Urdu Novel
We meet thousands of people in this world, we get attracted to hundreds, we fall for ten and then we'll be united with the one whose name was written with our name thousands of years ago.
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Roman Urdu Version
Banglore August 2, 2012
“Dekho Zayn, tum uske pichhe apni zindagi barbaad kar rahe ho.”
Zayn us waqt kuch nahi bola tha, lekin uske andar ka sach Khalid ke har lafz ko tasdiq kar raha tha. Itne mahine ho chuke the, aur Muskan ke baare mein use ab bhi kuchh nahi pata tha.
“Mahira ke saath jo kuch tumne kiya, woh bhi theek nahi tha. Main samajhta hoon ke agar tumhe Mahira pasand nahi thi, toh yeh tumhara haq hai. Lekin tumhe aage toh badhna hoga."
"Maine ek ladki dekhi hai. Usse jaa kar milo. Faisla ek din mein mat lena, lekin khud ko aur uss ladki ko ek mauka zarur do."
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Banglore August 4, 2012
Woh is baat ko samajh chuka tha ke usne Muskan ke jazbat ko galat samjha tha. Shayad woh kabhi uske liye mohabbat thi hi nahi. Shayad woh bas ek dost thi, aur woh dosti bhi usne nahi nibhayi.
Shehar ki sadak par chalti gaadiyon ka shor, logon ki bheed. Aur is bich ek khali pada restaurant. Zayn ne ek nazar board ko dekha aur andar chala gaya.
Wahan ki har cheez chamak rahi thi. Mehez yeh chamak uski aankhon ko chubhti thi. Samne ek ladki baithi thi—balki ek aur "koshish."
Uska naam Nisha tha. Mehez kapdon aur make-up ke pichhe chhupi ek shakhsiyat, jo useh sirf dikhawa lagti thi.
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"Toh, tumhare liye waqt nikalna mushkil hota hoga." Nisha ne halki muskaan ke saath kaha. Uska lehja jaise kisi script ka hissa lagta tha—saaf, magar adhoora.
"Han, kaam kaafi demanding hota hai." Zayn ne utni hi banawati muskraahat ke saath jawab diya. Uska lehja shareek-e-gohar tha, aur uski nazar khidki ke bahar kahi aur thi.
Nisha ne mazeed kuch kaha, magar Zayn ko uski ek bhi baat samajh nahi aayi.
Woh apni kursi se halka sa pichhe jhuka aur gahri saans li. Kya yeh ladkiyan, yeh rishte, yeh meeting uske dil ko bhar sakti thi? Nahi, yeh sirf ek farz tha jo woh khud par thop raha tha. Nisha iss hafte ki aathvi koshish thi.
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Zayn ne apne phone ko side table par rakha aur apne balon mein haath pherta hua sofa par gir gaya. Usne raat ka ek aur dinner yaad kiya. Ek aur milne ki koshish, ek aur bekaar guzari shaam.
"Uss ladki ka naam kya tha? Misha? Ya Nishat? Ya shayad kuch aur? Kya farq padta hai?"
Woh sari raat uss larki se baatein karta raha tha, lekin har baat ek hi chehre ki taraf le jaati thi. Muskan.
Ab tak usne kitni larkiyon se milne ki koshish ki thi? Har dafa woh sochta tha ke shayad iss baar sab kuch theek ho jaayega, lekin har dafa woh aur zyada akela mehsoos karta tha.
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English Version
Banglore August 2, 2012
“Look Zayn, you’re ruining your life running after her.”
Zayn hadn’t said anything in that moment, but deep inside, every word of Khalid felt true. It had been months now, and he still didn’t know anything about Muskan.
“What you did with Mahira wasn’t right either. I understand—if you didn’t like Mahira, that’s your right. But you have to move on.”
“I’ve seen a girl. Go meet her. Don’t make a decision in a day, but at least give yourself and that girl a chance.”
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Banglore August 4, 2012
He had come to understand that he had misunderstood Muskan’s feelings. Maybe she was never in love with him. Maybe she was just a friend—and even that friendship, she failed to honor.
The city’s roads were full of noisy traffic, crowded people. And amidst all this—a restaurant that stood empty.
Zayn glanced once at the board, and walked inside.
Everything inside was shining. But that shine—it pricked his eyes. In front of him sat a girl—or rather, another “attempt.”
Her name was Nisha. Just a personality hidden beneath clothes and makeup, which felt like pure pretense to him.
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“So, it must be hard for you to make time.” Nisha said with a faint smile. Her tone felt like part of a script—polished, but incomplete.
“Yeah… work is quite demanding.” Zayn replied with an equally fake smile. His tone was polite, but his eyes were staring out the window.
Nisha said a few more things, but Zayn didn’t register a single word. He leaned slightly back in his chair and took a deep breath.
Could these girls, these meetings, these forced interactions ever fill the void inside him? No.
It was just a duty he was forcing on himself. Nisha was the eighth attempt this week.
---
Zayn placed his phone on the side table and ran his hands through his hair, falling back on the couch. He recalled another dinner that night—another failed attempt, another wasted evening.
“What was that girl’s name again? Misha? Or Nishat? Or something else? Does it even matter?”
He had spoken to that girl the entire night, yet every conversation circled back to one face—Muskan.
How many girls had he tried meeting by now? Every time, he thought maybe this time it’ll be okay…
But each time, he only ended up feeling more alone.
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