To the readers of the previous version of this story,
The next three chapters will have majority of it's scenes similar to the old version. Please bear with me because you guys have to read it again. And because I deleted the previous chapters, I've lost the comments and votes as well. So do comment xx.
And hopefully no spoilers for the new readers. :)
Dès vu
It was an ordinary evening. The sun has descended, not too much and it's warmth had an almost unnoticeable difference. From the bus stop, Nikaht and I set out to our homes after alighting from the bus. Nikhat was bubbling out of energy, being her everyday self while I silently heeded to her rants, being happy that classes were done for the day.
We walked through the familiar paths of our street and was now approaching Baba's bakery. As usual Yusuf sat outside of the bakery on his usual chair in the usual position while playing the usual game on his phone.
"Ya Allah! Nau, when is he not on that damned phone of his? Imagine one day something happens to it. I am sure he won't be able to recover from the shock," Nikhat's attention averted from her rant to Yusuf.
"I am telling you, sometimes I want to smash it on his head. He never listens to what Baba says and still nods to each of his instructions while looking forward to playing that game."
"If you command, I can smash that phone on his head."
"Shush now! He'll hear our fantasies."
"ASSALAMU ALAIKUM!" at Nikhat's high pitched and unexpected voice, Yusuf jumped in his chair and the phone was two seconds away from breaking into pieces. Thanks to his reflexes, the love of his life is still clutched in his left hand, unharmed while his right hand was above his rapidly beating heart. He looked at us with widened eyes that was showcasing shock and rage.
I knew exactly why Nikhat did it. She turned and sent me a wink.
"Wa alaikumasalam," Baba said as we entered the bakery.
"Bhaiyya get me a tub of ice cream," Nikhat joked to Baba, pretending that she didn't know him.
"We don't sell our items to immature kids. Shoo away," Baba carried the joke along.
We talked for a few minutes as both of us snatched some goodies from the sweet boxes. In his usual joking manner Baba asked us to pay for whatever we ate.
Nikhat stuck her tongue out at him and looked at the clock "I will be late. Let's go." She hurried us.
"Bye dukhaan-wale-bhaiyya." The joke went on as Baba pretended to throw whatever was next to him at her.
We walked a bit further and I parted the way when we came to the front of my house. I bid her goodbye and then rang the doorbell. Sanam opened the door, clad in her school uniform and we greeted each other.
The house was filled with the heavenly aroma of biryani, one of my personal favourites. I placed my shoes on the racks and rushed towards the kitchen, throwing my backpack on the couch in the living room. Zayba was painting something, sitting in the center of the living room, clearly just returned from school. She was the artist in our family and her drawings were excellent
Mama stood with her back to me as she stirred something, focused. I ambled over to her and threw my hands around her shoulders, squeezing her into a hug.
"I love you so much mama," I expressed.
"You don't have to butter me up now. I am already preparing the biryani. You will also get to eat it."
I retrieved my hands and crossed it behind me, huffing "Can't I express my love for you without being accused of having an ulterior motive?"
''Unfortunately most of the time you children compliment me or Baba is because you have an ulterior motive. So the blame is on you."
I lifted myself on to the countertop as mama moved around the kitchen preparing the delicious food.
"Liar! I hug you every other day. You just don't like being hugged," I spoke the truth. I always squished my teddy bear of a mother with hugs and kisses but she would only swat me off.
"Sorry for having my own personal space," Someone was being sarcastic today.
I took a piece of carrot from the cutting board beside me earning a small blow on my knees from mama and then scolding me to wash my hands and have a change of clothes before eating.
"Okay fine," I groaned while standing on my feet and walking towards my room.
"Come back soon and help me."
"But I am very tired. College was hectic today," I fake yawned as I expected an aggressive reply.
"Only when I ask for help you have a hectic day. "
And I successfully made Aisha khalid fuming with anger.
I let out a giggle and ran towards my bedroom. Opening its door I took in a deep breath. "Happy place, my safe haven," I mumbled under my breath showering the bedroom with such fancy names.
I reached the front of my bed and threw myself on it, falling face first. After a few more minutes of rolling on the soft mattress I got up yawning and went to freshen up.
"Let's pray Asr and go help mama." I said to myself.
Am I talking to myself a lot today? Or is it everyday?
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Disheartened.
That is how I felt right now.
It occured again. Why do such things even happen? The impulse to let out my feelings about it was evident.
After helping prepare the dinner and performing the Maghrib prayer, I found myself infront of the news with a cup of hot tea in my hands. The news of yet another student suicide was reported. It was really heartbreaking to know that too much stress is being loaded on a person at a very young age that they have to do the unalterable act of ending their own life. Suicide should not be something that should even cross their minds.
I wanted people to understand extremity of the situation. But there is very little I could do, atleast now. Losing even one person due to such a reason is a matter of grave concern.
With words being only the part I could do, I took out my journal. It is a confidant where I write about things that I want to let out. That includes my thoughts, feelings on situations in daily life ,opinion on things or in situations like this- the things I want everyone to know.
I am not a daily journal writer. I write it only when something prominent happens. My secret love for writing is reflected in the journal so I never let anyone read it.
I took out my pen along with the precious journal of mine and holding the tea in my other hand I opened the balcony door walking ahead and sitting on one of the chairs. I set the things in their places and began writing.
I don't know how they felt, I did not experience their turmoil but I hope anyone who goes through this heals. It has become the new normal to pressurize the students to pass with the best of marks even before they grasp the books in their young hands. Sometimes even I have episodes of stress and I hate it to the core. So being constantly in that situation would of course take a toll on people. People are so obsessed with grades that they neglect the fact that we are just humans who would like to live our lives happily. The people who belittle others for their grades should know that exams or marks are barely there on the priority list to life. Moreover a healthy and happy mind should be everyone's top priority.
It is sad to perceive that Mental health is still somehow a taboo prevailing in our society and it is not given the concern it deserves. We go around caring about physical wellness too much that we forget the connection between the two.
My thoughts go out to the family who lost their child in whom they saw lots of expectation. At the same time I hope they really did talk to the person and tried to help them with the dilemma. If not I am sorry that you had to lose someone special because grades that won't matter when the end comes were what you favoured.
Let your children live a life they are satisfied with. Let them achieve the marks they can. Because hardwork is only what matters and hopefully they did their best. The result only matters if it benefits you, not kill you. Let students think of how they would cope with life if they didn't succeed in exams while they think about how they will achieve the heights when they succeed. It is better to have a happy child with less marks rather than witnessing them die each day because they think you won't be proud of them if they brought home something less than the highest grades.
To the schools, colleges and coaching centres where students train for writing those hectic exams,
While implementing programs to coach students to write the exams with ease and win with great marks inturn making the name of your institution renowned also try to include classes that will help them with stress and other issues. As much as people deny it even teachers have a great hand in nurturing student's approach to life decisions.
To the person who is suffering,
I don't know how you feel. But I do understand it isn't a likeable one. But please don't lose hope. There is much more to life than these tests. You can be anything in the end. A single fail is not the end, rather it is a stepping stone to success. If you are happy with what you do you are already successful.
Please don't give up. Be a fighter and fight for your happiness. Talk to people who care for you and don't hide away from seeking help because of the judgemental society. For them your feelings are just a story but for you they built who you are.
My raging mind desired to write more. But I shortened my words as my mind reached tranquillity as of now.
The breeze hit my face making the hairs that fell out of my ponytail blow. I concluded the writing, wishing I can reach out to the people I wrote about. Finishing the last sip of my preferred drink I placed my journal in the adjacent coffee table and gazed towards the sky. The stars were barely there. The moon is not pure white anymore. It has a light orange complexion to it. A few minutes into star gazing someone knocked the balcony door.
As I turned my head I saw Baba coming in. "Mind if I join?" He asked with formality being the intention.
"Your company is always welcomed," I replied my eyes tracing his movements as he sat in front of me on one of the chairs.
"Nowadays you are the only one who probably sits here," he started.
"This is one of my favourite places in the house. Especially on windy days like these. And today I had to relieve my mind. So here I am," I grinned.
"No wonder the journal is in your hands and you look disturbed. What is it?"
I sighed "The student suicide case got me worried."
"Oh! I saw it. Such a saddening news." Baba gave a look of remorse.
"Why do such things happen baba? I really want to knock some sense into people who pressurize students for marks."
Baba looked at me with warmth in his eyes "I understand where your feelings come about. There would be many times in your student life when you will also relate to the stress. But as your father, I want you to know that marks doesn't matter Naura. Don't you ever feel stressed because you can't impress people with your marks. You should study for you to feel satisfied and be successful."
"And in the path to success you fall down a number of times. You will feel like a failure at such moments. You will feel as if your path towards the aim is fading. But remember that when one path fades another unfades."
The words that Baba spoke made me so proud to be his daughter. Baba always had advices set in to say to people in distress. Many times like every other young person, we also fail to listen to his advices. But the words he speak are golden.
I smiled at him "What you---"
His phone started ringing and I was interrupted mid-sentence. He smiled at me apologetically and walked towards the railings of the balcony to answer the call. I laid back in my chair, my mind swirling back to the earlier conversations.
Baba comes back a few seconds later and says "There is a last minute delivery at the bakery. So I will be back soon In sha Allah."
He walked towards the door of the balcony as I hummed to his words whispering In sha Allah afterwards. I followed his lead, taking my journal and the empty mug with me.
Baba was taking the key out of the keyholder as I stood slanting on the doorframe watching him.
"Want some ice cream to wash off all the worries?"
"You are the very best, YA Baba," I was about to choose which flavour I want when Zayba entered.
"What is happening?" She asked.
"Baba is buying his favourite daughter ice cream."
"Took you long enough baba. I prefer butterscotch," her smart mouth spoke like always.
"I don't think your school thought what the word favourite means."
"Of course they did---"
"Can you girls be civil for once in your life?!" Baba exclaimed with a ting of amusement and frustration "You both will get ice cream. I will be back soon In sha Allah!"
He said his salams and went down the stairs to go out. I sighed and got out of the balcony, closing the door behind me as Zayba went her way.
The last bit of soft breeze entered as I closed the doors.
What I was unmindful about was that some promises are meant to broken. You will only fulfill it if the almighty decreed it for you. The moments that were your ordinary ones will turn out to be the ones you crave the most. The serene breeze could be the start of the ravaging storm.
Dès vu: (n.) The awareness that this will become a memory.
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Hope you guys like the chapter. xx