Zeba, p.14
Zeba, page 14
In my heart, I kept asking, ‘Could that little boy still be alive inside this mad tyrant? Can he still be saved?’
The Khan did bad shit. Period. But bad shit had happened to him too. Period. And then, the old bad shit made him do worse shit in the present. A fucked-up cycle.
And in that moment of hesitation, we could have lost. If I had waited a second longer, I would have been dead on the ground. That Yazoo would have taken my head. The bastard was pretty good at exploding heads.
A vivid reel of exploding heads is playing again in my mind. Ugh! Sorry, Sultana. Not an elegant departure for you.
But, if bad stuff happens to you, does that give you a license to be an asshole?
No, sir. Nope.
Pause. Breathe. In. Out. Inhale. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. Hold. 1 2 3 4. Exhale. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10.
Moral of the story? Keep your shit together when in battle (and in general).
No hesitation. No mercy. That is my biggest learning. Often, in life, there are moments of crisis, of not knowing which direction you should take. All that matters in that situation is to keep pressing on and be true to yourself. Do the Right Thing no matter how hard it gets. No hesitation. No mercy. I think I did the right thing. Overall, I mean. Took the right decisions despite being petrified on the inside.
I grew up in New York, rich, free and ‘not oppressed’, so I know what freedom and privilege mean. I admit I was/am a selfish kid who grew up not knowing anything beyond my primary concerns. I had no idea how more than half the world lives and what problems they deal with. But I do now. Not everyone is free. (And definitely not rich.)
But perhaps, because I am a woman, I now have a different kind of power—the power to inspire, that is. Perhaps others will realize that if I can do what I have done, so can they. If Zeba—as messed up, fucked up and lost as she is—can be a superhero, so can anyone else. Right?
Since the day of the war, I’ve had this weird dream over and over.
Ammi—I mean Miriam—comes to me and, sounding like a hoarse man on acid, says, ‘It’s not over yet.’ She says Yazoo is not gone gone. He is going to send us a plague. A plague that will destroy us and that I will have to stop it from spreading.
I’m not even sure if I should take this dream-vision seriously. Should I just ignore it as the rumblings of an exhausted mind? Could it be an omen of some sort? Or just my overactive imagination?
I must go see BiBi today. After the battle, she gave me a weird gift. That woman is a bit nuts, though she has some serious chess moves.
First, while I was weeping in front of her as she whipped my ass with her chess moves, she said her first word to me: FLY … Or something that sounded like GO FLY. What did she mean, I wonder. She wouldn’t say another word when I asked her.
Then she reached under her chair and brought out her gift. A hijab. A hijab made not of the traditional black cloth but royal blue.
It’s cute but where am I supposed to wear it? On my next adventure, I suppose. Shall I try flying as well? Jump off a building and hope to glide in the air? I think I might be too chicken for that kind of peril.
I’m so tired, man. I hope this is it. The first and last time I have to save the world. This shit is exhausting. I don’t think I can fight any more bad guys, or wizards, or armies, or plagues or pandemics. Or whatever is coming next.
I just cannot.
I have no will left to … fight. And win.
I need to speak to Dr Singh … I’m sure superheroes need a therapist too, right?
Acknowledgements
There are a lot of people I need to thank.
But let’s go chronologically …
First, Deepa Mehta, who thought I could write and am smart. Both of which I still highly doubt. But since you have turned to this page, maybe she has a point.
Sarita Tanwar, for being in my corner. And being the best didi anyone can ask for. (Please pronounce ‘didi’ like the cool south Delhi girls say it.😉) She has done more for me than she knows.
Bilal Siddiqui, for telling me to stop being lazy and write. And having endless cups of black coffee while coaxing me to meet his publisher buddies and send my manuscript to them.
Twinkle Khanna, for being her! A champion of girl power, with sharp wit and gorgeous cascading hair. Thank you for reading my initial chapters and encouraging me and introducing me to my now agent.
My agent Hemali Sodhi at A Suitable Agency, for always being there and helping me navigate the complex and tediously slow world of publishing. Did I mention underpaid?
Swati Daftuar, for being my first editor. She loved this book and saw its potential. I can never thank her enough. Oh! And for being the most talkative editor ever. And Sonal Nerurkar, for introducing us. Bless you all!
Poulomi Chatterjee, for helping me make this book better. She has vastly improved my voice and helped me crystallize my thoughts.
The whole team at HarperCollins India, for being such champions of this book. Can’t believe they liked what they read. I don’t want to show anyone that red-track document they sent back. For a now- published author, I clearly can’t punctuate! 🙈
Pia, who designed this wonderful cover and did all the inside illustrations. Her work makes this book even more special.
My team at Collective and Pearl Media, for supporting all my dreams and wild ambitions as an artist. Like writing a book while working a full-fledged acting job. Nuts!
My narcissistic ex, for reading the whole damn thing and saying he loved it. Meant a lot at that time.
That tech support guy at Petit Ermitage in LA, for sorting my laptop out in March 2023, else I would have never made my deadline. Yes, I am technologically challenged.
All the amazing directors and writers I’ve had the pleasure of working and collaborating with, for making me understand the power of storytelling.
All my friends, who were forced to read some sections only so I could see their reaction to certain chapters. My beloved guinea pigs.
RS, who just makes me immensely happy and safe.
My brother, Saqib, for being my constant—constant support and constant pain in the ass.
My mom and dad. And Streak.
I love you all.
Blessed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Huma S Qureshi, a kebab-seller's daughter who likes to think of herself as Kebab Royalty of south Delhi, was an outsider who became a star in the glittering world of the Hindi film industry. She has charted her own career path and, in defiance of her naysayers, has acted in Hindi and regional (now pan-India) films, shows on streaming platforms and international films. In 2022, Huma embarked on a new chapter by starting her own production house, Elemen3. She continues her (self-proclaimed) trailblazing journey with this book, her debut work as an author. Now there is no filter between her thoughts and the rest of the world ... God bless us all!
At HarperCollins India, we believe in telling the best stories and finding the widest readership for our books in every format possible. We started publishing in 1992; a great deal has changed since then, but what has remained constant is the passion with which our authors write their books, the love with which readers receive them, and the sheer joy and excitement that we as publishers feel in being a part of the publishing process.
Over the years, we’ve had the pleasure of publishing some of the finest writing from the subcontinent and around the world, including several award-winning titles and some of the biggest bestsellers in India’s publishing history. But nothing has meant more to us than the fact that millions of people have read the books we published, and that somewhere, a book of ours might have made a difference.
As we look to the future, we go back to that one word—a word which has been a driving force for us all these years.
Read.
TALK TO US
Join the conversation on Twitter
http://twitter.com/HarperCollinsIN
Like us on Facebook to find and share posts about our books with your friends
http://www.facebook.com/HarperCollinsIndia
Follow our photo stories on Instagram
http://instagram.com/harpercollinsindia/
Get fun pictures, quotes and more about our books on Tumblr
http://www.tumblr.com/blog/harpercollinsindia
First published in India by HarperCollins Publishers 2024
4th Floor, Tower A, Building No. 10, DLF Cyber City,
DLF Phase II, Gurugram, Haryana – 122002
www.harpercollins.co.in
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Copyright © Huma S Qureshi 2024
P-ISBN: 978-93-5699-607-6
Epub Edition © November 2023 ISBN: 978-93-5699-608-3
This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this book are
the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.
Huma S Qureshi asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
For sale in the Indian subcontinent only
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Huma S Qureshi, Zeba
