Chaos...In the name of Revenge.

Ruins & Wrecks

December 14th, 1996

Naseerullah Hussein, is an employee at Al Diwaniyah Oil Corporation Private Limited, a large scale Oil company.

Al Diwaniyah is an Iraqi city and also the capital of one of its provinces Al Qadasiyah.
The government funds an Oil Company which is run by a private organization. Many workers of the company are hired from South Asian countries like India, Pakistan, Afghanistan etc.

One of them is Naseerullah Hussein. He comes to Iraq all way from Pakistan in search of a good fortune. He starts as a wage labourer in the refining section. Being ambitious, he works hard which helps his career grow up.
He now gets promoted to the post of a supervisor for the workers unit.

Being joyful, he gives a treat to his all of his fellow employees employees that day. As soon as he reaches his room, he picks up the land phone and dials a number.

Far away across the oceans, a phone bells rings in a slum house at a desert- village of Pakistan.
An elderly person with wrinkled hands picks it up

"Assalamualaikum Abbu! How're you? What about Ammi and Bhai?"

Urdu for *Greetings dad! How're you? What about mom and brother?*

spoke Naseer

"I have a good news for you. I got promoted...as a supervisor! Now we all can get settled over here."

Naseer's father Kadir was happy to hear that. All their problems were going to be solved and their life below poverty was about to get a new shine.

Kadir Hussein was an old peasant living in the ruins of the Pakistani desert. He barely earned enough to feed his family. They just had a dozen cattle and a cow which also added to their income source.
But it was too difficult to manage his wife's medication. She suffered from a kidney failure.
For those financial needs, he had to send his elder son Naseer to the overseas as a contract labourer. He also had to stop his younger son's education.

"Is that Bhaijaan (Brother in Urdu)?"

asked his 15 year old son Zakir, who came in running from outside after listening to the phone bell sound.

Zakir Hussein; he was named after his father's favorite Tabla player of the same name.

In school, Zakir was an intelligent kid but had to stop  studying at the 8th grade itself due to his mom's poor health.
He killed his time daily by being a shepherd to their cattle, walking them along the fields and wherever some grass is found in that deserted area.

"Yes, he's coming to take us with him. You can go to school, play and study. You don't need to guard the sheeps anymore"

replied Kadir.

That pleased Zakir for once. But a sudden feeling of sadness appeared in his face. He ran outside, into the desert fields filled with light from the full moon sky of the evening. He collapsed on a sand hump and started crying.

The answer to this depression isn't nearby. It is connected to a story of someone else living somewhere far. That too in a very critical  manner.

There are lives, many lives in this world. Each of them has their own problems.
Problems at least up to some extents...
Few of those extents are comparable to some deadly boundaries or borders.

Sometimes there is a need of a border between two to keep few problems apart.

For example,
Two countries share a border to keep apart few problems between them.