She sneaked into the province of the soldiers and laid all the sticks, more like huge pieces of timber around the area. She then poured all the gallons of kerosene on to the pile. Having matches in her bag, She lights one and looks at it. Then let it go. Then the fire started to eat all the kerosene covered sticks as if it were mere french fries. As the fire expanded, the screams of the mercenaries filled her ears. She stared at the moving shadows that hyperly ran, sprinted, even dove into the dry earth. Payal didn’t want to do this. But she was compelled, if they never had came into her or the matter of that, into anyones’ lives then Payal’s life would’ve been in peace. She would have her family back, Tara back, and all those innocent lives of the students who sacrifice themselves up for mere sentences which everybody knew as a language. She turns away though she could still hear the helpless screams. In her heart, she has no mercy.
“You will all pay for what you have done. I will have NO mercy for you! Never!” Payal screamed at the top her lungs. Payal came back to her home. She stood in front of it, which was once brightly colored with brand new shingled roof, Jasmine flowers growing as a memento of her mother. It was as if her mother died once again in front of her but this time with her father as well. This war isn’t done.
She walked inside and grabbed the strap of her embroidered bag. Everything was ruined. Her life, her family, and her beautiful house. Tears brimmed in her eyes each falling like raindrops. She looked down at the floor and thought that her father has to have a proper burial. She dragged her dad’s body, taking it outside. Just right next to the threshold were two framed pictures. One showing her dad and Payal hugging and smiling together. The other Payal’s graceful and beautiful mom and her dad. She let go of her dad’s hands and picked up the pictures. Each one had shattered glass on them. They must’ve been from the picture before they were broken. Payal hugged both pictures, not caring of the shards.
“Ow! My hand!” Payal’s hands were now filled with fresh blood. She cut herself accidentally with a sharp shard. She ripped a long piece, almost a sliver of her scarf and tied it around her bleeding hand. She then picked up her dad and dragged him to the front of the house. But as she did, her hand ached and gave a sharp, throbbing pain to her arm. But she didn’t give up. Then, she took her shovel and dug a hole about 5 feet deep. There she slowly put her dad to rest and covered the hole with dirt making sure the section is packed in. Payal sobbed and sobbed for her father. Suddenly something hit her and she couldn’t move. Her hands were being restrained from her as if someone was holding it. Her vision became so blurry all she could see was colors. She heard voices that sounded it belong to men. They whispered something in urdu that she understood. They were going to hold her captive. She wanted to say let go but something inside her compelled her not to.
How could I possibly not scream? These are people I don’t even know. How could I think I am going to be safe with them? Payal couldn’t understand. Suddenly, she got up and had the strength to release from their grasp. She could see clearly and ran away. She ran into the jungle where most of the animals that Payal loved lived. She ran until she could no longer see her own home. She sat down on the edge of a log and gasped for air. She thought of those men who came for her. Anyways, she had no fear living in the jungle. She loves the serenity and the animals. She even has some friends who love her too. As she walked, the sounds of the birds and the trickling of the stream made beautiful music. Payal looked back at the path where she came from. She squeezed her eyes shut and just sat down by the stream. Touching the soft earth beneath her, Payal looked into her own reflection into the stream. Her salwar kameez was now ruined. All that was left of her picturesque dress was the blood stains that were in splotches. Her soft, graceful hands that once made Jasmines grow from the ground is now rough, covered with dirt, and are scratched. Maybe her father’s death was the main reason she was discombobulated. Suddenly she felt a hand touch her shoulder.
“Who are you? Are you a soldier? Stay away!” Payal almost hit the boy with a large stone but then stopped midway. He was different. He was about the same age. He had a skin color that Payal never saw. More like a mix of ivory and caramel when mixed together. His eyes were vine green and his hair was shiny which fell back to his neck.
“Oh my god! What is wrong with you? I only came here because I heard a girl crying and saw it was you. So maybe I could’ve consoled you and ----”
“No! Why should you console me? Plus I don’t know who you are and… and … I am 18, okay? I can handle myself. Who are you to console me? Who knows you might be a spy and… and…” Payal stopped midway. He just stood there and hiding his smile.
“No, go on. I like to know why you’d think I am a spy. Look at you, all that mud on your face. You look like you were buried.”
“I wasn’t buried. My father was. Sometimes you have to feel that person’s emotion in order to know them. You don’t know me, okay? Just leave me alone and go away!” Payal stood up and started to walk away. She turned back to see that he was gone and he left his dagger behind. She picked it up and studied the engravings that had the initial J on it with snakes coiling around it. Payal put it in her bag. She hopped on to the rocks on the stream all the way to the other side. Payal felt as someone was following her, trying to see what she is doing. She turns around to see no one there.
“If it’s you again, go away. Don’t need to watch me.” She yelled. Then she saw a shadow that looked like a man. As she squinted under the scorching sun, she saw a long object that looked like a gun in his hands. Payal didn’t care to look again, she was sure that it was the same person who Payal was about to be captured by. She started to run as fast as she could. But she didn’t stop to look and Payal slipped and tripped over a rock. Next thing she knew was that she was hanging on to a cliff clinging on to life or death. She almost let out a blood curdling yell but stopped. Knowing that soldiers are near, they can rescue her but then hold her captive or even worse: make her fingers let go and fall to her death. Only they would be the witnesses of what happened. Payal tried to let go of one hand and reach the top root. No use. She almost fell off! Suddenly she felt like somebody grabbed her hand and was pulling her up.
“Who are you? Why are you helping me?” Payal questioned.
“Just be quiet. I am here to help you. Now give me your other hand, quick!” the unknown person replied. Payal recognized that voice, it was that boy who left his J-initialed dagger. She didn’t care what he was doing or who he was. All she cared about was her father’s death and her survival.
“Thanks, I mean, what’s wrong with you?!. You could’ve dropped me!” Payal suddenly changed her tone.
“Whoa, what was that about? First you thank me than scolding?” He said.
“You still annoy me. But thanks. I mean…… nevermind.” Payal replied. With that, Payal just stands quietly, not even a little squeak came out of her. But the boy just stared at her. To break the silence she gave the J-initialed dagger back.
“Here, I think this is yours. It fell after you disappeared. Does your name start with J?” Payal asked skeptically.
“Really? I actually said that. Though he has a dagger with the initial J on it. Wow! Great way to make yourself look like an idiot, Payal!” Payal thought. She kicked her own shin when the J-boy wasn’t looking.
“Yeah, my name is Jalal. I stay at hut nearby. What’s your name?” Jalal reciprocated.
“My name is Payal. Are you Indian? I mean because your name… I can understand urdu and hindi so.. um..” Payal was blank.
“No, I am not but my mother was. By the way, did you use the dagger at all?”
“Oh no, I did not. What should I do with it? It is pretty and I like snakes. I had a passion for carnivorous animals. It is yours, I can’t use it without your permission.”
“Oh. So, uh, why are you here? Is it because of the soldiers?”
“I guess you could say that. But why do you live in the jungle? Why not in the village?”
“I am also here to escape from them. My whole family was killed. I guess yours was too.
“Are you going back now? I mean to your hut?”
“Actually I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Remember after we had a fight the first time? You said to me that in order to know that person, you need to feel their emotions. Well, I feel it and I think I know you. Sort of.”