claypot

I walk around the bridge trying to see what he's up to. He passes a look of troubled lies onto my face, and I realize it's not long till I won't be able to see him again. The man I am talking about happens to be the most sought-after potter in the entire town. 

Saboor has been a man of unshakable diligence and authority for his entire state of life. That man grew up to be a 36-year-old man from the 16-year-old man that life had already made him be. The floundering conditions life had put him through were enough to shake a grown man's belief in himself, but he had grown more and more placid and docile towards his life and conditions. The untimely death of both his parents had left him swedging for his daily chores, the only person Saboor was left with to call his family was his little sister Afiya. If Afiya had anything in the world, it was Saboor. The siblings were each other's rock during the thick and thin of life. Afiya who was almost 10 years younger than Saboor, was a girl with a resolute demeanor and the kind of person you'd know within the first few sentences of their utterance that they have seen much stranger parts of life than you have. They will lead you into conversations so deep that you'll start questioning your entire existence. 

When I first met Saboor he was already married to Fatima. The couple was already in their second trimester, and as luck must have been Fatima was the one who introduced me to Saboor. Saboor was the type of husband every woman would want, the kind who kisses you to sleep and who would gently tug your hair behind in case you had henna on your hand. I was their "most trusted DR." as Fatima said and Saboor went on to say that he would name, if born, their daughter with my name. I am not sure what caused so much trust in that couple for myself but as a matter of fact, I know they were the sweetest people any doctor would want as their patients. They would pay regular visits and were always good on health. They out of affection called me "Bibi " and gradually I grew fondness towards those two ordinary human beings.

Saboor had taken up his ancestral practice of pottery and made a living out of it. He was doing as well as any middle-class man would want to and was happy with his life. He was looking after Fatima and Afiya who happened to be his only family. Saboor would always say, " I did not get to study much. I was called an illiterate all my life, and the same happened with Fatima. Both of us had dreams that were crushed by the truths of life. We want to pour all our life belongings into Afiya. We want her to study well and become a doctor like you Bibi " I would often smile at their innocence and righteousness. 

You always know from the second you lay your eyes on someone that they are going to be an important part of your story. You might not have the courage to repeat that story every day to yourself or the folks but you will always know. That story will be deep buried within you somewhere, waiting for you to get valiant enough to face its reality. Sometimes it will be the person you might expect to play the salient role in your life, and sometimes it will only be a delicate impression of them being around until you realize all your life this was the story being dressed around you. You are left with no choice but to become the protagonist and take up the major role in deciding the conclusion of the story, even though you know it is not going to end well. I had to be the protagonist of my story and see things through my lenses. The entry of Saboor and Fatima into my life should already have been an early siren enough for me to turn my back around and run. But as luck may have asked it, I stayed. I stayed to watch their demise. 

* Saboor and Fatima were a happy marriage until they weren't. They stopped paying their regular visits to the hospital and it got me worried. I wanted to see if they were doing okay so naturally I called. Fatima was on the other side of the phone, her voice all shaky and trembling. 

"Hello, Fatima. Where have you been ?"

"Hello, bibi. I am doing just fine " and to my horror she broke down crying.

There is something about the tears of the people with a sedulous identity who don't show much of their pain to the world because when they do, you know something has ripped their chest off and asked you to look at their horrors right through it. There are no words enough in the world to describe the courage it took me to ask her what was wrong. Her always sweet and honey-like voice had all turned coarse. "Fatima, what happened darling? Please stop crying. I don't know what's wrong but give me the chance to be of use at least."

"bibi, pay us a visit and you might know " and she broke down again. 

It was not a very difficult task trying to find their address and I decided I needed to go and meet Fatima. You don't get a chance to be of help to somebody every day and I was not missing out on mine. 

As I cross the bridge that connects their village to the town, I see Saboor sitting on a gigantic rock carving something. I call out to him but he doesn't respond which baffles me a little, so I walk towards him. I call him out again, and he turns to look at me and I am petrified at the sight I see. Saboor is not what Saboor was . The man standing in front of me has turned all pale and lifeless as if he doesn't eat all day, as if somebody has sucked the life right out of him. He looks at me and passes on a little grin.

"namaste bibi, how do you come here " 

"I have come to check on you and Fatima. You don't seem alright, what's the matter ?"

"I am alright bibi. come let me take you home ."

I reach their place and I am in shock. I see a heavily pregnant Fatima catering to the needs of someone lying on the cot. I assume by the silhouette that it is a female in her late teens. I sit by Fatima's side and hold her hand. I can sense the relief she goes through when she sees me. She turns around and the moment I look in her eyes is also the moment I'm taken aback. The silhouette I could see was Afiya. her beautiful face was unrecognizable now, the soft milk-like skin was covered with burns all over her face and lips that were almost disfigured to let her speak. I am horrified at the sight and I let out a scream. A scream so loud it pushes Fatima across her boundaries and she lets out a wail.

I don't remember much of what happened after. The only thing I remember is the frantic sobs of Fatima and the placid Saboor had turned into an infant who cried every time I asked him to tell me what happened. The young couple, it felt as if had lost their interest in worldly matters and I was of no use but a sense of relief to their burns. They did not tell me what had hurt Afiya so badly and caused the most outright gorgeous face to turn into a demonic mishap.

it must have been a hot April afternoon. As usual, I was wandering off the bridge of the village to walk to their home. The couple had already delivered a week ago and it was the first time since then that I would be seeing them. I delivered their baby, and I must say it was the chunkiest and most healthy-looking baby one could have. The baby must have brought happiness into the family, that was the first thought anybody could have, but their fate seemed to be disgusted upon them. The child started having trouble breathing a few minutes later and was suffering hypothermia. The child had caught pneumonia and we sent him to the infant care ward, but we lost him. 

Fatima and Saboor's entire world had come crashing down in front of their eyes. The sweet parents kept bawling their eyes out and their wails of terror seemed to distort my placid demeanor. I was not of much use to the couple and decided to leave them to their own. Their weeps seemed to cut through my chest and make me beg for a good conclusion to their story. I decided to walk down the corridor, which was colored blue and white. the walls had tales to tell and not every tale was beautiful. some were horrifying and some beautiful enough to tear your eyes. I have almost been glad to bring beautiful babies into this world partially because I did not get to bring mine into this world. I am, Ayesha. I was 28 when doctors declared me infertile and incapable of bearing any child. It was a tough day and to this day the words ring my ears like the bells of the church. Even when I got to know about my infertility, I had been practicing for almost 4 years then. Even the hardships and stories of everyday miracles couldn't help my underlying terror. 

I was 16 when I was abandoned by my birth mother and sent to foster care. I was adopted by a local goon, not because of his love for society but because of his love for my skin. I was groped by multiple men during my days with his family and the females did nothing except keep a mum on their lips. I remember this one time I came back from school and I was high with a fever, I could barely keep my head up and this man, Hasnain Khan looked at me with his eyes full of lust and no sympathy. I was thrown on his floor, I was almost beaten to death and my body was eaten, eaten down by men as if I was a feast to be devoured. I saw Hasnain get married over time and get a kid of his own. I despised the love the baby was showered with. He was told all the lovely words I wanted to hear. He was held with love and affection and not as a piece of flesh to be torn down. I hated him. I hated his entire existence.

I do not complain of my battle with depression, partially because once Hasnain got to know about my mental illness he left me on the streets, but because he was also a man of 'HONOUR' he told everyone he had sent me out to study, which he eventually had to do anyway. I struggled with being suicidal and almost taking away my own life. Multiple therapy sessions and medications did not be of any use and I could not figure out what wrong I had done to anybody to get a severity of this stature. 

 Anybody who goes through what I have gone through over time gets tired and starts rethinking his life purpose. There is always something about respect and honor in this partially blind world, which seems to run behind a fake sense of superiority. Trying to act all gentle and caring whilst being a demon, a modicum of satan is what today's world is. It is not always easy to sense the kind of feelings somebody will have for you, true intentions are the last thing to be revealed in today's world. the first thing to be done is to be a pretentious little angel that looks beautiful on the outside but is a devil's child within. I do not know what makes me say these things, plausibly because I have become one such person trying to stay relevant in today's world. 

I immediately diminish the burst of thoughts that are engulfing me and walk back to the couple's room.  

as I walk back into Fatima's room I see the couple lying on the floor, trying to fanatically gulp down something.

"what the hell are you two doing ?" I push the bottle from Saboor's hands. They had tried taking their own life. 

*Today will be a week to that incident and I am not sure what to expect. I am hoping that they will be fine, i'm certainly not expecting them to be happy but maybe a little alive. As I walk into their home, it looks like nothing but a funeral. Saboor is clenching his head and is hysterically throwing his hands and legs in the air, Fatima is sitting all numb and is constantly looking at the cot that had contained Afiya once. 

I sit to their right and almost nothing feels okay. Fatima looks at me and holds my hand with her shaky and trembling fingers. As soon as she makes eye contact, her stringent canvas is thrown abate and she weeps frantically. I remain quiet and let her place her thoughts before me. 

"Bibi, she killed herself. she is gone. how do I ask her what she wants to have for a meal now? how do I tell her that we had been saving for her to go out and study? all those future plans and the lovely promises we made to each other are all gone now. how do I fill this ever-growing void? All my life I wanted a companion, somebody to play with, somebody who'd talk to me, when I found her later in life, she was gone now. She left me, how could she be so selfish? What is this world of any use without her to me and my husband? That boy killed her. He killed her. No, my Afiya was brave enough. She did not give up, she was killed. How could she get up and tie a rope around her neck when she could barely stand by herself after that incident? Bibi, I am telling you, she was killed. She was burnt, she was ......" and she faints, right in my arms. 

I immediately gave her the medicines she had not been eating and tucked her to sleep. I don't think I have enough courage in me to ask Saboor what happened, but I pray to all the gods together and look at Saboor. I am hoping that he'd explain me things Fatima was trying to tell me. He looks at me and almost in agreement, he nods his head. 

"Bibi, Afiya had gone out to study. she was the brightest girl and both Fatima and I were saving for her to go out and study medicine just like you. One day she was walking back home at night and the local goon, Adil caught her. As he was trying to harass her, she slapped him in front of his 4 friends which caused his ego to skyrocket and caused him to damage her permanently. One day both me and Fatima had gone out, probably to you for our checkup, they caught hold of her then and abused her sexually. they burnt down her clothes and lit her. it is a miracle she survived." 

I almost puke at the thought that Adil exists, still alive to make this world an even more horrible place for women to survive. Saboor says he wants to file a police complaint, but I tell him that it is of no use as the local goon is too powerful to be caught by the policemen. The atmosphere of that house is too horrific for me to be there in it for more than an hour, but I sit there to help them, to be of use to their broken heart. Meanwhile, Fatima is asleep, and Saboor shows me his favorite pot. The first pot that his father told him how to make and how he has saved it for the last 25 years. The pot is not what you'll call a masterpiece, but it holds emotions for Saboor. The red-colored pot is disfigured and looks nothing like a pot but it is important to Saboor and his eyes show that. 

Fatima wakes up with a severe stomach ache and redness around her mouth. She kept vomiting and was soon running out of breath. I felt useless and my degree felt of no use the second I was holding Fatima in my hands and she was struggling to stay alive. The entire scenario ran for moments before everything turned silent. Fatima was lying lifeless on the floor. She had left Saboor all alone in the world again. It was the second time Saboor felt helpless, the first time was when his parents had died. 

I can see Saboor on the floor next to Fatima's lifeless body. He is weeping fanatically and his wails are terrorizing the walls. 

"Fatima, Fatima my love. why? why? Get up, please. Afiya is gone and no you are gone too. How do I look at you lying this way on the floor? where are all the promises we made to have a beautiful house with our kids running around the streets? the life we promised each other to have once we turned old. We did not even have gray hair on our scalp and you thought it was early enough for you to leave already? why am I left alone to mourn your death now? why wasn't it you who had to mourn for me?"

"Not long until you don't have to mourn for her", I speak with a little grin on my face. 

Saboor looks at me with absolute terror on his face which I seem to enjoy after what he had put me through.

"what do you mean bibi ?"

I laugh so loud, that his walls are terrified of what I might be, a friend, a foe, or an enemy from a long-forgotten story. 

Somebody enters through his doors ."Hasnain khan? father of Adil Khan? Do you know what your son did to my sister? He killed her . and I will make sure he rots behind the bars. Thank you bibi. you have helped me so much. I will always be glad ", says the innocent Saboor who seems to have no clue of what just happened.

A burst of collective laughter spreads across the room and Saboor looks at me with horror.

I bend down to his face and slap him down. 

"What did you think I was? A saint? I could've been one if it was not for you Mr. Saboor, the child of my mother and her lover "

"You must have forgotten but I haven't. while I was 16, she left me because she was pregnant with you. She eloped and left me to the streets. I have, for practically all my life envsioned this day. The day I will get to kill you with my own hands."

Saboor looks at me with terror and fear This was the moment I was dreaming of, finally being able to show my culprit what he did to me.

"Bibi, I don't understand. Please tell me all of this is a lie. You were our savior, right? our bibi ?" and he starts weeping

"It was not you at fault, it was my mother. who left me on the streets, who told me at a very early stage in life that the only person you can trust is yourself. You must not know what happened before you were born, let me make things easy for you "I look at him and push a chair toward dead Fatima's body. "My mother, before you were born, was my mother. She was my abusive father's wife who beat her whenever he felt right. I loved her but maybe she felt that I was the cause of her suffering. I was a girl, a woman, whom society seems to despise. everybody wants a wife but none a daughter. She fell in love with your father mr Saboor, his hands must have had magic, or why would my mother leave her family for someone else? She ran away. I was abandoned by my birth father in foster care, was what I thought. it was never even foster care, it was a place where girls were brought, they were trafficked. I was bought by this man, this man standing right in front of you." my alligator tears do not make a mistake while oozing. 

"I was brought so that I could be used to satisfy every man's needs at his home. BUT GUESS WHAT....." and I start laughing. I laugh so hard that the men in the room feel the power of female rage. Their mustaches and beards and broad shoulders seem to weaken them and my feminine traits work stronger than ever. 

I grin a little, "One of his loyal men fell for me, and eventually, Hasnain got us married. if only I had not been declared infertile and not seen you with my mother at the doctor's hospital, you and your entire family would be alive today. I have been following you ever since, waiting for the perfect time to kill your favourite humans, so you'd yearn for them as I yearned for my mom. I was the one who first burned Afiya when the plan failed, I came to your place when you were at the hospital and killed her. I killed your healthy baby and you dumb people did not have an idea. what stupid creatures God creates once in a while." almost like a fanatic, I start laughing. 

Saboor falls to my feet and starts crying. "You, ruthless being, how could you do that? Being a female yourself how could you kill a baby who did not even understand relationships? That is the reason why you are infertile. "

I angrily look at him and slap his face so hard, that my bangles tear off my skin and fall on the floor. He says, "What do I have left in this world now? My parents are gone, my family was killed by you. I do not wish to live anymore. Common AYESHA kill me now "

"As if you had an option"I hastily snatch guns from Hasnain's hands and shoot Saboor. He's lying on the floor and maybe my revenge should be over for now, but it is not. 

I walk towards the shelf where Saboor, a few minutes ago was showing me his favourite pot. The pot he made with his father. The red pot seemed to hold emotions for him. I hold that pot in my hands and smash it across the floor, the pot is broken down to pieces. I laugh a little. I channelise my inner demon and all the devils come running towards me, to be of use. Saboor is gone and so is his tale. But what was my tale without Saboor, all my life I waited for this moment. the moment I will avenge my hardships. My life seems so vague and without a purpose now, so I hold that gun to my head and pull the trigger.

                                                                

                                                             THE END