Tag: short story

Distant Together

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ 8 Comments

At the crack of dawn, far across the river, Ahiya can sense the microphone turning on in a mosque near her village. Within seconds the Azaan will start, the early morning call to prayer.

She lightly rubs her eyes and leaps out of bed. It’s Eid today!

Ahiya goes out of her bedroom cheerfully, half expecting to see her parents in the living area. She gives herself a low-spirited smile when she finds no one in the house. It was her decision to move to a new country, not theirs.

She has set up a cozy home for herself in a faraway Western land. All her life, she was told to educate herself and be successful. Success was to move to a first world country to fulfill your dreams. This was considered to be the ultimate achievement in life. People who get a job and move to the West were revered by families in her home town.

Ahiya grew up with the same dreams and hopes that some day, she will make herself and her family proud by chasing those dreams. Now, her dreams have come true. Then, why is she not happy? Nobody told her that life would never be the same. Nobody told her that the sense of belonging would be lost. Nobody told her how lonely she would feel and that she would be thousands of miles away from her family.

Ahiya shakes her head and dismisses away the thoughts. Today the distance will not come in her way of celebrating one of her most favorite festivals. Eid is the day on which loved ones come together to pray and embrace each other. It is the day of charity, of being grateful, and of forgiveness. Also of course, it is the day of feasting on exquisite, delicious food.

Enthusiastically, Ahiya starts prepping for the day while eating her morning oatmeal. She glides through the kitchen, gathering all the ingredients that she will need for today’s elaborate feast. She turns on the radio, listens to songs and starts chopping vegetables recalling the pleasant childhood memories.

There is always incessant chatter and sound of music in the air during Eid in her hometown. Kids run around the house, grandparents talk loudly on the phones wishing relatives, ma is always busy in the kitchen preparing multiple dishes, and baba does all the other house chores while also entertaining and taking care of the children. In the background, the tape recorder fills the air with music from Sabri Brothers and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

Ahiya’s fond memory of this day is peeling off mehendi from her palms. The first thing to do on every morning of Eid. A curiosity to find out how dark the color of the mehendi on her palm has turned out to be. Once all the mehendi flakes were off, she rubbed coconut oil on her palms and went up running to her amma and baba to show them her orange-colored palms. More than the color she enjoyed watching their faces light up with pride and joy.

Back in the kitchen, Ahiya hums along with the songs on the radio and marinates the chicken, roasts dry fruits in ghee for the dessert, and grinds spices in a mortal pestle. The rising aromas in the kitchen leave her grinning from ear to ear. Light on her feet, Ahiya is focused on getting all the flavours right.

After spending hours in the kitchen, Ahiya finally steps out feeling like a conqueror and rushes for a quick shower. She offers her Eid ki namaz, filled with gratitude and thanks the Lord for all His blessings.

It is time to set up the dining table with the lavish food, Chicken Dum Biryani, Kheema Kababs, Harira, Sheer Khurma, and Phirni. Ahiya dresses up in a traditional lehenga and kurti and sits down on the dining table to video call her parents.

“Eid Mubarak!” she says and beams happily upon seeing their loving, smiling faces. Excitedly she narrates the stories of her day and patiently listens to theirs. An hour long conversation and greetings leave Ahiya content.

Blissful.

 

Somewhere in a French Patisserie

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ Leave a comment

At 5:00 AM, the warm yellow lights turn on every day in the back of the bakery. 

Marie gets busy with all the work that lays ahead of her in the day. She prepares herself, dusts her hands with flour and begins to knead the dough. She kneads the dough long and gently though. 

There is flour on her apron, hands, and strands of hair that fall often on her face. From the pantry to the kitchen, she runs around gathering ingredients. 

In a large bowl, she sieves the dry ingredients into the flour. In another bowl, she whisks the wet ingredients. She works with the intensity of a controlled hurricane. 

Now and then, she checks on her pastry and bread dough. Kneading them long and gently though. 

She works on the bread on one side while simultaneously working on a fluffy chocolate mousse. 

She whisks warm whipping cream with cacao powder in a bowl. In another, she mixes milk, sugar, and cornflour. Folding in the batter smoothly until it all comes together.

She pours this mixture into a saucepan and turns on the flame. She adds chunks of dark chocolate into the concoction and starts stirring till it turns into a mini brown whirlpool in the pan. 

She stirs and stirs until it becomes delectably dark and gooey. She pours this into a baking tray for cooling. She drizzles some cocoa powder on the chocolate mousse just before sliding the tray into the refrigerator.

She dusts her apron briefly and goes back to kneading a new dough again. 

Like this, Marie passionately bakes away every single day. Tirelessly, making wonderful pastries in her French patisserie. 

woman in restaurant wearing apron

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By the Ocean

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ 2 Comments

An old villa facing the ocean on a summer beach stands still.

Three steps take you into the house through a blue colored two-way door, a string of bells hang above it lightly tingling with the ocean breeze.

A white intricate design of rangoli greets you at the doorstep, you step in and walk on the red floored tiles and enter an authentic South Indian home.

In the open hall area hangs an oonjal wooden swing with iron-link chains anchored to the ceiling. The oonjal is decorated with two maroon bolster pillows on the sides.

The swing directly faces the entrance door, when left open, the door acts as a window to the ocean galore.

Tall pillars standing impressively in the middle of the house holding its weight.

The aroma of ghee from kitchen, freshly prepared vadas, and filter coffee drags you further in. Steamed rice cakes continue to cook in the pressure cooker with the whistle going on and off.

Just by the kitchen is an open area with an open ceiling and right in the center of it is a tulsi plant.

Dressed in a sari with a damp towel wrapped around her wet hair, she waters the tulsi plant and does puja.

Two little girls cheerfully run in the open area holding up their orange-colored lehengas and dropping a few buds of mogra flowers from their hair onto the ground while playing.

There is lively banter and cheerfulness in the air. Grandma talks incessantly with the maid while the maid washes clothes just around the corner of the house on a stone slab.

A stairway leads you to several more rooms, a young fifteen-year old girl walks on the corridor holding a book in her hand and reciting poems in her sing-song voice.

Just when we are about to enter one of the rooms, I wake up with a startle to the sounds of loud impatient honking from vehicles across the street. I look out the window and see streets bustling with people and cars, surrounded by tall blocks of boring concrete buildings. I let out a loud sigh thinking of my heartwarming South Indian dream and get back to living the usual fast-paced city life.

adult book boring face
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A Day at the Dentist

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ Leave a comment

I lie numb on the chair.

Eyes towards the window on the ceiling wondering, “Who put a window up there?”

Also, being thankful for the wonderful idea.

The clouds were moving unusually fast today.

The weather forecast mentioned that it was going to get windy in the afternoon, and it did.

The dentist and the nurse moved their hands meticulously inside my mouth. I had just one job to do..

I had to lie still with my mouth wide open.

I lay there without flinching, trusting them with their tools inside my mouth.

A swab of cotton goes in, a piercing needle, and a voice above me says, “I am sorry, I know that hurt. Are you okay?”

She must have seen my fingers digging into my thighs. I nod with my mouth wide open and try to relax my hands.

There was an on-going battle inside my mouth while my entire body lay still.

Soon, the drilling and vibrations began.

The dust from the enamel of my tooth blew into the air and onto my face. The nurse wiped my face with a tissue.

A dim light constantly above my head, I lie on the seat with the shades on. 

I hear sounds of a girl crying in pain and wonder what treatment she must be going through? I watch nurses walk in and walk out from the corner of my eye. 

A faint sound of music in the air from the radio, the songs which played I no longer remember. 

A cute guy wearing glasses and headphones sat at the reception area playing games on the Switch, waiting for his wife.

I try to focus on all the things around me so I could take my mind off from the things happening inside my mouth.

A mould of clay goes in, a spray of water, some suction and I feel a bitter tingling sensation on my tongue.

The process repeats and goes on for hours.

Now and then, I hear the dentist say,

“You are a trooper honey.

You are doing good.”

I guess I’m winning the war.

Then again,

There is nothing much for me to do.

As the battle continues,

I lie numb with my mouth open

Looking up at the sky through the window.

blur bristle brush clean
Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com
PS: The cute guy, my husband *_*

 

Tea in Rain

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ 3 Comments

A distant rumbling thunder.

There it comes,

Pitter-pattering rain and with it rises the fresh earthy scent of mud in the air.

Avni goes running out of her mud and straw hut with the pullu of her sari over her head, its tip clenched tightly between her teeth to prevent the pallu from falling.

She hurriedly grabs the washed clothes hanging on the fenced railing and runs back inside the hut.

After a while, white smoke rises from her hut.

Every time it rains, Avni brews tea.

She sits quietly and watches the foamy brown liquid come to a rapid boil.

After a minute, she removes the chai from the fire, pours it over a strainer and into two large mud cups.

She covers the cups with a lid, goes out running again and enters the hut opposite to hers.

Eighty-year old Ajjamma lives here and Avni is very fond of her.

The view from the other side of Ajjamma’s hut is beautiful. It overlooks a large pond with fields of corn surrounding it.

Every time it rains, Avni and Ajjamma sit by the doorstep of the hut in silence and drink chai. 

They watch raindrops splashing and creating bubbles of air in the pond, they watch the field of crops sway gently with the wind and they like the mist softly touching their skin. 

This is happiness to them, in each other’s company and their hot cup of tea.

Little Encounters of Love

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ Leave a comment

At the cafe, we both reached out at once towards the cup of coffee placed at the counter. Our hands stopped midway, she turned and looked at me.

Our eyes locked for.. one second, two seconds, three seconds.. 

She quickly blinked and looked away.

I apologized and said, “Please, go ahead.”

She hesitated while reaching for the coffee.

So I said, “It’s fine, I am in no hurry.”

She lifted the cup, turned towards me again, looked into my eyes and gave me a smile.

I felt my heart stop.

She said, thank you and walked away.

 

A Storm Within

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ Leave a comment

A red blazing spark of light shot down from the dark clouds that turned up out of nowhere. The sharp crackling sound of thunder got my heart racing. I had never seen anything like this before.

Wait, did I just see two human forms in the clouds with swords? Or were they only birds? The lightning must have blurred my vision!

The red lightning struck again! I quickly roll down the window of my cab to look up at the sky. I see a whirlpool forming. The clouds start drowning into the vast darkness of the whirlpool.

It looks like a portal. I have seen sci-fi films and read many fantasy books, always wishing out-of-ordinary instances like these would occur someday to make life extraordinary. However, this was not fiction, it was happening for real, I could see a portal in the sky!

This cannot be true. I stare at it without blinking my eyes. I can feel my heart sinking, drowning in fear but unable to react.

“Is it only the sky or will we all get absorbed into the darkness of this portal?”, I whisper to myself.

I am not quite sure how I feel at this very moment, I am not crying out in fear neither am I panicking. I guess shock has taken over my emotions and all I can do is gape with my mouth wide open at the flying humans in the sky and the red storm approaching through the open whirlpool.

Inquisitive is probably how I feel. I do not want this storm to consume me neither do I want it to stop, I wonder what this miracle is! How can I say that I want it to stop? Monotony of life has gotten deep into my skin, I shouldn’t be complaining. A supernatural phenomenon like this has never happened before, I should make the most of it!

In a flash, I decide to jump out of the cab to marvel at the rarity of this occurrence. I need to remember this, I need to write it down, sketch it, or wait..the fastest way to capture this moment is to click a photo. So, I look down to hunt for my phone in my bag and I suddenly realize the entire world just stopped.

Feeling dazed, I look around to find myself in the middle of a bustling street. Cars start honking and people step out of their shops and cars to look at me, and then I see my cab driver running in panic towards me. Everyone looks as startled as I am. I look at them and immediately look up at the sky. Nothing. It’s a bright sunny day!

I stand horrified in the middle of the street holding a book in my hand, The Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson.

reflection of clouds on body of water
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*Things Book Lovers DO*

 

In a Lapse

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ Leave a comment

I wake up in a daze. I open my eyes and see the blue sky above my head surrounded by trees. I sit up with a startle and look around in panic, too many trees and scattered fallen leaves on the ground.

Where am I?

What is this place?

“I think I am in a forest, somewhere deep inside a forest.”

I stand up in fright to see if anyone was around. I start walking slowly, worried that I would get lost. I fear of getting deeper into the forest with no way out.

I do not cry for help or make any noise. I just keep walking. Walking carefully, always alert, searching for some kind of a trail or sign that could lead me out of this strange forest. My mind is a blur and then suddenly I heard something. The sound wasn’t from the forest, it sounded like moving cars. I run towards the direction of the sound hoping that I would hear it again.

I finally see a highway far ahead. I feel relieved but I do not move. I just stand motionless and continue staring ahead because I do not recognize this place. This isn’t my home, I am in a foreign land. This feels does not like home, I do not belong in this world anymore.

Something has changed. I slowly lift my hand and touch the back of my shoulder. There was a swelling with a bulge on my back, with something jutting out. I quickly turn my head to look. Wings. There were wings on my back, in the color of my skin, they feel like a part of me now. I try to move them and surprisingly they move with ease like any other part of me. I try flapping them slowly, they move smoothly and effortlessly. Slowly I can feel my feet rising above the ground. I get frightened and stop moving and end up abruptly falling on the ground.

Then it all the memories come whooshing back to me. The night was as dark as a night could be, hazy vision, swollen fingers reaching for me in an inebriated state, and then the fall. I had fallen from my balcony but I did not drop to the ground, I had grown wings and flown away from the miseries of the world.

I shut up my eyes and stop looking ahead at the highway. I turn back towards the forest and slowly start moving. But this time I don’t walk, I fly.

woman s face
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Mint Garden

~ Nuraine Sadaf ~ Leave a comment

The smell of fresh mint lifts up her spirits.

Every morning, Anima enters the gates of our home at 5.30 AM and goes straight to the garden to collect fresh herbs.

Anima is a cook in our house and I have known her since I was a child. Every day she goes to the kitchen with a smile holding a bunch of fresh mint in her hands like they are a bouquet of flowers.

Every morning, we drink mint juice with breakfast and there is always extra stocked up in the fridge. I wonder why Anima is so obsessed with mint, even Appa and Amma never tell her anything.

Sometimes I have seen her from the terrace watering the mint garden and mumbling silent prayers. I felt she was going crazy.

I even went up to her one day and asked,

“Anima, why do you like mint so much?”

She gently brushed her hand through my hair and smiled at me.

I never got an answer.

I was upset, I couldn’t take it anymore so I decided to stop all the madness. At night, I secretly went into the garden and destroyed all the mint plants.

Next morning, I wake up and see Anima sobbing by the wreckage in the garden. Appa and Amma look like they are in a state of shock. They just stood by her side, motionless.

Next second, I see them come running towards my room.

I look at them in confusion and ask,

“What’s wrong? Why do you all look so awful? It was only mint!”

They stand in front of me wide-eyed without saying a word.

I could feel myself turning pale.

Amma bursts out crying, “Lips.. her lips are turning purple. Call the doctor!”

I feel the room spinning in circles and my legs feel like jelly. While being carried in Appa’s arms I see a faint light, a disheveled garden and Anima standing solemnly by the door holding onto rotten mint leaves.

green leaf
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