| By faiahmed,
on 18-02-2004 13:49
|
Views : 1543  |
Favoured : 60 |
Published in : , Stories |
She peeped in at the corner. The corridor was empty- except a bunch of students at the far end. She groaned at the sight of them. But she had to do it. This was the last corridor before she would reach her destination, the physics lab.
Destination.
Wow.
She was growing filmy. Just then she heard loud guffaws from somewhere below her. Curious, she moved towards the tiny glass window which was cracked in several places and layered with dust so thick that o要ly a shadow of the bright light outside could illumine the landing she was standing o要 making it look eerie. She peered down from the tiny, first floor window. A large crowd was sniggering and pointing at something in the center...
She leaned closer to the window and the tip of her nose touched the glass. It looked like the crowd was both mocking and cheering a lanky fresher standing o要 an upturned bin about to give a speech of some kind. The boy raised o要e hand and cleared his throat in a gesture to silence the crowd.
“Long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, then an age ends, and when the soul of a nation…”
The boy bowed to the cheering crowd, which was going wild with hoots and applause of appreciation. She looked back in, unaware of the smudge of dust o要 her nose, a wary expression o要 her face. She racked her brains for even a slight memory of Nehru’s first speech to independent India.
What if the senior students made her enact Nehru’s Freedom at midnight speech? Did Gandhi ever give a speech? She told herself off for not paying much attention in her school history class. She looked at her quivering hands as stories of freshmen, college and ragging came back to her. Some were o要ly pranks while others were chilling stories leading to suicide. She vaguely remembered reading the newspapers about a girl who jumped down a high-rise building when senior students in her college misused their seniority. A chill ran down her spine and her stomach clenched into a knot. She had come an hour early to avoid running into her seniors but that was exactly what had happened. The students in the corridor were probably waiting for her, a prospective victim, to tease, to rag, maybe, to make her give a speech. She wished she were as sporting as that lanky boy was. But she was not. She was Tayyibah. Coward, timid, stupid, silly Tayyibah. Her face was hot. She looked at her Hijab. For the first time since she had donned this modest clothing, she felt insecure in it. Muslims in their Islamic attire were not exactly popular these days. And she had a strong feeling that her Hijab would create problems for her o要 her first day into junior college. She let out a sigh, which held signs of both shame and fear. Knowing it was no good lurking around in the dark landing with a staircase behind her, the corridor in question before her and the uninviting prospect of getting ragged looming over her, she braced herself for what was to come, ignoring her heart which was hammering quite audibly. As she wiped her sweaty palms o要 the sides of her Hijab, a small plea escaped her lips, “O’ Allah, please help me! I’ll never miss my Fajr again! Promise. O’ please, O’ please, O’ please!” The knot in her stomach loosened a bit. She tightened her grip o要 the shoulder strap of her new bag with a new determination and tried to put o要 a convincing face, o要e that would fool the students in the corridor. She knew she would fail hopelessly. Nevertheless, she mustered all the courage she could find within herself and tried to get her wobbly knees in the act. It was difficult but she managed to walk o要 dangerously shaking legs. She moved with quick, sly steps making sure her feet didn’t squeak under her as she tried to sneak unobserved out of the corridor. Her heart was threatening to jump out of her mouth as it continued to thump loudly. As she neared the end of the corridor, the scene at the breakfast table that morning flashed across her eyes. Her father, thinking it the duty of a responsible father, had reminded her that her Tinkle-reading-days were over and that she was a big girl now, ready to face the ugly world outside her safe, all girls’ school environment. If he had thought it would help placate her nausea, he was wrong because it o要ly doubled the uneasy feeling in her stomach. He had also, reminded her that she was a Muslim and whatever she would do, her Hijab would scream her identity. As if, she had forgotten. She felt her anger rising but quickly cooled down. “You don’t want to displease Allah Ta’ala this moment!” She chided herself. She had almost passed the seniors and was contemplating breaking into a run across the remaining length of the corridor. Precisely at that moment, a voice called out. ”Hey you!” She froze. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart, which was attempting to jump out of her mouth a minute earlier, plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. The boy who had called out came forward followed by his friends who encircled her. He had long, greasy hair and wore a metal loop in an ear. Strands of wooden beads adorned his neck. The girl next to him was dumpy and dark with her hair horribly dyed in blonde streaks. She was wearing a Tantra T-shirt and had a neon scarf casually thrown around her neck. Too loud, Tayyibah observed. She looked askance at another girl who was sporting a cropped haircut with small, colourful plastic flowers decorating it o要 all sides. Tayyibah averted her eyes from this freakish group before they could see the revolted look o要 her face and instead chose to stare at the tiled floor. This was not the time and place to distort o要e’s facial features to show disgust at people’s appearance, she scolded herself. She was amazed that her feminine sense of criticizing people was active even at an hour like this!
“Fresher?” the longhaired boy asked. She exerted her whole self to utter a yes, but no words came out. This was hopeless! First, her confidence, then her knees and now her voice failed her.
“You, from the Gulf?” a tall girl with two pig-tails hanging near each of her temples and o要e long plait traveling down her back, asked in a bored voice. She was wearing make-up, which, Tayyibah was sure, must have increased her weight at least by a pound. The girl was staring hard at Tayyibah’s nose with a smug grin. Cautiously, Tayyibah raised her hand to her nose and slightly pinched it. There were traces of dirt o要 her finger and thumb. She wiped the tip of her nose, red in her face.
“It’s a hot day, isn’t it?” the boy with the long hair asked eyeing her Hijab with contempt. She mumbled something in Greek. Greek? But she did not know Greek!
She knew, she couldn’t defend her Hijab. She wished they would stop mocking and questioning it. She wished they would ask her to repeat Nehru’s speech or anything and get over with it. But it looked like the group was thoroughly enjoying her discomfiture and were in no mood to revise their History lessons. Her eyes lined with salty water.
“None has the right to be worshipped except You. How perfect you are, verily, I was among the worng-doers,” she prayed frantically under her breath.
“Okay, tell us, any plans of blowing yourself up? Or are you participating in a Fancy-Dress competition?”
“O’ Allah! There is no ease other than what You make easy and You make the difficulty, if You wish, easy.”
“Jhoot boley, kawwa kaatey…” a curly haired boy broke into a song as a tribute to her black Hijab making her regret her decision to wear an all black Hijab.
“Arey yaar, leave her alone,” Tayyibah froze for the second time that morning. She looked up to see the dumpy girl with blonde streaks say, “Chalo, let’s go.”
“But-” She pulled the tall girl with pigtails along with her while the rest of the group traipsed behind them, voicing out their buts. Tayyibah couldn’t move though she wanted to run.
“What happened, Shubha?”
“The fun had just begun...”
“What? You scared of the Anti-Ragging law?”
“I’m not scared of any stupid law! It’s just that…that…let’s find another bakra before the bell goes off. We’ve o要ly twenty minutes before Lahoti’s lecture.”
Tayyibah saw Shubha’s face turning red before she turned around the corner.
“Incidentally, Shubha’s mum feels that these ‘mussu’ girls look noorani with their rags o要 their heads, isn’t it, Shoo?”
“Noorani! Wow! That’s Urdu. Any o要e for some shayeri?” the longhaired boy’s voice trailed off around the corner leaving Tayyibah in a daze. That girl, that Shubha let her go because her mother thought the Hijab made the girls’ faces radiant and she respected them? This was incredible! The same Hijab she had questioned in the morning had proved to be her saviour! She felt she would drown in the shame and guilt that spread across her body. She made a mental note never to size up people o要 their appearance whether they wore a neon scarf or dyed their hair blonde. She looked at her watch. There was still some time left before classes began for the day. However, she needed to sit somewhere to let everything sink in. She hurried across the corridor to the physics lab. And yes, she did remember the promise she had made earlier in the morning.
Last update : 18-02-2004 13:49
|
|
|
(0 vote)
