Wrong Suffered At Hands (Chapter Seven)

7.

 

Afiyah was encouraged by the fact that Mr. Farooq had been dismissed from school for his heinous crimes. At the very least, she slept with a sense of serenity.

Sameer broke the news to her, emphasizing that she should be glad and lead a peaceful life henceforth. But she was unable to do so. Not when she had a teeny weenie of a longing in her heart: to meet Hassan again.

"With the flow of time, you might forget him." they said.

But here was Afiyah, able to create a portrait of Hassan, his features as fresh in her mind as a self portrait. She could vividly recall every aspect of his winsome face: the slope of his exquisite nose, the mole on his cheek, the contours and edges of his flawless aspects; there wasn't a single day where she’s wake up with tear drenched face, the reason she caught a fleeting glimpse of Hassan in her dreams. Each night, she would witness Hassan in her dreams, as if he were a distinct soul to her.

Sameer couldn't stand watching her grieve all day, attempting to conceal her tears and hiccups whenever he spotted her curled up in the corner.

 "Why are we like this?" she lamented into the hollow of Sameer's neck one day as he sat next her. 

"We're both retarded. We fell for the wrong people." he'd joked, the resonance of his laugh vibrating against her ear. "We are, without a doubt, a bunch of idiots. We'll get over it; at the very least, we have each other. Maybe we'll grow used to it."

He didn't seem to need Afiyah to inform him; he already knew. He observed how the scenario shifted from Afiyah caring for a tearful Sameer to Sameer caring for a distraught Afiyah. She would sleep chanting his name and wailing when she awoke from her dreams. He'd learned of her ambitions and wishes for Hassan, the youngster.

He had pleaded with his father to enable Afiyah to enroll into school so that she would no longer be alone in the home; after all, she wasn't allowed to linger near the main gate because both Sameer and their father had the key. Their father grew increasingly attentive towards her, perceiving her way of wearing a shawl or interrogating about her wants and needs to go out for fresh air. Mr. Farooq had cemented incorrect notions into their father's thinking, which produced all of the repercussions, according to Sameer.

That same year, Afiyah enrolled into a new high school, and her first perception of the classroom was the foul odor emanating from the overcrowding. When she sat among the stack of females, knee over knee and shoulder to shoulder, the scent of perspiration and unclean hair oils would waft into her nostrils. She was sent to an all-girls school, where it was difficult for her to even converse to a female without bringing attention to herself.

Teacher would lecture about getting along with the superiors: like a timepiece lacking its wheels, the rules appeared to be pointless and incongruous.

 

Like wax trickling from a burning candle, an entire pitiful and miserable year passed directly right in front of her eyes. She had been persuaded and was determined to continue her studies. She had envisioned acquiring a cell phone and messaging or calling Hassan. She pictured them conversing all night, telling each other how much they missed one another.

Her fantasy, however, was never fulfilled. As the year unfolded, she vowed herself to reclaim her father's long-lost trust. Her aims and ambitions for the year were to have her father's pride and regain his faith in her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Watch out!” She was yanked awake from her stupor. She winced as she was on the verge of tripping over her own feet.

"That damn van was about to slam into you. Where the hell is your brain?"

"At this point, the very least you can do is stop cussing; it makes my ears bleed."

Yes, she despised it when Kainat, her new buddy, spoke to her as if she was talking with someone who's standing up on the highlands. Her voice bothered her at times.

"I'm not in the mood to cry because a friend of mine was crushed by a vehicle." Kainat constantly appeared like she was about to slam her fist into her face. She was a pleasant and joyous spirit, sometimes.

After throwing a small celebration for Afiyah’s 16^th birthday, she consented to walk out the school with Kainat, there weren't such periods where she wouldn’t end up simply driving attention by her shrieking voice. She genuinely wanted to believe that Kainat was the one person she could trust in the congested school. She wasn't in the mindset to make new friends after losing Bushra and Ehsaal, but Kainat had lured her towards herself, perhaps because of her noisy soul.

The moment she arrived at the spot where she’d encounter Sameer anxiously waiting for her, she saw Khizar, one of her elder cousins.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here where I was seeking for Sameer." She called out.

Khizar, the most towering and thread-like thin boy she had ever seen, he had an unusual physique. She described him as having bones and veins showing through his skin, which was thin enough to be blown away by the wind. He was scrawny and all bones.

"He needed to get some work done, and he urged me to pick you up. How could I refuse?"

Something about his remark made Afiyah want to deny and rush back home alone.

"Get on, it's boiling in here."

Afiyah, persuaded, had seated behind him with no wills. She jumped aboard the motorcycle without clutching his lanky shoulders for support.  She didn't comment back to a single word he uttered on the way home, nor did she grasp a hold of his shoulders on high jumps or speed breakers. She was irritated and ready to yell at Sameer for dispatching him; she could have walked home alone or perhaps with Kainat.

The motorbike came to a screeching halt, causing her to bump into Khizar. She tensed when her breast made contact with his back to which he reacted with a look, a look of ambiguity. 

"Thank you." she said as she stepped off the bike, choosing to remain silent.

"Could I perhaps have a cup of tea?"

She paused where her hands rattled with the keys that was trapped within the lock, “Come with Sameer later.”

She stormed inside the home, her hands quivering, like if she was on the brink of losing her sanity.

She took a cold shower after removing her shawl and reflecting about the incident. She was compelled to assume that he didn't detect the occurrence. She couldn't face another catastrophe after the previous one.

 

Where there were girls over girls, there were rumors. She had learned that attending an all-girls school was a challenging task. She'd seen girls doing horrendous things in the back of the class, the things she had experienced it herself with Hassan, but doing it with a female seemed horrible and morally reprehensible to Afiyah. She was grateful that no male instructor would deliberately hurt her, and that no other lad would assault her in any manner. But she was completely incorrect in every aspect.

When she stood In front the towering biology instructor, she didn’t dare take a quick look at her face. Because if she did, she was met by the sun beating down right into her irises. Her stern demeanor was accentuated by her bombarded skin with red blemishes; she resembled a witch straight out of hell in appearance, yet her voice was as modest as water drops seeking to settle on your skin.

"After all, your father wanted me to keep a sharp eye on you.  I might get down to the nitty gritty, and I don't want you to sit with Kainat here. She is one of a kind when it comes to getting you into trouble. She has no qualms about smoking a cigarette in public.”

The hubris of claiming allegation at Kainat was like indoctrinating an adult who had endured more than you, she didn't want to accept a word she said.

"Just stay away from her, she curses, she says inappropriate things to her classmates, and her shrieking personality might get you in trouble. Maintain a decent amount of distance between you and her; you'll thank me later."

Afiyah nodded, toying with her intertwined fingers behind her back.

Why is this world stealing everyone from me?

She was unable to utter a single word.

 

 

"What's up nuts?"

She glared at Kainat, who was gnawing on a piece of popcorn between her teeth. Her blonde hair was wrapped into a French braid that fell down to her back, and her smile was a combination of pout and a grin. Her eyes were narrow but alluring.

"I'm trying to study..." she said, thrusting the notebook in Kainat's face,”Furthermore, I've been told not to hang around with you."

"What?" she heard her gasp, choking from the popcorn crumbs in his throat. "Did that bitch of a teacher say such things to you as well?  I'm going to sue her. Why the bloody hell should I alter myself if I'm already the way I want to be?"

"Talk less." Afiyah made a remark.

"Geez, keep your fat arse on that notepad while I go out and have a drink."

 

Her recess time at this school was different from what she had experienced at her former school. In those seven months, she never witnessed girls smiling broadly or sitting together. There were groups, and the first ones would eye-kill the second ones. She'd also heard about herself, that the girls were chatting about her eyes that they were as huge as the round of an armadillo.

But she, not capable of being influenced anymore, didn’t pay serious consideration as it was just another of cows mowing on shit while you pass by them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Papa Jan..."  She sneaked a peek through the unlocked door, merely revealing her face to her father. He answered with a cocked eyebrow, as though expecting her to continue, he peered through his spectacles.

"Do you mind if I join you?" She waved her book in the air.

Upon getting a decent response, she stepped in, sitting a few feet in front of him.

Afiyah placed the biology book across from them, closed.

"How do you define pride, Papa Jan?"

“You’re carrying biology?” Her father inquired, posing a question she had anticipated.

"It's for the show off..." she said, tossing the book aside, "What is pride? What does it feel like to be someone's pride?"

His father looked at her for a brief moment, taking off his spectacles, he leaned backwards, “It’s simple, but it takes place rarely. It occurs as a result of someone's accomplishment. You feel pleased of your loved ones when they possess attributes that are widely admired or respected. Not in the least bit envious. When you appreciate someone and adore them for their efforts, you experience a sense of pride..." he sighed, "That's pride in my perspective."

"How am I supposed to be your pride?"

"Demonstrate that I'm mistaken. Proof the world wrong, tell me what I heard was just a lie and I'll let you pass for the good." he continued, without looking her in the eyes.

I will.

She wanted to yell on top of her lungs.

One day, I will.

All night long, she couldn’t help but radiate a smile while tossing and turning in her bed. It was, after all, time for her to reclaim her father's affection.

 

Afiyah observed a subtle change in her father's tone of voice toward her during the following few weeks. His intonation had changed to one of humility and purity, and he would gesture to her with the arc of his eyebrows, identifying her in the softest way. That, on the other hand, inspired and drove her even further. Her father's new spirit awaited her, and he began to pay attention to her increasingly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Afiyah was inside the restroom with Kainat, she saw how she greeted and waved at everyone who voluntarily entered or departed through the doors. She believed she had a pure spirit.

"Can you tell me why it's so pleasant here for you?" Afiyah was allowed to investigate.

"There's no enormous explanation."Kainat answered as she knelt to her feet and fiddled with her shocks, attempting to get something. As she had seen Kainat grasp the lighter in her palm and then sink her hands under her bra through her collars, Afiyah almost choked on her own spit. Afiyah could see her getting into her bras. Kainat chewed the bridge of her tongue as she carried out a cigarette, which she noticed.

She drew the flames to the cigarette's tip, sucking in the smoke prior to actually fanning the air out in puffs of smoke.

“Here”

Upon Kainat’s citation, she frowned at the modest device.

"Can you tell me what this is?"

"A potato." Her demeanor was tinged with sarcasm and mockery.

"Stop kidding around. What exactly is this, and why are you aiming it at me?"

"This isn't a rifle, jeez, stop yelling.” she said as she drew a puff from her cigarette, “This is called a mobile phone, an item that is technologically used to communicate other people...”

"I am aware of this.” Afiyah squinted, trying to make sense of the scenario, "What do I have to do with this?"  

"It's yours now." Kainat said after finishing her cigarette, which she tossed in the distance without smashing the burning tip. “Take it, and we'll communicate with each other. It was once mine, but I now have a new one. Here.” She got close to Afiyah and tried to loosen her buttons to her collars.

“Wait.” She became concerned when she realized Kainat was practically popping her buttons to keep the mobile phone in her bras. She'd never done anything like this before, and the fact that she'd be keeping it from her father and Sameer made it much harder for her, she couldn't digest it without throwing up.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not able to retain it. It's against the rules."

"I'm not urging you to shoot a man me, this is just a phone."

"But..." she struggled to breathe, her insides twisted with uncertainty, "I'm sorry, but I'm not able to keep it.  It's unethical if I can't inform father and Sameer."

When Kainat explained why her father and Sameer wouldn't let her have her own phone, Afiyah agreed. Kainat genuinely reasoned that over the summer break, they should get along and chat to one other.

Afiyah almost ripped the shawl from her shoulders as she closed the doors behind her. She was gasping for air, as if she were being choked by a violent grip. She retrieved the phone from her socks, unable to endure the hard and cold object remaining inside her bras and she refused to do so.

She gazed upon the device, and with trembling hands, she inserted the SIM card. Kainat had walked her through the process and even said that she had previously stored her phone number. She swallowed with a clogged throat when the device displayed light and looked to be on; her heart was in her throat. After all, this was her first time doing something like this, burying a truth from her brother and father. However, her need to reach Hassan made her reckless, as reckless as the children who roamed the streets with sticks and rocks in their hands, prepared to clobber at bystanders

 

It apparently took her a week to pace around the room with the phone in her hands, debating whether or not to contact Hassan. It's been a year and a half. She reasoned that he must have forgotten about her, that he must be content with his fresh start, and that she should not bother him.

But eventually, after a battle with her subconscious mind; she texted him. She was out of breath as she sent the message, reviewing it as if it were a phrase she needed to memorize.

The thrill of returning home and waiting for Hassan's response faded after a month when she received no response from him. With the passage of time, her enthusiasm faded, and she grew restless of wondering.

Her eyes would well up with tears as if it was torrential rains, and she could cry whilst waiting for his response. But, in the end, her elation faded like a flame extinguished by a spray of water.