Emanet

|07|: Guilt/شرمندگی

The window glass knocked by itself as the rain pattered heavily. The clouds thundered. It was rare to witness late night rains in Karachi. It's been long since people of this city had witnessed midnight rain. If the rain during day is beautiful then midnight rain is out of the world. Like one in a million. It's beautiful in its own way. Just the feel of a hot cup of coffee and midnight rain accompanied by your heart to heart feelings is something that sets your soul on a different level of excitement.

But that's not the case with everybody.
Not everyone is fond of midnight rain. In Safa's case she isn't fond of rain very much now. Rain brings back memories which she is trying so hard to bury inside the depths of her heart. She wants those memories chained so tightly that they can't escape. Can't flee. But they sometimes break free just a little like right now.

Her hands curled around the bedsheets of her bed. Face was twisted in pain, eyebrows drawn together in agony and breaths ragged. Sweat covered her body like second skin as she thrashed against the bed before finally waking up with a loud gasp.

Her hair were messy. Sticking around in all directions. Beads of sweat rolled down her neck. Taking a large whiff of air she sagged against the sheets. Throwing the duvet away, she walked towards the window and opened it. The rain slowed down to little pitter patter. She inhaled the smell and let it tangle in her thoughts. The cool wind calmed her down to a notch. Closing the window and drawing the curtains, she walked to the washroom. She made wadu and spread the prayer mat.

It was routine now. Whenever she had those episodes of nightmares, she would made ablution and start praying without any delay. This was the only salvation to her damnation. Her freedom from her unending sequence of night terrors. Her whisp of cool redemption in scorching heat of guilt. She bent her head down in prostrate. Her tears leaked out of her eyes as she talks to her Creator. Her hands hurled up in Dua and she let her tears do the works. She closed her eyes and let herself cry for the umpteenth in front of her Lord. For she knows, He will never ever let her down. For He is the only one to help His believers when they are distressed. Allah is the only one who will listen to you without judging. For He is the one who see good in you when you are at your worst. For He is Ar- Rehman.

Safa folded the prayer mat and put it back in its place. She had performed her dawn prayers. Loosing the scarf around her head, she dropped on the bed. Face hidden in the softness of pillow as sleep finally consumed her.
~~~~~~~~

The irritating sound of her alarm jerked her awake. She hissed at her reaction. Everything startles her nowadays. Quickly shutting the buzzing device off, she heaved a sigh. The clock struck eight in the morning. Her uni classes will be starting at ten and end at one. It will be a relaxing day for her.

But nothing is relaxing for her.
Everything went chaos after that.

Taking a quick shower, she came out and dressed into a powder green coloured suit. The shower helped her relax and energetic for another hectic day. Combing her hairs and securing them in a loose low ponytail, she padded downstairs. She heard faint sound of someone reciting. Bua Ji sat on her living room chair reciting some Quran. Safa neared the elder woman and kissed her forehead. Bua Ji smiled and patted her head with sheer affection. Placing the Quran back in its place, she asked her

"Meri beti kiya khaye ge?"
(What would my daughter like to eat?)

The polite question of Bua Ji warmed the young girl's heart. Oh how much she yearns for a love like this. A life like this. Shaking her head as if to bury the unwanted thought, she shrugged.

"Anything will be fine." The ladies walked toward the kitchen. She sat down on one of the stools while Bua Ji prepared some omelette.

"Hira called". Hira is the only child of Bua Ji that lives in Islamabad with her husband as he has shifted there after finding a job.