "You're done. Enough sipping. Start stripping."
"Make me."
"Mr. Khan!" she roared and stomped her foot. He laughed softly, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at her with open challenge. But his smile vanished when he saw the expression change on her face. "Zoya? What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked warily.
She pivoted on her heel and disappeared into the other room.
"Zoya!"
She walked back in, carrying a writing pad and immersed in her iPad. She was muttering to herself, "no, Tu Mera Hero' isn't Akdu-worthy."
Asad was beginning to get alarmed.
And aroused.
Something was cooking, and he was going to be the main course.
The heartlessness!
"Ahaa!" she pumped her fist in the air and looked up and down at him. Grabbing his hand she pulled him to his feet and made him stand in the center of the room. "Stay," she ordered purposefully.
He obeyed, hands at waist, eyes following her restlessly.
She held up two pieces of paper from the stationery pad. One had a huge 9 and the other, a 10, scrawled across. "You wanted to know whether you were a 9 or a 10, didn't you?"
He swallowed noisily, and his eyes narrowed in anticipation. "Remember, Mr. Khan, the 9 also works as a 6!" And she turned the sheet upside down.
As he tried to grab her, she slapped his hands away, "patience!"
Laying the iPad on the side table she grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. She went to perch on the bed's edge with the hand-made score sheets and a fistful of rupees and dollars. The strains of music began, and the song "Hai Guzarish" from Ghajni floated over them.
He dropped his head back and groaned.
"Let the show begin, jahanpanah," she purred. Fanning out the money bills in her hand, she leaned forward, eyes starry with the threat of future torments, "work it honey!"
"Occam's razor." She said smugly, much later.
His forehead scrunched and furrowed. "Huh?"
"When there are two choices, go with the simpler one. When that doesn't work, try the more complicated solution."
"And how does that relate to how you got the recording to work?"
"Simple. I just texted Rakesh from your phone and asked him to re-send it to your account."
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He looked at her in open admiration. "You, Mrs. Khan, are wicked dangerous." But he sobered. There was a reason he had tried to hide it from her.
"Zoya? Are you OK? I wish you had waited for me." He wanted to be her shield against the terrors of that night.
"I'm OK now, thanks to you." she assured him, interlacing her fingers with his. "It was hard. Not going to lie. But," she rested her head on his chest. "the best part was hearing Ammi's voice."
He smiled and kissed the top of her head, "I loved hearing your voice as a kid. You must have been MA."
She snickered in pleasure.
"Still am?"
"Koi shaq?"
"Un unh."
And they both said it together: "kyun ki Zoya Farooqui kucch bhi kar sakti hai!"
Laughing, he rolled them over to tuck her under him and kiss her breathless.
"You know what? Zoya Farooqui ke Mr. Khan bhi bahut kuchh kar sakte hain." Tugging at his ear, she whispered, "you are my jahanpanah Bond."
He beamed down at her.
They were in bed entangled in the sheets and each other's limbs. Once again they had missed the tour bus. The other passengers probably smirked, thinking the newly weds hadn't even bothered getting out of bed. Little did they know about the multi-tasking victories scored that morning. The 10 on the score sheet had been amended to a 100, and the other sheet sat propped on the bedside table: a proud 6 for her man of the match.
His heady matinee debut was followed by an after-party fan #1 appreciation. The re-match victory laps had left her without a single bone in her body.
She was mush.
She looked up at him, content and supple as a cat. And then traced the scratches left on his chest and shoulders from the night before. Looking at her fingernails she mused, "do you think I still have your DNA under my nails?"
He looked down at her, devilry in his eyes, "DNA yes, but probably not under your nails."
She hooted with delight. Pinching his cheeks she half-rose to plant a kiss on his mouth. "Did you always have such a fine sense of humor ya humare saath ka assar hai?"
"Aapka kya khayal hai?"
Pushing him on his back, she kissed him again. "And the best all-rounder award goes to," she proudly thumped his chest, "Asad Ahmed Khan!"
After all he had managed to earn every bill in her hand and then some. Moneyless in the end, she had to improvise with IOU promissory notes. The score sheets had been waved enthusiastically. The stationery pad was virtually sheetless. In the rip-roaring finale, the money and IOUs had rained down on the carpeted floor and her mouth had watered.
"Once more! Once more!" his biggest fan had cheered. The rockstar had then yanked his giddy fan onto the stage, and she had gyrated and pirouetted in accompaniment to the encore performance. This time they had pulsed to "Tu Mera Hero," from Desi Boyz.
"Is this what all the twerking stuff is about?" he'd whispered in her ear, their bodies swaying in unison. She had just bent to pick up a folded 100 rupee note, expressly brushing herself against him. She rose and tucked it behind his ear. "Mr. Khan, I don't like that you know that word!" She'd huffed, scr*ping her fingernails across his chest.
"What? I read. I stay current." He had held her by her hips rolling them against his.
"Humph!"
He moved her hair off her face and tucked a strand behind an ear. As she squirmed away from him, he wrenched her to him. Eyes locked with hers he slowly undid the top button of her shirt.
"And now that I'm a paid entertainer, I need to know the latest fads and trends that the ladies are into."
"Asad! Oh god, I've created a monster," she lamented slapping her forehead.
He laughed and snagging her hand, trailed a fiery path diagonally across his bare chest, "you reap what you sow Mrs. Khan." Dragging her to him he spun her till she crashed against him. "And you can bet the entire contents of your wallet," he grazed his nose across her cheek, "that I'm going to earn my keep." With a flick of his thumb and forefinger he unsnapped her jeans.
Resisting his roving hands and greedy mouth, she had finally managed to shush his badtameez talk and deluded megalomania. He went ramrod still, as she whispered a heated IOU in his ear, and then wiggled down to perform some previously pledged hero worship.
Right after hearing the recording, Zoya had felt a deep urge to talk to Aapi and Dilshad. Even talking about inane and routine things restored her sense of balance and faith. The world hadn't come to an end after all. New beginnings were around the corner. Aapi's love now felt a natural continuation of Ammi's blessings. And Asad's Ammi was just the biggest jackpot of her life.
Well, after jahanapanah of course.
Mother's day had just gone by, and she had been doubly blessed. As she finished offering prayer, she grinned.
Asad had teased her one night, "I'll be wishing you 'Happy Mother's Day' next year Mrs. Khan!"
Back home, everyone was running around preparing for Najma and Omar's nikaah. Zoya harrumphed in frustration, feeling left out. She wanted to be there. But truth be told, she didn't want to leave here either. She didn't want to share Asad with anyone. Just wanted him all to herself. One more day.
Ammi was the one to tell her about Abbu moving the family out of the Siddiqui house. They had moved into one of the new high-rise luxury homes built by Asad's company.
So Asad knew? She frowned. Why didn't he tell me?
She grinned. Because his mouth was too preoccupied doing other stuff! She hid her face in her hands.
"Ammi, did they tell you why they moved?"
"We haven't had a chance to discuss that as yet, beta. But something big's going on. They are coming in the evening and may be we'll find out more then."
"Tum dono apna khayal rakhna. Don't eat street food and group ke saath rehna. Take care, and ... tell Asad not to sleep so late."
Zoya blushed furiously, "Um Ammi, voh actually ... aisi baat nahin hai ... voh raat ko der se ..."
Dilshad burst out laughing.
And so did Zoya, after an embarrassed second. Foot-in-mouth disease was too funny to pass up.
She had decided to get all the social calls out of the way in the time he slept. Once he woke they could go to the Lake Palace on their own. She got the Khidmatgar to arrange the bookings for her.
And then she called Omar.
"So, did you do it?"
"Done! But the strings I had to pull! And that Prasad fellow is a major pain in the butt. Only listens to his lord and master. Kept hemming and hawing and dragging his feet. Rashid uncle was the one who helped the most."
"Awesome! And yeah, Mr. Khan and Prasad have a special thing that even I don't get into," she kidded.
"Bromance!" he nyuk-nyukked.
"Batman and Alfred!" she countered.
"Dr. Frankenstein and Igor!" he retorted.
She had to step out in the corridor to laugh her heart out so as not to wake up her Batman.
"STAAAHHP!" she wheezed. "So future B-I-L, all set to be hitched? Can I call you Billa now?"
"Sure, as long as I can call you S-I-LLY?"
"OK baba, truce. And thanks for being my wingman."
"You owe me your firstborn."
"Sure, whenever I need a babysitter, I'll call you first."
"Dude, I'm already babysitting the family while mom and dad are on their honeymoon!"
"Bye Omar, be good. No smooching or making out on the couch, ya hear! Or big daddy'll whoop your ass."
Who's your daddy!"
"STFU!"
And now for Raabert, she mentally checked off her to-do list. He didn't pick up and neither did Humaira. Hmm, these kids better not be fooling around, she frowned.
And then giggled. PG-13 guys, please keep it PG-13.
But she so was going to talk to Asad about putting Ayaan to work. No way was her sister going to be married to a wannabe hippie house husband.
"Allah miyan! What's wrong with you? Send me progress report ASAP!" she texted her brother-in-law.
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Song in Title:
Kailash Kher Kailasa (2006) "Teri Diwani"
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