Aisi Uski Inaayat Mit Gayi Har Shikaayat, Hum Pe Meherbaan Do Jahaan
Chapter 109
Zoya sighed in contentment. Finally she'd given in and consented to wearing maternity jeans. Thank you Allah miyan"at least they were still far more comfy than any other piece of clothing known to man; she had also commandeered more and more of Asad's shirts. He had come around to accept this forced sharing as gracefully as possible""you owe it to your baby's mom" is what she'd silenced him with. But may be she'd really won him over by her usual charm and wit: "Jahanpanah's kaneez has exclusive rights on Jahanpanah's kameez. Deal with it."
Comfort was a relative thing these days.
Her stomach itched like the dic*kens but everyone kept telling her not to scratch it. "Put oil or lotion. Permanent stretch marks pad jayenge beta," Shireen told her when she saw Zoya go savagely at her mounding stomach with both hands.
"I don't care," Zoya screamed in her head as she set upon her tummy once again. "Who cares about stretch marks. This feels like heaven right now."
Dilshad glared at her and Zoya ducked her head. Her mother-in-law had been threatening to tape oven mitts on her hands if she didn't cease from attacking herself like a manic monkey.
Shireen and Badi Bi were over for lunch. Nikhat had joined work back at her father's office to keep sane and also keep an eye on her father who'd insisted on going back to work too; Nuzzhat was chin-deep in rehearsals for her troupe's street theater campaigns and performances.
Shireen was missing her favorite son and felt as if she had nothing at all to do with her time. For once Nuzzhat was so glad for her mother's preoccupation with her brother. No nikaah talk and no martyred nikaah sighs were always a good way to start one's morning.
Shireen returned to the subject she had come to discuss. "Bhaijaan and Bhabhi want us all to move back in with them. Bhabhi says that the house feels too big and empty with no one there. Ghar kabristan lagta hai' she says. I don't know what to do."
"What does Rashid want?" Dilshad asked.
"He says he wants to discuss it with Ayaan first. But a part of me wants to go back. It was so nice no, when we were all together for those few months? Bhabhi was saying that she's going to talk to you all about it too."
"It was nice to be together under one roof," Dilshad said. "Back then it had been a necessity. But Asad would never leave this house."
Zoya nodded in silent agreement. Good or bad, this house was their home and it was an elemental part of Asad's identity as a son and brother. Even when they'd lived under her father's roof at the Siddiqui house it was a given: that was only a temporary thing"a circumstance borne out by dire necessity, nothing else.
And as much as she railed against how unfair it was that girls were expected to leave their families to live and adjust in their husbands' homes but never men in their wives' homes, she would never ask this of Asad.
Because this was more her home than her father's home.
And this place, this little corner of bright earth, these walls"they were all Asad. Her eyes lifted to the main door. And as if it was yesterday, Zoya remembered her first sher as she'd crossed over the threshold into this house"into her foreshadowed destiny:
"Aapke ghar mein mohabbat hai iss kadar chhayi hui,
Deewarein tak lovers hain,
Kono mein mila karti hain."
She had found her family right here, in this house.
An Ammi who loved her to pieces ...
... a husband who had reunited her with her father and sister.
... an indulgent lover who had fought for her"well, after fighting with her for months! "From musibat mehmaan to Mrs. Jahanpanah?" Asad often teased her. And just as often Zoya would chirp out one of her many trusted shers:
"Teri meri zindagi ko mil gaya naya track,
Teri meri zindagi ko mil gaya naya track,
Jab Ms. Farooqui ko mil gaye Jahanpanah six packs!"
"Oh really?" he'd say. "The last time you recited this sher it was: tedhi medhi zindagi ko mil gaya sahi track.' You should try to be more faithful to your own compositions."
"Whatevs! It's called improvising, Mr. Khan. And does it really matter? The last line is still the same!"
"The punchline you mean."
"Mr. Khan!"
Shireen laughed shyly as she looked from Zoya's spaced-out face to Dilshad's. "Yes, even I can't imagine Asad living permanently in his father-in-law's house. Ayaan might think the same. Let's see what happens."
"May be the kids can all stay together and we parents can move to the big house," Dadi offered.
"NOOo!" Zoya hollered as she reached out to hug and shield Dilshad. "Never! I'm not living without Ammi."
Dadi couldn't resist. "Dekh lo bhai. Aisi hoti hai saas bahu ki mohabbat. If they started to show this kind of a relationship on Indian soap operas, our poor Naz would have nothing to watch!"
Dilshad laughed as she hugged Zoya back and kissed her head. She arrested her daughter-in-law's hand as it crept to her scratch her tummy again.
"Haye Allah Ammi, will she be good to my Nikhat?" Shireen fretted over new yet familiar worries. Terrible visions were making home in her mind.
"Of course!" They all reassured her.
"Nahin toh our Nuzzhat will fix her Naz aunty when she marries Faiz!" Badi bi declared firmly. The family knew that the next nikaah was a foregone conclusion.
"Pata nahin why we give our daughters away ... Darr lagta hai ... the things they show in these serials ..." Shireen wondered. She would love for Nuzzhat to get married and Faiz would be just perfect, but ...
Both daughters so far away? No. That wasn't sitting right with her.
It was getting warmer. Warm enough to sit out on the bench at night snuggled up under a shawl. And that's where they sat this night after dinner when Dilshad and Najma had gone upstairs.
Asad rested his palm on her stomach hoping to track the baby's movements. But looks like the baby too had turned in for the night like its Dadi and Phuphi.
"Asad?"
"Hmm ..." His cheek rested against her head. She had scooted close enough for him to pull her in his lap. But it was getting harder and harder to do this: the baby kept getting in the way.
"When you were away, I was reliving all of our history and memories together. I even looked at pictures since the time I came here from New York ... my facebook posts and all ... and I realized one thing."
"What was that?" He nibbled on her knuckles.
"Before we got together I often lashed out against you for being emotionally challenged or not being honest about your feelings. I knew that you felt something for me but I thought you hated yourself for being attracted to me. I never realized the pain you were going through for feeling trapped by Tanveer's con. I'm so sorry."
Asad dropped a kiss on her head. "There's nothing to be sorry about. On some days I think that I deserved it for being so rotten to you at first."
Zoya rushed to cover his mouth. "No, don't even think it! I should have known that you're so upright, and that as a man of principle you'd do the right thing, no matter what the cost. May be that's the quality I fell in love with in the first place. But I was so caught up in my own grief and insecurities that I couldn't see your helplessness."
Zoya interlaced her fingers with his on her stomach. "If her baby really had been yours, I wouldn't have wanted you to leave her. I would have wanted you to do the right thing too."
His arms tightened around her as Asad sighed. "Her baby could never have been mine. She could have drugged me, or put a gun to my head, and the baby still would never be mine. But yes, those days were awful. I had always thought myself so principled, absolutely right, and above all reproach ... I must've been so holier-than-thou." He grinned to see her nod in complete solemnity. "And then her accusation ... it destroyed me"everything came crashing down. I couldn't trust myself anymore. I thought myself unworthy ... unworthy of you, of Ammi ..."
Zoya gripped his hand tightly. Bi*tch! She hated Tanveer for this the most.
Asad continued quietly, excavating decayed layers of remorse and trauma.
"Everyday I battled with myself"on the one hand I couldn't believe that I'd be capable of doing something so uncharacteristic, so ungodly. Thank god Ammi believed me incapable of it too or we'd have never been together today. Her faith in me gave me the courage to start trusting myself ... to start fighting for us."
Zoya kissed his shoulder. Her eyes pricked. "That's what I mean," she whispered. "I wish I had been your strength too then, just like Ammi. I wish I knew what you were going through."
Asad gathered her closer. "But how could you? I didn't have the guts to tell you; I was so ashamed. I knew you were going through your own pain. It killed me. You know ... I came pretty close to telling Tanveer that I would take care of the baby but needed to be with you, just you. That I couldn't marry her."
"Really?" Zoya gasped. "So what you said to her later about marrying me and raising the child as our own was all true? It wasn't a trick to throw her off?"
Asad nodded. "It was all true. And it came after months of questioning my own rigid beliefs and ideals. I couldn't go on for a single day ... a single second without telling you how I felt. Growing up I didn't want to ever marry thinking that I would hurt a woman like my father hurt Ammi. But here I was hurting you on a daily basis"it was as if it was doomed by my DNA; I couldn't escape it. Then I talked to Abbu that night at the dargah and everything seemed so clear. His words and anguish made me re-think it all. Did I want a lifetime of regret and pain, or did I have the courage to reach out and grab my happiness with both hands?"
Asad stroked her stomach. "I guess as parents you hope that your kids will learn from your mistakes and always be happy. But sometimes the kids insist on making their own mistakes to earn their life lessons. That's what Abbu was trying to tell me that night. He saw that I was in love with you and miserable. That day Abbu braved my daily fury to make me realize that I was going to make the biggest mistake of my life. He was not asking for forgiveness for himself but telling me to forgive myself, telling me that I deserved to be happy. That it was OK to choose love instead of duty. And that one mistake shouldn't determine the rest of my life."
Asad exhaled and looked out into the darkness. "Who knew that the walls of self-righteousness I'd built around me were slowly choking me?"
Zoya turned in his arms to frame his face in her hands. "Bechare Jahanpanah ... Anarkali ko and khud ko bhi deewar mein chunva rahe thay!"
Asad snickered softly. So true. He tucked a stray lock behind her ear"that ear had been re-christened now. Yes, it was both Ammi and Abbu who had pulled him out of that abyss. On his own he had come pretty close to losing it all.
"See?" Zoya continued. "Once you punched and kickboxed those walls down, you let in forgiveness and happiness. For yourself, and for Abbu, Ammi and Najma. But most of all for your Kaneez!"
Asad nodded as he looked down into her animated face. "Hmm ... I was also letting in lots of dash mein bumboo!' as Ayaan says."
Zoya giggled.
"But yes," he continued, "I think that's the moment I must've subconsciously decided that no matter what the results of the investigation, I would come clean with you. You deserved the truth. We deserved to be together. I still remember what you said that evening when were leaving for the restaurant"that love is a once-in-a-lifetime chance that Allah gives us. I didn't want to squander that. Or this." He kissed her slowly, gratefully.
"Oh my god, I never knew!" Zoya raved as she came up for air. "I always thought that you'd choose principle and duty over love." Her lips thinned. "And that's exactly what that tramp banked on"your flawless character and the history with your Abbu. If Tanveer were alive, I swear I'd kill her all over again just for that. And I'd do it so clean, no one would even know."
"Shh," Asad chuckled. He had heard this rant before. "Shant meri Jhansi ki Rani! Please, khuda ke liye, stop indulging your violent fantasies. It's not good for my baby. I'm so glad I banned you from watching your American crime dramas!"
His brother had named him Mukka Ahmed Khan; who knew that his begum would have a bigger Mukka fetish!
Zoya pouted at the clipping of her wings. But she didn't mind the ban that much. After her freakout over the recent news story it made sense to not watch shows like "Law and Order: SVU." But she did miss her favorite show "Criminal Minds." She was such an awesome armchair profiler herself that she could be an honorary member of the FBI's BAU.
But Jahanpanah had sabotaged her fantasy career. Nipped it right in the bud.
Classic Akdu.
Asad laughed softly at her muted growl. "OK fine, you can watch Castle' or Rizzoli and Isles' but no Crim Minds'!" he gave in, using her nickname for her favorite show to appease her. He'd learned to pick his fights by now. And she'd told him how she'd grown up on a steady diet of American police procedurals"also Aapi and Jeeju's favorites. She could flash her pretend NYPD badge in a nano-second"she'd practiced it so often as a kid. So why put her on a total crime show diet and make her moodier? It would only come back to bite him in the butt.
Asad often gave in and even ocassionally deigned to watch "Castle" with her; though he'd ruin it for her by pointing out the clichs and predicting the murderer by the 24th minute. Half the time she watched the show with her hand clamped over his mouth.
"Don't you dare ruin it for me, Mr. Khan," she'd scold him.
"It's so obvious," he'd mutter before picking up a book.
"You know, Castle reminds me of you," she'd mused one day.
"Please! Actually, he reminds me of you." Asad said. She beamed. "Besides, I'm not a dumb ass," he retorted under his breath.
"Oh REALLY?"
"Really. He's such a nerd. Just like you." That usually pacified her. Cos. everyone knew: nerds ruled.
That night Zoya shot up straight in bed in the middle of the night.
"Wha"?" Asad muttered sleepily. "Is the baby OK?" he snapped fully awake too.
"Mr. Khan!" Zoya hissed. "You're not the man I thought you were!" Her glittering eyes stabbed him and her finger was starting to wag menacingly.
Nightmare? "What happened? What the hell are you talking about? Did you have a bad dream?" Asad squinted at her. His eyes refused to stay open but his head told him that he couldn't afford to shut them just yet. Some drama was unfolding and by the looks of it he was the principal character in it. He just didn't have the script yet.
"You would have left the mother of your child to be with the woman you loved? How could you? You'd abandon your own child?" Zoya's voice was threatening to rise to screech levels.
Asad had no clue what she was going on about. "I would never abandon my child," he said sleepily. "Where's that even coming from?"
"But you said""!"
"I said I would raise my child with you. Please pay attention to the details," he scolded her mildly. "Always going off half-co*cked ..." Asad muttered under his breath. "Incre""
"Don't you dare incredibly foolish me! You would have left the mother of your child to be with your ... your ...?" She sputtered.
And she stuttered.
"My soulmate? To be with the person I was in love with? Yes," he stated. "Do you have a problem with that?"
Sadly, he wouldn't be getting much sleep now.
"No! ... I mean, yes! I do have a problem with that!" Her brain wasn't being able to keep up with her somersaulting mood and hormones. She felt angry, but she didn't know exactly why. Her words were getting stuck and clumping together like swamp mud.
Asad sighed. Loudly.
"And that problem is?" He asked with infinite patience.
"You would have walked out on the mother of your child to be with someone else!" Her voice was quavering.
Uh oh. Asad knew that this was going to be his fault somehow but how the hell was he supposed to figure out what he'd done wrong? He tried to recall their conversation from the evening. He hadn't said anything objectionable or even mildly incriminating ... In fact, she'd agreed with him then, wholeheartedly. Then why was she pitching a fit now?
With supreme patience he held up a hand and counted off. "First of all, she wasn't pregnant with my child. Second, that woman was Tanveer. Even a snake would have walked out on her."
"Scr*ew Tanveer! I'm not talking about her," Zoya hiccupped.
Oh boy. "Then what are you talking about?"
"If you fall in love with someone else tomorrow, you'll walk out on me!" Zoya finally articulated her distress and flung herself on the pillow sobbing great, big, fat, gut-spilling sobs.
Ohhh.
Asad laughed; Zoya cried even more.
"And you'll take my baby away from me too and raise it with some ... some stuPPid tramp!"
"Hey, you're no stupid tramp. You're Jhansi ki Rani," he teased.
"ASADDD!"
He pulled her to him. She struggled and kicked. "Mrs. Khan, just because I call you Jhansi ki rani, doesn't mean you go all Jhansi ki rani on me. Settle down now. Like a good girl."
He wiped her tears.
"Now tell me what's really bothering you? Could I ever leave you or walk out on you? Is that even humanly possible?"
Zoya sniffed.
"What would Jhansi ki rani really do to Jahanpanah if he even thought about leaving?"
Her eyes slitted. "She would chop up his seventh pack into little itty-bitty pieces and feed it to her pet tigers," Zoya announced, very sure of herself. Dobby nodded in sage counsel.
"And that's why you've been banned from watching Criminal Minds'!" Asad countered. "I'm going to put a lock on her American channels," he vowed under his breath as he turned his back on her to slam his head down and feign sleep.
"Umm ... Asad?"
Silence.
She snuggled into his back and drew contrite circles on it. Then she wrote elaborate apologies. She even tried to sneak her hand into his kurta but he slapped it away.
"I'm sorry," Zoya whispered. "I know I get crazy sometimes ..."
He snorted. "Sometimes?"
She dug her nails into his back punishingly; Dobby would be proud. Asad yelped.
"OK fine, sometimes. You were saying?"
Zoya made a face behind his back and he grinned to himself as he imagined her pouting. Yes, Mrs. Khan, waking me up in the middle of the night to narrate graphic dreams of my own castration and turning me into cat food is going to cost you.
Big time.
Zoya laughed suddenly. Asad frowned"this was not the reaction he'd been imagining.
"Please Mr. Khan! Do you even know how to set the locks on the TV? The menu is password protected so good luck figuring that out. And do you really want to take pangas with a techie who could mess your phone or laptop?" She cleared her throat dramatically. "Or CDs with really important presentation details, hmm?"
Checkmated, Akdu.
He retaliated the only way he knew how. He shut up that back-talking mouth and erased that mischief-making mind of hers as he put his seventh pack to good use.
An already neutered Dobby rolled his eyes and tsked.
"I was kinda hoping for twins," Zoya mused in the car the next day.
"You're disappointed?" Asad asked backing out of the parking spot.
"No ..."
They were returning home from their ultrasound appointment. Thankfully all was well"the baby was doing fine. At the anxious mother's insistence the technician had even counted and recounted the number of toes and fingers on the arm and leg that were visible. Zoya and Asad had peered long at the grainy image. Zoya was embarrassed.
She couldn't make out a single detail, neither head nor nothing"it looked like a bluish grey blob in there. And here the sonographer was gushing about the baby's perfectly formed head and legs and arms.
In the car, Zoya fingered the edges of the print copy of the image. She frowned. "Asad, are we terrible parents for not being able to see the baby?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Asad assured her. It never ceased to amaze him that she found no qualms in expressing her deepest fears or the guiltiest of insecurities. Truth be told, for a second that thought had flashed across his mind too. But hearing her echo it out loud made his own worries sound silly, unfounded.
Thank god, Zoya thought, that he'd been equally clueless about not seeing the baby's shape or she'd have really wallowed in maternal insecurity. The technician had to finally outline the baby's image on the printout by pen"that's when she "saw" the baby.
And now the details of the shape were breathtaking. The sonographer probably knew the gender of the baby but they were given a lecture before the procedure"don't ask, don't tell; papers and waivers were signed. The medical community was bound by law to not disclose the fetus' se*x. And given India's anti-female child culture it was only right. Zoya recited a silent prayer for the baby's safety. For all babies' safety.
"Hi baby," Zoya cooed at the picture. A finger ran over the outline for the eleventieth time. "See you in a few months." She kissed it and reached out to put it to Asad's lips. He kissed it too. She was already planning the layout of the picture in the baby book.
"Silly woman," Asad laughed softly when she returned the picture to the folder. "What's the point of kissing the image? The baby's in here," his hand curved over her tummy possessively.
"Allah miyan, what's wrong with you Mr. Khan!" Zoya scolded.
Obviously I can't kiss my own tummy. And neither can you while you're driving. So for now this is the second-best option."
He held her hand and stroked the top with his thumb. "You're right. And you're always such a problem-solver, no?"
"Koi shaq?"
"None at all."
"You know, I'm going to put this in the baby book next to the picture of you as a baby"all nangu baba and just wearing a taawiz."
"What?" Asad slammed the brakes to stop the car from veering into oncoming traffic. "Zoya, don't you dare!"
"Oh, I dare," was the smug reply. One of the unexpected joys of her pregnancy was also the introduction to childhood pictures and legends of her husband as a baby and young boy. Dilshad loved telling her stories of Asad as a boy and Zoya had loved teasing him when they were going through old albums. He wasn't as shy as a boy apparently.
"Mulk ki tarikh kahegi ki aap mulk ki shaan thay,
Log to jawaan ho jaane ke bad bante hain,
Aap toh bachpan mein Salman thay!"
"When did you learn to be so shy and proper?" Zoya teased him when they were alone in their room. Her smile fell when she saw him frown. It must have been when Abbu ...
"I wish we'd known each other as kids," she rushed to add wanting to erase those lines of pain. "I'd have beaten the pants off you at cricket and basketball."
"I know you are madly in love with me Mrs. Khan, but don't you think you should tone down your fetish to get me out of my pants every second," Asad murmured as he pulled her to him. He knew she was trying to make him forget that sudden stab of remembered pain.
"My fetish?! Mr. Khan, always so full of yourself!" Zoya shrieked, mission to make her husband smile forgotten and abandoned.
Asad ran his tongue over the shell of her ear. "Only full of you. You are my fetish ..." He raised her wrist to shake her bracelet. "... my lucky charm." He lifted her chin with a finger. "And babe, I'd drop my pants for you any time, cricket or not."
"Now you're talking!" Zoya laughed up into his face.
"Ammi's quiet staring is beginning to freak me out," Nuzzhat told her sister one day.
"I know right," Nikhat noted as she combed her hair. "She keeps looking at me for hours and gets this weird tragic expression on her face."
"Exactly! First I thought it was because she's thinking of you going to the US, but she looks at me that way too. May be it was a good thing that Bhaijaan was always around to distract her from worrying too much about us. Thank god they're coming back tomorrow! Otherwise Ammi's zombie look ..." Nuzzhat shuddered.
"Oh my goodness, Nuzzhat! Do you think something's wrong? I hope she's not sick or anything!" Nikhat felt too weak to stand up. She crashed on the bed worrying as she imagined the worst.
"Khuda na kare! Baaji stop scaring me now. I'm sure everything's OK. I'm getting late right now but let's talk to her this evening."
"It can't be anything to do with Bhaijaan's nikaah or Humaira, right?" Nikhat wondered. "Do you think she feels awkward or possessive about Bhaijaan being married now?"
"Baaji please, you're just imagining things." But Nuzzhat's eyes had widened too. Please lord, don't anything bad happen to our family again.
Nikhat remained pensive even after her sister had dashed out"ghodon pe savaar. She still had an hour before she left for office. She'd already chatted with Feroze about her day yesterday and filled him in on Ammi's weird behavior. "Talk to her gently," he'd advised. "And give her some space. May be everything is just sinking in for her. And she can't be too happy thinking of you leaving her in a few months."
Aww, didn't she have the most understanding husband in the world? Crossing her fingers she decided to talk to her mother. When she went out, she saw Shireen staring blankly at the TV.
"Ammi, kya hua? Why are you looking so sad?" she sat down next to her and picked up her cold hand.
Shireen looked up at Nikhat and stroked her cheek. "I'm fine," she said softly.
"But you look so lost these days. Is something wrong? Are you worried about something? Please, trust me. Tell me." Nikhat pleaded. She hoped no one was ill. "Ammi, please!"
Shireen disengaged herself from her daughter. "It's nothing. Don't worry about me." She rose to go to her bedroom and closed the door after her.
Nikhat decided that she'd tell Dadi about her worries. Dadi in her own overbearing way would be able to gouge out Ammi's fears or worries and help them to get to the bottom of things. This looked serious.
"Abbu?"
Rashid looked up to see a terrified Humaira at the door. She was twisting the ends of her dupatta between her agitated fingers. It had been two days since Ayaan and Humaira had returned from their honeymoon.
"Kya hua beta? Is everything all right?"
She twisted the pearl ring on her finger. On the day of her nikaah Zoya had slipped it off her finger to put it on her sister's.
"But Aapi ... it's yours. Ammi gave it to you." Humaira had protested.
"No, it's ours. It's your special day and I want you to have it. You can give it back to me whenever you want. But I want you to wear it for now."
"Humaira?" Rashid prompted her.
"Umm Abbu ... " She didn't know how to talk to him. But she needed to say this. It was eating her up inside. Why didn't she say it before her nikaah? "I know you've accepted me despite what Ammi""
"Beta, that's all over now. We've put it behind us."
"I know. And I'm so grateful to you for that. But ... Ammi wants us to move back to that house and ..."
Rashid had discussed it with Ayaan. And Ayaan had left the decision up to his father. He'd be fine either way.
"It won't bother you to go back?" A surprised Humaira had asked him.
"It would have a few months ago. But I grew up in that house and Mumani has really changed. If that's what Abbu decides, I'd be fine with it."
"Abbu ..." Humaira continued. She was still getting used to calling him that. "If you decide not to go back I'd be fine with it. I would understand your reluctance. I know that Ammi ... I mean Phuphi- I mean Ayaan's Ammi," Rashid smiled at her confusion and hesitation. "I know that she wants us all to go back. But may be it's soon?"
Rashid called her over to sit on the sofa. "You are worrying for nothing beta. Like Ayaan's, my reluctance is gone too. Seeing my children happy I feel I can trust life again. I'm no longer afraid of happiness. And I certainly have no resentment against Bhabhi and Bhaijaan any more."
"But how can you not!" Humaira jumped up to pace the room. "So many years of secrets and regrets ..."
Rashid put his hand on her head and led her back to the sofa. "There was a time when anger and bitterness ruled my heart. Those were dark times. I had lost all hope. Asad's hate reminded me daily of everything I had done wrong. But his forgiveness opened a door"it let the sun in. I could feel myself slowly healing."
He noticed the sheen of tears in Humaira's eyes and patted her head again. "I know you are still thinking about what happened at the gudia factory with Tanveer. But can't you see that even then Asad and Zoya had already forgiven us, and did so much to protect us so fiercely from ever being hurt again? And Bhabhi was already repenting her sins. If Zoya can forgive her ... me ... "
"Then there's nothing else that matters." Humaira said. Her eyes shone brighter now.
"Only second chances matter now." Rashid added fervently. "And what we choose to make of them. I'm proud of Ayaan for understanding this too. We're lucky. So many people never get a second chance." He was asking her to let go too. To give herself a chance to open up to possibilities of moving on beyond regrets.
"I don't know who said it," he went on. "But I read somewhere, or heard this: If you want to be fully human and fully humane, you need to learn to live, not without regret, but with it.' "
"But why? How?"
"Because we aren't perfect. We make, and will continue to make mistakes. The point is to not erase or bury them but learn from them, I guess. Forgive ourselves ... move on."
"So you won't have any regrets or guilt, or even resentment if you decided to move back?"
Rashid laughed. He felt relaxed these days and craved the daily doses of crazy that his family doled out. "May be there will be all of those things. But beta, why should we be scared of them? Living in fear is a terrible burden"I know. I did it for twenty years. But now there's nothing to fear."
"Or regret?" she asked hopefully.
Rashid smiled fully. "Or regret."
It was the first time he'd returned to this place since then"this little broken off piece of hell.
Asad scrubbed his forehead in angry frustration. He had kept away from here and delegated the clean up and restoration work so far. But today he felt drawn to this site; he had to force himself to not relive its jagged history.
But once inside, the dam of memories breached.
The columns were newly reinforced but his eyes were drawn to the one that he and Ayaan had been lashed to. The floors had been scrubbed clean and the debris removed, but here was where Zoya had been strapped in and tormented ... here he'd been forced to say that condemned word.
His eyes blurred.
The traces of their tears and blood were no longer here but her screams were still bouncing off the roof and freshly plastered and painted walls.
His chest burned; Asad fell to his knees.
His hand hit the cold floor. This spot. Here was where Zoya had shut down on him. He'd said that word only two times, but her catatonic silence had echoed it a million times over.
He took a deep breath to rid himself of the dust of those recollections. It was over. And no way was he going to let this place cast a shadow over their lives any more.
For days now he and Zoya had been chewing over this unwanted inheritance"this blasted legacy.
"Bulldoze it, blow it off the face of the earth," was his first and last verdict regarding the gudia factory.
But Zoya dithered. " ... I don't know. I want that piece of land to be something more than its past. Something hopeful ... Can't it be rehabbed ...?"
But rehabbed as what? She had researched a variety of options: a school, donate it to an NGO or the mosque, restart the factory ...
But one thing had emerged very quickly: Zoya could not think of selling it. And as much as Asad wanted to raze the structure to the ground, she couldn't bring herself to do that either. Her Ammi's blood had spilled there. The factory's DNA was stamped onto her skin after all.
"If you want to hang on to it, we could convert it into office spaces or a warehouse and lease it out," he'd suggested one time.
"But that's ... that's so commercial ... so utilitarian!" Zoya said with distaste.
Asad had framed her face in his hands, "then what do you want to do with it?"
A frown marred her brow as her lip stuck out. Asad had laughed. He loved this intense expression of hers"she'd looked deep in thought but also annoyed about something. But she wasn't annoyed. He knew that she was working out the kinks in her idea. He could hear the gears grinding.
"I want it to be special ... to mean something more than brick or mortar, or a forgotten graveyard of old crimes and horrors."
"A school?"
"I don't know. It's a semi-industrial area. Wouldn't there be more factories in the neigborhood, lots of chemicals and toxins? Zoning issues? Anyways, I don't think it would be safe for kids to be inhaling all that stuff and spending a good 6-7 hours a day in there. Even the EIR might say that."
Asad sniggered. How American of her"Environmental Impact Report she probably meant.
"Then what else?"
Zoya twisted the shirt tail in her restless hands. That only meant one thing: she had an idea but was worried he wouldn't approve. Asad rolled his eyes. So what else was new.
"Hmm?" he encouraged her.
"I was thinking ..."
"Yes? Go on."
"I mean I love the idea that they used to make dolls there ..."
"So we make dolls ... again?"
"Really? You think so?" Zoya asked as if it was his idea. Trickster.
Asad crossed his arms and said nothing.
Zoya pouted. She knew she'd been caught out. "Yes ..."
"Isn't that commercial though?" Asad asked in confusion. How would this be any different from office spaces? Wouldn't it be more of an administrative and legal headache?
"It could be. But with a difference. We could provide employment for low-income women, collaborate with cottage or small industry type endeavors. I've been researching"Bhopal is known for its Zardozi work. There are many self-employed programs for women we could team up with! What if we made specialty or ethnic dolls? You know, in the US there's this Amercian Girl doll concept that does really cool stuff with history. Each doll is different, from a different time period and region, has her own backstory, wardrobe and""
Her words fox-trotted across a painted landscape of fantasy and wonder.
"And then there's the Build-A-Bear type workshop where we could have interactive""
Asad smiled. Her enthusiasm was wildly contagious ... and bewitching. He could already see happy children lining up to build and play with such toys. But his eyes stung when he heard her whisper, "I want to dedicate it to the girl child."
He folded her in his arms. "Oh god Zoya, you're so beautiful." God knows why, but that had made her cry.
"But it'll be a lot of work and stress. And I don't even know if it's going to be financially viable." Zoya cried into his shirt.
"I guess we'll find out," Asad soothed her. "Now tell me, how many of these American girl dolls did you have and what's this build-a-bear thing?"
"I have one doll. You can customize it to make it look and dress like you."
"Oh my god," Asad couldn't believe it. "You mean to tell me that there's a doll out there that looks like you did when you were a kid?"
"Umm hmm."
"Why haven't I seen this? Tell Aapi to show it to me on facetime and then ship it here."
"Really?"
"Really. I can't wait."
That night he'd nudged her awake. "May be we can make action figures too."
"Like Batman and Wonder Woman?"
"Exactly!"
"With Zardozi capes!"
He laughed at the image of Indianizing American super heroes.
"Goodnight Mr. Khan."
"But there'll definitely be Jhansi ki Rani," he called out softly.
"I love you, Mr. Khan."
When he blinked awake the next morning he saw her dimpling at him from her side. A slow smile spread across his face.
"What are you up to Mrs. Khan?"
"Speaking of action figures, how about a pantless Batman?"
"And a topless Wonder Woman?" He asked; she giggled. He pulled her to him. "Umm, babe, I don't think that we should be branching out into adult toys so soon ..."
"May be in about five years?" Zoya asked resting her chin on his chest.
"Definitely."
Song in Title:
Kurbaan (2009) "Shukranallah"
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