Chapter4-In Time; How It all started
1653 Words
"Laa ilaha illa-Allah, laa ilaha illa-Allah!" (there is no God besides Allah)
It ended again and I sighed. It has been two days since I heard this song. It is sounded five times and I see so many people approach and enter the place from where it is announced.
But . . . . for some reason I was too afraid to go inside that place. I have been sitting outside the door and I couldn't muster up the courage to go inside—it was like a force was preventing me from going in and as soon as I would make up my mind to head inside, a fear would grip my heart and I would become to heavy hearted and cowardly to go inside.
I stared at the sky; I just don't want to do anything.
All is so hopeless.
**********
I felt well-rested so I opened my eyes.
Where am I? How did I get in a bed?
I rubbed my eyes and sat upright. I gazed around my environment; the room apparently was very small and there was pretty much nothing in it except for the bed in which I was sitting on.
"Good evening," I heard someone say; it startled me. When I saw who it was, I was surprised. It was an old man who stood at the door frame; he had a long beard and was wearing a white outfit most definitely like the outfit that Khadijah used to wear—what was it again? A Shalwar- kameez outfit?
"Who," I croaked but immediately cleared my throat and rubbed my eyes. "Who are you?" I said in a heavily voice.
"My name is Abdul Ghafoor. And who might you be my son?" he asked. I frowned. I didn't like this guy or his forwardness. When he saw that I wasn't going to tell him my name, he started.
"Well if you are hungry then please come with me, my wife has dinner ready." He initiated.
Dinner? Was it night already?
"Why don't you go to the bathroom and freshen up first." He suggested. I nodded and got up. My body was stiff as many bones popped when I stood but my muscles were less fatigued as they had been for the past few days.
Did that guy find me on the pavement and bought me to his home?
I went to the toilet. After washing my face, I noted that I had also grown a sharp stubble and my eyes were swollen and puffy. Was I crying? Damn!
I made my way out of the toilet. I couldn't believe how shabby yet humble this little house was. I saw that man and an old lady sitting on a table along with a young man but he looked much older than me.
"Ah there you are, please, come and sit down." He offered joyfully. I wanted to say no and leave but for some reason, I quietly obeyed and sat beside him.
"This is my wife and my son, Abdullah," he introduced. "And we have yet to know your name my son," he asked.
"Oh you can do that later, please start," the woman said in Urdu. So these people are Pakistani? Her husband laughed. "Yes yes, Bismillah," he said and handed me a bowl filled with chicken curry. I don't know what it was but I'm pretty sure that it was the same thing that Khadijah use to make; I wish that I had paid attention to her then I would've known what I was eating now.
They were all quiet as they ate; I don't know when was the last time I ate properly but my appetite hadn't increased at all in this time. But the warm meal, the modest atmosphere and the silent air was somewhat comforting.
When the meal was finished, the woman offered me some fruits but I quietly declined. I wanted to leave but my feet wouldn't move nor would my heart feel like leaving.
Even amidst all the tragedy, I was tranquil in this small place—it turned out that this place was inside the place from where that song would ring. That man, Abdul Ghafoor was the one who was announced the call.
That little family lived in a small room so I got out of it and sat in a corner of the calling room just so that I could hear that call and where I would often see some people perform some ritual or something.
I was so into it that I couldn't think of anything. I don't know what time it was when that man approached me again.
"Son, are you alright?" he asked as he sat beside me. "You seem very distraught. I had found you yesterday outside the masjid," he said.
Masjid? A mosque.
" . . . I was thinking that we should go to the mosque together . . . ,"
She had once said that to me. Oh how I wish now I had listened to her then. I was always resistive whenever she would approach me about religion or anything related to religion because my past fury towards anything of the sort would always overcome my common sense.
"Tell me, you're a man of religion aren't you?" I asked in urdu.
"Oh so you speak urdu, are you Pakistani?" he asked. I didn't reply.
"Um, yes you are right; I am a maulvi of this masjid." He responded.
"Then tell me; what is the thing about this call that you have been singing?" I asked. "Call? Singing?" I heard him murmur.
"Oh, you must mean the Aza'an," he said. "Yes it's the call for prayer."
"It is related to any religion?" I asked dubiously.
"Um, yes certainly it does." he replied.
"Which?"
"So you're a Muslim? Because it's a part of the religion of Islam,"
"Why is it that when I hear it, it gives me so much peace?" I asked and closed my eyes.
"Because it beckons the soul to respond to the call of God." He said. I sighed.
"Tell me son; are you a Muslim?"
I opened my eyes.
"I don't know what I am."
"Then tell me; who are you?" he asked. I turned my neck towards him; he was looking at me with kind and tender eyes; aside from the Chairman and Khadijah with whom I have relations only looked at me like that. But why was this man, with whom I had o such relations was looking at me like that?
"I don't know who I am." I said subconsciously. "I don't know where I belong to; the only reason I had to live is on the verge of life and death, my only precious person is dead and I have nowhere to go." I said. And leaned my head against the wall behind me.
"Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I might be able to help."
Talk? About what?
Should I talk about how this hell began for me? Not that my life from the start wasn't a living hell, but my mind and heart have even more darker secrets; memories that would reveal so much; the memories that have haunted me in my dreams and wouldn't leave me.
How it started; I thought that time would heal my wounds but it proved to be in vain. History just keeps repeating itself in my life.
***********
5 YEARS AGO
"Shed!"
Yes I am here, but for now I just want to stay still. The fresh summer air is still and tranquil. The soft grass beneath me is soft and engulfing—I just want to stay like forever.
"There you are!" the familiar shrill voice rang in my ears and I smiled with my eyes closed.
"Yes madam, how may I be of service." I said humbly.
"Oh God Shed," she said while lightly stamping her foot on the ground. "I have been looking all over for you and here you are, lounging around like a lazy donkey," she gushed. My smile twisted into a wide grin and I slowly opened my eyes. The rays of the sun blinded me for a slight second but the familiar face that was brighter then the sun englossed my vision.
"Will you help me up." I asked and stretched my hand in front of her.
"Hmph," she snorted and took my hand but I pulled her towards down and caught her in my arms; her frown was gone and giggles and laughter took its place as we rolled in the soft grass.
"Oh Shed, my uniform is ruined." She complained amidst her chuckle as I towered on top of her; I caught both her wrists and softly brushed my lips against hers. Her soft green eyes glistened and her flaming red hair burned brilliantly in the sun. her face turned red from pink.
"Haha, oh Shed," she murmured and kissed me. I caressed her face and sat up.
"So, what brings you here." I asked sarcastically because I knew well how much she hated it when ever I asked her that. She pouted but took out a paper slip from her pocket.
"Here," she gestured it towards me. I took it. the photo consisted of me and her when we went to Florida two weeks ago.
"Oh and my brother wants to see you tonight." She informed. My smile got wiped away immediately.
"Oh, okay," I replied and placed the photo in my jersey pocket. "Yeah, tell him that I'll be there." I said.
"Mr. Atish," the clerk came over to us and addressed me.
"Yeah," I said without looking at him.
"Your father is here to see you." He informed. I arched my brow. What's that geezer doing here?
"Alright, I'll be there right away." I said and got to my feet.
"Okay babe, I'll see you." I said and left for the Vice Principal's office.
- Writer
