The Blood Rose
The Blood Rose
When I left the central library, there were huge clouds. I thought it will not be rain today but when I reached Peter’s place it starts rain.
Hey Mike! He greeted me in the same usual way
Hey. I replied him, I don’t know but my tone was a little gloomy at that time, maybe I was thinking about Scarlet that’s why. The winds outside were getting furious gradually, and it was raining heavily.
Can I make coffee for you Mike? Old Peter asked me from the counter.
Not yet… I waved my hand which was getting cold.
Scarlet was out there to Asia for some documentary work for a year almost and it was the day when she was to be back but it was too late and she didn’t arrive.
I looked on my wrist watch and my eyes were catching the sight of outside from the window again and again.
There were people of different types coming and going, I think to wait for someone is the hardest thing one ever had done in this world.
There was a warm and sweet aroma of baked cakes inside the café, when I suddenly woke up from the noise of a sharp horn outside.
Ohhhh, I fall to sleep, I asked to Peter who was setting beside me. His green eyes were staring me with thousand of questions in them.
From the last three hours constantly, he said after a long and cold pause
What? I asked him. His gaze was now making me confused.
You should take some rest Mike he lifted both of his hands and his old brows stretched in anger
No, I will wait for her I told him and mechanically my fingers dialed some known numbers and my ears heard a known voice “the number you h…”
Ahhhh, I stood up and started to walk here and there. My heart was trembling like an old leaf. She was the only precious thing left in my life, yes, I was not able to lose her with an unwanted wait.
It was 7 in the eve, when the bell of the door rang due to the jerk of hinge and I smelled the known scent after a complete huge year. Suddenly the airs filled with the colors of life and warmth around. There are some people, some feelings, some relations whose presence spreads their warmth and the life becomes alive when they are there. One feels alive with them. Scar was one of that relation.
Oh God, I turned around and ran to fill her in my arms, her hair was wet, I felt them on my chest.
Lovers lack patience and trust young man she repeated the same sentence which she told me at the time of her departure.
Yes sweetheart, I lifted her face in my hands and said softly Lovers lack patience and trust but they still love. She was so week and her hair were losing their volume and ….
And there was an unknown silence in her eyes atleast I felt that.
Peter made us coffee with brown cakes and we sat near hearth. The burning woods were making a known melody. I thought how the voices turned to sounds and noises just due to the presence or absence of the beloved person. When they are near the voice becomes melody and when they are far the same voice turns to mourning for us Indeed, we humans are strange.
Scar was tired so she left to sleep soon….
******
It was Tuesday, as same as the morning of other days, however there was an unknown agony in the airs around. Like every day, mother woke me up for the prayer. After praying and reciting the HOLY Book, I lay down for a while. Around 06:45 A.M, mother, woke me up again. I got up quickly and started getting ready.
The aroma of delicious omelette, paratha and tea made by my mother from the kitchen was increasing my appetite. I hurriedly got ready and came to the breakfast table, my mother brought a delicious and hot breakfast and I rushed to eat. Baba said, Zia son, eat leisurely, I said, the school van will come and today Mamma has made such an appetizing breakfast, then I may or may not get Mamma’s hand-made breakfast.
Just then, the van’s horn sounded. I swiftly finished my breakfast and said ALLAH HAFIZ to my parents. Mamma was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for my father. As I reached the door my mother called me, Ziaullah, I came back, and she said, why are you leaving so early? I said, Mamma, I go every day at this time. She said, yes, but today it looks like you are leaving too soon, I haven’t even loved you properly yet! Who knew that my mother would love me for the last time today? I embraced her, she caressed my hair, and kissed me on the forehead. I bid farewell to them again and left out of the door, but I don’t know what came to my mind that I went in again and hugged my parents.
I arrived at the door and turned around and saw my mother, she was standing there watching me. I gestured goodbye and walked out of the door. Who knows some goodbyes are last like this was the last time I am leaving for the school today, and who knows what the destiny will bring to us?
Around 08:00 A.M we arrived to the school. My friend was waiting for me (usually he comes to school after me, but that day he was already present there). We both went to the assembly ground and after assembly, we went to our class. It was our first period. The teacher was giving the lecture, and I was listening to the lecture attentively. But out of the blue, I lost my concentration and all I could think of, at that time, was about my family and loved ones. My parents, siblings, and friends. Only their faces were roaming in front of me. Especially my mother’s happy and smiling face (I used to call her my best friend). I tried to focus on the lecture, but all of my efforts went in vain. I started missing my family and wanted to go home.
Our 1st class ended at 09:10 A.M and the second one started, but I was unable to concentrate on my studies that day. At 09:50, the math period started, though, math was my most favorite subject besides, that day I couldn’t even focus on that as well.
Around 10:30 we heard the explosion sound. Everyone in the class started to panic, some heavily armed man fighters were trying to enter our school.
To distract the security guards, they bombed their car first. Just after the school guards turned to that, the rest of the terrorists attacked them and entered the school. As soon as they moved in, they headed straight for the assembly hall, where the first aid information class for senior students was going on. All the teachers at once closed the classroom doors. We assumed it was a minor issue the guards will handle the situation, but no one knew what doomsday was upon us today. Entering the assembly hall, they started gun firing. Everyone wondered what was going on in the school.
Everyone got shocked by the sound of bullets. Loud noises were coming from the assembly hall. The sound of gunfire kept coming closer. There was no way out, we were all confined to our classes. Our hearts began to beat so fast that the sound of heartbeats could be heard clearly. Tears welled up in our eyes. The only prayer that was coming out of our hearts was that ALLAH PAK, please end all this noise, please but who knows some noises ends up in deep silence.
Instantaneously, the sound of shooting of guns started coming from outside of our classroom and four terrorists broke down the door and came inside, and before we could understand anything and handle the situation, the snipers started firing. It seemed to me that even if I had survived that day, I would not have been able to get out of the fear of death and Armageddon of that day for the rest of my life.
There was blood everywhere and the screams and falling bodies of my comrades. I hid under the table. I completely lost all my sence at once, suppressed my screams in my heart and was just saying God, please take me away from here, but there was no one to help us.
It was death all around, although I was alive but I was dead at that time. Yes, you died when you lose the precious relationships of your life, it’s a death and it was a death when a friend of mine fell down next to me in an injured condition. My friend who was sitting with me on the table a while ago, my friend with whom I came laughing and playing in the school van in the morning. I stood up, screaming in fear, without realizing that the next bullet was about to cross my chest. The last face that came in my mind was of my mother, you know whenever we are in pain, agony, suffering, whenever tears come to our eyes, no matter how older or younger we are, we call either mother, or God. and, I, like everyone else, fell to the ground after being shot by the sharp bullet of one of those terrorist’s gun. Before I closed my eyes, all I could see was that no one there was safe. My ears were listening to the fainting sounds of the snippers and G5 guns from a distance but my mind was drowning in the darks. The smiling faces of my mother and father were vanishing in front of me as I closed my eyes.
She was listening to the dying child who lost his life, his dreams, his world in blood and pain. From that day, I thought who are they, who have the right to snatch our dreams, who have the right to spare us apart from our beautiful relations, who are they who have a right to kill us. Who and why…?
******
The documentary was displaying on a projector in the mighty hall. There was a silence with little sobbing sounds come from here and there. The narrator ended her story with a poem
It was a rose in my garden
Planted by the hands of love
Gardened by the eyes of sincerity
Governed in the hands of loyalty
It was a rose with dark blood
In every petal of it
It was my dearest, dearest rose ever
And I felt a vast deep hearted smile
When it was announced,
That was killed who was a sword
(The blood rose: Aima Durani)
