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This short story was first published on Fressfuls Digipress. The publisher has folded.
The Moon And The Magic written by Mehreen Ahmed:. Presentation and Publication, Digipress Pressfull.
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Details
This short story was first published on Fressfuls Digipress. The publisher has folded.
Comment
This short story was first published on Fressfuls Digipress. The publisher has folded.
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The wars ate the 14-year-olds. Such were the days when young boys wielded swords and died in these dusts. Politicians drunk in the revelry of power and greed sent more and more elderly and the young to join the army to fight senseless battles in the name of the king. Unbeknownst to whose wars they fought, these soldiers were the perfect cannon fodder, some many moons ago under the hot suns and rising sands of the desert gulag. Made up of rippled sand dunes and sporadic barrel cacti, this was ideal land for battles. At a time like this, a baby boy was born. His name was Haji. His mother named him alone because his father was taken by the imperial force long before his birth. He grew up with his mother without much opulence or opportunity. This small town, in eastern Gulag, where they lived, was on the border between two warring kingdoms. The wars far from over, the godforsaken Gulag couldn't be appeased any time soon. Royal armies fed on the vulnerable, as did their sinful paymasters. This ever-hungry beast, no number of humans, camels, or horses was enough to satisfy the bottomless gut of this stunning desert. Haji and his mother's fate were tied up with the Gulag. She lived in constant fear like every other mother on the land, afraid that the army would come after their sons. Haji had just turned twelve. Jainab surveilled him around the clock and kept him close. Occasionally, she'd send him out on errands to tend the sheep, far into the desert. Today, in the pale light of the first morning sun, Haji took off. He took his flock from the shed at the back of their mud house and headed towards the Gulag. The army slept at these hours. He walked nearly a quarter of a mile into the desert when he saw a great number of tents strewn across. Soldiers rested in those tents from a long night's war cries, the Gulag at their feet lay like a sleeping giant. Haji walked over the placid sands ahead of his herd. Then he heard a small cry beyond one of the rippled dunes. Haji stopped. It was a feeble cry, almost a whimper. It didn't sound like a human voice. He began to follow the sound. It was a human voice. There was a boy here about his age, crawling over sandslides. He appeared wounded and famished. Many cuts and bruises beset his little body. Haji ran over and sat down by his side. Are you hurt? Haji asked. The boy looked at him wide-eyed and nodded. Who did this to you? Haji asked again. Enemy, he said. Water, water, may I have some? Haji looked around. Through serendipity, he found some prickly pears by the dunes. Under and over the sand he searched for something sharp. He found one, a flat pebble. Hang in there, okay? Haji cut some pulp with the sharp edge of the pebble. Then he took the prickles out carefully. He pouched the pulp into the corner of his long shirt. He asked the wounded boy to open his mouth. Haji squeezed the pulp. Droplets filtered straight through into his mouth. I ll have to piggyback you home with me if I can t find a camel, Haji told the boy. It is dangerous to steal from them, the army there. Too weak from his wounds, the boy said nothing. He waited for whatever arrangements Haji could make. Haji walked across the wide dune to look for a camel. Near the tents, he found one. The beast of the desert stood aloof, tied to a tent s hook. When Haji peeked through one of the tent s openings, his eyes fell on several men sleeping. Some were child warriors. They slept dead to the world, as Haji walked behind a tent. He saw a few drowsy guards. He walked past them unnoticed and went up to the camel. He hid behind its hind legs. Then he moved his light body between the camel s four lanky legs. At a snail s pace he got to the hook where the camel was tied with a rope. He untied the camel and brought it over by its rein. Jynab sat on the threshold of her house. Haji was late. She boiled chickpeas over a clay stove. Where is my boy today? A shiver ran right through her spine at the thought that soldiers may have taken him. This brought back memories when her husband lived with her. She had met him on the Gulag, traveling with her nomadic tribe. One evening, the cavalcade stopped to camp here. They had anchored tents into the sand, and then they lit a fire. Men and women sat around it. A man played a moon song on his fiddle. Others rose to perform a dance. The mesmerizing song and the fire dance caused a moonlight slide on the open desert. The moon poured out its lights. They gushed like a silver stream of frozen waterfalls. Floodlights touched the dunes. There he was, a stranger. Only the heavens knew where he had come from. He was a lad of twenty, she, barely eighteen. They had sat across the desert fire. She thought of him as a rare breed. She gazed at him over the campfire. Set off guard in an enchantment, she couldn't take her eyes off him, as though she had seen a host of blue butterflies resting on the trunk of a giant kapok in the sun. He smiled and she shot him a shy glance. After that they both knew they were in love. At midnight, when the tribe went to bed, she came out to wait under a starry sky. He was there. His long shadow loomed on the calm sand by the pile of the dying wood. She saw the shadow move, towering over her. He held her hand and pulled her towards him. They stumbled on the sand and rolled over, one on top of the other in the glow of satin silver, the moon, the stars, and before all the constellations. The next day, when the sun rose over the dunes, gleaming in sparkled gold, he walked over to Jynab's father with a marriage proposal. Jynab's father liked him too, but he had questions. Where was he from? What did he do? He said he was a farmer. Jynab didn't care what he did or where he lived. She was just happy to be with him. A wedding soon ensued. The man gave Jynab a gold coin in a short ceremony in the desert in presence of the tribe. That night, there was a feast in the open air, with wild dances and songs of the heart. Fire embers flew over the sand sea. The women cooked up a storm. But there was another storm. A sandstorm unleashed towards the late night. It blew up the russet particles everywhere, darkening the world to blindness. Everyone took cover within the safety of their own tents. While people lay low, only the stoic camels stood their ground. The storm yielded. It took some time. People came out of their tents. They sat down in the same place and began to sing again under the desert moon. The night passed and a new sun rose. Time to move on. Jynab and her man packed their luggage. They said farewell to the tribe. There were no tears of separation. This was the nomadic way. Tears were unnecessary, because on the life's resolute journey, people were bound to meet again. His name was Hashemuddin. As they set off, Jynab glanced at him and softly. There was a desert tavern along the way. They continued to travel towards the east. A mellowed sun hurled slowly over to the west end. Jynab could see a border between this kingdom and that, the enemy territory with whom they were perpetually at war. Along the border she also saw a big patch of greenery and a row of red mud houses. Hashemuddin veered the camel towards one and pulled its reins to a stop in the front of his house. The tribe sat around for a while, after Jynab and Hashemuddin departed. They were enjoying tea and making preparations to get the cavalcade back on the road. Just then, they heard horses. The gulag was a hostile place. Sporadic wars broke out in a blink. Not surprisingly, a situation emerged out of the blue. The tribe found themselves amidst a volatile army, who held them captive at Razor's Edge. Sharp blades pierced their hearts and slashed their necks like butchered chickens. The gold sand dunes turned scarlet with slain heads scattered all over, the cavalcade in anarchy. Their camels were taken. Children and women became spoils of war to be turned into murderous soldiers and sex slaves overnight. Hashemuddin and Jynab were lucky. They were on the edge of the eastern gulag when this happened where cries couldn't be heard. Jynab reached her new home, feeling warm in love with her husband, without any knowledge of the massacre. Horrendous breakouts were common. It appeared this was some divine selection cut out for the people of this land alone. Religion, morality, philosophy, or any known wisdom proved to be futile. A place riddled with greed, corruption, and a complete disregard for any life, human or animal. Jynab waited impatiently for her son this evening. She sat by the fire she had kindled to cook a meal. She looked out and saw blurry outlines across the space through a mirage. They became defined in a bit. She stood up in excitement, it was her son, Haji. But Haji was not alone. There was a camel, and a body, laying over it. She rushed out into the open to meet them. Her thoughts bended, the day when the soldiers had come to take Hashemuddin. That morning, the sun had streamed low through the cracks of the mud house windows. Hashemuddin and Jynab, deep in embrace on the threshold of the door. She was on her way to the kitchen. Hashemuddin held her back. He grabbed her right arm and pulled her towards his chest. Where do you think you re going? Although sweet, sweet words hummed music to her ears. To make breakfast. No. I have to tie you to my long shirt to stop you running away. She had laughed. Hashem gazed at her beautiful smile. If you keep smiling like that now, I will never be able to let you go. He whispered, kissing her hen of fragrant hair and losing his face in its mass. She laughed again and Hashem pulled her into his chest between its broad muscular shoulders. Simon, you have to let me go sometime. And do you think it s fair to ask me to let you go? Hm? He asked. Gosh, you re crazy, you know that? Am I crazy? If you say so, then I am. Crazy nuts, because I am in love with you, my pretty one, he said huskily. Jynab could smell the haka in his breath as he whispered. Oh, I could never, ever let you go. Then he pressed all of her softness against his strong muscles. She lay on his chest like a ragdoll. She let him kiss her, caress her. She kissed him back, a million love hearts soared within her. Her high laughter jingled a crescendo note. Hashemuddin, her blue butterfly, was a rarity. Who had crossed her path on an evening of munificence? Her romance bloomed like an open sunflower in the wilderness. A few days on, she realized that she was with a child. She hadn t told him yet. She didn t have to, because her soft blushes and smiles revealed the secrets of her heart. She resided in the reverie of her own colored world. As each day went by, Hashem watched her across the courtyard and wondered. One day, she took a bath and stood on the doorway of the red mud house, where Hashem could see her. Her wet hair cascaded down to her waist. Hashem couldn t resist. He walked over and picked her up. A tremor ran right through her. What s up? Why do you look so radiant? He asked. Do you want to know? Do you really, really want to know? She smiled. The shy smiles. The sidelong glances, you re doing it again, he said. What? What am I doing? She asked. Making me crazy again fall head over heels in love with you. He had held her narrow waist, lifted her up so he could look into her cold black eyes. At this moment, his pretty chinab was the dark coal enchantress. You re going to be a daddy soon, she said gently, and lowered her blushing face. What? Oh dear god, when did you find out? He didn t even wait for an answer but carried her straight into the room and lay her down on the bed. She looked at him. She looked at him. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead first and each piece of her body separately like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, savoring, lingering, locking his wet lips into hers, unlocking them resoundingly, smooching to move on to her neck and down. She felt euphoric. She had a vision. She saw millions of blue butterflies pasted on a tree trunk in the depths of a forest. A noise broke her spell. She heard hoofs near her doorstep. They came closer. They were the army. The soldiers barged into the house through the flimsy door. The army of death wielded sharp swords. Hashem had already seen them first through the window. He picked her up and said, Run, run to the neighbors. What? What about you? Aren t you coming too? No, God willing, I ll see you again one day. No goodbyes. Run along now. Fear had paralyzed her senses. She shook like a petrified rabbit at midnight before bright lights on a mountain pass. Hashem continued to scream as he backed off from her. She hid there on the outside, nailed to the wall. She heard scuffles inside the room. Then the noises of the hooves faded. She saw them across the desert, Hashem s back on a horse. He had been taken. That was the last of it. The end of her blue butterfly saga, which flew away into the dusk in a flicker of a flutter. Haji and this other boy were much closer by now. But a dust rose and covered them. The obedient herd was right behind. Jynab ran out towards Haji. She fell on the shifty sands. Her baby, Haji, had come at the stroke of midnight. He was born nine months after her husband had been taken. Her neighbors helped her. They delivered Haji, tilled her land, sold her chickpeas in the market and brought money home to Jynab. Jynab paid them their dues. The day they took Hashem, other men in the neighborhood were out to the market. They found Hashem at home and they took him. It was her fault, her cold beauty, this dark spell kept him indoors. She blamed no one but herself. Twelve years now, Hashem has been missing. She was a nervous wreck just from this wait. Haji and his companion were home at last. He ran to her and picked her up. Oh. What's this? Why were you so late? I thought they'd taken you. No, but I found someone, a wounded child soldier. Both Jynab and Haji walked up to the animal and carried the boy into the house. The boy had many injuries. It was a huge task fixing his wounds. He was a cog in their home, another mouth to feed. But her motherly instincts egged her on to protect this child. Jynab knelt before him and rubbed off his blood with a loincloth soaked in warm water. His wounds were deep. She applied herbal medicines and put a bandage across his arms and waist. Towards dawn, the boy opened his eyes and asked for water. Haji ran out to the closest well into the desert through the back door and brought back a jar of water. Jynab poured some into the boy's dry lips. Jynab got up to brew some tea for breakfast. She asked Haji to come outside. Haji's eyes were bloodshot. She gave him red tea in a glass and some falafel with dry dates on a platter. These are really nice, he said. I have been so hungry and tired since last night. I don't think I can tend the sheep today. That's okay. You don't need to go anywhere. After breakfast lie next to the boy and get some sleep. Do you know his name? No, he was too weak to talk. I don't even know if he's a friend or foe. Don't worry about that. It's not our place to judge the wounded. We'll do our best to heal him so he can go back to his parents. You took great risk stealing that camel. Where was the herd then? Oh! They were around, chewing cactus flowers. Jynab had just finished in the kitchen when she heard the sound of horse hooves. The soldiers were back. She rushed into the room and carried the boy, asking Haji to come with her. She went through the back door into the desert, straight to the well. She put Haji in one bucket and the boy in another. The long-roped buckets were knotted up on a pole over the well. Haji had a few tricks up his sleeves too. With his nimble fingers, he tied two more tight notches to make a shorter rope for buckets to remain afloat just above the well's water line. She lowered the boys into the well, in the buckets and saw men inside the house. Haji slipped behind the well wall and sat there stuck to its side like a fallen wallflower, not daring to even breathe. Haji sat quietly in the tad darkness. The men went straight for the shed. Her neighbor had left piles of Shira's sheepskin a couple of weeks ago. They took a pitchfork and poked at the edge of the Shira's pile. They even forked out some sheepskin from the corner of the pile. The men gazed at the well, but thought nothing of it. After a while, they left. That was an ingenious plan, thought Jainab, letting out a sigh of relief. When she came out of hiding, she saw hoof marks on the sand's outbound trail. She stood and rolled the children back up. They were sweating from fear and the heat. Dust rose from the horses' gallops. Dust should settle down soon, she told them. She brought the boys inside and lay them down on a kiln. She grabbed a hand fan and fanned them until Haji fell asleep. Between sleep and wakefulness, the wounded boy opened his eyes to take a flit look at Jainab. She sprinkled water on his baby pale face, and he opened his eyes again for a second. He smiled, then went back to sleep. The sand's hourglass slid steadily down. It had been nearly seven days since Haji brought the boy home. On the morning of the seventh day, the boy showed some signs of improvement. He curled up in bed and ate for the first time. The hoofs had not returned any time soon. They left them in peace today and for several days, to fight another day. The boys sat outside on the yard, drinking red hot tea which Jainab poured out of a vaporous kettle. She placed it back on the hot clay stove. A neighbor pushed in through the doors. I came for my wool, he said. Sure, pick them up from the shed, she said. Who is this? he asked, looking at the new boy. Oh. This is Haji's cousin, come here to spend a few days with us. I didn't know you had any relatives left. Why would you think that? Jainab asked. Didn't your tribe get wiped out on the Gulag some twelve years ago? Did they? What are you saying? she asked. Twelve years have passed and you didn't know? the neighbor asked. Know what? Why would you think it's us? Because I was there, at your wedding. What? And it took you twelve years to tell me this? She was shocked. Well, you know how it is. The day the army butchered your tribe, they took me too. But I proved to be not much of a soldier at all. One dark night, when they lay drunk in the arms of women from your tribe, I took a camel and escaped. It took me days to get home, but when I did, I saw you with Hashimuddin in this house. I was afraid. I hid for many days and didn't talk to anyone. Stop. Please stop. Say no more. Jainab began to cry. No news traveled thus far. In her heart, she had always cherished the idea that her tribe was safe somewhere. This sickening news turned her heart sour, she wished these ill tidings never reached her doors. She wished this quiet neighbor had remained so. Her grief rose like a dust cloud blowing in turmoil, these moments of unsettled thoughts and opaque visions of grief, which would settle down one day as surely as dust did. But it collected in a lump to corner her stricken heart. As the days went by, Jainab grew paler. She took to bed. Haji and the boy did what they could to revive her, but they failed. One day, the boy, now strong enough to move, suggested to Haji, why don't I go home and bring my parents here so they could take care of your mother? What? Are you crazy? The army would snatch you if they found you, Haji said. Well, I'll just have to take my chances. If we don't take care of your mother, she will die, he said. I shall go at night, under the cover of darkness. Where do you even live? Haji asked. Just across the border. However, I am from the enemy camp, so you know. But we are brothers now, so it doesn't matter. You've saved me, Haji. Haji kept quiet. Can you go alone? Because I can't leave my mother like this in her present condition. I wish that neighbor had never opened his mouth. I know. I also wish that he hadn't, the boy said. It's good, though, that mom told him you were my cousin, Haji said. The boy nodded. Your mom's really good, she tried to protect me in case he turned out to be a spy. Yeah, she's good, Haji agreed. Okay, then, I'll set out tonight and bring my father back. You don't need to because our neighbors will help my mother get better, suggested Haji. Still, I need to go now. I miss my father and my mother. And the border is just here, I can even see it. Well, okay then, if you wish, then go. I hope I won't see you on the Gulag again. I hope not. That night, Haji and the boy sneaked out. They ran over the dense sand, the small bellable imprints of their footsteps in its depths. Haji took him to the border. The boys hugged each other and kissed on the cheeks. And just when the boy turned to go, they saw men marching straight towards them. They ambushed them under their naked swords, glimmering in the moonlight. The desert air reeked of blood and sweat. Bodies. It didn't matter whether these were foes or friends. In the end, all became decomposed bodies, dumped on Gulag's tail road. Jynab, delirious from grief, called out, Haji! Haji! She forced herself to get out of bed to search for him. Then she saw the nearly gone little footprints on the sand in the direction of the border. Jynab feared the worst. She dragged herself to her quiet neighbor's house and knocked on the door. She told him about the footprints. Can you help, brother? I only have Haji left in all the world. I know, sister, Jynab. These past twelve years have passed like a dream. I don't even think I saw the risings of the moon or the settings of the sun. My days have been long, as have been my nights. Please, do not worry. I'll try my best. Jynab left. Towards late night, the neighbor set out in the direction of the nearly faded footprints. With some measure of precision, these footprints led to army tents tethered along the western border. He stumbled a few times on the sand. His breathing was short and shallow. He approached the army tents. As he drew closer, he heard the obnoxious clamor of maudlin drunkenness. In the quiet night such sounds only meant soldiers being wrapped in sordid pleasure. Stealthily he continued on his track to look for the boys. On the southern point, suppressed cries wafted through the air. He opened a tent and found the boys, perched up on tenterhooks. In the dying torch, he walked towards them and whispered, I am your uncle Abdallah. I've come to save you. The boys couldn't believe their eyes. When Haji said, I saw them put a sword in the corner, there. Okay, I'm going to unhook you both now. They heard someone cough outside the tent. Abdallah hid away in a dark corner. A man peeked through and saw the boys' straight faces. He went away. Abdallah crawled back towards the boys and brought them down on the floor. They sat on the floor to catch their breath and then tiptoed to egress the tent. As they were out, they began to run fast. The sand slowed them down acting an impediment. Haji and Abdallah were already into the enemy kingdom. Haji's enemy kingdom was Hussain's homeland. But Hussain couldn't remember the way to his village. He only knew a name, Kundi. They asked for directions to get to Kundi. By the time they arrived, they were famished. They found a tea stall on the outskirts of the village. The three sat down to eat breakfast. An errant boy served them a platter of yogurt sauce, dry bread and fruits. Kundi was not far. The manager of the restaurant had his back towards them. He grabbed a glass of red tea and turned around. Hussain saw him first. He screamed, Father, father. The man heard Hussain and ran towards him. Hussain now saw him too, and a chill ran through him. Hashimuddin? He cried out. Who's that? The man asked and came running. My name is Hussain Karimi, not Hashimuddin. But that's impossible. I was at your wedding. I am your neighbor. I saw you and Sister Jainab together all this time before the army took you, Abdallah spat out. Shush! Back softly, he looked around timidly, then whispered. What are you saying? Anyway, you brought my son back. I would like to welcome you to my house as my guest tonight. At night, a party was held at Hashimuddin's place. Among many others, there were his in-laws and the entire clan. Abdallah sat down with the father-in-law. They exchanged greetings, then talks turned to politics and the war. He told Abdallah how Hussain was abducted while playing with friends. Abdallah asked, How do you meet Hussain's father? Oh. That? Another long story. We found him wounded on the edge of the gulag. But he couldn't remember anything until about six months. We revived him but he still walks with a limp. The army lost interest in him, they took his son instead. After the party, Hashimuddin came to Abdallah's room and told him. What my father-in-law told you is incorrect, my memory had always been intact. My name is not Hashimuddin but Hassan Karimi. As much as I wanted to tell Jainab the truth, I couldn't. I couldn't tell her that I was from across the border, Kundi, the enemy land, because I feared I would lose her. Here, I couldn't tell them about Jainab because of severe punishments for marrying an enemy. If I had told them, I would be hanging from the tall spikes today. My Jainab was with a child. Have you seen the child? Yes, little Haji there? That's him, your little boy. Why do you not leave? People leave all the time, no? Abdallah asked. They do. War is crazy. My in-laws would send an army after me, if I left. There's the same now as well as Haji, my two boys. The hunt for me would go on. They'll take my sons, he said. Where would I hide them on the open Gulag? Anyhow, when I got better, my in-laws forced me into this marriage to their daughter, a girl whom no man would have because of her scarred face from fire burns. They have made me a prisoner of their whim. They reminded me of how I owed them my life. That's rubbish. You could have tried to leave. Did you at least try? Abdallah persisted. No, I couldn't. They kept a close watch. This place, full of spies. What do you want me to tell Sister Jainab, then? the neighbor asked. It's complicated. The war is upon us. The same here, Haji, over in the enemy land, this life, shards of glass. Jainab, my love, my magic, a mirage, he murmured. Hashemuddin went up to Haji and picked him up. He gave him a tight hug and a kiss. He gave them a camel to cross the formidable border and saw them gradually reduce to a dot, an apparition along the far side of the horizon. He waited for the next rain, when the hummingbirds would return, the fire dances and full moon songs.
