Hi everyone, I'm a sincere audience member of "Qubool Hai." I think the best part of it is the characters - there is so much depth to them (especially Dilshaad and Rashid). In any case, this is my first rambling on Asad-Zoya. I ask your forgiveness for the many mistakes. Please let me know how it went. I would also like to mention that the so called "shayari" you're going to be reading below is my own. I call them "lines." Please, do not copy/repost without my permission. I have had this happen before, and if it occurs again, I will refrain from posting such lines on public forums. Thank you for the time.
Also, please be warned that I am a sucker for details, and a deep admirer of the Urdu language. However, my limited Urdu is rather coarse, please forgive. I aplogize immensely for the wrong usage of any word. Please correct me if I am in the wrong. Oh, and I love adjectives! Sorry.
The story is purely fictional, and I intend no hurt in any form to the sentiments of the readers.
"Shadow"
An Asad-Zoya OS by desi chic @ india-forums.com
Stepping under the dimmed lighting, he was acutely aware
of every detail surrounding him. Even the unseen breaths confirming his
existence did not go unnoticed by his vigilance. He was perhaps, like this
always. The two other women in the house often quoted his observation abilities
with exhaustion on their lips. Of course, he heard these stifled complaints
within the shadows. To say the least, he had attempted change. But, the
six-letter word held dire effort and implications beyond his stringent ways. In
the end, he had concluded his demands a flaw of nature. As per the Almighty's
command, no child came to this world in perfection, and nor did it leave it
unscathed.
The object of his concentration caught him slightly off
guard as an unexpected gust of air rushed to greet him. Instinctively, his face
turned to the side, while an arm lifted in response. Allowing the wave of air
to run a brief course, he stood there silently for a pause in time. The
darkness encased beyond the open glass stood in quiet noise, as though mocking
an unforeseen doubt. A sudden cloak of foreign tension sat upon his shoulders.
He felt as though his impulse had led him to an unintended guilt... an
unplanned infringement. As though fanning his vexed state, the transparent
drapes began dancing freely. It was as though someone had thrown away their
binds, and let them loose for the first time.
Determined to withdraw from the unnecessary tension, he
reached out for the glass doors of the large window. The stubbornness he lived
by, now seemed to laugh at him through the unforgiving glass. A string of eloquent
words slipped through his stiff lips as he released some of the frustration
building within.
Irritated by this minute task, he let his arms drop to the sides in wonder. In some ways, through the grace of the One above, and his Ami's dua, he had accomplished the unexpected. And here he was, Asad Ahemad Khan, unable to complete this minor undertaking. It was as though his entire life's worth of accomplishment had folded down to this moment of surprising grief. Dusk fell across his chest, showing in the rigidity of his face. For a dreadful pause, he was forced to reconcile with the darkness that stood afore. It was a mirror of the shadow that walked through the leaves of time with him. Dumbfounded by his own misery, he was awakened gradually by a sound that reflected the ache buried deep within. It was only when a tender touch of transparency fell over his face, did he realize that the sound was an echo of reality outside his tangled jazbat.
Turning his head to the side, his eyes searched for the source that sounded his pain. It was in this search through blackness that his gaze fell upon the light around the far side of the bed. Intrigued and fully conscious of himself once more, he strained to bring life to the dimness. A shadow of his grief still stung his presence, but he camaflouged it now with redirection. Stepping towards the light, a part of him cringed at the obvious betrayal to his own principles. His mind screamed against the trespass, yet an untitled thought laced with concern pulled him forth.
As he approached the beacon of light, his vision re-captured it's abilities. Around him, he noticed leaves of paper in various states. While some lay crumbled, given up to their fate, others spread flat, bold in their display of possibility. Currently, one such insolent leaf sat waiting at his foot. His muscles responded immediately, without a fraction of thought. Bending low, he bear witness to what he realized was an unfinished thought...
Woh kehte hain ke haqeeqat ka tumse koi vaasta nahin,
He says that reality is far from your reach,
Jin galiyon ki talaash hai tumhaari nigahon ko,
The roads your eyes crave,
Unn raahon ka koi raasta nahin.
Such directions have no paths.
Kaise bayan kar apni kashmakash uss ajnabee ko,
How do I voice this conundrum to the stranger
Humaari chahaton ka lafzon se hai... bhair koi.
My desires have a disconnect/differences with words.
(c) desi chic @ india-forums.com
Something shook beneath his feet, rustling his difficult composure. Fumbling for support behind him, his palm sat against the cool floor. An unprecedented earthquake stood at the threshold, and he struggled to find the hinges to the pieces of his heart. Stumbling over the apparent and unseen, he caught hold of another such awakening...
Muskraane ki addat hai humein, iss baat se koi inkaar nahin.
I have a habit of smiling, there is no denying this.
Ruswaiyon se gehrayi hai humaari, iss shaq pe koi parda nahin.
I am deeply afflicted by dishonour, there is no doubt about this.
Humaari musruhaton ki tanhai mehfilon ki shaan hailekin,
My smile reflects the colour of celebration however,
Iss liye shayad, muskurahaton pe aitbaar hum karte nahin.
Perhaps this is why I do not trust the nature of smiles.
(c) desi chic @ india-forums.com
The thinness of the paper trembled between his white fingers. Holding it close, a fear seized his coldness.
Joh baatein hum sadiyon se khud se na kar paaye,
The words which I could not reconcile with for years,
Hai unhe di kissi ne guftagoo ki ijazat.
Someone has given them permission for conversation.
Thi agar itni kurbat agar,
If there was to be such nearness,
Toh faanslon ki saazish hume kaise gumrah kar paayi?
Then how did the conspiracy of distances fool us?
(c) desi chic @ india-forums.com
His muscles again screamed for mercy as he continued this reflection. He had walked into this space with guilt following close behind. But now, as he lifted his eyes to her indifferent figure, he felt as though something of his own had been robbed. Unknowingly risking a closer look, he shuddered as his old companion, tanhai, ripped apart from his being.
-Zoya-
Her throat burned. Lack of memory clung to her chest like smoke. It filled her lungs, clogging the passageways to life. Never had the desire for remembrance been so urgent. Cradling the fragile image of the beautiful woman in hand, her lips quivered as she recalled her ambiguous past. Had the moment of longing not been so intense, she would have noticed a shadow cascade across the wooden boards beside her.
"Ami..." she whimpered through cracked emotions. Her eyes fed on the faded details of the ancient portrait – the only link to her unknown life. Holding it close to her chest, the curtains to her vision fell over as she contemplated something that she had never known.
Kaisi aurat hain aap? Na baath karne ka saleeka, aur na hi tehzeeb ki koi khabar. Aapki Ami bhi aapka tasavur jaan kar nigahein neechi furma leti hongi... What kind of a woman are you? You have no respect with words, nor a trace of discipline. Your mother must lower her glance finding you in their presence.
Her eyes flung open as the harsh words run once again her deaf ears. Each lafz slashed her heart to the point that she could no longer identify it as her own. She felt humiliated, vulnerable, and cheated. The fortress that she had long defended with success now lay in ruins at the hands of an ajnabee. She spewed with a nostalgic hatred of the source of her misery. Yet what she despised more than the blatant ignorance, was the unidentifiable sheer friction. She wanted nothing to exist between them, but felt helpless at the recognition of something. She had seen a fleeing image of that something right after his words had squashed her. Guilt and a mixture of the unknown travelled quickly across his dark orbs, but it did not go unnoticed. Exhausted, she gave way to the lump that clogged her throat. Swallowing, she allowed a fine stream of liquid emerge from the reservoirs of her usually smiling eyes. Somewhere in the midst of this fragility, she became uncomfortably conscious. It was as though a sponge was soaking her from hidden corners.
Lifting a startled pair of nazrein towards the intruder, she was bewildered by the same transparent jazbat echoing briefly across his stern face. Even in her cluttered state, she could make out the astonishment in his features. And then the shadow returned. She watched mesmerized as his eyes fell to the ground, searching for the incomprehensible. After a stuttering moment, he seemed to pull forth the solidification of his guilt in the form of paper. Pressing it with urgency in her unacquainted hands, he matched her gaze for another brief moment.
"Khuda aapke ghamo pe marham furmaaye," (May the Almighty cure your wounds) he muttered
in visible sincerity before making a brisk exit. His words echoed through the
empty walls long after his absence.
Comments/constructive criticism/suggestions welcome!:)
Cheers,
dc
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