In The Midst of Carnage .... Chapter #3

Akram stepped out of the house slowly, hiding the knife behind his back - he didn't want to attract unnecessary attention. He was sweating profusely, his heart was still thumping inside his chest cavity so much so, that it almost ached. He looked around to find any trace of danger. He slowly moved forward. He now searched desperately for that small piece of iron in the dark. The intense rain made the situation only worse. Akram wanted nothing more at this moment to just pick up the damned piece, run inside the house and bolt it tight and then run into Wahab's room and plug the hole to stop the seepage.

The street had small houses lined one after the other on either side of a narrow pathway. The regular days would see the pathway lined with stalls and stall owners shouting at the top of their voices. Not today. It was deathly silent today - almost fearful.

He could hardly see a thing with the heavy rain blocking his line of sight. He strained harder. He was about to quit and turn back when he saw it. It was lying on the other side of the road. He checked again on either side of the pathway to ensure nobody was coming and ran to the other side. As soon as he picked it up, he thought he heard voices. He hid behind a wall and stuck his head out to check. He saw a group of at least fifty warmongers walking in his direction. He turned in and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened his eyes, he looked on the other side of the narrow street and to his shock, found Wahab walking towards him. In an instant, he felt his life drain out of him. He was so stunned by the sight that he didn't even notice the knife slip from his hand.

Wahab strained his eyes and saw his Abbu standing on the other side and he shouted, "Abbu". He was about to run towards him when he heard Akram yell at him to stay there.

"Wahab! No! Stop!", Akram shouted frantically.

Wahab stopped. He stared at his father with a blank expression. Akram was now talking to Wahab in signs. He put a finger on his lips to signal Wahab to be quiet. Wahab obeyed. Akram had to calm down Wahab so that he didn't do anything out of fear, so he did the only thing he could think of that he thought would calm Wahab's nerves. He looked straight in to Wahab's eyes and smiled.

That had always worked and it worked again. Akram's smile worked like a spell on Wahab. Wahab stood steady and now saw his Abbu swaying his arm from one side to another, signaling him to hid behind the wall. He obeyed.

Akram felt helpless. He had, over the years, did the best that he could to keep his son away from the hatred that had enveloped them over the years. He wanted Wahab to know love and love only. And even in the midst of such brutal carnage, he wouldn't give up. More than anything, he didn't want Wahab to see his father being slaughtered by a bunch of heartless butchers. He gestured Wahab to sit down and as always, he obeyed. He then made a fist of his right palm and he did it again. The second time in less than half an hour.

Wahab was sitting while resting his back on the wall behind him when he saw Abu do it again and such was the command that a father's command held over the son, that he saw nothing else but his father's palm smooth over his face. He knew what that meant and he couldn't even think of disobeying him for the second time in one day. He obeyed once again. He sat there, drenched in rain with his eyes closed.

Akram noticed Wahab's eyes close but he didn't know if he should feel lucky to have a son like Wahab or to be terrified that this could be the last time he was seeing him. He kept staring, in despair, at the best thing that had ever happened to him.

........ To be Continued

In The Midst of Carnage .... Chapter #2

Wahab had fallen asleep almost instantaneously. Although, he did hear the door close after his father had left. He was never afraid of the dark, like his father. He wanted to be exactly like his father. He often heard his classmates talk about somebody who could fly and who punched the bad guys in the face. Somebody they called Superman. He had never seen superman's picture though. Whenever he wanted to satisfy his imagination for superman's face, his father was the first and the closest match he could find.
 
Wahab had always been a little older than his age and physical stature suggested. He could keep his dishes in the kitchen after he had finished his meal, he could pick up his toys and dump them in his cupboard after he was done playing with them and he could, although a little clumsily, change his clothes if Akram gave him the clothes that he had to get into - Akram would (almost) always tidy a little here and there later. What Wahab couldn't do though, was disappoint his father. He lived and breathed in awe of his father. He idolized him in the same way his classmates idolized Superman.
                                    

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It was almost pitch dark and Wahab was now walking slowly on a narrow patch of sand and was surrounded by long and dense trees on both sides. The moonlight was the only light guiding him on the sandy path, but even that was being filtered by the dense branches before it reached him. He called out the first person he could remember.
 
"Abu!", he called out. "Abu, are you there?"
 
No reply. The forest was dead silent. He saw a blurred outline of a face on the trunk of a tree. "Abu, is that you?" he called out again. No reply again. He walked in the direction of the tree. It was just his third step when he heard a deafening road behind him. As soon as he turned, he saw razor sharp claws about to slash him across his face. The claw was less than an inch away when Wahab's eyes opened with a flash. He was panting with fear. But, such was the magnitude of respect that he held for his father that it only took him a moment to realize that he wasn't supposed to open his eyes. He was afraid to lie down again, no doubt, but he had to apologize to Abbu before he could ask him to sleep with him tonight.

He slipped out of the sheets and opened the door of his room. He called for his father, "Abbu?". He looked around a little before he noticed some light slipping in from the outside from a slit in the main door. He had to rub his eyes to notice that the main door of the house was open. He walked towards the door.

...... To be Continued

In The Midst of Carnage .... Chapter #1

The night was dark and it had started raining heavily when Akram heard the warcries in the distance. They were faint, but prominent. He turned around and looked for Wahab, his 4 year old son. He could see that he was occupied, making a castle of cards. The warcries became louder. He could hear the sound of steel hitting steel. All he could imagine was that it was the sound of swords hitting iron poles. He knew they were close and that they were furious, monsterous and merciless. His heart started pounding wildly just as Wahab came and stood near him and pulled his father's kurta. Akram looked down.

Wahab asked, "Abbu, what's that sound?".

Mustering all the courage that he could and managing a faint smile, Akram replied, "Just some naughty kids who ate too much sweets and are not able to sleep."

"That's bad! Teacher will probably make chickens out them when they yawn in the class and then they'll know."

Akram couldn't help but smile. This time without a conscious effort. He bent down, patted Wahab on the cheeks lightly and said, "How about you getting into bed now or do you want to join them tomorrow?" He lifted him. "Let's tuck you in", he said taking him to the bed. While pulling the sheet over him, Akram asked Wahab just like every night, "Now what do the best kids do when Abbu goes out of the room?".

Wahab replied in a well rehearsed, matter-of-fact tone, "Not open the eyes for anyone but the sun or Abbu."

This was a routine.

"That's like my boy", Akram said as he kissed Wahab on the forehead. Then he brought his right hand in a fist near the right side of his face and made a magician-like gesture moving his palm slowly across his face. That was their sign. A sign that Wahab knew was meant for him to close his eyes and sleep. "Be strong, my boy", he whispered more to himself than to Wahab, "May allah keep you safe". His gaze now shifted to right cornor of the room from where the water was seeping in from the floor through a small hole. The hole had always been there and was usually plugged with an iron block and a piece of cloth wrapped on one of its end. The same plug was missing and hence allowing the water to trickle in steadily. The rain, he knew, wouldn't stop till morning and the floor of the room would be flooded by then. Most of all, he didn't want Wahab to sleep in the common area of the house because the shouts would frighten him. He remebered Wahab had been playing with that plug outside the house when Akram was preparing dinner. But going out of the house was not possible. The roads had become a slaughter house with those butchers going mad and slaughtering anything and everything they could lay their eyes on. But the sounds had gone faint again. Maybe they had passed.

He closed the door behind him after walking out of Wahab's room. He rested his forehead on the door and leaned on it, helplessly. His heartbeat was running in overdrive. He went to the kitchen and looked for a knife, found it and held it as tightly as his quivering hand could permit, headed towards the door of the house and opened the door slowly while peeping through it. When he saw that the road was clear, he stepped slowly out of the house and started looking for the plug.

....... To Be Continued