Thursday, November 12, 2009

The Lamenting Scars of Soul

I write this new post with a very heavy heart as it carries in itself hidden cries of a young woman, Yasmeen ( who happens to work at our house), which she tries to hide but when she cannot anymore, her anguish can be visibly seen and felt – but its only her who bears the grief and sorrow that started on 8 October 2005.

She was happily married with two cute doll like daughters aged 5 and 4. She lived in a small mud house somewhere near Balakot. She loved her husband and he loved her too or so to say. On that fateful day, when her husband had had his breakfast and went out for work, she cooked chapattis for her daughters and asked them to come and eat. But the elder one refused as she wanted “paratha (chapatti greased with ghee or oil” – seeing her elder sister, the smaller doll also refused to eat plain chapatti and insisted on having paratha as well. The poor mother, who couldn’t afford the luxury, refused. Both dolls, then boycotted the breakfast and went inside the house protesting. And it was 8:55 AM. Suddenly the entire landscape too grumbled as a protest and like everyone else, her house also collapsed on her two young siblings. The heartbroken mother ran to the rubble and tried to dig out her daughters – but they were to be no more. They were there lying sound asleep – no more wanting to eat parathas. Yasmeen cried in pain, but her daughters could not awake.

Having buried her daughters, she thought the ordeal was over. But it was just the start. Yasmeen’s mother came and took her grief stricken daughter with her, with the permission of Yasmeen’s husband, so that she gains control over herself. She in fact was mentally shocked over her loss and wanted a break from the scene of tragedy and get to gather herself. But her husband, who got the wind of her partial nervous breakdown, could not wait any longer and one day sent her the divorce.

I am not a good writer to put together the true agony and the suffering of this young woman but every few days, she talks to my wife telling her two she badly missed her home, her daughters and the man she thought loved him. Just today she told my wife that she dreamt having seen her daughter last night who was asking as to why she was sad and morose since you are living with your mother. Look at me who is away from you……..

Life for Yasmeen is not and will not be same again – although her mother is trying to marry her off once again, but the memories the day which scarred her life for ever, would always haunt her. This is just one story – there are countless stories of similar kinds buried in the hearts of mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and husbands, who lost their near and dear ones. Though they continue to live on, the scars of the soul will never be healed for God knows how many years.


S A J Shirazi said...

You are a good writer. But one doesn’t have to be a good writer to express the feelings. You have expressed the feelings of Yasmeen very vividly.

What I think is that she could forget about her daughter, about her home but maybe it is harder for her to forget what her husband did. Very unfortunate! I pray for Yasmeen. May Allah give her strength to live her life; healthy. May she get a better spouse now.

Peter Dickinson said...

A sad tale and very well told. I felt the pain and could relate to it. I have met others who carry such grief. Thank you.