The Parrot's Pond (On hold)

Ch-1 Nostalgia

The reason for dedicating to Firelightt, my first chapter of my first book on Wattpad is because i discovered wattpad through her story when i was googling for an islamic love story and also for her inspiration to be able to highlight Islam beautifully and make your story more beautifull without hesitation.

                                       In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.

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The notes feel like a friend I had known for a decade when I scanned through them for at least the twentieth time and still when I close my eyes or look away, I don’t remember a word. Okay, I am totally freaked out, how about I shut the book and lie down for a while? No! I can’t! I just have two more hours and that’s it!

“Nameera can you just close all those books and get ready? You have to eat, pray and what not and you’re still stuck with those! Come on pack up, these last minutes won’t make a change!”

“What if they do? I feel like I have forgotten everything and it’s my first real exam, what if I just simply mess up, mom?”

My mom closed the books and put them away. She gave me a glass of milk as she put a bottle of water inside my bag, “It is an “if”, last minute revision might or might not help you, but what if they don’t? It would be a waste of golden minutes, but last minute prayers will always help, either in your exam or maybe later in life. So go pray two Nafl (non-obligatory) rakahs and ask Him for help, tell him how important this exam is for you and how you can do nothing without His blessings.”

I did as she told me. Dad was already putting his shoes on, “I’ll wait in the car, make sure you haven’t forgotten anything, admit card specially”

I put on my abaya and wore my hijab. My heart felt heavy with panic and my stomach churned, maybe from the burger I just had or maybe those butterflies as its always said, but whatever it is, I have to do really good in this exam, school would be over and I’d soon be in college, this was my first real exam, first board exam, an exam we were preparing for since ninth grade..IGCSE.

Mom read some prayers and blew on my face and placed a kiss on my forehead. She put her hands on my shoulders and stared at me for a while, “Panic is for those who don’t have faith in Allah, why are you worrying? You have prepared well, put day and night together to study, there is not a stone that you have left unturned for this. Now you just have to go to that exam hall, write on that paper whatever you can and rest is all up to Allah. If He wills, He will make you excel and if you don’t, it wouldn’t be your fault. Now just relax and give it your best, okay?” She pulled me into her arms, it felt so warm, the butterflies all went still. For a moment it felt like my whole heart was at rest, my brain went silent and everything felt so beautiful and safe with no worries that I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes and let go of her……

Suddenly it felt like mom pushed me back so hard I hit my head somewhere at the back and opened my eyes in pain. Mom wasn’t there anymore, instead in front of me was the back of a man with a dirty white shirt and faded pants. I shook my head and realized I was on a rickshaw that had just hit the back of a local bus. The rickshaw driver got off his seat in front of me and went up to the front of the bus and stopped beside the driver’s window, “What do you think of yourself? You can’t just stop anywhere in the middle of a road to pick up your passengers! What if me or my passenger got hurt, would you take responsibility? Why do you…..”

He went on and on swearing at the driver and the driver swore back. Behind me the cars and other rickshaws went mad with all their beeping and screaming to us for blocking the way. My head already felt numb with the sharp pain from the way it hit the wooden frame of the rickshaw hood and all these noise made it worse. I looked at my watch, it was already 8:30 am and I was on my way for my exam that was at 9:00 am.

The rickshaw driver just didn’t end his wave of anger at the driver. Okay, I am getting really late and I can’t stand all this noise. With my head ringing with pain I shouted at the rickshaw driver, “Brother, please come back! I am alright but I am getting late for my exam and you are also blocking the way! Let him be, you please come back! Please!”

He gave a final glare at the driver and walked back to the rickshaw and soon we were out of that road.

I took out the ice cold water bottle I had packed in my bag early in the morning and held it against the back of my head. The pain had started to reside and we were on a clear road, “I’ll get you there in no time, don’t worry.” The rickshaw driver assured me, yeah it did calm me a bit but nothing could calm me from the nostalgic feeling I was wrapped around with. It was almost three years ago ( wow time sure flies fast) that my mom was helping me get ready for my first board exam, her warm milk, warm words, warm hug…sigh. And look at me today, my first final exam of university and I am miles away from KSA and my family, here in Bangladesh, no warm milk, no warm hug, and no nothing. I was all on my own, cooked my own noodles for breakfast instead of the delicious KSA burgers, calmed my own nervousness with mom’s old words, got on this rickshaw instead of dad’s cozy car and am off to uni.

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Rickshaw- a light two-wheeled passenger vehicle drawn by one or more people, chiefly used in Asian countries. (Picture on the side.)