Recuperating

Recuperating

“Melancholy”, was the word that Maryam always used when describing her life nowadays. Though she was an independent, accomplished lawyer, life never showed her any pleasantries after the demise of her parents. She too being the only daughter of migrant parents lost interest in her roots.

Her life was a set of routine from home to work to home again. Though a lawyer, Maryam never found it easy to express her own feelings. Thus after her parents now she had no one to completely understand her. Maryam at times had felt that she was meant to live her life alone and end up with Alzheimer’s in a nursing home at the last dregs of her life. She wasn’t happy with the flash forward, nor was she a reserved person. It was just that friendship had never been a constant thing in her life. Nor had she met anyone to fit in as her cup of tea in the big Melbourne city.

Becoming a lawyer had always been her passion. Thus she never regretted the choice of her occupation. Yet sometimes it gets way too much for her. Also working in Minter Ellison had given her a broad insight of the world. She had met many individuals, dealt with many cases and seen many happy, sad, angry and disappointed faces. As she often saw the emotional side of her client whenever they came to her, she knew how important emotional intelligence was in her career.

At times she even felt that making a family is an utter nuisance. For, however much effort a couple put into making one, they somehow end up in her office. Yet, although the census of the divorcees was affirmative to her view, she always had a ray of light that directed her otherwise. It was from the reflection of the life of her parents which brought a smile to her face every time she thought of it.

Mr. and Mrs. Anwer were migrants from Sri Lanka long before she was born. She had never visited Sri Lanka. Nor was she interested in it. Though they never visit, her parents spoke of Sri Lanka with a sense of pride she never understood. How they could admire a small developing island when then they were well off being doctors in a sophisticated well developed city, was beyond her comprehension.

Maryam’s had been moving thus without much happenings till one Wednesday on the fifth of February. Suddenly her boss called her to his cabin and handed the project of Mr. and Mrs. Silva from Sri Lanka. The case had been regarding their re-location interstate. Since John thought that the client would feel comfortable when they have an adviser from their own nation, he gave her the project. She knew that any professional could provide advice to the couple regardless of the connection to their nation. Yet she wasn’t in a mood to argue and since the client's place was quite close by, Maryam didn’t mind taking the project.

The Silvas were really amiable couple in their mid-fifties. They too spoke a great deal about their motherland. They really were keen on giving Maryam an interest to visit it. She found them to be a couple still in love and more than anything they reminded her of her parents. “It was very nice meeting you dear. Thank you for the valuable advice”, said Mrs. Silva. Mr. Silva who had been observing the interchanged remarked with a smile, “I hope you will find Sri Lanka to be fascinating.”

The meeting went well and since it was past seven I went home, ran the water in my bath, made some hot chocolate and enjoyed the bath. It was still warm outside but I always enjoy a hot beverage in my bath. The evening kept on playing in my mind and I admitted that my unconscious mind was telling me to take a break from the job I had been continuously doing for two years.

The bath refreshed me and my mind. For the first time I went to bed with a plan in my head and a smile on my face. The morning was bright. Not a surprise in a summer day. Yet the birds around, the slight breeze and the bustle around cheered me in a new way that I’d never felt before. In the firm, John had readily agreed to me taking a ten days’ vacation considering the fact that I had never taken any holidays in the last two years. Thus, I booked a room in the Galle Face Hotel. The flight to Colombo was an enjoyable one since I had not travelled in a very long period. 

The airport was a very nice and friendly place and strangely I did not feel like an outsider. When I reached the hotel, I was dead tried from the long journey. The hotel was friendly and luxurious enough to put me to a deep slumber till the evening. I had my stay all planned out. Three days in Colombo to recreate the memories of my parents. Then move on to Kandy, Nuwara Eliya, Polonnrauwa, Batticaloa and then back to the airport. 

I made some tea and enjoyed the view of the beautiful city along with the delicious tea that had an awesome aroma and a pleasant flavor even without sugar.

The room was well equipped with a wonderful overview of the magnificent Galle Face. Since the ambience was very warm and welcoming I decided to take a stroll along the Galle Face that seemed to be calling me with open arms.

Just when Maryam stepped out of the hotel, a figure taller than her passed her in a fluid movement. She noticed that it was a guy going for a jog in the beach. She was observing the beach from the entrance of the hotel and saw that the jogger’s strides were longer than hers and thus the shorts and hoodie was out of her sight quite soon. The salty air hit Maryam’s face and for the first time in two years Maryam closed her eyes and felt a smile creep up her lips when she merged with her surroundings. Walking along she felt a peace even the State of Victoria library failed to give her.

The beach was simply amazing with peculiar street vendors selling food that I had not seen in Australia. I was fascinated by a round stuff with pawn arranged in a row. The cart wasn’t very hygienic. Yet which street vendor is? On asking about it from the vendor I got a very interesting stare as an answer. I understood that he didn’t comprehend my words. So I tried showing signals. Yet figuring the prices in the language he spoke seemed hopeless. Just when I was about to leave the jogger joined me.

The jogger said something and the vendor at once proceeded with the customer who would really buy something than just show awkward signals. Embarrassingly just when the hooded man near me turned towards me and smiled, I came to my senses and realized that I had been gawking at them. “Good Evening. Sri Lankan?” he asked. “Good Evening. Australian and apologies. It’s just that the language rolled out beautifully from you.” He had a nice laugh that was infectious. “No worries. Looks like you need some help. Hassan by the way.” Thus conversing with Hassan I acknowledged that the round stuff was called “Isso wade” which means “Prawns fitters”. He also informed that he was an Australian too with a much better connection to his parent’s motherland than me. He also helped me purchase the fritters and then left with a “see you around”.

The Galle Face beach was quite a different from the normal beaches. The sea level was below the land. The land once again was elevated from the drive she was walking on. The land area was very vast and since the sun was setting the view was breath taking. The main attraction of the beach was the bridge a little way into to sea. Getting on the bridge I found that the waves were very strong and rigorous. I was a little afraid but the view of the sky from the bridge was so pleasant that was determined to reach the end of the bridge. It was a pleasant feeling to hear the clashing of the sea against the big strong walls that held the bridge

. The mesmerizing sun set, the pleasant sound of the breeze playing with my hijab, the lack of people, the mouth-watering fitters with it’s delicious curry and toppings made the evening a carving on my mind.

In the buffet at dinner I met Hassan again. It was such a co-incidence that once again we both stepped together. This time inside not out. Hassan expressed his surprise at seeing me too. Then, the conversation flowed so naturally. He explained about the lavishly displayed Sri Lankan cuisine. Hassan was an amiable person with a wonderful sense of humor. Conversing with him seemed effortless and he told a lot about him during the dinner. He said that he is a PhD student in psychology at the Deakin University. He further explained that becoming a clinical psychologist and helping people in distress was his dream.

The dinner was a satisfying one and Maryam left feeling very relaxed. It had been a very long time since she spoke so comfortably with anyone. Hassan too felt different during this stay at his most favourite destination in the world. He wouldn’t completely give the credit to Maryam. Yet he felt that she did play a role in it. Being a psychologist he understood that Maryam wasn’t the kind of girl to open up to everyone. So when he didn’t push much, she warmed up to him. He hadn’t told her that he had seen her at the airport in Melbourne. Nor did he admit that he admired the way she was excited to see Sri Lanka from up in the air. It was funny that she hadn’t noticed that he was just a seat away from her in the flight. Hassan smiled thinking that the clichéd line to describe their situation now would be, “Destiny brought us together”.

The next day Maryam set out to explore the city and took many photos of the places she remembered seeing in her parent’s album. She also found a lot of interesting things to do. The ice-cream parlor in the Galle road named “Carnival” and the museum were her favourites. After lunch she met Hassan again at the pool area. They both smiled at spotting each other again and Hassan announced that he’d be checking out tomorrow morning. Maryam too said the outline of her plans in Sri Lanka for which Hassan gave a thumbs up. “So when are you leaving Maryam?” asked Hassan. “My return flight is another seven days later. What about you?” Maryam asked back.  

“No plans yet. I have time”

“Oh, see you then. Good bye.”

“Um Maryam, this is my card. On case you need me. Don’t hesitate to contact. Goodbye”

Travelling to Polonnaruwa in train and taking the public transport rather than the cars provided by the hotel gave Maryam a better exposure to the country. Travelling around the beautiful island she discovered why he parents loved this country despite its small size and lack of development.

Every city was different and beautiful on its own way. The small island amazed with its variety of climate which was warm near the coasts and cold with the elevation in the center parts of it. She bought many souvenirs, took many photographs and discovered more about herself. She realized that she would had derided Sri Lanka so much had in fact fallen in love with it. Since it was her last day Maryam thought about all that happened so far and unconsciously she found her hand reaching into her handbag and clutching Hassan’s card. In a flash she emailed about her departure and sent him a thank you note.

All throughout her way to the airport Maryam felt like she was leaving her parents behind. She felt like she had somehow connected to them through connecting to what they love the most. She realized that she had after she came to Sri Lanka. She knew that she would miss this amazing country and made a pledge to visit it soon.

In the airport, once she was about to reach the terminal, Maryam he her name being called. On turning she was surprised to find the jogger she knew so well jogging towards her. “Hey Hassan. Are you too leaving today?” Maryam asked surprised. “No, I’m leaving tomorrow. Just thought to spend the night in the airport”, Hassan replied sarcastically. Baffled Maryam started laughing on realizing her stupid question.

 “I mailed you back”

“Oh? I’m sorry I didn’t check that”

“So?”

“So?”

“Excuse me madam”, said a voice. On turning they both found that it was Maryam’s turn to step into the metal detector. Smiling at each other, they stepped through and came out without any beeping sound. While wearing her shoes Maryam couldn’t help smiling widely thinking of the new things that Sri Lanka had introduced to her. Thus when the plane was announced she felt so grateful to her indirect motherland.

When she was about to enter the Jet Bridge Maryam turned to see, the most beautiful country she had ever seen, for one last time. At that moment she realized that unless we make a move in life, we would never get to know what else it holds for us in store. So far she had been so engrossed in her loss that she never even thought about reaching for the things that future would hold for her. Looking across the aisle from her seat, she saw two things that she had come to like so much recently. The beauty of one outside the window and the other beaming at her from inside it, brought a bright smile and a new ray of hope in her life. “Melancholy” will not be a word for her life, anymore.

Author:- Badurdeen Fathima Ayesha

The Suffocating Society

The suffocating society

We all live in this super cool society where everybody loves everybody! Can you imagine? Love is literally in the air. You ask me how? See, when everything that you do concerns a person, when they are twenty four seven conscious about your actions, when they would never let a single information about you go unknown! We call it love. Don’t we?

It feels great to know that someone out there cares for us but right now the situation has got to a new level where this caring got intense and the gossip got intriguing. You know what the worst part is? The gossiping tongues are now the abusing ones too! I mean like, seriously? What sort of perfection are you to point that crooked finger of yours at another?

Another interesting fact about this issue is that, these gossipers are not only old people like the legends speak! They are the current generation. It’s fine to talk about competition. For that sprouts creativity, generates idea and brings forth motivation. On the other hand if the talk is to ridicule someone, to bring down a person’s reputation, to hurt someone, to get your revenge back, then know that you are stepping low from the humanitarian step that you are standing right now.

The real sad thing in the world right now is that the people who are being abused of things that are of no concern tend to change themselves to fit in into the stupid stereotypes that the society has built. I’d like to say something to all those people with great talent out there, guys, every single creation of the Almighty is unique! It is special in some sort of way and someone would definitely need you. Don’t think that these flourishing insults that this grand society pours on you are all golden words that need to be treasured. In fact they are the jealousy of some people who saw that special light in you and their action to extinguish the sparks before the fire starts. All you got to do is turn a deaf ear to the insults, wear a smile to show that you can put up with shit very well and keep sharpening your talent.

Sometimes when the insult is about the physical features, no matter what the gender is, a small insecurity does creep inside us. For, every one of us give a lot of attention to our looks, attire, fragrance and especially our shoes! So, after looking into every single detail of our self we would surely want a positive remark or comment about it. Nobody out there likes to be called “Hey fatty”, “Yo Teddy”, “My dearest elephant” nor do they like to be called a “stick”, “pole” and all other trash. Sometimes I feel like saying, ”Okay dude, I know that you do have two bright shiny eyes to see but should that mouth of yours turn foul when your eyes are so hot that it notices every single detail about another person?” to the abusers face. Yet, once again being a part of this GENTEEL society means that you are restricted from reprimanding while you will always be!

We need to understand that some people have this virtuous body where nobody knows where all those tons of carbs they ate went! While others have another sort of virus infested system for a body, where once again nobody knows how on earth all those extra pounds came from, when all they consumed were GREEN vegetables, GREEN fruits and GREEN tea! Anyways, BMI never betrays if we choose to eat healthy, do some exercise frequently and stay fit.

So the point I was going to make was that, no matter what we do some of us have a body that just needs some real hard working to be maintained. So the society that loves us so so much just has no right to talk about our weight but to wait and see the height of the achievement we made with our wagging or lacking weight!

Especially during weddings, our people deck themselves from top to bottom, sit in the last row of the hall and start their analysis. You ask me what for? To find their rank amongst the guest and give a first ranking report of why the bride should not have chosen this, why the groom mustn’t have done that, why some specific guest should never have been invited, why the decorations needed alteration, and the list never ends!

It gets really annoying when one wedding is compared to another. Everybody wants their wedding to a memorable one not the best pompous one! So it’s not like you can see all brides equally decked nor all grooms royally spruced. Sayings like, “Oh, X was much more fair and lovelier than Y”, “The suit of B was way better than this C”, “The throne of Z was lavish compared to A”, etc... isn’t what the party that invited you expects from you! They only wanted to introduced the new couple in their family and get them your blessings!

People never realize how much they hurt other people because of their blunt words. Some people get shattered when they hear that their hard work being ridiculed (worse being compared and ridiculed). We were all sent out by the Almighty on a mission. If we want to achieve it, then we ought to accept people for what they are(what god made them) instead of expecting them to fit into something they were not created to be. People are of immense personalities, some are calm and collected, some are bubbly, some rushing, other always prepared, certain are angry birds, a few bossy, many are mandatory while some aren’t yet we must accept that they are all important to make the world complete.  For if accepting things and living with peace and harmony isn’t easy in this world then answering of the questions on the hereafter is not going to be easy as well.

So, if we all target in accepting people for their own selves I hope that the suffocation in the air would reduce along with the discomfort around some people, dislike for a certain party, etc…

So let us all focus on being ourselves and accepting people for themselves!

P.S. I had always wanted to talk about how suffocating society can get at times and that we the future generation should change it. So this is one simple act I took. If my words do sound right and if I happen to make a change somehow, then I have achieved my goal.

Ramadan and how it feels!

(I started this blog to write stories but I felt like sometimes direct words convey the message better that a story that needs to be interpreted. I do know that stories are way more interesting and reaches fast. Anyways I wanted to try this too. Hope you guys enjoy it and most of all find it worthwhile J)

Ramadan and how it feels!

The month is filled with blessing, purity, freshness, spirituality and good will and all I personally feel is that, Allah is with me and I should become one of his favourite representative. If I envision last year, I felt the same vibe running through me and the year before was of no difference either. The suhur, iftar, salawath, tharaweeh and the most special steak porridge along with steaming samosa increases the appeal of the month of Ramadan to everyone around the globe. Though getting accustomed to waking up at 3:30 a.m. and doing dishes at 5:00 a.m. while others at home are snoring after having a nice meal, makes you want to pour the liquid wash into their nostrils, the patience that specially settles within us in this month retains the morbid interest.

However much pain and worry that suffocates us vanishes when we indulge in prayer and Ramadan is a perfect time to realize this. For when we fast, it is not only our stomach realizes the hunger of those who own less than us. We understand that people out there are suffering from things that we couldn’t even imagine handling. Our heart yearns to do something good. We feel the need to become a better person. The passion to do meritorious acts increases. We feel like reciting the holy Quran though we might not have touched it for some time now. We feel guilty when we do some immoral thing though we might never have felt any remorse before. We are said to give zakath to purify our wealth. But when we understand that it is only 0.2% of our whole wealth and that this money is going to help the needy, our greed gushes out of ourselves.

Every Muslim brothers and sisters out there are in the path of Allah and the social media that shared all sorts of thoughts, jokes, critics, news and nuisance too catches the vibe and hadeeths of the holy prophet and the words of Allah (SBHU) are mostly shared. It’s really beautiful to see that in this month even small children under the age of ten want to fast (it’s not compulsory to them), go to tharaweeh, and break their fast with everyone. Though their reasons to do these are childish, the fact that they too feel the run of spirituality in them is highly admirable.

It’s a little sad and unfortunate that adolescents do not understand the complete value of this month. Yet I couldn’t be the one to judge. For I don’t remember being exactly pious (I know I still have space for improvement!). Yet, I know I wasn’t as bad as some of those I see now. Maybe the only choice we have with handling them is to make the atmosphere they live in spiritual and give them the space to realize it rather than hording them with sermons and scolding. For a fact, I know that preaching or shouting only makes them want to continue their actions though they too feel that it is not right.

The worst part is that some adults too do not comprehend the mercy that Allah showers during this month! It’s absurd that they mock the salawaath, tharaweeh and duas that beautify the month. I know I have no right to judge them, so I just pray that Allah knock some sense into them!

Once Ramadan is about to finish the glory of it increases. The increment in prayers, offerings and the colourfully lit shops. As much as the bayans say about wasting the invaluable last ten days of Ramadan, being a girl I know that though we buy things way before the Ramadan starts even, some sort of thing will be needed for the preparation of the upcoming festival till the last night of Ramadan. So I don’t really know if giving sermons would help. For it’s not like people do so because they WANT to waste it. They just can’t help it!

After so much preparation, waiting and praying comes the Idul – Fitr! Usually we do not sleep throughout the night before (We in the sense of females!). The reasons are many. Food preparation(this time without any grumble), house cleaning after all the mess the children make, henna applying, ironing the clothes of the family members, making sure everybody’s clothes, accessories and even cosmetics are proper and eventually cleaning of a kitchen full of mess! It’s not like males do not help. Our women are used to having things done by their hands and they prefer it that way. They quote, “Doing the work once is better than cleaning a mess ten times worse!”

When the dawn breaks, the air smells of festivity. Festival salawath is heard from the mosques, once again the house is in a rush with the whole family preparing in their new clothes to go to the mosque to offer the festival prayer, mothers get busy with breakfast preparation which usually contains mutton or beef and somehow it becomes around 8:00 a.m. After coming from the mosque, ransacking of the refrigerator starts till half of the goodies inside vanish.

The most interesting part of the day starts when relatives start coming. Speaking a thousand words to get a few hundreds out of their pockets elucidates the amount of creativity we have in us! Then after the lavish lunch, every soul at home gets tired of the luxurious service they gave to their stomachs. And thus slumber of the beauties with bloated stomachs begins. In some cities festival bazaars and carnivals that sells a product of 200/- for 300/- could be seen. Though everything we buy there breaks within a week, the happiness of purchasing from these vendors with the new shiny money we received is special. So, the festivity ends with that for the day but the festive vibe remains for another three to four days.

It’s a really joyous time after the festival. But the fact that, all the spirituality we built within ourselves with a lot of self-conflict throughout Ramadan fades away after the festival is a lot sad. Since I made a vow to continue at least some of the good deeds (Insha Allah), I hoped that sharing these feeling would revive memories and make at least one person realize that they too like me had off tracked from the exact Islamic way after Ramadan.

Simply saying, “Since we feel that, we should make a change in ourselves in this month. We better use it to become a better human that our religion wants us to be.”

Enjoy a Happy and Blessed Idul - Fitr!

Suhur-(meal before a person starts the fast, before the breaking of the dawn)

Tharaweeh- (special prayer offered during Ramadan, not compulsory to offer. Yet it earns a lot of rewards from Allah)

Iftar-(breaking of the fast at the breaking of the dawn)

Bayan-(Arabic term for sermon)

Dua-(Arabic term for supplication)

Zakath-(purifying dues compulsory only to the rich whop have money more than a certain amount said in Islam)

Hadeeths-{preaching of holy prophet Muhammad (sal)}

Insha Allah-(god willingly)

Making Memories in Jordan

Making memories in Jordan

Waking up from the soft bed and taking off the fluffy white duet took every bit of will power in my body. My body was sore from all the flying from the south of Asia to the west of the Arab nation. But it had been my dream to revisit this wonderfully serene and picturesque country. The glory of Jordan struck me very, very deep when I last visited it ten years back with my parents. I had a two weeks off work, so I planned to take my dream adventure journey to Jordan. Thus, here I am in Hotel Torledo all alone enjoying my bubbling bath in room no.247.

The hotel itself had changed a great deal since I last came. A decade can do a great deal to things, excluding me of course! Since I had downed a mug of coffee during my bath I had enough caffeine kicked stamina to skip the five Jordan dollar coffee the hotel bar offered. And mind you, one J.D. is two hundred and fifty LKR ONLY! One thing that Jordan had not changed about itself was its climate. The sun in Jordan was so merciful towards you unlike that in Sri Lanka. Though it was sunny even in the evening it was never scorching. The cool breeze accompanied by the sunlight at the right temperature somehow persuades you to take a scroll through the clean roads that boasted of the luxurious country.

Since I was more than ready to explore the country I so loved, I set out. The fact that every single house in Jordan was built of limestone not only gave it a beauty but a look of unity too and suddenly I remembered the words of our tour guide ten years back, “The richness of a house is not measured by the look of it but by the people who live in it.” Wise man, now must be an old man. Had I forgotten about the friendliness of the natives of the country, I should have been ashamed of myself and surprisingly that was another fact that still remained in Jordan! Also, never forget that a tan skin along all pearl whites never fails to attract!

The evening was so pleasant that I decided to scroll a little further into the city. I know that Jordan is most famous for its Dead Sea. Yet I always wondered why people never admired it for all its glory. For more than the Dead Sea the citadels, tombs, mosques, palaces and simply the cities itself were breath taking. I remembered that Firas Circle was the closest shopping area to the hotel, so I thought to go window shopping and get acquainted with the style of the present Jordan. There wasn’t much to witness though, the same American style as with most countries that had been governed by America at least for sometimes.

I had no idea of buying souvenirs or gifts. All I'd planned to do was to enjoy the luxurious Arabian cuisine, taking memorable stills, sleep peacefully and most important of all revive memories. Yet my shoes seemed to have a different idea and right when I passed the second floor of the mall my converse planned to come off. "Really? You wanted to make me spend four thousand bucks instead of two, didn't you?" annoyed I asked my shoes but the audacity of it! It kept quiet! As the only way to teach it a good lesson was to dump it in the bin and buy a new one to replace it, I entered a shoe shop on the second floor.

The dollar sign that shined in the owners shop told me that he had identified me to be a tourist. So much for being tan! “Salam Madame, all kind shoes we have. What you want? Heel high?” It was evident he was eager to sell off his most expensive stuff to me. Hah! He never knew the bargaining skills of Sri Lankans! One plus point of knowing English when you speak to person who doesn’t know it, is, at the end of the day you win the argument, thanks to the language of course.  And as my owner brother was a native Arabic speaker, I had more points in my hand. “I want a converse” “Colour Madame?” “Dark blue or red?” “We have all Madame, we have all! He climbed up a ladder and brought three pairs of my perfect size. Wow, so he checked me out without my knowledge? Smart but man he’s hot too, just lacking a little in the muscle area. I chose the red one and asked for the prize and there it was. The dollar signs from his eyes put into my hands.

“Twenty dollars?” I gasped. All those torture from drama class has found some use finally. “A normal converse costs only ten brother, I asked a couple of shops before and since they said twelve I came to you expecting justice and see what you do to me!” I hung my face leaving the shoes on the stool nearby. “No, no Madame, this originale. Fine, fine white price Madame, fifteen. Best price Madame.” “Eleven brother, fair price for you and me, I buy converse all the time!” “No fair Madame, cost eleven, sell eleven where profit?” Oh, I know the profit you make my man! “Ok brother, I’ll see another shop. Thank you.” “Why Madame? Wait Madame, Twelve, twelve then!” I shook my head with my best smile and he fell for it and I win! “Have a nice day brother!” “Nice day Madame.” I don’t know if he meant, “You too” or “Nice day indeed after you shattered all my high hopes”. But that man, made fat profit and I knew it from experience of buying converses. So he had no reasons to be sad and nor did I.

I sat near the bin that I had dumped my shoes to where my new ones and thought about its life time. Born somewhere, used in Colombo and resting in collision in Amman. “You should be proud to have had an owner like me though I never washed you often, I never left you feeling lonely.” And with those consoling words to my shoes I departed from the mall. But after about half an hour of fidgeting did I realize that I was lost inside the mall. It wasn’t a big deal all I had to do was get the direction from somebody else. The first people who caught my eyes were two guys, probably teenagers laughing at something they were seeing in their mobiles. I stood in front of them but they were too into their phones. So to get their attention I “hey”ed them.

I don’t know what they expected from that foreign accent but I surely didn’t expect what was in store for me. I actually smiled at them started asking about the exit but all the morons did to me was see each other and give a look over. Suddenly one boy wiggled at the other and started whooping. I was really disgusted with their show that I really wanted to puke. But it seemed like the other one got his senses back and he started speaking something in Arabic. “Superb, I should have known that these two were idiots when I understood that they were hitting on me mistaking my size with my age. Not all slim girls are teenagers morons!” I said them (all with a smile plastered to face of course, I didn’t want to be arrested for affronting a native. Did I now?).  Suddenly, I heard an uproarious laugh behind me.

On turning I saw a man about three to four years older than me laughing at us. On sensing that we were seeing him, he composed himself but when his eyes landed on me he set off again. Then it all registered to me. So this gentle man was eavesdropping my words? “Awesome you’re going to explore the Jordan Jail this time.” I congratulated me. After he really composed himself, he came up to us and spoke to the boys in a beautiful Arab accent and I took this time to check him out. Chiseled pearl face, dark brown hair, black denim trousers, plain white T-shirt, black jacket (unzipped), simple but stylish black watch, black ankle length converse and a black helmet poised on his hips. Okay, so he was a dream of every girl’s “BOY IN BLACK”. Suddenly the “boy in black” turned towards me and that’s when I remembered that he was here to put me in jail and if he catches me checking out him, he might add more charges.

“Hello, my name is Zaid”, ‘boy in black’ spoke and the guys left after giving me a sorry look.  So English knowing “BOY i……” no let’s call him Zaid. “Hello” “Sorry for the trouble my natives caused you Miss.” “Shana, and no I’m fine with it unless you won’t put me in jail for insulting your natives”, I elucidated my worry. He laughed again. He had a nice laugh, not that I noted. “Me and my observations!” I was starting to get angry with myself and then Zaid started “No Miss. Shana why would I ever? Actually if those guys had understood what you told them it would have been useful for them” then I realized, “You didn’t translate did you?” “Of course not but I can help you if you want anything.” He smiled. Sweet fellow. The world need more people like this. So, I asked him the direction for the exit. He said that was leaving the place too and asked me to join him. Since I had no other option I did. “So how come you know English? You a foreigner too?” “No, I am a proud Jordanian. I studied in UK. Completed my masters in interior designs. So you from Miss?” “Sri Lanka”, I said with a smile and while I was thinking, “No doubt he has the awesome British accent”, we got to the exit. It was dark and I knew I had to get to the hotel before eight or I’d have to feed on the leftovers of the buffet. “Thank you Mr. Zaid. Pleased to have met you”, I said to the “Boy in black” and left him with a smile.

All the way back to the hotel I mused over what had happened today evening and I couldn’t help but feel happy with the memories I had made for one day. Whatever happens in life, let them be funny, irritating, terrifying or even annoying, later would surely become a golden memory that you would treasure for the rest of your life. The dinner was splendid as ever in all Arabian cuisine with the olives, kebabs, tandoori, rotti and Jordan’s special halwa. When I entered my room I saw that the house keeping department had done quite a neat job by replacing all the mess I had left. After changing into my PJs I hit the bed with a smile. For though I was exhausted from all the adventure, I felt warm and happy. “Maybe I should ask boss if they had a branch in Jordan.” was all I thought before I entered the widespread arms of mother sleep.

Author: Badurdeen.Fathima.Ayesha

A Lesson Learnt

A Lesson Learnt

Tia sat at her desk with her coffee mug in hand. Her spectacles perched on her nose, her hair in a messy bun, the tank top she was wearing and her favourite steaming Nescafe gave her all the comfort she needed after a long day at work. She always used to start reading or browsing the net after a shower but today her work wasn’t over for the day. She had an extra work of marking a hundred and twenty papers not to mention the tallying all to be finished within five days. Yes, this is the interesting life of a teacher.

She wouldn’t say that she loved teaching but when she was with her kids she loved every moment. For however strict Tia might be at times, they still came smiling towards her after she makes a joke to smooth the atmosphere. Moreover there were kids to whom she hasn’t even taught but wherever they see her, they give her that toothy grin that says, “There’s that teacher I always see.” All these satisfaction and honor along with the pride that comes when her children score made her give her best for the most patience demanding job. For that thing, PATIENCE was one thing that she never had. So there she was at ten p.m., in a darkroom, lit only by her desk lamp to let her see the papers her grade four children had scribbled for her.

Yes, that’s the word, mark it, “scribbled”. No matter how many times she had cut the work and made some children re-write, they still wrote in the wobbly figures they had invented for English. “Not the time to be cranky Tia, get started”, she says to herself and marks. As always she takes the smartest child’s paper to mark at first so that she would have a picture of all the correct answers. And to her surprise that kid had got complete marks in both the grammar and language part. She was astonished. For however smart a child be, a child is a child and therefore makes at least one silly mistake. She didn’t know whether to be proud that she had done her job well or to be happy that this kid was a born genius. So she moved on. Marking papers takes time and one tip you should always have in mind is, “Keep the soreness of the day at bay or confront the parent in a warfront.”

That’s true some parents never understand that mistakes make their child learn. The worst of all was that they even think that teachers hold a personal grudge to have put a wrong for something correct in their child’s paper. “God won’t you slap some sense into these people’s thick heads”, is what her staff body pray. But that doesn’t mean that they do not understand the parent’s interest or care but sometimes the melodramas just get too much to bear.

Tia kept on correcting and felt proud that she really might have done some good work with her kids. For most of them, even the ones she didn’t expect much had given their best and she was all awake not because of the action of the caffeine but of the enthusiasm her children had brought into her. Some children had funny way of answering and that showed their innocence and sweetness. Then her pen hovered over the sentence, “I love my best friend very much.” Best friend. That was one thing that she luckily or unluckily never got. Suddenly her world shifted into a place where she was in grade four in her school.

She had not been a really smart one at those times but she wasn’t of the lame ones too. The only subjects she loved were science and English. She remembered that she never had anyone close till that grade but she hanged out with everyone instead of being pestered by one. That was when Shana came into the picture. Their friendship started with their fight over the seat arrangement and as always Tia had taken the place with the help of the teacher. In grade five they bonded better and in grade six when classes were switched, Shana and Tia were left for one another and they took each other as BESTIES.

Tia kept on marking though the memories were flooding her and when she saw how one child chose one for a best friend but that best friend chose another. She couldn’t help but wonder what that child would feel if he gets to know that the person he considers as a best friend considers another. Tia started laughing when she felt that this seemed like a clichéd teenage episode where the boyfriend is not sure if his girlfriend really considers him as the love of her life and vice versa. But that didn’t stop her from remembering her past.

It was in their seventh grade when the class was split again Maya joined the besties in sharing the desk and chair. At first they were both hostile towards the intruder but with time everything settled. Tia always had a feeling of whom Shana would choose when she wrote, a letter for a friend, in the exam paper. Would it be “Dear Tia” or “Dear Maya” always bugged her. But the most hilarious part, now observing after so many years was their conversation after they exit the exam hall. “Um, Shana that letter we got, how did you frame it?” Tia would ask not giving away that she was testing her bestie’s loyalty. And Shana too would play along though now Tia doubted that her bestie would have understood that she was investigating. Sometimes it used to be Shana who would directly ask, “Who did you choose when writing the letter?” and then there would be that, “DO YOU SERIOUSLY DOUBT ME?” episodes.

Then again with the passage of time and in the second semester Tia got her first heart attack when Shana said that she wrote for Maya. Tia being a child then (unlike the big headed kids nowadays) was broken and she still remembered how she cried into her pillow and swore that she would never ever depend on Shana. Tia wasn’t a crybaby. So she dealt her worries within herself. The fact that her parents kept switching between the places where half of her sibling her settled never helped. For at the end of the day she still had no one to go to with her worries and so she learnt to stand on her own for her vulnerable sides.

Though she swore, it wasn’t easy for Tia to slack down from a friendship built on three years understanding. But that was only till Shana and Maya became besties excluding Tia from the circle of trio. The games that they pulled to hurt her, still hurt her. For they used the strong face she put, when they kept saying profanities about her, to hurt her more. She remembered that she bore everything well and when she got her time she did take make Shana taste the bitter fruit that she fed Tia. But unlike Tia, Shana took the case to the teacher with the help of some of Tia’s foes. Tia smiled at the memory of that scene now. “Miss, Tia keeps insulting Shana and she won’t let Maya associate with Shana. Please tell her that it’s wrong”, said the judge of the injustice who now is a mother of a child. So that led to the trio being separated for a week. For the great teacher believed that would teach them the lesson of THE IMPORTANCE OF FRIENDSHIP.

Tia smiled now thinking of it. For that is the same strategy that she now uses to make her children concentrate though not to make them understand the importance of frienship. Maybe it did work for her and her friends. For after that incident a lot of things changed about them. They all got new friends around in the class, had good class corporation and even had pleasant conversations at times. Yet they never became what they were. Sure Tia now has their number saved, still chats in whatsapp, knows that Maya is a happy mother of a lovely girl and that Shana’s stuck in the middle of a proposal but the magic that they found in their innocent age was lost right there buried right down in the fourth class room on the second floor of their school building.

Tia stopped marking half way through a paper and saw that the clock had stricken twelve. She had marked around twenty five papers and had no stamina for more. So she left the table to the comfort of her bed that wrapped her in its warm arms. Still she couldn’t switch off her mind from the thought, “Things done could be forgiven but never forgotten if it comes with the baggage of pain, hurt and heart break. Sure that combo makes you strong after a bitter lesson but at the same time it also has the power to wreck you if you are not strong enough to handle the bitterness.” Tia had silently thanked her parents many times in her life for leaving her to fight her own battle when she was young. She knew that they had no other choice and accepted it. For that made her strong enough to handle situations unlike some crybabies that irked her. So once again after silently thanking her parents, Tia made prayer for their prolonged life and added that god forbids the heartache that any of her children might get when they get to know that besties are not for everyone. She just wished that one day that child, would come to comprehend that they are better off on their own legs with some people they trust rather than leaning on the strength of brick besties as pillars in life.

Author:- Badurdeen.Fathima.Ayesha

Down the memory lane to 9c

Down the memory lane to 9c

It’s not always that

Life decides to shower happiness

So you ought to revel in it if it does.

For once the bubble is broken

Never would you gain it again

Grade 9c was when

My life gave me that

Wonderful opportunity

We were twenty seven

Each with our own baggage

Some family issues, some social issues,

Some lover boy issues, some friend issues

Some traumatic, some manageable

Somehow all had a story to tell

Yet once entering that corner, dark class

With only a passage  to separate the bathroom

A triple window high up in the wall and

Dilapidated furniture

We were happy, contended angels

For inside this uninteresting place was our bliss

Whatever pain in heart vanishes

Whatever anger that burns vanquishes

Whatever guilt that eats us diminishes

And the warmth of 9c embraces

It’s funny how we were the

Boycotted, worst, stupid, idiotic and

Best of all the TAMIL girls.

This glory was the result of

Rejecting SINHALA as a second language

None of them knew

That we were the fun-loving,

Non-jealous, smart, caring and

CUTE girls (well, some really were)

The INTERVAL was our

Most beloved period.

The food tasted freely from

Twenty seven lunch boxes

Lasts till now.

The friendship that we treasured in her

Holds its value yet.

The fights we fought for her

Holds its memory tight.

The literary associations, song practices,

Art competitions, most desired khailoolah period,

Detested morning assembly and

The Arabic school song, that we never got right.

The rumour of Zakir sir and Husainia miss.

The science lab in BOYS’ SECTION, our IT lab

CCTV in the entrance, that one cashier from Ilma

All have become monuments in our minds

We still remember Azra’s innocence, Ishama and Sameena’s jokes,

Aksha and Humaira’s tragic love story, Ayesha’s British English,

Kool and Funk Nufla’s tomfoolery, Hifla’s romantic smile

Hafsa’s scary laugh and much more

From the endless lot.

Though we teased Miss. Duck walk, Miss. Eagle eyes,

Miss. Kelavi, we cried when they left us.

Precious teachers like Shihara miss, Rizniya miss,

Riznaz miss, Vijitha miss and

Logamathi miss will never evade from

Our memories till the end our breath.

I’m sure though we all might not get together again

None of us will ever forget the

Farewell party at my place where

9c assembled for the last time or

The life we shared in that corner gloomy class.

(A part from my life which I will treasure till the end of my breath)

picture of the classroom isn't 9c but it's relative

Poet: Badurdeen. Fathima. Ayesha

Living yet

Living yet

The sky was clear, the stars were out and I just loved the tranquility, quiet and stillness of my surrounding. The land my dad had half bought recently was way into the country, so there wasn’t anything to boast about it until the night time came. We were not much interested in buying this land at first but when the land owner was so desperate to get money immediately and as he came for a deal of twenty five percentage off, we found it to be on more than agreeable terms. So we paid the advance it about a month ago and since none of us had time to come to check on the land after the first time, my parents made me take this trip. But now it seems like it was completely worth it. There’s enough fruits around in the trees, the stream running close by the land was really refreshing and musical at this peaceful moment and the small wooden house was spacious enough for a small vacation like this.

The grass on which I am laying now is about half my size and so gives me a feeling of being in a completely different universe. The Orion out there in the sky was aiming at me and the moon really seems happy to see him shooting at me. The clouds weren’t prominent but still it wasn’t hard for my wild imagination to imagine them to be in a shape of a teenage ghost.“Watching many horror movies really pays off Tessa!” I chided myself and stood up to go and ravish the mouth-watering food that the cook seems to be preparing in the kitchen. “Hmmm.. Jenna you make me hungry just by the smell of your food!” I moaned on entering the kitchen. I know Jenna had talking issues but since I had no one else to converse other than Jenna and the driver I couldn’t help but try her to make her talk.

Jenna just turned and gave me an empty look with, “You shouldn’t be out at this time. Things are different here!”. “Woah!” was all I felt. I just shrugged and stood up to go to my room in the attic. For I really didn’t like to adviced about silly, superstitious things. “You must go from here, you don’t belong here”, Jenna said out of nowhere. When I said, “Excuse me?” Jenna did not say anything nor did she turn to even look at me. I looked at my watch and found the time to be nine. Sure I was hungry but as the awesome yet mood spoiling cook took away my will to eat just now I just flew up the stairs.

The attic room had been furnished to be used as a room for one, so it fitted me perfectly. Though not extremely beautiful it was comfy and the previous inhibitor of this room had really been in love with it. For there were many evidence around that proved it. It apparently must have been an early teenager’s room. The large window also gave a breathtakingly beautiful view of the surrounding of our land and the night sky. I sat at the window seat and peered at the night sky. The night sky never fails to amaze me. The ginormous galaxy really is a wonder. While I was wondering about the creations of god I suddenly felt like someone was staring at me. I turned my head and found a girl with pale skin, long black hair, white eyes and tattered nightshift standing behind me. For a split second I couldn’t even breathe but when I came to my senses I shook my head and found Jenna standing in the doorway of my room. She left me with a “Food ready, table downstairs.” I actually was dumbstruck. Was this woman for real? Also I wasn't able to erase the image of the white angry eyes.

Anyways, as I was famished I went down and ate in the company of silence. The food was really awesome, so the wait was worth it. I finished my dinner and as Jenna was not around I washed the utensils out of habit and left for bed. The bed was comfy enough but sleep was not welcoming me as soon as I wanted. Tomorrow will be a big day. I need to do the background checking of this land, get acquainted with the few neighbours who were yards away and most of all settle the rest of the amount to own this land lawfully.

Suddenly I felt like something flashed from the door towards the window. I saw it too, it was some white flash with a black mane cascading but as I wasn’t sure, I shut my eyes and tried to get some sleep. “Gettttt ooouutt…. thissssss issn’t where youu beloooong, geeeettttt ouuutt”. This chanting kept getting louder and louder and when I wasn’t able to bare it any longer I opened my eyes and sat straight on my bed. The curtain of my window opened and the white curtain was winnowing in the wind. Saying, “All these must be my stupid imagination.” I shot out of my bed to close the window. The cool breeze welcomed me and the willow tree in front of my eyes was really beautiful with the silver shine of the full moon. Just when I was about to close the window I saw Jenna looking at the tree too. She seemed to have been lost in her own world and when I raised my eyes to see what she was seeing, I saw it!

I saw it glaring at me from the branch of the willow tree. A skinny pale figure in a tattered nightshift, with blazing white eyes and thick black mane that was flying all around. I could not shift my eyes. I was transfixed and rooted to the place. The figure did nothing but glare at me as it wanted to incinerate me with its eyes itself. I shook my head to clear my thought and looked down, Jenna was staring at me too and just when I was about to see the branch again, it swooshed in front of my face in lightening pace and knocked me down with a loud screech, “Myyyyyyy rooooommmm”. My vision blurred and I fell into a deep abyss.

The heat was penetrating through me, I couldn’t bear it anymore, I wanted to run but my body ached, I couldn’t even twist. So I just fluttered my heavy eyelids open to meet the source that was scorching me. A smile crept on my face when I saw that it was only the sun. It must be noon time by now and that was the reason for the heat. I wasn’t in hell. Well not yet atleast.

I got up to get ready for the day which I was already late for. A sudden pain hit my back bone when I stretched and that was when I notice a bruise as large as an apple at the side of my hips. At that moment I went back to the memory lane of yesterday night and a tremor shook my frame. The blazing hot sun reminded me of the yellow eyes that had glared at me not inches away from my face. I wanted explanations. What is up with this place? Then I remembered that Jenna had witnessed all that happened yesterday but not even uttered a single syllable. I dashed down jumping over two stairs at a time and not even caring about my sleeveless pajamas or the pain that shot through my body like thunderbolts.

I dashed through the two rooms downstairs, kitchen, storeroom, and even the bathroom but Jenna wasn’t in any of these places. “Seems like you’re searching for something miss”, I heard a gruff voice from behind me and on turning on my heels I saw the old driver James leaning on the door frame. This man had been in these areas and he sure would know some details about the madness that happened yesterday. So I moved towards him. “Yesterday night something happened”, I started but I didn’t fail to notice that he started too. “You know about it don’t you?” I questioned him and he hung his head. “It’s a big story miss, poor soul. It all happened because of that monster.” The pain in his eyes changed into hot red anger so he sagged to the couch nearby.

“Jenna’s child Hannah was a very lively child. She wasn’t like other teenagers. She was very much like her father, who was a wonderful friend and an excellent worker. The master of this land loved her like his own child but…” James stopped like he hesitated. As I waited he continued, “The master had a daughter too. She was of the same age as Hannah but an exact opposite of that sweet soul. Jenifer had an outrageous anger that made her do mad things that no one would even dream a teenager to do.” I kind of figured the theme of the story but remained quiet. So James went on “Jenifer hated the fact that a servant’s daughter was treated equal to her. She hated her father being kind to Hannah. She hated that Hannah too got gifts when her father came from work from abroad but miss, most of all the little monster abhorred that Hannah was given the room which she had wanted to keep for herself as an art room. That little monster wasn’t even fond of art and the master who knew this gave the room to Hannah who always loved cleaning that room though she was never asked to.”

James said that Hannah had cried out of happiness when the master had painted the room pink and purple before letting her have it as a gift for her birthday but Jenifer had not been one bit happy with the set up that she had left the room when the gift was presented. No one reacted to the anger in her eyes nor the tears streaming down her face when she left the room because they had been absorbed in Hannah’s reaction and the master’s praise of her. Two months had passed and that was when Hannah had brought her report card to show to the master. She had not noticed that Jenifer was already sitting in the dining table with tears in her eyes. When the master had seen that Hannah had got really good grades he praised her and shot Jenifer a glare and uttered, “I wish you were my child dear.”

Jenifer who had never spoken about her feelings before had burst when the master had said this and after screaming, “I wish mother was here to see me as her child while you discard me and cherish on the servant’s child!” had stormed out into the night. Hannah who had felt bad thinking that she had hurt Jenifer whom she saw as a friend had gone after her. James said that he never knew what had happened after that and the next day when he went to the stream he had seen something fat floating on the water and on nearing had seen that it was Hannah who was face down in the water, dead and soaked due to the water seeping into the body.

“I still remember how unrecognizable that beautiful child had been and how I felt carrying the corpse that was about to fall apart if I gripped a little bit further! The whole house collapsed with her death. Jenna is now always lost in her own world, Alexander had a stroke and was dead five months ago and the master now wants to sell the house.” he stopped to wipe away the tears that had rolled down his face when he was telling me the flashback. “So what happened to Jenifer?” I questioned out of curiosity. “That monster pledged that she had not even seen Hannah and had returned home after a few hours. But I am sure miss that she must have pushed that dear into the water. She was terrified when the cops kept interrogating and after a few days she started telling tales that Hannah haunted her, that she saw Hannah coming to strangle her and all other nonsenses. So the master has put her in an asylum unable to see his only daughter suffering.” he finished. “Do you think this place is haunted James?” I asked him observing the stupidity of my own question but I was as sure as my existence that all that happened yesterday night was true. “She is a sweet soul miss, I’m sure she won’t ask anything more than her own room.” With that he left the room not even noticing that I was gaping at him.

This man must be insane! I was more than sure that later he’s going to say, “She’s a lovely soul miss, I’m sure she won’t ask anything more than a little blood!” I just packed my bag with the determination to terminate the deal and drove off without James. But throughout the journey back I could not stop thinking how much responsibility parenting holds, the consequences bad parenting brings and how much Mr. Jefferson must have suffered to sell the house he has lived with his wife and one which holds so much memory for him. 

Author:- Badurdeen.Fathima.Ayesha