Innocence At War

It was springtime in Syria, but the sky was overcast with war clouds, thundering death and destruction. Unperturbed by this bellicose situation, Irfan was busy in his own dream world. Kites, tiny clay soldiers, which were gifted to him on Eid, and grandma’s stories, were the only treasures owned by this five year old boy. The only thing that he craved for, were the marbles owned by his friend, Wasim. Blue, red, yellow and of so many other colors! They were as exquisite as his dreams!

The land, which was once the land of fairy tales, now burned like hell. Dark shadows of death loomed over the desolate villages. Some were fortunate enough to live, only to wait for death. For others it was a good time to make easy money since there were misfortunes galore. People bartered money, values and even lives for lives.

The sooty oil lamp flickered nervously as Irfan and his family silently gulped down their meal. They were to leave that night. The village already seemed deserted. Little portmanteaus lay huddled in a corner. Irfan thought that it was going to be a usual visit to his cousin’s place. After an unusual prayer they stepped out. Irfan was flabbergasted to see his grandma bursting into bitter tears as his father locked the door. She profusely banged at the door and for once almost fell down, dejected. With bedraggle

Advertisement

d eyes, Irfan’s mother tried to assuage her. Irfan was shell-shocked. Finally they left for an unknown destination.

They had hardly gone a few paces when an enormous explosion rocked their eardrums. The neighboring houses were caught in a conflagration. They hurried towards the nearby rocks to take shelter from the shower of bullets, which came piercing the ambience. Their heartbeats did all the talking. At a distance, Irfan could descry Wasim cringed behind a rock, all alone. Little did he care about that tearful countenance! His attention was fully captured by the bag of marbles that dangled carelessly from Wasim’s robe.

Bullets have no friends or foes they just know pain and death. There was a sudden spray of bullets from behind which caught them by surprise. Everybody lay perfectly motionless. Irfan lay flat on the ground with his father’s heavy hand on his head. He decided to sneak away to his friend. Surprisingly his father did not hold him back, nor did his mother scold him, nor did his grandma encourage him amiably. Irfan crawled up to Wasim who seemed to be in a deep sleep. He could not resist grabbing at that bag of marbles. His dream had come true. Just then a bullet found its way to his chest. It was not until his heart had pumped out the last drop of gore that he passed from this world into the next.