By It was a calm and tranquil Monday morning when I took my bags way to school-located two kilometers away from home. I was among the students who used to reach the school gate even before the management. Though the school was a bit far from my home we came on foot, sometimes hurling stones from a rocky top and sometimes we used to deliberately provoke the dogs by stoning them. From my neighborhood, we used to go in the shape of a gang-a band of individuals. We were always together; We went to school together, we came back to gather and we even played and walked together; I loved cricket and all of my gang members liked playing cricket, therefore we enjoyed our best times playing cricket.
Life flowed monotonously and smoothly at a small, valley-type village of Mashkay covered with rugged mountains from both sides. Its magical and charismatic mountains and date trees added further flavor to the beauty of the village albeit it lacked facilities, such as education, health, and better infrastructure. Anyhow, the inhabitants of the village were living a happy and serene life whatever facilities of life they had. Agriculture was the source of bread and butter for them though some of the people had government jobs. Before the sun rose, they reached their fields and made themselves busy with the field works, such as plowing, cleaning, and cutting extra bushes in the seasonal crops.
At the same time, there lived a girl who had some rosy dreams, ambitions, and determination on her face for doing something, for achieving something and forgetting something in her life, with a round face, small eyes, and short height she was also taking the charm of her life at the best. Aged barely ten years, she held unusual charisma on her face. As she was our classmate, we used to call her “Peshshok” though it was not her real name. Anyhow, she had a unique love for her father who used to remain outside of the town most of the time. He was a doctor by profession, therefore he periodically lived apart from his family due to job-related activities. With an unusual charisma on her face, she was a decent, young, and well-mannered girl. Every single person of the school from the teachers to students, all liked her and loved her. Haplessly, at that time a new culture was beginning to get ground in her province: the culture of abduction of political workers, social activists, and student leaders. Besides performing his duties as a doctor, Aryam’s father was also a devoted member of a political party that was working to highlight the problems by demanding basic facilities in the region.
At break time we used to sit in the shape of a group under a widespread tree which, in every summer, served as a natural umbrella for us. She often talked about the beauty of the school and her teachers; I never heard any type of bad words from her month for others. We shared silly jokes, and we laughed at our jokes without any reason. In this way we piled up memories after memories, thus life flowed in a streamline, without any sort of worries. Maryam was way too happy in her life, especially on the days when her father returned home back from duty. But, she could not predict the bad omens of her life hovering for her, for her family. Likewise, a situation was about to pour into her life which later on hit her harder and stronger. Yet days passed on and Maryam’s joyous life was turning into a bleak picture, brimming with an unending story of pain.
It was a sunny day. The rays of the sun were coming down to the earth with full prowess when we got to gather with my gang members at the ground near our houses. It was a Sunday and we all were very much excited for the match as we already had an exchange of challenges at the school.
Meanwhile, the sun rays were striking on our faces and sweets were rolling down our cheeks. Later on, we tossed a coin and we won the toss; after a small consultation, our captain of the team decided that we should choose to bat first. Thus, the match began with a terrible wave of sun rays enhancing the warmth of the earth. Everyone was playing with a great zeal without knowing that after minutes the atmosphere was getting an abrupt change. Then, we heard the news of Maryam’s father’s abduction. It altered the atmosphere altogether. It shocked us all. We directly came home, everyone at home was already aware of the shocking news. My whole attention went towards Maryam who was the person passing through the toughest of times. The news of Maryam’s father’s abduction spread like wildfire in the whole town.
She was barely 10 years old at that time, I feared she might not bear the trauma and scar left on her life after her father’s abduction. Nevertheless, we went to school on the next day where everything was the same except Maryam’s smiles and cheerful voice was missing at the school; an atmosphere stinging our souls had taken shape, nobody was willing to do anything. From the day onwards, she was visible at the school periodically. She, along with her family, used to knock every possible door of justice in the country; from the rallies to missing person camps-which were established by the victims’ families- Maryam visited all those platforms where she could get hope of justice. She was on the roads chanting the slogans of justice for her missing father. However, days, months, and years passed, but they didn’t return her father. The abduction of her father drastically changed the trajectory of her life, turning it from a peaceful, joyous, and calm life into a painful, struggling, and ferocious soul searching for her abducted father. An overturn whose track is still towards that direction- the direction of longing, never-ending pain, and helplessness. Imagine what would be the scale of pain for a child who still doesn’t know whether her father is alive or not?
It is almost twelve long years of longing but there still seems no signs of his recovery. Maryam’s family knocked all possible corridors of Justice. Now, Maryam is a full-grown girl who has been made lost in a cul de sac and there appears to be no possible way out. A piece of her life is missing whose aftershocks continue to trouble her in life.
A painful period of twelve years has passed, yet she lives apart from her father. She is broken, tormented, and shattered looking for her abducted father.
Note: Names are kept secret in order to maintain privacy.
-Written by Nizam Hassan
-Photo by Jochen van Wylick on Unsplash
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