her only child

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
hello there! it would be an honour for me if you read my story and tell me what you think about it. i know you are supposed to write a summary here related to the story but i thought maybe i should not define everything and let my readers think and say what they have to say :)

Submitted: June 12, 2016

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Submitted: June 12, 2016

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“He came again, mum!! He came again!! He is not going to let me live!! Kill me already, please I beg you!! “

“It is okay, sweetie. It is fine. Mummy is here.”, said Sumaya as she tried to take hold of her only child which felt like a thousandth time that night. It was not happening for the first time. The child had been a victim of this continuous cycle of agonizing screams and gut-wrenching shrieks for the past six months.

“Stop fighting ! Stop! It is your mother here!” But sumaya was helpless; she didn’t have the power to control the catastrophe that their lives had been leading to. They say there is a reason behind everything but Sumaya was often times perplexed by the fact that why was it only meant for them? Why they? Or was she too blind to see it? The signs, everything was there but maybe she was just too blind or maybe too selfish to believe it.

“Mujhe samajhe mei nahi aati. Ye bacha na sahi se parhta hai. Na khelta hai. Khushi se tou jese ye g churata hai. Sumaya tum hi batao kya huva hai isse. Che maheeno se tum hamare hamsaye hou. Iss bache ko mei ne kabhi apne apartaament (apartment) se nikelte nahi dekha.”(translation:I don’t get it Sumaya! Your child  doesn’t study, doesn’t eat anything, just look at how your child is! You have been our neighbor since the past six months but I have never seen this child leaving the apartment.) Sumaya held back her tears that were burning the insides of her doleful eyes as Nahida Begum kept on blabbing about Sumaya’s child ‘s mysterious condition. Nahida Begum thought the child was asleep but she was too stupid …

The child heard what Nahida Begum said; it was not happening for the first time ; the child had heard thousands criticize about Sumaya’s  anomalous child but the child kept quite because of the lack of strength to confront the many people Sumaya was forced to meet ; the fake smiles and laughs she was compelled to display; the millions of questions she had to answer  regarding her only child. Every time people would come and hand a question paper to Sumaya about her child and instruct her to fill in all the details but Sumaya was a clever lady, clever enough to betray others but not herself; clever enough to fool others but not herself but one thing she didn’t do was hurt others and she always ended up hurting herself.

Unexpectedly, thunder mercilessly cut through the sky and split it just like Moses split the red sea; sheets of blackness began to curtain the city and began to ram its hands against its chest as an expression of sorrow for the already grieving child. But the child wasn’t scared… He was more scared of people than the thunderstorm . People scared him but thunderstorms didn’t. The child, who was sitting against the door while his ears did the task of hearing the cold sentences of Nahida Begum, got up and went to the window of his room to take a peek of the children playing outside; their laughs and their shrieks forced the child to go out but the child was helpless just like Sumaya. The room wasn’t decorated, melancholy swept through it ; it was just carrying the burden of an already dead child.

“acha , chai bohat mazey ki thi aur jo mene tumhe kaha hai na uss per thora gor karna. Acha mei chalti hou. Eid ke kapre jo meine silwane hai wo mei tumhe kal tak bhej dou gi.(translation: I really liked the tea but do ponder over what I have told you. I will send you the clothes I need stitched before Eid by tomorrow .) Sumaya shut the door like she did on life itself and went to the bathroom. She looked herself in the mirror and took off her kameez. She needed to take a look at the scars of her past. With the aid of her hand, she tried to touch the back of her body to feel the rough skin; she turned around to look into the mirror and found that the wounds had healed but the scars were there ; they would haunt her for life.

As she slept her mind drifted back to what Naheeda said ,” Mei tou kehte hou ke tum shadi kar lou. Pata hai loug batein kartein hain. Tumahara bacha bhi theek ho jaye ga. Har bache ko baap ka pyaar chahiye” (translation: I say you should get married. You know people these days they never stop talking. Your child will get better too. Every child needs a father’s love.)Sumaya couldn’t … she was too afraid of what people would say about her “ teesri shadi sharam kar larki!”(third marriage! be ashamed girl!)So that night she just slept until she was awakened by the screams of her child.She rushed to the child’s room just to find the child fainted on the floor.

“Naheeda please tum mujhe advance de dou. Je se  hi mei hospital se farig hoti hou mei tumhe tumahre pese soudh samate dei dou gi. Han theek … theek hai.” (Nahida please give me some advance money. As soon as I pay the bills I will give your money back with interest. Yeah..okay..okay)Sumaya conversed with Naheeda and thanked her for arranging money for the hospital bills, contemplating that her child was asleep but she was too stupid…

 

 The child heard as Sumaya talked nervously with a mix of anxiousness in her voice as if everybody would know what had happened. The child’s eyes became teary at the thought of Sumaya suffering so much. How could the child tell the tragedy that had happened so horrifying that it made the child question the sincerity, the authenticity, the originality of every relationship? How could the child tell playing with children or acquiring good grades would not change the past or let go the calamity that struck; how could the child tell that confrontation with people would be no good when the child was not able to confront his own reflection in the mirror…. How could Ali tell that he was raped by his own step-father when he was just 10. When he was just a boy... When he was just a child, Sumaya’s only child….

How could he tell that he tried to wake up every day before his mother and practiced in front of the mirror? He introduced himself every single day but he never got bored. He didn’t take a bath because he was too afraid to see the scars, not because it reminded him of the pain but of what had happened. The world had been cruel to little Ali and he had lost all hope to ever live. He was still but inside he was fighting too hard, fighting his memories, fighting his pain, fighting fate, fighting to be a better person not for him but for his mother, to remind her that he wasn’t a failure; he was trying too hard and maybe that made him weak. Smiling faces frightened him not because he was one of them once and ended up in an abyss of pain but because he feared the monsters that hid behind the masks, the filthiness the masks disclosed and when the uncleanliness would be unveiled it would hurt not the person but the people around him.

“Ali, come here son. I won’t hurt you. It is just a scissor.”

“Abba, please don’t hurt me.”

Ali got discharged two weeks later and many people came to see him. The house was decorated for him by his cousins, many gifts were presented before him but nothing was of any interest to His Highness. He was lost in his own thoughts.

“Hey Ali! Haven’t seen you in a long time? I am your uncle. Aren’t you going to hug me?” Ali was stupefied.  Life itself is ashamed of what poor Sumaya had to face that night.

“We are never going to see you again!!” sumaya heard her relatives complain but she was a helpless lady. Ali was stupefied .When his uncle hugged him all of a sudden he propelled the airplane he had in his hands into his uncle eyes and pushed him with such great force that he fell on his back. His uncle was not able to restore his sight back ever again. Ali spent the next few days bizarrely; he didn’t eat;  didn’t drink. He just painted pictures of sunsets and oceans and what not. He was a gifted artist but his mother didn’t know. She never slapped anyone; not even her abusive husband whom she had married after her first husband died in a car accident but she slapped Ali that night. It was a lot for both of them to take in but they were courageous in their own ways.

“Ali, here have some warm milk. I know you are angry at me and I really apologize for what I d_” sumaya’s voice broke and she began to cry.

 

“Mama, I love you. I am sorry. I am not angry. I just got scared. Please don’t cry.” Sumaya stopped.” You know eid is coming. We will go out together.”

“Let’s just finish it here.” She smiled and so did her son. Their eyes met as if it was the last time they were meeting. And it was true…

Ali didn’t wake up next morning. His mother, who loved him the most, killed him with her own hands. She didn’t cry then because when she was pushing her son on the board of life just to leap into the ocean of death, she also threw her heart in it. She became merciless. It wasn’t Sumaya, it was that woman who every night heard her son cry, and every second saw him suffer for something he didn’t deserve. She saw the scars on his body every day and the shine that kept on splashing out his eyes in form of tears but ignored it because she didn’t want a divorce or carry the burden of the abuses and sentences that would be hurled at her once the people know that her own husband, who was responsible to cater her and her only ALI abused them both. She saw the scars on her body every day and cried herself to sleep every night. She was powerless or maybe just this that she was a woman. The next day Sumaya spent her Eid in a jail and Ali spent it in the heavens.

It is a moment to think and ponder over the problems that have crepted into the society. Child abuse is something people are afraid to talk about because it would embarrass them; they consider it as something worth not talking about. They consider the people who have been a victim of this abuse with a disdained and damaged respect but i ask you do you place a woman’s honour in her vagina or a man respect in his balls? Because I certainly don’t….


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