Libre Magazine

(1)

The first hues of the rising sun fell on the landscape. For this small village stationed beside a turbulent stream flowing down the sloping valley, the golden red rays of the sun were greeted by the children’s loud prayers. Their teacher recited along with them as their collective voices drowned in the cradle of the valley and seemed to unite with the rising tides of the mighty river. As the sun gradually stretched its rays and moved further west, the marketplace bustled with activity. Silence was a rarity here.

But everything was hopelessly different this morning. While the sun showered its earliest rays, the greenish tinge of the shrubs and plantations that greeted one on the entrance of the orphanage could not be perceived. The two storied building that stood facing the sun had disappeared completely. As the golden rays fell brightly, the scene was heartbreaking. Grayness had descended all around and the only perceivable objects were huge boulders and piles of debris. Stillness seemed to have choked the valley and before the social workers arrived, the only thing audible was the resonance of the river water flowing ferociously.

A strong earthquake the previous night had shattered the village and reduced all its edifices and structures to bits and pieces. Life seemed to have breathed its last here.

Safia couldn’t open her eyelids. Her eyes viewed the surrounding in monochromes. Her body refused to respond to the reflexes and for a moment she felt that her limbs had lost all sensation. First, she desperately tried to cling on to the little scraps of cloth that remained of her tattered skirt. It exposed her feet but she could do little to cover up. Most of it was gone and what remained was blood spattered. She still held on to the clothing and attempted to sit. She failed. Blood oozed out of her cheeks but she felt no pain. Numbed by the amount of loss and disaster that she witnessed before her eyes, tears trickled down silently.

But Safia wanted to celebrate. She was free. Free from the caged and scheduled life in the orphanage that forced her to deny her simple pleasures. She resented every bit of this confined existence. She hated the daily chores, the math’s book petrified her and she trembled with horror as she remembered the countless nights she had spent dreaming and chanting those algebraic equations and geometric theorems. For this young 15year old, life breathed little in this restrained existence dictated by the teacher. The only desire she had was to be free, and here was the golden chance.

For a moment she paused, thinking of her only friend Nelly. Countless body parts were strewn here and there and she instantly poured her bruised face within her palms, her fragile fingers shivering in shock. “She hasn’t survived for sure!” mumbled Safia as rubbed her eyes and fought off the tears that would follow. She remembered the instant when Nelly had cried out one last time and stretched out her hand to hold on to her. Within seconds, Safia had seen her vanish as the garden wall collapsed following the massive jerk of the earthquake. Then she lost her consciousness.

Nelly was the only person she had ever cared for in her entire life and now that she was probably no more, Safia felt a violent urge to flee the place.

The blue sky glimpsed behind the arched gateway that served as the entrance to the village. It was blue, peacefully blue and cloudless, as if oblivious to the amount of misery and terror the area had witnessed the previous night. The gateway had been partially demolished and only a part of it remained erect, though there was too much devastation around to notice its survival. Safia managed to sit up and turned around. Scores of people were running around at a distance. Stretchers carried some lucky ones who survived the tremors to makeshift medical centers set up on the central part of the village, where cultural programs were held every weekend organized by the children of the orphanage. Safia seemed to feel the rhythmic beats of the music as the children danced in colorful attires, the villagers surrounding the temporary stage. Visions of young children in reds and greens, yellows and pinks, purples and magentas flooded her vision.

“Hello…hello there…..can you hear me?? Turn to your left. This way, this way girl.” A voice seemed to echo from a distance.

Safia failed to turn around. A terrible pain shot up and shook her entire being the moment she attempted to move again. With much effort, she singled out her right hand and waved it upwards. Then she collapsed.

(2)

It was around eight every evening that the teacher set out in the courtyard to sound the dinner bell. However, the sound of his footsteps alerted the children who gathered in the dining hall even before the sound of the gong sent quivers through the heart of the village. It also symbolized the end of socialization for the villagers who till late evening sat on the village square and discussed their mundane activities. The children ate in pin drop silence under the strict supervision of the teacher. Nelly and Safia were the elder girls and they ate last.

Nelly was particularly attached to one young boy Feroz. An attractive kid with striking blue eyes, Nelly always mothered him affectionately.

“Feroz, here is your shirt. Now where are you going…stop running around…you will hit the table…what if the vase falls? You won’t be getting any food then…”

Feroz was one of the naughtiest kids around, but with Nelly he was unusually obedient. He adored her, followed her almost everywhere and refused to wake up without Nelly. He held on to her, beat her when she refused to give in to his unnecessary demands. When the initial tremors shook the valley that fateful night, Nelly had just put Feroz to sleep and along with Safia she was preparing her own bed. Safia had just stepped out in the courtyard to collect the mat when suddenly everything started moving about her and within a fraction of seconds the house began crumbling down in front of her eyes. Safia ran out of the courtyard in the middle of the street and then everything around was reduced to nothingness.

“It is his shirt….Feroz…it is his hands…pull him out…pull him out…”

She opened her eyes with much effort. The eyelids were heavy, her nose and cheeks were bruised and she couldn’t move her lips. A deep cut run by her left cheek cutting through by the side of her lips. She tried to lift her hand and remove the disheveled hair strands that fell upon her forehead but the attempt proved fruitless. Rafiq, the fruit seller lay on the opposite bed, his entire body seemed to be wrapped in white strips of bandages. Safia mumbled an exclamatory note.

“No dear. Do not move. You have a fractured limb my dear.” Somebody answered from behind. A pleasant looking woman turned around and held her. “You should not move much. You need a lot of rest. Don’t worry things are just going to be fine.” She turned again and poured some water in a narrow metal glass. “Have this…wait let me help you.”

Safia had never seen her mother. The mother who symbolized compassion, peace, protection and joy was unknown to her. She felt a sudden urge to take refuge within the arms of this social worker as she embraced Safia in her bid to help her drink the water. A beautiful odor filled her senses and Safia looked up into the hazel eyes that stared down at her.

“You need not worry. I am here with you. By the way, I am Sarah and you are?” she took a stool and sat down beside Safia’s bed and continued to gaze at her.

Safia mumbled “I am Safia. I stayed in the orphanage and….”

“Fine…fine that’s it. Don’t try to speak if it hurts. We will talk later.”

Sarah helped her lie down and pulled over the blanket. “You are on a lot of medicines. You need sleep. Don’t worry am around. Just try and sleep…okay?” Sarah grinned at her and the moment her lips extended to form a smile, a glint appeared in those hazel eyes. Safia once again curbed an irresistible desire that drew her towards Sarah.

“Sarah I want to be free. Will you help me? Will you give me a new life?” the words gradually evaporated unheard as Safia drooled into the arms of sleep.

(3)

The gentle breeze blew through the tent and a small unruly piece of cloth flew over from Sarah’s desk and landed over Safia’s face. It has been over ten days and now she could move her hands though in a careful and slow motion. Her limbs still pained and she couldn’t walk properly because of a twisted ankle, but nevertheless she was living. She emerged from the bed. A few steps forward, Safia noticed a broken frame lying on the floor.

She stared at the wounded frame and the picture. There were innumerable scratch marks all over the photograph but it was difficult to ignore the broad eyebrows that concealed Father Harris’s bright eyes. Her fragile fingers ran over the photograph pushing aside broken pieces of glass as her mind hovered through old memories. Moments of solitude when she and Nelly stood holding hands before this photo, hanging from the drawing room wall and promised to fulfill dreams galore that Father Harris might have envisioned before dying an untimely death. He was Nelly’s father and for Safia he was the only man she ever worshipped. He was her guardian angel.

“You will hurt yourself if you run your fingers through those sharp pieces of glass. Come on. Give it to me.” The frame slipped from her hands. A gentleman in baggy trousers and a worn-out shirt looked at her. For a moment Safia felt numb with fear. He had blood shot eyes, scary and terrifying. He reminded her of Karim, the cobbler in their village who too had frightening eyes.

“I …I was only trying to…” Safia whispered.

“Get back to bed.” He ordered and left.

(4)

Safia walked past the riverside among heaps of boulders of varying shapes and sizes. She looked at the bright green magnificence displayed by the natural surroundings. The dense evergreen trees on the adjacent mountains stood static, mirroring themselves in the spontaneous flow of the coarse stream. She soon found a desolate corner and placed herself comfortably on a huge boulder. Her feet immersed in the flowing water, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She smiled. It’s been long since she had smiled a full hearted smile but her happiness knew no bounds. She was overjoyed. Her long awaited freedom was near. She turned around and looked at the dusty roads that lead out of the village through the arched gateway and directed to the city. She poured some river water within her palms and splashed it across her face. The cold water soothed her skin as she reclined on a pile of boulders that lay behind her. Her eyes closed automatically and glimpses of the past shaped before her eyes.

On one occasion, Nelly and Safia had accompanied the teacher for a stroll by the riverside. Exotic wild flowers, white and red grew by the side of the turbulent river.

These beautiful white flowers had fascinated the young girls and caught their fancy.

“These are so wonderful Safia. Just like you, they are so pure.” Nelly whispered.

“Are they? Wonder what they are called?” Safia replied with a smile. Nelly responded in the negative.

Nelly had then plucked one of the flowers and put them within Safia’s outstretched palm.
“This is for you. The symbol of our friendship. The symbol of our bond.” Safia had kept the flower secured within the pages of her literature book. Now the flower was gone forever. Tears streamed down her eyes as she remembered Nelly’s heart warming smile and for a moment she had an instant desire to scream. She didn’t.

The sun disappeared behind the mountains and dusk set in. innumerable stars burst together in the evening sky and they all seemed to celebrate her joy. Safia gazed at the galaxy of stars that twinkled in the darkness that expanded above her and closed her eyes. Peace and tranquility engulfed her as she breathed in the familiar air one last time. Tomorrow she would be gone, embracing a new life, the life that she had cherished and dreamt for long.

A sudden sensation surprised her. She looked around. Nothing was apparently visible. There was darkness all around and sounds could be heard at a distance. Safia descended from the boulder. “It’s late. I must go back. Sarah will be worried.”

Someone grabbed her from behind. Stunned she turned back but she was hit across her face. Her lips tasted blood and she tried to raise herself from the ground. But she couldn’t. A strong force exerted in full capacity over her and for a moment she shuddered as she saw the familiar blood shot eyes. Then her cries fell silent against the deafening sound produced by the turbulent river current.

(5)

The crimson gleams of the rising sun slowly showered on the river valley. The river water displayed exotic shades of blues and greens but in muted tones. A gentle breeze blew serenading an elegy to the dense foliage around. By the side of the stream, the white waves brushed against a palette of scarlet color. The pallid petals of the wild flowers were stained and drooped motionless. The mourning song of nature submerged the entire valley.

* Safia means ‘chaste’