Rain is me <3

#

“Oh! You have a lovely tummy!” I giggled as she wore the outfit.

“What?” She turned towards me with a jerk.

“Your tummy...It’s lovely!” I said, enticingly.

“You, gowk! I’m going to kill you for this!” She said angrily & pulled her gown out.

“But, what have I done?” I tried to control my guffaw.

“You always do this to me…” Her angry expression soon faded & got replaced with tears.

“But...” I still tried to stop myself from laughing. I thought that she understood my taunt about her tummy.

Her plump, fat belly always used to emerge out as a three-dimensional sphere from whatever she wore & I loved to mock up with her regarding that.

“I know that I’m fat...But, it doesn’t mean that you’ll be treating me like this...” She said, wiping out her tears.

“You aren’t fat...Only your tummy is...” I tried to stretch the conversation a little more as I was feeling really entertained watching her crying, which I knew, was only a sort of drama.

“Curse you!” She uttered weeping & went into her room. The door behind her slammed hardly.

I knew this thing was not going to continue for more than sometime & she can’t be without me for much time.

In fact, even I can’t manage to be without her for much time.

I stuffed on a pair of earphones into my ears & began listening to my favorite Arabic songs.

Mom & dad had gone to my uncle’s place for a few hours.

We, I & my younger sister Feruza, loved this time as we got freedom to do anything that we were not able to do when mom & dad were around.

Listening to Arabic songs, I didn’t come to know when I slept.

After a few hours, when I woke up, I found myself partially lying on the sofa & partially on the floor.

I rubbed my eyes, took a deep yawn & moved to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Just then, I remembered about Feruza. She was still locked inside her room. I was shocked; really shocked. She never remained angry with me for this much time.

“Feruza, open the door!” I shouted, knocking on the door.

She didn’t answer.

“C’mon Feruza, don’t be childish!” I shouted, again.

There was no answer again. I was filled up with fear.

“Let mom & dad come. I’m going to tell them about this...” I said, silently.

She didn’t respond.

“Feruza, open the door or I’ll do something wrong with myself...” I said, at last.

As soon as I said this, a thin slip of paper rolled out from a small hole on the door. I read it. On it was written, ‘Promise me that you will never tease me again...’

“Promise!” I blurted, quickly.

After a few seconds, she weakly opened the door.

Her cheeks were all stained with tear-marks & she looked extremely pale.

“Oh! Sorry, Feeru...” I said, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, Feeru. I was just joking that time. Don’t ever do like this...” I said, softly & wiped her tears.

She nodded. We came to the drawing room.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Feruza. She nodded, silently.

“Okay, are there any packets of spaghetti in the house?” I asked her. Feruza knew better than me about these things.

“No...” She uttered, instantly.

“Damn! Okay, I’m going out to purchase some packets of spaghetti... I’ll return soon... Don’t open the door for anyone except for me or mom & dad. Okay?” I said.

“Yes...” She said.

I put on a pair of sandals & went out.

It was no longer twilight. Darkness had overshadowed the atmosphere.

I watched the black cloud cover over my head. I was sure that it was going to rain.

Feruza proffered me an umbrella, but I refused to take it because I wanted to enjoy the rain.

I made her lock the door & took a slightly long path to the department store as it was going to rain after a very long time & I really wanted to enjoy it.

Mom & dad never allowed me to drench myself in the rain.

I began to walk slowly to the department store.

And soon, it began sprinkling.

Little droplets of water drenched my hair, skin & dress.

I loved the smell of air before & after the rain falls from the clouds.

The water droplets began growing larger & falling frequently. The light pitter-patter of rain turned into wet thuds as the icy water raced to meet the ground. The sprinkling turned into a torrential downpour.

The coldness of water droplets seeped through my gauzy, long frock & chilled my skin.

Actually, I’m a great pluviophile. Rain has given me a lot; both bad & good experiences.

My legs were sloshing through the thick, slushy mud.

The clouds grew darker and darker.

I heard the hiss of vehicles on the wet, glistening roads.

I loved & adored the rain & the feel of it in my hair & on my skin.

The vigorous fragrance of the wet soil entered my nose, making my veins feel fresh & pleasant.

Walking through the rain was not easy for me. I had to jump from puddle to puddle that were formed in slight dips & cracks in the dark, gray road.

I rushed to the department store & purchased 3 bags of spaghetti.

I stood at a corner of the road for a moment.

Drops of water trickled down my body as I stood there frozen, my gaze fixed on the horizon, staring at the beauty of the whole scene. As the clouds continued crying, I turned & walked away.

I wanted to stay there for a little more time, but thinking about Feruza, I rushed to my home.

“Have you got them? I’m really hungry...”

“What spaghetti? Oh, yeah... I’m cooking it for you...” I said & went to the kitchen.

I kept the spaghetti in the pot on the burner to boil them.

“Hila, will you cook chicken spaghetti for me?” Feruza said.

She never called me Aapa (Big sister); rather she called me by my name, Hila.

I like my name very much. Hila means ‘Hope’ & I’m definitely full of hope.

“So, you’re back to your normal mood?” I said as she ordered me.

“Yeah...And you know what, I love eating & no matter what happens to my belly, I’ll never stop eating...Okay?” She said.

“That’s what I wanted to listen, sweetie...Okay; I’m cooking it for you...” I laughed & gave a pat on her back.

She went out of the kitchen with a smile.

I kept some frozen chicken to boil too in the same pot in which spaghettis were getting boiled.

After some time, when the chicken & the spaghettis were boiled, I began frying vegetables in a saucepan.

I fried some spring onions, carrots, French-beans, bell-peppers, chilies, fresh tomatoes, mustard seeds & eventually the pieces of frozen chicken.

The sizzling sound produced by these scrumptious objects tempted me a lot as I watched the rainfall from the little window in the kitchen.

The feeling of warmth inside the kitchen & the essence of cool rain which I got was superb.

I then added the boiled spaghetti & all the spices including salt & sauces inside the pan.

I sprinkled a few drops of vinegar over the almost-ready spaghetti & then I gave it a final toss.

I did the seasoning of spaghetti with lots of freshly chopped herbs, black-pepper, celery & coriander.

After this, I switched off the fire & served the chicken spaghetti steaming hot with garlic & tomato sauces to Feruza.

I prepared a warm cup of green tea for myself & went into my room along with my plate of spaghetti.

I sat on the bed near the open window, watching the pleasing rain falling.

I began remembering those jolly days when rain accompanied us in everything that we did.

 

 

 

#

Zoufishan, my best buddy, was majestically gorgeous. ‘Zoufishan’ means Moonlight. And yes, she was as beautiful as the light of the Moon.

Her face always looked tranquil, her skin was mellow-colored, and her bonny body was aesthetic & lithe.

As all the girls in our mighty group were Muslim, including me, our group was the most fabulous.

We all were the most beautiful girls but Zoufishan was something more than that.

She was very simple & pious & often she used to wear ‘Hijab’ to college. Zoufishan always wore elegant Pakistani Salwar & Kameez & her hair were always tied in a graceful ponytail. She had obsidian-black hair.

But, her beauty reflected in her simplicity.

I’ve never seen a more cute, innocent & faithful person than her in all my life.

Being best friends, we shared everything with each other.

I clearly remember the way she used to talk, making cute faces & smiling.

I considered her as the prettiest girl but no one other than me called her beautiful.

Perhaps this was because of her clothes, because we all wore modern clothes like the other non-Muslim girls of the college but she doesn’t.

Rather, our large group considered ‘me’ as the most beautiful girl.

I very clearly remember an essay which Fadila wrote on me.

She mostly wrote about my frank, bubbly, joyous, rambunctious & easy-going nature & about my beauty.

She wrote that I have saccharine-sweet lips & they are lilac soft. I have vermilion-red hair that plunge over my shoulders, rapture-blue eyes, and dainty nose & glossy skin. She also wrote that I wore trendy clothes in an offbeat way.

I very well remember how much happy I was that day & I also remember Zoufishan standing in a nook & smiling while Fadila was reading the essay loudly in front of everyone.

She never envied me rather she always appreciated me.

Perhaps, she didn’t knew that how much beautiful & bright she was because no one ever made her feel that.

Laiha always said that Zoufishan never deserved to be a part of our ‘Fabulous’ group.

While I was remembering all these things, rainfall had ceased. But big drops of water were shaken from the dark & high trees.

I saw mom & dad’s car approaching towards the house. Quickly, I ran downstairs to open the house’s gate for them.

When I was out, Feruza knew what she had to do. Yes, quickly, she had to clean the entire house.

Feruza kept all the things: the clothes, the earphones, the utensils & the pillows at their correct places & sat down on the sofa pretending that we had not messed the house even a bit.

Finally, when mom & dad entered inside the house, I felt safe to find the entire house clean.

I laughed silently looking at Feruza. She laughed too.

You know, that always happens with us.

“Hila, Feruza, your uncle has sent butter-chicken for you...” Mom said taking out a greasy, pink-colored large lunchbox from her bag.

“Yes...” Feruza ran from the bedroom to the dining table. She was amazingly excited to eat auntie’s butter chicken.

“C’mon, Hila!” Mom shouted.

“Eh! Mum, I’m not hungry...” I said, slowly.

“Have you eaten anything?” She asked.

“No, no! Nothing...But, still I’m not hungry...” I said, pretending that we’ve not eaten anything in her absence.

“Oh! C’mon, Hila... It’s very delicious...” Feruza said.

“Is it? Okay, I’m coming...” I hurried to the table. I couldn’t resist eating it.

In reality, I love chicken. Vegetarians are really unlucky that they have never tasted the mouth-watering, scrumptious taste of non-veg.

“It’s very tasty... Mum, you should take its recipe from auntie...” I said, licking my fingers.

“Sure!” She said with a smile.

I love mom & daddy; they have always supported me.

They have never restricted me from doing anything; but yeah, they have never allowed me to get wet in the rain.

After having our dinner, I & Feruza went upstairs in our room to sleep.

I was feeling quite calm & pleasant.

“What’s the reason behind your happiness, Hila?” Feruza said, drifting off to bed. “Can’t you see me happy?” I said, silently. “Actually, not at all...” She giggled. “So, it’s a bit bad time for you, because I’m really happy today!” I pinched her, laughing. “Oh, C’mon! I was just mocking up with you...” Feruza said. “I know... Now, go to sleep!” I said, gently.

She nodded.

I looked outside the window. All the things were still wet with icy drops of rainwater.

Feruza was tired & so she slept soon. I stood up & walked towards my cupboard.

My cupboard is like my memory-storage box. It has preserved every memory of my college, friends & school.

I opened it & took out my photo album.

 

 

 

 

#

My favorite photograph on the front page contained me, Zoufishan, Fadila & Haya.

Even though I had a large group of more than fifteen girls, still my main lovely group comprised Zoufishan, Fadila & Haya only.

We all were best friends of each other.

I remember that we clicked this beautiful photograph in a meadow of Mawlynnong village.

Mawlynnong village in Meghalaya was our favorite hang-out place.

I clearly remember our last time’s trip to that village. It has been almost four years since that trip till today, yet everything is so fresh in my mind.

When we for the first time heard that the Mawlynnong village in Meghalaya has been accorded as the ‘The cleanest village in Asia’, we knew we had to plan a trip to see it.

We finally planned a week’s trip to it.

It was located in the East Khasi Hills of Meghalaya.

The village was at a distance of around 90 kilometers from Shillong & the road leading up to it had many panoramic & breathtaking scenes.

As we walked around the narrow zigzag paths of the village, we were astounded by the very clean & well maintained black roads & beautiful bamboo stilt houses. There were stylish bamboo dustbins everywhere.

A charming river flowed all across the village.
The village was quite pretty, especially in the monsoons, when there was lush greenery all around with waterfalls paving the way to small streams & abundance of flowering orchids dangling from the trees & hedges.

It was indeed a great place for any pluviophile, like me, because the village received rainfall very frequently; all throughout the year.

In the first trip to the village only, we had discovered a little place, a meadow, which was nourished with plenty of opulent vegetation & was near a lovely brook.

The last trip that we had to that meadow was mesmerizing.

The memories of our last trip to the meadow are vivid with peaceful & relaxing thoughts, motivated by the beauty, scents & sounds of the meadow.

I, Zoufishan, Fadila & Haya planned our last visit to it on a rainy day.

The atmosphere of the Mawlynnong village was always filled with cool fog & mist.

The Mawlynnong Rest House was the only place to stay at the village.

The two rest cottages in the village were basic bamboo houses built on top of stilts that almost jut out into the adjacent forests. Staying in them was an experience in itself.

One cottage was for two people & a bigger cottage was for four people.

We took the bigger one on rent.

The season was of fall, but still it was raining heavily.

“1, 2, 3… & I’m running out!” I shrilled, laughing.

“Try not to!” Zoufishan pulled me back & closed the cottage’s door.

“Hila, can’t you wait till it stops raining?” Haya said, nibbling hot noodles.

“Oh! No! I want to get out in the rain! C’mon all, it will be fun!” I cried.
“Shut up, Hila!” Fadila said, wrapping herself in a shawl.

“You shut up!” I giggled & ran out.

And in a moment, I was completely drenched. The lilt sound of rain tickled in my ears.

I still remember that feel of cool rain on my face.

“Zoufishan, Come out please! It’s splendid here! Leave that wee hovel!” I shrilled.

“We won’t!” Haya answered back.

“Well, you all are wasting your good time! Hey, I’m going to the meadow!” I giggled.

I ran down to the meadow. The freshness of the village, the little waterfalls, the hills & the rainfall, all were brilliant.

The whole scene was quintessentially awesome.

I sat idly under an enormous ebony tree. Whirlwinds whisked across the rolling hills of the meadow.

I ran my hand into the flowing, cool water of the babbling brook. The sky above my head looked murky & blue-gray.

I just sat there, watching every big & tiny movement of the beautiful nature. I got uncountable amount peace & happiness there.

Only when it had stopped raining, I was able to follow the path to my cottage again.

I was fully wet & my soft-clothed dress had gone translucent.

“So, you’re back, hanky-panky?” Haya said & she looked in a bad mood.

“Nice try, Haya… But, this name suits you more than me!” I grinned, wiping myself with a towel.

“Stop it, you both… Hila, we’ve cooked some murphies, would you like to eat them?” Fadila asked.

“Murphies?” I asked in confusion.

“Potatoes!” Zoufishan answered.

“Oh! Sure…” I exclaimed.

I sat down with a bowl of boiled potatoes tossed with spices & tomato sauce.

“Is it our dinner?” I asked, staring at my bowl.

“Any doubts? That’s all for you today…” Haya said, grinning.

She was always irritated with me, due to some or the other thing. She always tried to find even a little way to either tease me or fight with me.

But she was still one of my best friends, anyways.

“Haya, will you stop talking to me so badly?” I said, slowly.

I felt a twitch of annoyance due to her.

“Well, no…” She said again.

“Okay, this marks the beginning of our long-lasting fight… Zoufishan & Fadila, don’t you forget that this time I didn’t start the fight… Haya, you’re gone now…” I said, angrily.

Haya always went up from my saturation point.

“Let’s see who goes where & when!” Haya sniffed.

“Oho! Please Haya & Hila don’t mess the trip… We’ve come here to enjoy & not to fight… We know that you both have caliber to fight more than anyone else in the world, even on a stupid, petite reason. But, please stop it, now. We all are best friends. Aren’t we?” Zoufishan said, calmly.

This was Zoufishan’s best quality; she used to handle every serious & easy situation, so calmly & gently.

Haya & I stared each other for a moment.

“Yeah… We’re best friends…!” Haya said & hugged me.

Zoufishan & Fadila pounced on us & even though it was difficult for 4 people to hug each other together, we did it as perfectly as we always did.

“Oh! Love you all!” Fadila moaned.

We locked the cottage & went to sleep.

“Hey, Hila, why do you like rain so much?” Fadila questioned, as we lay on the carpeted floor to sleep.

“Well, I would have answered you if there was one reason for why I love rains… There are infinite numbers of reasons for this…” I said, gently.

“But, I don’t like the monsoons at all. They’re dirty & make slush everywhere… I like neat & tidy summers…” Fadila responded.

“Well, that’s your choice, sweetie… I don’t mind! Summers are good as well!” I said, smiling.

She nodded.

That beautiful night, I wasn’t able to sleep. Not because I was tensed or anything else like that, but because I felt extremely contented having so awesome & hearty, dear friends. Not everyone is enough lucky to get friends like that, but I was surely fortunate in this thing.

Next morning, when we woke up, actually when Fadila, Haya & Zoufishan woke up, (For I wasn’t able to sleep for the whole night), it felt really hot & humid.

We all took a hasty bath as there was only one quaint bathroom in the entire cottage & we all were in a hurry to go outside & check out the scenic view of the early morning in the Mawlynnong village.

We ran out to the meadow & sat quietly under the same large ebony tree.

People say that even a gutter can be a splendid place if one is with his friends.

And I had both the company of my beloved friends & the place too was extremely beautiful.

The morning that day looked just like a refreshing summer morning & Fadila was happiest amongst all of us.

The orange-hued sky was fascinating.

The distant hills reflected the faint alpine-glow of the first beam of light from the Sun.

The shade under the tree where we sat was dark, still & damp.

We sat admiring the lovely sight of how the gray sky of night breaks slowly to open the way for the morning.

A few birds began chirping in the anticipation.

The color of fresh morning began to work its way down the hillside, ridge by ridge, igniting boulders of granite with a fiery curtain of daylight.

It dropped & tumbled like golden honey flowing down a long stack of hot pancakes.

We were at the end of the meadow.

I began sketching the scene wildly on a notebook brought by me.

And like a cold camper stepping into a pleasantly hot shower; the warmth stroked my back & my shoulders.

I dragged my feet through the deep green, dewy blades of grass that constantly scratched and grabbed at me.

The glaring Sun became harder & harder onto my smooth, silky skin, filling my body with incredible warmth.

The warmth felt like velvety-smooth, melted milk chocolate dripping through my pounding veins.

I allowed the pen & notebook in my rose-scented hands to drop into the sun-filled meadow & grabbed one of the creamy petals of the rose that bloomed in front of the brook. It looked as soft as a newborn baby’s bum & it quickly disintegrated beneath my distinct fingerprints.

I inhaled deeply.

I felt that I sat in some magical part of the Earth.

That entire sunny meadow gave me an incredible feeling of euphoria.

“Hila, c’mon… The glow has subsided… We should go back now!” Zoufishan gave a pat on my shoulders, after sometime.

“Yeah…But, can’t we stay here for some more time?” I said.

“Oh! Hila, okay…” Zoufishan said.

After this, we clicked millions of photographs of us & of the place.

Photographs are treasures, treasures that preserve one’s memories.

We left & took loads of souvenirs of the place & did everything which one can do only with his friends. We shared many untold incidents with each other.

Like this, we didn’t come to know when it was night.

This was actually meant to be the last day of our last trip to the meadow.

“Hila, now don’t you dare to say that you’re going to do a night-stay here…” Haya said.

“No…” I laughed.

We began moving to our cottage. Night of the meadow was more beautiful than the morning.

And then something strange happened.

When we were moving out of the meadow, a very fair, cute & small boy suddenly came running in front of us.

On observing him closely, I saw that he wore a wee, tattered shirt & ragged pants & his thin body was stained with dust.

He was roughly of between 5-6 years old.

He was really fair & had small, gentle hair.

The moon’s delicate light shimmered on his innocent face as he stood staring us, quietly.

No one did anything for a minute & then he ran inside the meadow.

“Wait…!” I shouted & we all ran behind him.

He ran & reached near the brook of the meadow.

“Wait, dear! What are you doing here?” I asked gaspingly as he finally stopped.

He stared at me awkwardly for a moment & then ignoring us, he took out a crumpled ball of paper from his pocket.

“Hey…!” I moved near him.

And then all I remember is that he threw that ball of paper in his hands into the brook & ran very far away.

Fadila tried to catch him, but he was too fast.

Quickly, I lifted that paper ball from the brook.

It was already very wet & what was written or drawn inside it had smudged away.

“Shit!” I exclaimed.

Fadila took the paper in her hands.

“Hey, Hila! There’s something fuzzy written on this paper & I can read it!” Fadila said, slowly.

“Really, what’s written on it? Read out!” I said.

“Y…o…u- You, people, are, no one to, take, our, place, leave, or, something, wrong, will, happen…” Fadila read out, very slowly as she wasn’t able to read the fuzzy writings on the paper properly.

“What? I can’t understand anything…!” I exclaimed.

“Hila, perhaps this meadow is someone else’s hangout place, perhaps of some native of this village, & he is not happy to see us at their place…!” Zoufishan said after a few seconds.

“It seems like what you are saying is correct, Zoof!” Haya remarked.

“Yeah, okay… Haya, give me my notebook please!” I said.

“Here it is.” Haya gave me the notebook.

“I’m writing a note to the one who sent this note to us through that boy…” I whispered.

“What are you gonna write in it?” Haya asked.

“Ah, nothing… Just that we’ve not taken their place & we are leaving tomorrow & they can enjoy this place forever after this…” I told them.

“That’s fine! Where are you going to place it?” Fadila questioned.

“Right here” I rolled up the slip of paper & placed it under a pebble near the brook.

“What if they didn’t get it?” Haya questioned.

“Nothing…! And by the way, we’re leaving tomorrow only, so they won’t experience any problem after that… Okay?” I answered.

“Yeah… Let’s go now!” Zoufishan moved out of the meadow.

“Yea!” We nodded & moved to the cottage.

“What’s the time?” Haya asked.

“It’s 11:30 PM!” Fadila said with drowsy eyes.

“I can’t be awake anymore now!” Haya said & fell on the carpeted floor.

“Me too!” Fadila also did the same thing.

Haya & Fadila told me once that their favorite hobby was sleeping.

“Hila, will you sleep now?” Zoufishan asked me.

“Huh? Of course not, Zoof! How can you even ask me that?” I laughed.

“Oh! Sorry!” She smiled too.

I can’t sleep easily; this is one more of all those things that Zoufishan definitely knew about me.

“Zoof, I’m really eager to meet the one who wrote us that note!” I said, silently.

“Yeah, me too…” Zoufishan answered, slowly.

We both again moved out of the cottage & sat on the spotless, clean road in front of it.

As the darkness surrounds the Mawlynnong village, the weather becomes cool.

No one was around us, & there was only a pretty sensation of cool air on our naked arms.

It’s a beautiful feeling when you’re having an awesome company of an awesome person & you know that nothing is going to bother or trouble you & there’s only peace & silence around you.

“Zoof, promise me that we’ll always be best friends…!” I said, holding her tender hands.

“I promise you, Hila… You’ll be my best friend till my last heartbeat!” She replied, smiling. Her godly smile reflected everything; her love, loyalty, faith & trust for our friendship.

We sat there, just there. We knew that our collage will soon be over, & then it will not be possible for us to meet. And even if we met, we won’t be able to have this type of perfect ambiance & time.

Zoufishan gave me something very precious that night. It was a golden, lozenge-shaped pendant. The pendant held a tiny photograph of ours.

I’ve the pendant in my neck to this day.

And as I’ve already stated, rain has accompanied us in every great moment. Rain is surely somehow related to my fate; I’m definite about it.

And as we sat there talking to each other, it began raining. Zoufishan knew that I loved rains, so she sat with me.

And soon rain drenched everything: The trees, the fresh grass, the roads, the huts, Zoufishan & me.

I noticed Zoufishan. She was smiling, very lively & she looked so… graceful & pretty.

Rain made everything beautiful. It showered my spirit & watered my soul.

“Hila, don’t you think that raindrops are the bravest things created by Allah?” Zoufishan said, slowly.

“Huh? Why?” I asked.

“Because they are never afraid of falling…!” She replied.

“Yeah…” I smiled.

“Zoof, you know what things I love the most? They are first of all my family, then rainy days, good books, chicken, good music, comfortable T-shirts, hugs and…” I said, laughing.

“And, Hilo?” She questioned.

“And you…” I giggled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#

“Hey, Hila! What are you doing? It’s almost morning & you have not slept yet! What’s the matter?” Feruza shouted, suddenly waking up from her deep sleep.

I instantly came in the present from my memories.

I checked the time. It was 4:30 AM.

“What happened, Hila?” Feruza shouted again.

“Oh! No, no, nothing… You just sleep… I was thinking about something…” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“You were thinking something for the whole night?” She asked, getting confused.

“Yeah… You won’t understand it!” I said, smiling.

“Whatever!” She uttered & slept again.

When she slept, I again began thinking about my last trip to Mawlynnong village.

 

“You love me, Hilo?” She laughed.

“Yes, why not? Don’t you love me?” I asked in confusion.

“Sure, I do love you!” She gave a pretty smile. Our night went as smoothly as butter on a slice of warm bread.

Next early morning, we did packing of our things & for the last time went to our meadow.

“Good heavens! Hila, there’s a note here!” Haya shrilled.

“Really?” I ran & took the note in my hands. “Thank you. We all would like to meet you! Wait for us!” I read out.

“They want to meet us?” Haya said, awkwardly.

“Who are ‘they’?” Fadila asked.

“Huh? How will we know, Fadila? Zoufishan, I think we must leave now or we’ll miss our train…” Haya said, moving out of the meadow.

“Hey, Haya! We must wait for them!” I said, pulling her into the meadow.

“Hilo’s correct!” Zoufishan said.

“Zoufishan, Hila is always correct for you!” Haya sniffed.

“Stop it please, Haya…” Fadila shouted.

“I don’t care!” Haya whispered angrily & stood near a tree.

She always did that; she was never happy with what Fadila, Zoof & I did.

Fifteen minutes passed.

“Should we leave now?” Haya said, getting more frustrated.

“Just a minute more…” I said, desperately waiting for ‘them’.

Just a few seconds later, I saw some girl standing behind the same ebony tree & staring at us.

“Hey…! Are you the one who wrote us that note?” I uttered, walking near to her.

She didn’t run away but she looked extremely afraid.

“Hey, why are you so afraid?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer.

“C’mon! Do whatever you want to do & go away! We are almost very late because of you!” Haya angrily shouted & pulled her to us.

“Haya, don’t do anything like this to her… Can’t you see that she’s afraid?” Zoufishan said, gently.

Haya awkwardly stared at that girl for a second. “Okay, I’m sorry…” She said, slowly.

I smiled. I was actually surprised to see Haya saying sorry to someone.

I went near to that girl.

She looked exactly of our age.

She had a wafer thin & fair body, nebulous-black eyes, pencil-thin eyebrows, sparkling teeth & nougat-brown hair tied in a long pigtail.

At last, with respect to my authorial eyes, I could conclude that the girl was beautiful.

“You, please don’t be afraid… Tell us your name…” I asked her in a friendly voice.

“Lail” She answered in a dulcet voice.

“You’re Muslim then?” I asked, happily.

She nodded.

“Hey, wow! Are you a native?”

“Yes.” She replied, silently.

“Okay, well I’m Hila, she’s Zoufishan, she’s Fadila & she’s Haya & we all are from Chandigarh…” I said, pointing towards Fadila, Haya & Zoof.

She nodded again, meekly.

“Hey, what’s making you so afraid? We won’t do anything to you. Okay?” I said, softly.

“Yes” She replied, a little loudly this time.

I figured out that she was a girl with a demure & timorous personality.

She wore a huge, red-colored skirt with an elegant, white-colored, full-sleeved top. Her clothes smelt of cinnamon & meadow-fresh mint like if she spent all her time in the meadow. Her simple & quaint dress clearly reflected that she was a native to this village only.

We came & sat near the brook.

“So, tell us why did you think that we are going to take your meadow?” Fadila asked.

“Umm… We observed that you all were spending much of your time in this meadow… So, umm… we thought that you all are going to snatch our place from us… That’s all!” She replied, timidly.

“Okay, I wish we have already cleared your doubt!” Zoufishan exclaimed.

She nodded & smiled.

“Who was that little boy who sent us that note?” Haya asked, suspiciously.

“Oh! He was my younger brother, Ali.” She said, silently.

“Didn’t he come with you to meet us?” I asked.

“No. He has come…” She replied, instantly.

“Where is he then?” Zoof asked.

“He’s there!” She pointed towards a distant tree & shouted, “Ali! You can come now! They won’t do anything wrong with us. These are good people!”

She said this thing louder than anything she spoke before, perhaps because she was assured now that we won’t do anything wrong with her.

“Ali!” She shouted again.

And just then, that little boy’s innocent, fair face soon appeared in front of us.

“Hey! Little cutie!” I went & kissed his soft cheeks.

“What’s your age, dear?” Fadila asked.

We all gazed at her awkwardly for a moment. It was really a stupid question. Fadila was an extremely simple-minded girl. She always proved that what we called her, ‘Simple Simon’, was truly a correct name for her.

“Hey, dear, don’t listen to her… You tell us that in which school & standard do you study?” Zoof asked.

Yes, that was a sensible question.

Ali didn’t answer. We thought that like his elder sister, he too was afraid.

“Dear, you don’t need to be afraid & we are not going to snatch your place too… Okay?” I gave a soft pat on his back.

He still didn’t answer.

“Umm… He will not answer…” Lail said, slowly.

“Why?” I questioned, getting confused.

“Well, actually, he can’t speak, I mean, he’s unable to speak. This is since his birth.” Lail replied, gloomily.

“Oh, no! We’re really sorry… We didn’t know…” I replied, sadly. I was shocked.

This was the reason for why he didn’t tell us anything that night too.

“It’s alright… That wasn’t your fault!” Lail replied, silently.

We all remained silent for a minute.

“So, you wrote us that if we didn’t give your meadow back to you, then you will do something wrong with us… But, I don’t think that a girl with such a shy personality can ever write something like this to anyone…” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, you are correct! That line wasn’t written by me… Actually, my elder sister wrote that thing. I’m really sorry for that… I told her several times that she should not write that but she didn’t listen to me… She loves this meadow more than us…!” Lail replied, laughing.

“Oh, really? What’s her name?” Zoof asked, cheerfully.

“Her name is Ziya & she’s only a year older than me…” Lail replied.

“Nice!” I exclaimed.

Lail began telling us many incidents about her siblings & the meadow.

I don’t remember any of them, but they were really good.

She also told us that she was an orphan & her parents had died when she was very young. After that, she, Ali & Ziya used to spend much of their time in this meadow only. And that’s why they loved it so much.

We all enjoyed talking to her & she had become our friend in just an hour.

But just then something very apprehensive happened.

We heard someone calling Lail’s name very loudly.

Lail ran out of the meadow. We all too ran behind her.

“What happened, uncle?” Lail finally stopped when she saw some man at the edge of the meadow.

“Come fast! Lail, come with me!” He shrieked.

He was sweating badly like if he had extremely bad news for Lail.

“But, tell me what happened?” Lail was seriously terrified.

“Y-your sister Ziya, she’s dead…” He replied almost weeping.

“What?” She groaned.

“Yes… She has committed suicide… Come with me!” He moaned, crying.

We all felt a sudden pang.

“What the heck you’re saying!” Lail couldn’t believe that.

“Lail, I know it’s hard to believe, but Ziya’s dead… You’ve to come with me!” He said with grim.

“Allah!” Lail uttered and ran away. Ali ran behind her.

I tried to follow her but Haya stopped me.

“What, Haya?” I shrilled.

“Hila, you won’t go anywhere… It’s her matter!” Haya replied.

“But she’s in trouble… We’ve to help her!” I cried.

“She’s no one to us, Hila! C’mon, we should leave now! Haya stopped me again.

“But…” I uttered.

“Hila, let’s go!” Haya pulled my hand.

Zoof and Fadila didn’t say anything.

No one allowed me to follow Lail. And there, we went away.

We didn’t even come to know the reason behind Lail’s sister’s suicide. We left her in trouble & came back to Chandigarh.

This thing startled and troubled me for a few days, but then I forgot about our brief meeting with Lail.

And today, it has been four long years since that day in the meadow. Neither I have visited that beautiful meadow in these four years nor have I met my best friends.

We only met a few times after our collage was over.

Fadila & Haya are still my friends on Facebook but we don’t get to chat so often. Zoufishan’s simple & reserved nature never allowed her to make a Facebook account.

I clearly remember the last time I met Zoof.

That day, she told me that her mother has passed away. She was extremely sad. Zoufishan used to cry very rarely, but I saw her crying so badly that day.

After that, she told me that she was leaving for Jabalpur, MP.

Jabalpur was her home city.

Her parents had sent her to Chandigarh when she was very young to her auntie’s house so that she can complete her studies here.

That day, when I met Zoufishan for the last time, I asked her that when will be meeting again. She answered by saying ‘very soon’. But unfortunately, I’ve not even heard her lovely voice since that day.

It’s not that I didn’t try to meet her or get any news of her. I did every possible thing to just know whether she was alright or not.

I called her several times but she never picked up my phone.

I eventually stopped calling her when on a day I came to know that her mobile number was allotted to someone else.

I asked Fadila & Haya & all my friends about her, but no one really had any idea about where she was.

At last, I went to Jabalpur too. Zoufishan had given me her house’s address once & so I went to her house in Jabalpur.

But, I found that her house was locked.

I tried to ask some people of the neighborhood about her, but they just told me that her whole family had shifted somewhere else & this house is kept on sale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#

“Hey, Hila! What were you doing for the whole night?” Feruza said, brushing her teeth.

I immediately looked at the wall clock. It was 7:55 AM.

“What?” I was shocked. I was thinking about the meadow for the whole night.

“You were thinking something, right?” Feruza said, coming near to me.

“Yeah…” I yawned & got out of bed.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I was just thinking about my long-separated friends…” I sighed.

“You mean- Fadila, Haya & Zoufishan?” Feruza knew everything about me.

“Yeah, dear…” I said, going inside the washroom.

After I was done, I came out of the washroom & stood in front of the mirror.

My eyes lingered upon a new bottle of compact make-up foundation. I was sure that it was Feruza’s. She loved to apply make-up.

“Feruza, you should not apply too much make-up on your skin… You’re just in ninth standard & you very well know that it is not at all good for your skin!” I always tried to explain her bad sides of doing too much of make-up.

“I know, Hila. But you see, I’m not as beautiful as you are… So, I need to do make-up!” She replied, instantly.

She was wearing her school-uniform.

“Who told you that you’re not beautiful & who told you that make-up makes one beautiful?” I asked her with a frowning expression.

“No one told me that, but I clearly know it. Because it’s true…” She replied, a little sadly.

“I know you won’t understand! But, please don’t ever say that you’re not beautiful! You are the most beautiful & beloved person of my life.” I said, pinching her pink cheeks.

She smiled & said, “But I thought that it was Zoufishan…”

I coughed.

“She’s number two! And I’m just asking you to apply less make-up… And see, I don’t apply even a bit!” I said.

“Hmm… Okay!” She kissed me & left for her school.

I inhaled deeply.

From my window, I could see small puddles on the road filled with rainwater.

I tied a ponytail, took my cell phone & put on a pair of sandals on my feet.

“Where are you going, Hila?” Mom shouted, as I went out of the house.

“Just on a short walk… I’ll come back soon!” I answered, closing the gate.

Our locality is green & clean, but not as clean as the Mawlynnong Village.

I slowly walked on the road.

It was not raining today, but there were large puddles everywhere on the road.

When we were in school, I remember that Zoufishan always avoided the puddles on the road because she was afraid of getting wet.

But, I used to jump on them & laugh. There is no point in being scared of getting wet, because the rainwater always dries. And it is like taking a bath.

After a while, Zoufishan used to get jealous of my fun & she used to join me.

When we used to get tired of dancing in water, we used to sit down on the curb to dry ourselves.

But those things are only in my memories today.

I walked further & further and my eyes spotted a vada-pav stall on the way. A spicy aroma of garlic, potatoes, coriander & onions wafted through the air.

It was a small, blackened-with-grease stall besieged by people. I joined in & shouted my order, “One vada-pav.” After waiting for a few minutes, I finally got my hands cupped around my vada-pav.

I quickly crushed my teeth into it & wow! That was vada-pav heaven! The batter was crisp; the potatoes were cooked to perfection & the delicious garlic chutney was divine. And I felt top of the world while eating it.

I gave 35 rupees to the shopkeeper & walked further.

The puddle in front of me looked refreshing & I took off my sandals so I could rest my bare feet in it. It was cold, but not a winter cold, so I stayed. The surface of the water formed circles & shimmered as I put my feet on it.

I could see reflections of people passing by me in that puddle. I sat on a large rock near that puddle & began staring different people in it.

This puddle might show me a beautiful girl or an old, ragged woman, I thought. The water in the puddle looked still, but I knew that it will go, like the sorrows go from our lives.

Water comes & goes. The puddles get smaller & smaller, until they disappear. And when they rain down again, they bring something new, new reflections of people & new voices.

I love to meet new people & make new friends, but it’s not that I’ll forget my old beloved friends. I’ll never forget Fadila, Haya & especially my Zoof, I thought to myself.

 

I heard my phone was ringing.

I picked up the call. It was mom’s call & she was asking me to come back to home.

I checked the time. It was 9:30 AM. I had been watching inside that puddle for almost two hours. People passing by me would have thought that I’m mad, but I love to observe what others don’t.

I stood up & walked to my home.

“Yes, mom?” I shouted, opening the house gate.

“Hila!” I heard the voice of my dearest auntie.

I was astounded. I ran inside.

“Haw! Auntie” I cried in happiness & hugged her tightly. She kissed me.

My auntie was a cute, plump lady. She loved to give as well as get kisses.

I kissed her back.

“Heelu!” My happy-go-lucky uncle ran towards me with a smile.

He was a rangy person with a fit body. And he was also the jolliest person I’ve ever seen.

I hugged him.

I love my uncle & auntie & yes, my little Imtiyaz too.

They were the best among all of our relatives.

“Oh! Where’s my cutie Imtiyaz?” I shrilled.

Imtiyaz was my little, two years old, cousin brother.

“He’s there, dear…” Auntie pointed towards the kitchen.

I nodded & ran in the kitchen. He was playing with Noori. Noori was uncle & auntie’s pet kitten.

“Hey, little cutie!” I said & held him softly in my arms.

He giggled at me & I messed with his fluffy, smooth & brown hair.

“So, have you taken proper care of Noori?” I asked him, smiling.

He tried to say ‘yes’ in his petite, childish voice, but it was not so clear.

He looked up at me & I could see the happiness in his blue eyes. His lovely eyes were round & big & his smile was cute & wide, forming dimples on his rosy cheeks.

I kissed his forehead & took him & Noori into the drawing room.

Noori was a cute kitten & was furry & white. She purred softly as I brushed my hand on her head.

“Auntie, have you told your butter chicken’s recipe to mom?” I said, gently putting Imtiyaz & Noori on the couch.

Auntie laughed. She said after a few seconds, “Why don’t we cook it today only?”

My face shimmered.

“Yeah, of course!” I yelled. As I’ve already said, I love chicken.

“Hila?” Mom hissed & stopped me from being so over-excited.

“Sorry, mum…” I whispered.

“It’s okay; we all will cook it today only!” Uncle yammered, laughing.

I nodded, happily. Actually not only I, but everyone in our family love to eat & cook chicken.

My uncle & auntie were the most joyful & happy-go-lucky people I knew on the Earth.

They had two children & both of them were boys. One was little Imtiyaz & the other was sixteen-year old Faizal.

Faizal was a scowled & cheeky boy. He was always angry with everyone due to some reason & didn’t like to go anywhere. His mouth only uttered offensive words & due to this, he was never taken anywhere by uncle & auntie.

But, Faizal was very brilliant at studies.

But, just being good at studies doesn’t means that you are actually good.

I don’t like him at all; he was a rubbish tartar.

Mum, dad, uncle & auntie assembled inside the kitchen & I knew that they would take at least four hours to cook the grand feast of butter chicken. So, I decided to do some work in the meantime. I found Imtiyaz was already asleep on the couch. I wrapped a soft quilt around him & made him sleep on the bed. Also, I gave a bowl of hot milk to Noori & placed her on the platform of the kitchen.

I went upstairs to my room & took Feruza’s laptop & opened my Facebook account in it.

I moved the scroll bar down & just then my eyes lingered upon a photograph album. It was uploaded by Fadila. I was shocked. That was the first time she had uploaded her photographs on Facebook. I quickly opened the album. And there, I was mesmerized!

Fadila had uploaded photos of our last trip to Mawlynnong village.

She had uploaded that photograph too which was my favorite. In that photo, I was curled around Zoufishan’s neck, Haya was making a grotesque face & Fadila was clicking the photo. It was a wonderful selfie.

Those photographs again refreshed my memories of all our trips to that meadow. And once again I began missing my Zoof, Fadila & Haya.

Fadila had captioned the album by writing, ‘My lovely Girlfriends- Zoof, Heelu & Haya!”

I was overwhelmed. I quickly liked the photo & commented on it by writing, ‘Love you so much my Simple Simon!’

Then I closed my Facebook account & went out to the balcony.

My eyes gleamed in the bright rays of Sun.

I stretched & thought that somewhere Zoof too might be watching this Sun.

I smirked & came back to my room.

Taking a red pen, I began checking some test copies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#

When I was a kid, my dream was to become a fashion designer. I used to design costumes out of paper for myself & people used to appreciate my creativity, fashion-sense & trendiness in everything.

So, I used to think that what else would be better for me than to become a fashion designer? And I decided that I’ve to become a fashion designer.

But things changes as we grow up. When I grew up, I realized that all I wanted in life was to be ‘happy’.

Yes, I used to like designing clothes in my childhood but it didn’t really make me happy.

I realized that it was actually not my dream; it was a dream that my mind forced me to choose.

And so, when I grew up, I chose that dream which my heart forced me to choose; the dream that can make me truly happy.

I chose the profession of ‘teaching’.

Yes, I’m a teacher. And I’m very happy with this.

I chose my profession as teaching because of many reasons. Because, I love to meet new, little kids & to teach them what I’ve learnt throughout my life, because I love to solve their silly yet so cute problems, I love to see them doing friendship, I love to see the strong bond of friendship between them & because all these things make me happy.

I’m an English teacher for primary class kids of Global Bay School, Chandigarh.

They all love me & I love them too.

After checking the test copies, I took a nap.

I was too tired because I hadn’t slept last night.

After a few hours, I woke up by a spectacular aroma of cinnamon, ginger & cloves.

“I think it’s ready!” I uttered & ran downstairs.

And there, I saw something very fascinating on the dining table. My eyes got stuck on the steaming hot dish filled with butter chicken.

I went near to it. The thick, hot, red gravy of chicken was lavishly garnished with a spoonful of salted cream, fried onions, a cube of butter & fresh mint leaves.

I ran to the kitchen. Mom & auntie were cooking chapattis on the griddle. I went inside & hugged auntie tightly.

“Thank you so much, auntie!” I said, swinging on her neck.

“That’s nothing, Heelu… Dear, can you please make Imtiyaz drink this milk?” She said, giving me a milk bottle.

“Sure!” I smiled.

I went & sat near to Imtiyaz. He was trying to eat the quilt wrapped on him.

“This is a bad habit, baby…!” I said, pulling out the quilt.

I took him to the couch & fed him milk with the bottle. He eagerly finished it.

“Hmm… Good boy!” I brushed my hand on his head.

After a few minutes, auntie & mom came to the drawing room with all the utensils, chapattis & bowl of butter chicken.

We always do our dinner on the floor. It feels good to sit down together & eat.

Auntie made Imtiyaz sleep again & gave a bowl of cat food & milk to Noori.

Auntie then placed Noori near to the couch & told her to stay there only. She was a pretty disciplined kitty; she always followed the instructions given to her.

I looked at the wall clock. It was 2:50 PM. As we sat down for lunch, I heard a knock on the door.

“Ugh!” I stood up & opened the door. I hate everyone who comes between me & my butter chicken.

It sounds funny, but it’s true.

It was Feruza on the door. She was back from school.

“Has anybody come to our house?” She questioned, staring at a pair of sandals on the doorstep.

“Come inside, Feeru. There are two great surprises for you!” I laughed, taking her schoolbag.

“Uncle!” Feruza ran inside & hugged uncle. “How are you, sweetie?” He said, brushing his hand on Feeru’s head. “Great!” She exclaimed. “And where’s the second surprise, Hila?” “It’s right behind you!” I smirked.

She turned behind & got amazed.

Without even changing her school uniform, she sat down for lunch.

And finally my wait was over. Mom served the food.

With a piece of chapatti, I began eating the butter chicken. The chicken was so tender that it melted in my mouth, leaving behind an enchanting taste of spices, tomatoes, mustard paste & salted butter. It was majestically yummy.

And bit by bit, I emptied my plate.

“Your chicken’s the best, auntie!” I exclaimed.

She laughed.

I’ve loved two recipes of chicken throughout my life; one was of my auntie & the other was of Zoufishan.
She used to cook chicken for me on her birthday as a return gift. It used to taste divine.

I lifted all the utensils & washed them in the kitchen.

The time was 4:50.

We all sat together in the drawing room. Suddenly, someone popped a plan of going for shopping & traveling in the evening.

“That’s awesome!” Feruza exclaimed, happily.

“Then it’s done! We’ll be going for shopping!” Dad gave a final statement.

Dad loved to travel. He had visited almost every state of India, except Meghalaya & Manipur.

“Okay, then! We should go to the Rock Garden!” Feruza shouted.

We nodded.

I went upstairs & put on a casual, electric-blue, full-sleeved T-shirt on a pair of red jeans. I took my black goggles & purse & tied a messy ponytail.

I observed Feruza for a while. She wore a pink-colored top with white palazzo pants. And she didn’t apply make-up; there was just a stroke of eyeliner on her eyes.

“That’s like a good sissy!” I kissed her.

She smiled.

“C’mon!” I uttered & ran downstairs.

Daddy took out the car.

We have a pretty small car. And so, we all were dreaded by the thought that will we all be able to fit inside the car.

“That’s nothing people! We can manage!” Uncle said, probably thinking about how we will sit in the car.

And then finally after sometime, we got fitted inside the car.

Dad on the driver seat, uncle on the seat beside dad’s, I, auntie & mum sat clumsily on the back seat, Imtiyaz in auntie’s arms, Feruza on mum’s lap & Noori on my lap.

Even though we sat clumsily, but I felt happy, because at least we were together.

The journey to the Rock Garden was of two and a half hours during which uncle & auntie kept on poking jokes & Imtiyaz & Noori kept on jumping here & there in the car.

After two hours of tiresome yet joyful journey, we reached the Rock Garden.

The famous Rock Garden of Chandigarh was an epitome of creativity & innovation. This huge Garden was an incredible place for nature lovers & travelers. Chandigarh Rock Garden was like a garland of gardens that beautified the entire city of Chandigarh.

There were small cottages in the garden which were made up of discarded waste materials like frames, forks, metal wires, porcelain & broken bangles.

It contained splendid gardens of roses, orchids & bougainvilleas, long paths for yoga & other fitness workout activities & finery shops of clothes, tucker, cosmetics & souvenirs.

We first took a walk to all the gardens & then did shopping.

Auntie bought a couple of bibs & clothes for Imtiyaz, mum bought some food items and I & Feruza shopped for plenty of accessories & clothes. I purchased a few saris as teachers were allowed to wear only saris in the school. And Feruza bought some bracelets & T-shirts.

I love shopping. I remember that when I was in college, our mighty group used to go for outing & shopping every last Sunday of the month.

Each & every girl of our group loved shopping, except Zoufishan.

She never liked to do all these girly things, wearing make-up or going for shopping; she was unique & completely different from others.

That’s why I liked her, as she never changed herself because of others.

After our shopping was done, we went to the famed ‘The Cuisine’ restaurant of the Rock Garden. It was famous for its mouth-watering Chole & Bhature.

We took a large seat in the restaurant & they quickly served a dandy plate adorned with the delicious meal. As we began to eat, they brought a bowl filled with chopped onions, fried chilies & pickles.

Yeah, the meal was really nice; but not as delicious as auntie’s butter chicken. After this, we ordered six bowls of chocolate ice cream for dessert.

“Feeru, remember about your tum!” I coughed. She gave me a sly expression to show that she didn’t care.

I smirked at her.

We did our dinner nicely & uncle & daddy had to pay a pretty big bill for this. After this, we came back to home. The clocks flashed 11:45 PM.

“Great day it was!” Feruza uttered, falling on the bed.

“Hey, go & sleep on your bed!” I shouted, but she was already asleep. I can’t believe that; how can someone sleep so quickly!

I wore my nightwear & went in the kitchen to make a cup of tea for daddy. He loves tea. He always needed it before going to bed. Uncle & auntie were going to stay with us for a night.

“Here it is.” I said, giving a warm cup of cardamom-flavored tea to daddy.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

Mom, dad, uncle & auntie were seated in the drawing room & I assumed that they were talking about something very serious.

“Make him sleep in the bedroom, Hila!” Mom uttered, looking towards Imtiyaz.

I took him to the bed & spread the quilt over both Feruza & Imtiyaz & switched the lights off. Noori was already sleeping on the couch. I silently sat on the couch.

“We badly need a daughter. He’s getting wild day by day. We’ve thought of sending him to boarding school.” Auntie said, silently.

I couldn’t understand anything.

“We aren’t troubled about Faizal’s studies but his behavior with us rubbish… We often feel the absence of a daughter. Daughters always give so much love & respect to their parents. And so, we’ve decided to adopt a girl!” Uncle muttered, grimly.

And there, I understood what the matter was.

“Uncle, I & Feruza are like your daughters only!” I said, softly.

“Yeah, sweetie! But you can’t stay with your uncle & auntie every time…” He said, sadly.

I remained silent.

“I think you are correct. There’s no harm in adopting a girl. If this can give you happiness, you should definitely do it!” Mom remarked, giving a pat on auntie’s back.

Auntie smiled.

“Yeah! And I’ll get one more sister!” I exclaimed, happily.

“Okay then, we will go to visit some orphanages in a few days as soon as my holidays get started…” Uncle smiled.

We nodded.

I checked the time. It was 1:15 AM.

“I think we should sleep now!” I said, switching off the lights.

“Yeah, it’s already too late!” Daddy shouted.

I ran upstairs as soon as everyone slept.

“Amazing day it was!” I uttered, getting on bed.

Again, I wasn’t able to sleep.

To pass my time, I took out my laptop & again opened my Facebook account in it. As soon as I opened it, I found a message from Fadila. I quickly opened it.

‘Heelu! How are you, darling?’ That was the message.

I was overwhelmed. She was online.

So I wrote, ‘I’m awesome! What about you? :D’

She replied, ‘I’m really good! What are you doing these days?’

‘I’m just teaching children! And you?’

‘I’m planning to get married!’ She replied.

‘What?’ I was shocked.

‘Yeah, it’s my wedding in a few months!’

‘What? And you’re telling it to me now?’ I was amazingly surprised.

‘Sorry about that, Heelu.’ She wrote.

‘Oh! My God! Are you serious?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Tell me everything!’

‘There’s nothing so big in it, Heelu! I’m just getting married to Zafar!’

‘You say that there’s nothing so big in it? My best friend is getting married, what else can be a greater thing? And what did you said? You’re getting married to Zafar! Oh! My God!’

‘Yea!’

Zafar was our batch mate during college. He was a nice guy, but I never thought that one of my best friends will marry him.

‘I still can’t believe! You’re really getting married, Simple Simon?’

‘Why can’t you believe it, Hila?’

‘Oh! Okay. I badly want to see you, Fadila. Please send me your picture!’

‘Sure.’

After a few seconds, she sent me her picture.

I hastily opened it. Fadila was changed. She looked wafer-thin & really fair.

‘Where are your specs, Fadila?’

‘Well, they’re exchanged with a pair of contact lenses!’

‘Whoa! You look really beautiful!’

‘Thanks. Send me your picture too.’

I chose a latest photo of mine from the laptop & sent it to Fadila.

After a few seconds, she replied, ‘Stunning as always! :*’

‘Thanks. Fadila how’s Haya?’ I typed.

‘She’s in Trivandrum.’

‘Why?’

‘She has got her job posting there!’

‘Okay & what about your job?’

‘It’s going good but mommy had asked me to quit job after my marriage!’

‘What? In my opinion you should never quit your job!’

‘That’s what I think! Anyways, Zafar has permitted me to do job after marriage too. So, I’ll anyhow explain my mommy…’

‘That will be good. Do you have any news about Zoof, Fadila?’

‘No… I was really missing you, Zoof & Haya last day & so I uploaded those pictures of our last trip to meadow…’

‘I miss you people every day, especially when I see little children doing friendship in school…’

‘Hmm… I wish to meet you people on my wedding!’

‘Don’t worry! We’ll definitely come!’

‘And what about Zoof?’

‘She’ll come too… I feel like it!’ I wrote.

Zoufishan, where are you? I thought.

‘I hope so…’ She replied.

‘Anyways, you enjoy your time with Zafar & don’t worry; we’ll definitely meet you on your wedding day!’

‘Yeah! :* Take care, sweetie…’

‘:* Jeez! Bubye & take care, darling. And don’t forget to invite me in your wedding!’

‘Sure’

‘’

I turned my laptop off.

My Simple Simon, Fadila, was going to be married; that was a truly unbelievable thing. It feels really awkward when you imagine your best friend as a wife or a mother.

I never thought that I can live without Zoufishan for such a long time; for almost four years. I don’t why, but I always feel that I’ll get Zoufishan back in my life, someday. I badly miss her smile & her loyal eyes.

I closed my eyes & went to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#

The next day, I woke up with a bright patch of sunshine on my face. It was 7:30 AM.

I yawned & saw Feruza making something out of paper.

“What are you doing? Don’t you want to go school today?” I rubbed my head & got out of bed.

“Just a second!” She yelled.

“What are you doing, anyways?” I uttered & went to her.

She was making a greeting card.

“I forgot to buy a gift for Ayesha. Today’s her birthday!” She replied, hastily.

Ayesha was Feruza’s best friend. She was a really sweet girl.

I nodded & went to washroom. After I was done, I got dressed for school. I wore a graceful silk sari & a pair of golden earrings. I dressed my red hair in an elegant ponytail. “C’mon, Feruza! You’ll be late!” I shrilled. “Yeah!” She said, giving an eloquent smile at Ayesha’s greeting card.

Then, she got up & dressed for school.

I took the petite greeting card in my hands & examined it for a while.

It was made on a shinny piece of sheet & was beautifully adorned with birthday wishes.

Feruza was always good at crafts.

Uncle & auntie had already left for their house.

When Feruza was ready, I took out my scooter & dropped her to her school.

Then, I speeded up & reached at my school. My first class was in 2nd standard.

I rushed to my class with the English book & my good old red pen.

As soon as I entered inside the classroom, Suhas, a little student, ran towards me. His eyes were dark & completely filled with tears.

“What happened, dear?” I questioned, hugging him.

He immediately threw his arms around my back & burst into tears.

“He’s hurt, miss.” Someone shouted.

I found Suhas’s toes were chafed a little.

“Oh! That’s nothing! You’ll be alright, dear!” I said, wiping his tears with an end of my sari.

I offered him a candy & he seemed pretty much happy to have it. I called one of the Ayahs of the school & asked her to wash & apply some lotion to Suhas’s wound.

“Thanks miss.” He said, tenderly. His wound was not bleeding anymore. I smiled.

I took out a new chapter of the English book. It was a little essay named- ‘My Best Friend!’

“Roohi read the chapter!” I said.

Roohi was a really brilliant student of my class. She always scored good marks.

She stood up & began reading, “Do you have a true best friend? I surely do have. Pooja is truly my best friend. She is always there for me. She knows everything about me; even my secrets. I can’t keep anything from her! She is the person who helps when I’m down, turns my frown upside-down & makes me feel better about myself.

I love her more than anything & I can die for her.

Pooja & I are always together; no matter where we are! We go to places like malls & movies to mountains & lakes!

She helps me through my toughest times, & is always there for my best times. It’s hard to find a friend like that. Without her I would not be as happy as I am now.

She’s the kind of person that I could never lie to. Even if I did try to lie to her, she knows me so well; she could tell I was lying.

She also knows all my expressions & how I sound when I’m hyper, frustrated, depressed, annoyed, or happy. She’s a friend that I love the most…”

I was overwhelmed. The little essay exactly sounded like my friendship with Zoof.

“Very good, Roohi!” I clapped.

“So, this was a really good & emotional essay about a best friend. With a best friend, we can share anything. So, you should always try to make a good friend who can help & support you, anytime you need him.” I explained.

The bell rang after a second.

“Thank you kids & read the lesson again at your house!”

Everyone nodded, smiling.

I walked to my next class in 5th standard.

On the way, I stopped at our school playground.

A summer wind whispered through the branches of the huge banyan tree in the ground. There were red leaves on the grass & the wind picked them up & blew them about, so that they looked like colorful butterflies. This reminded me that today was the last school day & summer holidays were going to start from tomorrow.

I quickly rushed to my classroom.

“Good morning everyone!” I greeted & sat on my bench.

Fifth standard was the most disciplined class I ever had in my life.

I asked for an English book from one of the students & took out a fresh question of a chapter.

“Which is your favorite season? Write a short paragraph on it.” I read the question.

“Miss, can we do it by ourselves?” Natasha asked. She was a pretty intelligent kid.

“Sure. Take out a blank page from your copies & start writing the paragraph on it. And do submit it to me!” I said.

Some were happy by this statement & some lazy students frowned.

“C’mon! Let’s see who writes the best essay!” I said, strolling in the classroom.

After a few minutes, students gathered around me with their copies.

There were cute essays on different seasons in front of me. I gave a ‘Very Good!’ remark on almost each essay.

And then the perfect essay written by Natasha came in front of my eyes. It was just beautiful.

“I quickened my pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The wonderful cocktail-blue shade of the sky was beginning to darken into gravel-gray.

I got the first splatter of rain when I was halfway across the meadow. I took shelter under an old oak & droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the grass like a gardener’s hose.

Then the rainfall became even more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak & the drops were drumming against the canopy. The sound of the rain blurred into a long, whirring noise.

Eventually, the noise lessened & the drops faded into a musical chime. The Sun came out again, casting slanted beams of light across the meadow.

The scene was so vivid that it stayed with me all the way home.” I read out & clapped my hands, “Superb! Natasha, you did really well today!”

She smiled.

“Do you like rains?” I muttered.

“Yeah, miss. I’m a great pluviophile!” She answered.

I gazed at her happily. Her pretty essay completely depicted that she too was a pluviophile, like me.

“Excellent! Keep it up!” I said & hung her essay on the bulletin board. The bell rang after a few minutes.

It was the lunch break. I took my bag went to the staffroom.

I took out my Tiffin-box & sat next to Monica.

Monica & I were employed at the same time in the school. She was a truly nice lady & of course, a good teacher too.

“How was your day?” She questioned.

“Cool!” I exclaimed & opened the Tiffin.

Mommy had given me four huge scrambled egg sandwiches.

I began eating. But just then I remembered that Monica was a pure veggie & she wouldn’t feel comfortable with this.

“Ugh! Sorry!” I said, shifting to a corner.

“Oh! That’s nothing! You can eat it comfortably!” She replied with a smile.

I smiled too & again sat next to her.

“So, what’s your plan for these summer vacations?” She asked.

“I just want to relax. I wish for a nice, long family outing! What about you?” I giggled.

“I just don’t know! Anyways, I wish same as you!” She replied.

I nodded.

The bell rang after a few minutes.

From my childhood till now, I always wonder why they keep the lunch break so… small!

The scrambled egg sandwiches were just divine! I hastily finished my Tiffin & went to my next class.

The next two classes went perfectly & I went to pick Feruza after the school was over.

“How was your day, babe?” I asked Feruza, while driving to home.

“It was awesome! Ayesha & I had so much fun!” She laughed.

“Wow!” I exclaimed.

After reaching home, I changed my sari to a comfortable, pink T-shirt & black pajamas.

“Hila, there’s a pretty good news for you!” Daddy muttered.

“Really, what is it?” I got excited.

“We’ve planned a holiday trip to Meghalaya! Your uncle & auntie will be coming with us too!” Mom pounced on my shoulder.

“What?” I shrieked.

“Yes. We’ve chosen Meghalaya because your daddy has never been there & it’s a kind of rainy place… And we know that you love rains, don’t you?” Mom giggled.

“Of course, I do love rains & I love that place all the more!” I exclaimed with happiness.

“Yon! It will be great!” Feruza shouted, washing her face.

I couldn’t believe it; it was like replenishing all those memories of Meghalaya, & especially that meadow.

“We’re gonna leave tomorrow!” Dad uttered.
“Wow!” I whispered & rushed upstairs.

I took out my suitcase from a dusty corner of the room. This was because I had not gone anywhere since a long time.

“Finally!” I blurted out & began packing my clothes.

“Hey, pack my things too!” Feruza scoffed, entering the room.

“You know that I won’t…!” I said.

“Please!” She muttered innocently & snuggled herself on the bed.

“Okay…” I replied after a few seconds.

I love Feeru so much when she says ‘please’ for anything. She says it very rarely & I couldn’t resist helping her whenever she says so.

She smiled sweetly & went to sleep.

I felt enormously excited.

I hastily packed all the things: the clothes, my toothbrush & toothpaste, some accessories & cosmetics, a notebook & my camera. Still, the packing took almost five hours of my day.

I glanced at the clock. It was 7:45 PM.

“Feruza! Wake up!” I shouted, shaking her motionless, sleepy body.

“What?” She moaned.

“Dinner!” I whispered.

“I’m coming!” She uttered.

I nodded & went downstairs for a tasty dinner.

 

#

“Hila, Feeru, are you both done with your things? Mom shouted.

“We’re!” Feruza replied.

We ran downstairs. Uncle, auntie, mom & daddy were waiting for us.

I kissed Imtiyaz.

“Where’s Faizal,” I asked, “And Noori?”

“Faizal didn’t come with us.” Auntie said gloomily, “And we’ve left Noori at our neighbor’s house as she gets sick during long journeys.”

I nodded.

I could assume that auntie & uncle were a little sad, most probably because of Faizal.

We left for the Railway Station.

I like train journeys; you get to experience so many things during a typical train journey. And going somewhere through train is so… much fun if you’re with your family.

Our journey to Meghalaya from train included a lot of family chatters (Those freaky & untold chats about all the relatives), eating oily but delicious train snacks, reading tempting short stories, playing card games, sleeping, listening old songs & watching the activities of random passengers.

I noticed almost everyone: the two young men playing cards, a woman holding a baby, a Sikh man sleeping & snoring on the upper bunk & an elderly man chewing the last of his pan & then spitting the red juice out of the window.

The weather was balmily hot & due to it we had to purchase many water bottles during the journey.

I was really excited to have a look of that lovely meadow, which was our favorite place, four years ago.

And there, we finally reached Shillong.

MEGHALAYA! I sighed.

We took an auto-rickshaw to the Mawlynnong Village, which was only at a two-hour drive from Shillong.

“Hila, have you ever been here?” Auntie asked, adjusting her bag in the rickshaw.

“Yeah.” I smiled.

There were no more questions for the rest of the journey.

I was really happy.

Finally, after a few breathtaking hours, we reached at our destination.

I collected my luggage & boarded off.

A wet, slushy fragrance whisked about my nose & I instantly pulled my leg off from the puddle on which I had stepped accidently.

“Oh! The lovely puddle!” I uttered, softly.

I stared at the fresh puddle for a minute & then looked around myself. I felt some nostalgic thing in the air & also in the rain-clean roads of the Mawlynnong Village. The foggy winds embraced my body & made me feel welcome. From the rain-clean roads & small huts to the wild orchids & the dank sky: Everything seemed unchanged in the Mawlynnong Village.

I was just lost in the glorious sight for a moment.

“There’s a large cottage halfway along the village. We can stay there!” I said, softly.

“Okay.” Daddy said, pulling out the entire luggage from the rickshaw.

As we moved to the cottage, my eyes lingered upon everything: the stylish bamboo dustbins, stilt houses, babbling streams & the beautiful Khasi Hills.

I rushed towards the cottage with Feruza. I quickly opened the wooden doors & threw myself on the carpeted floor of the cottage.

“It’s so… refreshing!” I muttered, rolling on the soft carpet made with fresh, water-splashed khus reed.

“You were correct! This village is just like a heaven!” Feruza said, happily.

I nodded.

After sometime, we got up & settled the entire luggage in the cottage. Then, we got fresh in the same old, quaint bathroom.

It felt gorgeous to take a hot shower after an enormously tiresome journey.

Everyone, including Feruza & Imtiyaz went to sleep after getting fresh.

And as always, I wasn’t able to sleep. And how can someone ‘sleep’ when he knows that there are many more interesting things he can do?

I took a water-bottle & ran outside the cottage.

As I walked on the rain-clean roads of the Mawlynnong Village, my dainty nose could smell the North-Eastern fragrance of India.

My eyes got contented as I began to see all those things that were well-cherished in my memories.

Wow! I felt so…amazing!

I began running as my mind reminded me that I was only halfway along the meadow. I sipped some water from the bottle to wet my parched lips while I was running. Several thoughts were getting tangled inside my head as I ran. And finally, my eyes got a faint view of the meadow. I ran even faster & reached at the footsteps of my meadow.

Then, I came to a halt & stood silently to imbibe the divine scene. Incredible! Everything seemed so… intact, untouched, beautiful & pure.

I galloped inside the meadow & inhaled the fresh fragrance of ebony trees & slushy soil.

I felt like if I was back to my home. A puff of wind came across the meadow from the distant hills. The cicadas & magpies were suddenly silent. But, it seemed like if the trees remembered me. They bowed gently in the breeze & beckoned me nearer, welcoming me home. Everything seemed just perfectly same like it was four years ago.

“Wow!” I uttered, taking shelter under an old oak. I brushed my hand against its trunk. It felt so rough, gnarled & whorled.

I felt so peaceful.

Four years ago, I completely had no idea that I’ll come back to this place, that too ‘alone’; without Zoof, Fadila & Haya. Needless to say, I began missing each one of them. But, I know that our fate will bring us back, together.

I sat near the brook to devour the lovely scene with my eyes. And I just sat there, until it was dark & my body began trembling with cold. I turned my steps back to the cottage.

“I’m back!” I said, moving inside the cottage.

“Welcome!” Auntie said through clenched teeth. She was shivering with cold.

I took out a shawl from the luggage-bag & handed it over to her. She smiled & pulled Imtiyaz closer to her.

“At least it’s going to feel warm.” Mom said, switching on a tiny, yellow bulb. Then, I snuggled cozily near daddy & Feruza.

“Is it our dinner?” I questioned, as I saw Feruza eating some macaroni cup- noodles.

“Yeah…” She retorted, “You’ve to cook them by yourself!” “Fine” I got up & poured hot water to my cup-noodles. They were ready in a minute. I again sat down.

“So, what are we gonna do tomorrow?” Feruza grunted.

“What about picnicking in the meadow?” I suggested, “There’s a pretty meadow on the other side of the stream. We can have a pretty good outing there…”

“That’s amazing! I’m ready!” Feruza shouted.

“Alright…We’ll be going there tomorrow!” Daddy said, lying on the carpeted-floor.

After this, everyone went to sleep.

I lied next to Feruza. The chilly winds howled continuously outside. Feruza was freezing until I cupped my arms around her waist. We snuggled inside our warm blanket & slept calmly.

My eyes fluttered open in a patch of bright sunshine that entered the cottage from the wooden window. I got fresh & came out of the cottage.

“Mornings are so… fresh in this village. Aren’t they?” Auntie said, breathing deeply.

“They are.” I smiled.

We got ready for the picnic after having our breakfast.

Mom gathered some water bottles, veggie pastries, chicken rolls & mats & I took my camera & notebook.

“Let’s go!” Uncle said, locking the cottage’s door.

We began walking to the meadow. During this time, daddy pushed off a conversation.

“Do you smoke?” Daddy grinned, staring at uncle. “What?” Uncle blurted. “Do you smoke?” Daddy repeated. “No.” Uncle answered. “It’s true- he does not smoke- neither beedi nor hookah.”Auntie said. “Do you drink?” Daddy asked. “It makes me vomit.” Uncle replied. “Do you take bhang?” Daddy questioned again. “No!” Uncle exclaimed with frustration. “You say you have no vices?” Daddy uttered. “Absolutely!” Uncle yelled. “It’s unnatural. You’re lying.” Daddy muttered.

“Yeah, it’s unnatural- but only for you- because you’re addicted to all these…” He taunted.

“I’m not addicted! Well, these things promote one’s manliness.” Dad sniffed.

“It’s good to stay silent rather than talking to someone who is totally foolish!” Uncle retorted.

“It’s true,” Dad grinned, “I shall stay silent now.”

My daddy was a bit of annoying person & despite being so fun-loving & jolly, my uncle used to get angry pretty soon.

“You’re just worthless.” Uncle tried to end the argument.

“Oh, crap! Then, paying attention to a worthless being is indeed a foolish thing, isn’t it?” Daddy smirked.

“Stop it, guys!” I yelled. Uncle turned his eyes away & dad frowned at him.

On the way, we stopped at a wayside tea shop & ordered six cups of hot tea. The shopkeeper quickly served the steaming hot cups of tea with a few pieces of toasted tea bread. It was quite comforting to drink a warm tea when we were freezing badly with cold. We finally reached at the meadow & the morning had turned crispy & balmy till then.

“It’s so…beautiful!” Feruza laughed, running across the meadow.

I inhaled deeply & spread a lovely mat under the ebony tree. We sat on it.

“I always dreamt of visiting this kind of place. This meadow is so peaceful!” Auntie smiled.

“Yeah…” Uncle sighed.

 

 

I could imagine Zoof, Fadila & Haya around me. Their faces, their voices & their laughter; I missed everything so…badly.

I was just lost in an alley of memories for a few minutes.

“Hila?” Auntie shook my body. “Yeah,” I responded. “Would you like to have lunch now?” Auntie asked. “Sure.” I squealed. Imtiyaz was already asleep on uncle’s lap. Auntie took out a thermos filled with hot tomato soup & some chicken rolls from her bag. “Here it is.” She gave me a chicken roll.

“Thank you.” I grabbed it & stood up.

“Where are you going?” Feruza questioned.

“Exploration.” I laughed.

“Exploration?” She said, getting confused.

“Eh, yes!” I grinned, “I’ll be coming back in sometime.”

“Alright.” Mom uttered. I left.

I began walking.

Over the tiny brook, the golden rays of Sun came through the hosts of leaden rain-clouds.

I sat comfortably on a boulder near the brook. Everything changes every moment. Four years back, this place glittered with life & joy & I’d my Zoof, Haya & Fadila with me.

The soil under my sandals was still slushy; the pebbles were still adorning the brook, the trees were still green & shady and the entire meadow was still strikingly beautiful. But, something inside me felt empty & sad.

Places don’t matters, but the people around you make your trip memorable. I sighed softly & walked further.

Sometimes, I don’t understand whether I should to be sad or happy. I was happy for I was again in Meghalaya, but there were many things that were saddening me. After walking for a few minutes, I stopped at a solitude-filled spot of the meadow. The spot was entirely covered with skyscraper-high trees & darkness.

“Strange!” I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I walked further. I found a mangled chair near a smelly pond at the outer edge of that spot. The place was silent & still, like if someone’s depressed soul roamed across it. I moved near to the chair & tried to sit on it.

#

“Stop!” Someone screamed.

I looked around. No one was there; not even a trace of life.

“Is anybody here?” I uttered.

Something was definitely wrong with that place. I could feel that. The kind of bleakness in the soil & dismal emptiness in the air made me feel that.

I sat on the mangled chair & began staring in the dirty water of that smelly pond. Suddenly, I heard someone rumbling.

“Who’s there?” I muttered.

I glanced behind the trees.

“Is anybody there?” I said. Suddenly, I saw some flimsy figure behind a desolate tree.

“Who are you?” I said. “You’d be afraid.” The flimsy figure replied.

I was bewildered.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be afraid.” I mumbled.

In a moment, a girl walked near to me. She had a shattered body & she wore a long, black skirt & off-white, silken top. Her fragile neck held a gold chain & her face was entirely covered with her nougat-brown hair.

I was kinda afraid. I quickly checked her feet for I felt she might be a ghoul. Ghouls have twisted & elongated feet; my momma had told me once. But, I felt safe to find her feet absolutely perfect.

“Why have you covered your face?” I questioned. “I don’t want to make you afraid.” She muttered.

Her voice seemed familiar & so her body shape & the color of her hair.

“I won’t be afraid.” I said.

“Okay.” Her voice went bleak.

I fixed my gaze over her face, as she began brushing her hair off her face.

“What?” I moaned.

The girl had a terrible face. It was entirely burnt & horribly devastated.

“Allah!” I exclaimed & covered my eyes in shock.

“I said you’d be afraid. I’m sorry…” The girl gasped, hastily covering her face again.

We stood silent for a minute until I realized that I’d done wrong with her.

“No, I’m sorry,” I relented, “Forgive me. I was just shocked for a moment. I’m sorry.”

She stood motionless & her eyes stared up at me. Sparkling black eyes.

“I’m really sorry.” I mumbled.

“You’re Hila, right?” She muttered.

“Yes. But, how do you know my name?” I was shocked, again.

The girl smiled & brushed her hair off her face.

“Who are you?” I asked, getting puzzled.

 

In a moment, I could see her face.

Amid her terribly burned skin, her eyes were nebulous-black, her eyebrows were pencil-thin and she had sparkling teeth. And, she reminded me of someone.

I gazed at her face closely. Those eyes, those eyebrows, those teeth, the shape of her body and the color of her hair, reminded me of someone.

Wait, is she… is she Lail? I thought.  

“Lail,” I mumbled.                                                

She nodded.

The storm clouds rolled creepily across the bleak sky, plunging the entire spot into utter darkness.

“But…” I felt choked. Instantly, tears filled her eyes and began streaming down her scarlet-burned cheeks.

I stood motionless and blank.

 

The ghostly winds whistled in her ear, throwing her long, brown hair in every direction and sent shivers down her spine.

“But, what happened to you, Lail?” I murmured.

“I wish I knew.” She said, trying to wipe her tears.

She walked and sat under a tree, and I sat beside her.

She took a deep breath, and her nostrils were filled up with the minty aroma of the meadow.

Standing up again, she was forced backwards by a gust of wind. It appeared angry and tormented, as it screeched in her ear and smacked hard against her fragile chest.

She closed her eyes, listening to the soft sound of the waterfall.

“Hila, nothing is wrong with me.” She muttered, “And I am so glad to see you again.”

“Can’t you share your problems with me?” I said.

“I don’t like to share my problems with anyone. I like to hide.” Lail replied.

“It’s not good to hide.”

“Everyone hides.” She uttered, “We act and pretend, put up walls and barriers and hide behind masks and facades. We lie; we fake our way through life so that no one ever knows what’s really inside.”

I stared at her for a moment and mumbled, “But when everyone is fake, who’s real? When everyone hides, how can we find each other?”

She didn’t reply.

“Sometimes, when you crack the wall, you find something more amazing than you could ever imagine, something which is precious and good. Something that warms our heart.” I said, smiling.

“But what if underneath that mask is something dark? Something dangerous lurking behind it? What if you find that you have uncovered something that was better off left hidden?” She said; her voice was broken.

“Lail, please tell me! I said, grabbing her shoulders.                                                                

Her eyes beamed with sadness.                                              

“Do you really want to know?” She asked.                                                                      

“Yes.” I replied.                                                    

She stared at the mangled chair for a moment.                                                                  

Her heart beat slow and her breathing steady, she narrated her terrible story to me.

Her elder sister, Ziya, committed suicide and she didn’t leave any suicide note. She and her brother, Ali, were thrown out of their house, as they were unable to pay the rents. They were left to starve, to death. They had to stay in the meadow. One morning, when Lail woke up in the meadow, she found her brother dead. His body was dangerously cold and Lail felt like if his blood was frozen between his veins. And two years ago, she was acid-attacked by three men.

“Why does God makes people suffer?” She mumbled and closed her eyes. Two innocent teardrops rolled down her cheeks eventually to meet, a second later, near her lips and become one.

Hiatus.

“I don’t know,” I felt numb.

Lail, on the verge of a breakdown, let go of a deep, exhaustive sigh.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” I whispered, hugging her.                                    

She hugged me back, tightly.

A moment later, she placed her head on my shoulder and cried. She cried till her tear glands could squeeze out no more. And she cried till her whole system felt empty of emotions.

“Now, I’m always with you.” I said, wiping her tears.

“Thank you, Hila.” She sobbed, “I’ll be fine now.”

She gazed at the sky. It seemed like if she had been waiting there all day, waiting for the rain to come and wash away all of her worries, waiting for the thunder to distract her from her fears, waiting for the lightning to strike and awaken all of her senses.

An icy, cold drop fell onto her cheek and ran down her skin.                                                  

Only moments later, the clouds unleashed their full fury, sending down showers of perfect raindrops.           Her nougat-brown hair changed color into a mousy brown as the water drenched it.

Her flowing, black skirt clung to her figure and the rain seeped through the satin, soaking her skin.

Each drop sent a shock around her body and yet her posture didn’t change.              

She tilted her head backwards and let the rain splash her face.                                    

The cold water felt so refreshing and her straight, serious face instantly changed into an angelic grin.          

The pure rain fell into her open mouth and the cool drops ran down the back of her throat.

I smiled vibrantly at her.

I loved how each drop felt on my skin and how even though there was no light, the pebbles near the pond still shimmered and glistened as if they were radiating their own light.

“For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched, isn’t it?” Lail smiled, faintly.

“You’re not alone now.” I mumbled.

“The rain was so calming.” She said.

I nodded.

“Hila, do you like watching rain?”            

“Yes. I love it.”                                            

“Why?”                                                                        

“Well, I can spend hours watching it. It isn’t because I’m a terrible person who enjoys whatever ruins someone else’s day. And it isn’t because I’m happy all the time and like everything. I just like rain. The harder it is coming down, the more I like it.”                                                 

 “And nothing compares to a good old-fashioned thunderstorm, right?” She muttered.

“Absolutely. I love that constant rhythm of rainfall that is regular only in its randomness. The colors have a deeper saturation during the rain. Everything feels so clean and fresh, and that earthy smell is like nothing else. And I like rain because it dampens the sensory overload that I experience. It helps my mind to slow down and focus on specific things. I’m not saying that all people who like the rain are like me. Some might like the general bleak sense or they might be celebrating some fact that no one else is celebrating. All I can say is that I love rain for the simple virtue of it being so awesome.”

“And I love the sense of isolation that rain offers.” Her lips curved into a smile, “And there is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. So when you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you will get the same soaking. And this understanding extends to everything.”

I looked at her. Even though her misfortune had stolen her outer beauty, her words, which were composed by her heart, were still brimmed with her inner beauty.                                                        

And she made me remember Zoof.

#

“Thanks to this good old ebony tree to save us from getting wet. Anyway, we’ve to leave now.” Uncle said.

“Hello,” I smiled, staring at Feruza.                 

She raised her hand to her forehead in a typical Muslim form of greeting.

“I didn’t know you love rains so much.” Auntie blurted, awkwardly gazing at my dress. It was entirely drenched and soaked with rainwater.

“Yeah…” I blushed.                                      

“C’mon, we’ve to leave now.” Daddy grinned.                                                                   

“Wait!” I yelped. Everyone glared at me.

“I’ve brought someone along with me.” I coughed.                                                           

“Who?” Feruza said; her brows were furrowed.                                                                   

“She is a friend.” I smiled.                                            

 “A friend?” Daddy retorted.

I turned back.

“Lail” I mumbled. She stood behind a coral tree.

Her eyes seemed watery as she came and stood in front of us. I held her hand.  

The scent of the wet earth blew in through the skylight.                                  

Feruza, mum, daddy, uncle and auntie- everyone just stared at Lail. Lail’s burned face. Everyone seemed astounded. No one did anything. Lail stood numb as everyone stared at her.

A thunderclap shattered the brooding stillness.

“She is Lail.” I said.

“As-salaamu alaikum,” Lail’s lips trembled.

“Walikum as-salaam,” Uncle said, “How are you, dear?”

“I’m Alhamdulillah doing well.” Lail said.

“Come,” I held her hand and made her sit on the mattress.                                         

Auntie looked at me intently, but I pretended not to notice.

Lail was fresh and clean, like the earth after spring rain.

“She’s coming with us.” I said.

 

#

I heard someone reciting Quran. I unlocked the door and entered the cottage.

It was Lail.

She was sitting on the floor with the Quran in her hand and was covered with a hijab which had floral design on it.

“You sound so tranquil.” I said.            

“Thank you.” Lail smiled.                          

“How do you feel?” I mumbled.                            

“Content.” Her eyes twinkled.                                                                 

I loved the tender look in Lail’s dark eyes.

“Hila, Lail- dinner is ready.” Auntie screamed.

“Come,” I muttered.

“Hila,” Lail instantly held my hand, “Thank you so much.”

“You are a part of us now.” I hugged her.

I was so happy.

When I narrated Lail’s story to everyone, they couldn’t help but take her cottage along with us.

Auntie and uncle loved Lail.

They found her very graceful, simple and lovely.

Auntie and uncle were in need of a daughter, and Lail seemed to be a perfect one.

They decided to adopt her.

Lail was going to be my sister!

 

We had a yummy potato and cream gravy for dinner.

After the meal, Lail and I sat on the clean, spotless road outside the cottage.

The full moon on the sky was a spectacular treat to enjoy.

Though the sky looked clear, the moon looked blurred on the sky.

The twinkling stars also looked hazed and dull. The chill night breeze did not give a cold shiver; instead it gave us a new experience.

“I’m so happy, Hila. The whole world seems to rejoice along with me and share the happiness I feel!” Her smile was brimmed with complete bliss.                                                                                 

I stared at her for a moment. Lail was just like Zoufishan: mild, pure and… beautiful.

The sky turned tar-black and soon, it began sprinkling. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. A huffing wind rose up while a whistling thrush released its deep sweet secret on the trembling air.                         

The rain, the beautiful rain. It cleansed and healed. It fell down constantly like an endless bucket of water being poured down from the heavens. I looked up, my face was soaked. I shivered as another wave of ice hit me.

“I love rains.” Lail said, exulting in the swish of the cool rain.

“Me too.” I chuckled.

“And…” She smiled, “I love you, sister.”

Hiatus.

“You do?” My eyes moistened.

She nodded in the darkness. I could see the outline of her face in the faint moonlight that filtered through the skylight.

“I love you too, Lail.” I whispered.

 

#

We returned to Chandigarh, to our home sweet home.                                                           

Uncle and auntie took Lail to their home. I was so happy for them, and for Lail.

“Goodnight.” Feruza mumbled and went to sleep.

“Night” I smiled.

I went downstairs and made a mug of cold coffee for myself. I love coffee.                                    

I sat near the window.

Somewhere in my mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle. It always rains in my soul. Whenever it rains, I think of her.

She was like rain. When it rains hard, it sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence. But, that silence is not empty. She was silent. But not empty.

Are the days of rain and sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I’m thinking about you, do you think of me too?

I closed my eyes.                                                          

I dreamt a dream, very disturbing dream, which troubled me for days.

In the dream, a girl was hitchhiking on a busy road. I’m walking behind the girl, trying to see her face.

The night was cool and foggy.                   

The fog overwhelmed me, and I wasn’t able to see the girl anymore. I ran through the street, blinded by the unforgiving fog.                               

 

All of a sudden, I saw a beam of light in the foggy darkness.

The girl was visible to me again.                                                                    

Lights began to appear beyond the distance. Headlights, coming her way.

I screamed to help her, but the girl doesn’t move. It seemed as if she wanted to die.

The fog cleared enough that I could see her face.                                                                                It was Zoufishan.                                                        

I was watching Zoufishan becoming closer to death every second, and she doesn’t bother to save herself. The car didn’t stop. And, she didn’t save herself.

I kept on telling myself that it was just a dream. Just a nightmare. And, Zoufishan was safe. Wherever she was, she was safe.                                                 

I missed her so much.

For a few days after that night, I felt a little sick. Sometimes, I went to bed and woke in the middle of the night thinking I heard someone cry, thinking I myself was weeping, and I felt my face and it was dry.

Then I looked at the window and thought: Why, yes, it's just the summer shower and turned over, sadder still, and fumbled about for my dripping sleep and tried to slip it back on.

I was feeling so… hopeless for the first time in my life. 

Everyone, I believe, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever.            

I tried but couldn’t sleep.                                

Putting on a pair of sandals on my feet, I walked out of the house.

I looked down at my shadow, moving silently beside me. We take our shadows for granted, don’t we? There they are the uncomplaining companions of a lifetime, mute and helpless witnesses to our every act of commission or omission.

On this bright moonlit night I could not help noticing you, Shadow.                                            

And what of my echo? I thought of calling out to see if my call came back to me; but I refrained from doing so, as I did not wish to disturb the perfect stillness of the dark roads or the conversations of the trees.

The road wound up the hill and leveled out at the top, where it became a ribbon of moonlight entwined between tall deodars. A flying squirrel glided across the road, leaving one tree for another. A nightjar called. The rest was silence.

The old cemetery loomed up before me. There were many old graves- some large and monumental- and there were a few recent graves too, for the cemetery was still in use. I could see flowers scattered on one of them- a few late dahlias and scarlet salvia. Further on near the boundary wall, part of the cemetery’s retaining wall had collapsed in the heavy monsoon rains. Some of the tombstones had come down with the wall. One grave lay exposed. A rotting coffin and a few scattered bones were the only relics of someone who had lived and felt lonely like me.

Part of the tombstone lay beside the road, but the lettering had worn away. I am not normally a morbid person, but something made me stoop and pick up a smooth round shard of bone, probably part of a skull. When my hand closed over it, the bone crumbled into fragments. I let them fall to the grass. Dust to dust.

“Zoof” I sighed.

A deep sound-denying silence fell upon the dark roads. My shadow and I walked home.

I sat near the window, curtains fluttering in a light breeze. Outside, I could hear the sounds of crickets chirping and, faintly, of cars driving. Summer nights have a distinctive smell- I can’t say of what, exactly- and, as I ran my fingers over the worn body of my guitar, I can’t help but let a soft smile curl at the corners of my lips.

It was not a happy smile, but it wasn’t sad or fake either. It was more just… there, a reminder of what happiness once felt like, of what smiling once felt like. I can’t see my smile, but I imagine that it looks wistful and nostalgic, thinking back to better times and reminiscing about the glory of the past.

The guitar strings were familiar under my calloused fingertips. I remember when I first began playing, how blisters would form on each finger, how each plucked note was painful. Not anymore.                                             The song came to me automatically. It was something that I remember Zoufishan always playing.

The thought dampened my mood, as it always does when I think of Zoof. I didn’t know why I kept playing the song, as it just reminds me of her and makes me more depressed, but I can’t help it. I felt like it keeps the two of us connected. And it was beyond agonizing, to be continually reminded that she was not with me, but it would be so much worse if I had no reminder of her, nothing to help hold onto those memories of the two of us.

As I lose myself in the music- in the chords and the lyrics and the sadness- I blocked out everything except for the feel of the guitar underneath my fingertips and the sound of my voice blending with the notes, beauty in pain and comfort in grief, music as therapy-never a replacement, but something to fill the gaping hole in my heart, if only temporarily.

 

#

“Yea, I’m alright.” I muttered, munching the toast.                                                                      “Okay,” Mom said.

I took my laptop and opened my Facebook account in it. I was scrolling down when I spotted a message on the news feed. I quickly opened it. And there, I was shocked. It was from some user named ‘Zoufishan Kausar’.

Swallowing hard, I opened the display picture of the user. I blinked several times- it was Zoufishan in the picture. I checked the ‘about me’ column on her profile. Her date of birth, hometown- everything was correct. I sat back to read the message.

It said, ‘Hila, I need you. Please, come and help me…’ The message was enclosed with an address, ‘House number-7, Block 3, Hilton Street, Shimla.’

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t reply. Taking my laptop, I ran upstairs.

Was the message really sent by Zoufishan? She said she needs me. Does that means she is in trouble? Why didn’t she write anything else? Is she alright? Is she at Shimla? And…Is she really my Zoufishan?

“I got to do something.”

Turning the laptop off, I went downstairs. I took my cell phone and put on a pair of sandals on my feet.

I began walking, swaying the long and black dupatta, like mist draped around my body, and smoke reeking from the hem.                             

The trees were still, not a leaf moved. The crickets were silent in the grass.

I have always been a giver, warm and loving. Even as a child I never cried, seeking to make others happy. Often people sought me in times of trouble and I gave all I had - my whole heart and showered love upon them. By age nine adults leant on me, told me of their woes and I was their spark of light. Yet when my time to suffer used to come, when my world used to be a hurricane of ice, every light but one used to switch off. All but one offered a deep love. Moments of emptiness used to come like an ambush, yet I knew in company of a true friend a real smile can return, a real laugh, real warmth. A true friend.

I walked home.                                                                 

I didn’t talk to anyone and didn’t eat anything.

They say the happier you are, the less sleep you require to function in everyday life. Sadness increases the urge to sleep more.               

I wanted nothing more than to lie down and be enveloped by the warmth of silence. Whether I wanted to rest permanently or not, I did not know. I never thought silence would be considered warm but there I was lying in my bed prepared to be swept away by the hope that my sleep would be filled by light.

When I opened my eyes, it was still dark. Half asleep, I got out of bed, and entered the bathroom. As I emptied my bladder, I checked my face in the mirror. For an instant, I couldn't recognize the person reflected in it. Only when I waved my hand and person waved back that I realized it was me. A slight headache came upon me. After washing my hands, I searched the closet for some painkillers only to realize there wasn't one. Shaking the water off my hands, I walked across the room, but then stopped abruptly in the middle. An unsettling feeling began welling inside me. My heart started pounding at an increasingly rapid pace. I checked my watch. Almost midnight. I turned to look at the window. The trees were still swaying in the wind and the leaves still rustling against the ground.

She needs me. I need to go to her.  Some friends are for a reason, some are for a season and some are for life. She was for life. I loved her.                                                                              

I sat on my chair, with no strength to move. My shaky fingers finally come to stop after running restlessly through my messed up hair.

I grabbed my laptop and booked a ticket- Chandigarh to Shimla: Kalka express.

Zoof needs me. And, I need her too.

 

#

It was dawn as the train trundled from the depot. The train was sleek, running over the black railway track so fast that the passing greenery became a hazy blur.                                

The Kalka-Shimla rail route was beautiful, set amidst lofty pines and lush green, misty mountains.

The rail line, like twin threads of silver, clung to the steep cliffs and ventured boldly over bridges, built over tiny streams that showed off their radiance in the sunlight. Inside we were a curious mixture of cozy and bored, all of us itching for the destination that will come eventually.                                            

Sitting by the window, I breathed in the cool breeze and took in the greenery, smell of fresh dew on the vegetation, the chirping of birds and the sight of cattle grazing around the track. The fresh wind swept across my face as the train made an arduous climb of almost 4800 feet from Kalka to Shimla in almost five hours.

Shimla: Beautiful and tranquil, just like her.

I sighed.

The air was frozen lace on my skin, delicate and cold, like winter waves on sallow sand. The sky was washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. In some moments I was watching my boots over the slightly-frozen sidewalk, perfect concrete slabs, flat and square, and in others transfixed to the interplay of cloud and sun above. Only the slipping of my feet brought my attention earthward once more, the need to stay upright pulling my mind into the present.

I took a cab to a hotel. It was a small white bungalow with a garden in the front, banana trees at the sides and an orchard of guava trees at the back.

The hotel didn’t look very impressive. The whitewash was coming off the walls and the cane chairs on the veranda were old and crooked. A stag’s head was mounted over the front door but one of its glass eyes had fallen out. Perhaps the hotel was deserted.

I saw a woman dusting the sofas as soon as I entered inside.                                                   

“Hello,” I said.                                                           

She turned at the sound of my voice and looked at me for a few moments with a puzzled expression. She had a round cheerful face and crisp black hair. She smiled slowly. “You have come to stay?” She asked in a slow, easygoing voice.                                                   

“Yeah,” I said.

She picked up my suitcase and, unlocking a side door, took me into a small, sunny room that had a window looking out on to the orchard. There was a bed, a desk, a couple of cane chairs, and a frayed and faded red carpet.                                                                            

 “Is it all right?” She asked.                             

“Perfectly all right.”

After she had gone I shut the door and went into the bathroom to bathe. The cold water refreshed me and made me feel one with the world. After I had dried myself, I sat on the bed, in front of the open window. A cool breeze, smelling of bananas and guavas, came through the window and played over my body. I thought I saw a movement among the trees.                                                                          

And getting closer to the window, I saw a girl on a swing. She was a small girl, all by herself, and she was swinging to and fro and singing and her song carried faintly on the breeze.                 

I dressed quickly and left my room. The girl’s dress was billowing in the breeze, her pigtails flying about. When she saw me approaching, she stopped swinging and stared at me. I stopped a little distance away.

“Hello,” I smiled at her.                                        

“Who are you?” She asked.                                      

“I’m Hila. What’s your name?”                         

“Sona,” She said, “You are very pretty.”                

“So are you.” I replied. One pigtail lay across her chest, the other behind her shoulder.

She blushed. “I’m ten.” She said.                       

“You’re getting old.”                                             

“Well, we all have to grow old one day. Aren’t you coming any closer?” She giggled.                  

“May I?” I asked.                                                    

 “You may. You can push the swing.”

I pushed the swing until it went higher and higher and then I stopped pushing so that she came lower each time and we could talk.                

“I live in another house. You can’t see it from here. My father is the manager of the factory.”

“Aren’t there any other children to play with?” I asked.                                                                         “I don’t know any,” she said.

“And the people staying here?”                                

“Oh, they.” Apparently Sona didn’t think much of the hotel guests.

“Miss Mannat is funny when she’s drunk. And Mr. Sinha is the strangest.”                                                             

"And what about the manager of the hotel?’ “He’s mean. And he gets frightened of the slightest things.” She laughed.

I was fascinated by Sona’s ruthless summing up of the guests. I brought the swing to a standstill and asked, “And what do you think of me?”                                                                    

“I’ve told you. You’re beautiful,” She said, “Like rain.”

  

 

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Guys, I'll be updating my book soon. Till then, I would love to know if you guys liked it.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 29.11.2015

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This book is dedicated to my lovely sister