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Topic: She is Suffering Because She Does Not Know Who She Is.

YOUNGDREAMER

She is Suffering Because She Does Not Know Who She Is.

Posted on:
2010-06-16
09:04 PM

Beads of tears rolled down my dry cheeks. Fear and confusion overwhelmed me. I was gasping in my own bubble of atmosphere. No amount of explanation can satisfy the questions running in my head. I was hurt but I cannot bring myself to explain you how deep the wound in heart was. Like a fire that rages behind glass. Burning so hard yet unnoticed. I had no place to go. You would never understand how harsh the world is to you when you are alone. I had nowhere to turn to and nowhere to run. True, suffering has reality in it. Who can deny? But the transcendence of suffering also has reality in it.

    I am the scars on a circus elephant. I am the song the birds sing. I am Laila. I was a lucky girl. Born in a great family I had everything a girl could ever ask for. I was brilliant in school. I had many friends and a loving family. I live near the sea. I had free soul. I was no caged born bird. The sea in front of my house was beautiful. I sat by the window overlooking the sea and watched the waves lolled to and fro leaving white foams that I have always believed was the little mermaid who was turned into foam by Ursula, the evil sea witch. Everyday I came home knowing that there would always be someone waiting for me at the door. I was right about that. Mother would always wait for me at the door and we would walk at the shore together waiting for father to return from sea. On 27th December 1988, the tables turned around.

I came home from School that day and nobody was waiting at the door for me. Mother was not there. I heard sobbing coming from inside of my house. I followed it. Mother was lying still. Father was crying beside her“Mother? “ a whimper escaped my lips. I touched her face. She was cold. Her once rosebud lips were now dry, cracked and chapped. Her snow white skin was now almost blue. I dropped to my knees. Father came and held me. We prayed to god. I was 14 when mother died from an unknown disease.

     My grief did not end there. Father was not his usual self after mother’s death. He started to behave rather strangely. It had never occurred to me that soon, I was going to lose father. Three weeks after Mother’s death, father did not come home. Father was a fisherman. He went to sea and he didn’t come back. I waited for nights wondering what could have happened to him. I cried for hours. Yet no amount of tears could bring them both back. Just like that I lost everything. The whole word crashed on me. Like the waves that crashes against the jetty when a storm comes. A sudden impact that hit me so hard I began wondering if I can get back up and face whatever that comes next. I was angry. I was angry at my mother for not telling me she had a disease. I was angry at Father for being a jerk and leaving me at the time his daughter needed him the most. I was angry at god for giving me this unbearable pain that I thought, was too much for me to handle. Just like that, I gave up. I gave up on life. I gave up my studies and I gave up my future. I had no goals and I was content that I gave up everything. Afterall, there was no use. What could a 14 year old girl do? I was a coward.

At 16 I couldn’t pay the rent for my house and I ran away. I travelled from one city to another. I stole food and money. Something I would never have done, but now it doesn’t matter what I do anymore. I simply do not care. Little did I know that I was going to regret everything I was doing now? I lived on scraps and I seldom cleaned myself. Clinging on to my dear life. Soon, memories began to fade. All I remember were fractions of my childhood which were too unclear to give any statements. Living Turkey was nice but living in it alone…was indeed painful.

One day while searching for leftovers of food at the streets of Istanbul, I heard a noise. I strained my ears and the noise became a sound. A sound so familiar to me. My heart ached. I followed the sound and it became a melody. It was beautiful. Suddenly, I was back at the beach. Mother and father smiling in the distance. My yearning heart leapt of joy I began running to them, but they disappeared, like a mirage in a distance. I missed them so much. Memories came back. Memories I tried to forget after all these years came flooding my mind. I started to cry. The melody was still there. The pebbles on the shore I used to collect seemed to shimmer like thousands of crystals when the sun’s rays touched its clean surface. Blush coloured my cheeks as the cool wind, whipped away my messy hair and blew across my pale skin. The melody soothed my burning pain, anger and confusion. I came back to my senses. It was god’s call. It was the Azaaan.
I smiled. My heart was enlightened. Like a huge block of brick that I carried around in my heart all these years was gone. For so long I’ve missed my prayers because I gave up on God.

I ran. I ran to the mosque… God is calling me. I never ran this fast for so long. I felt so happy tears fell down my cheeks. It felt so magical like a magnet pulling me. I took my wudu’ trying to remember as hard as I could how Mother used to teach me. Prayer was starting soon. I walked up the steps of the mosque feeling triumphant. After all these years, I was lost. I was angry with God. I could not forgive my parents. I was planning my own grief. I was stupid. Now I’m standing in line. Ready for prayer. Ready to meet my God and seek forgiveness. Ready to forgive my parents. Ready to start anew. I am a servant of God. I know that He will not test me on things I could not carry. I know who I am now. I am not useless. I am being worth every penny. Maybe not to humans, but I’m worth to God. All I got to do is believe in him. I am not going to suffer like before. I suffered because I did not know I was. I had forgotten my place as a servant of god. Now I shall stand.

I am Laila. I am free, like I used to, and I believe.