Dreams

Shaheen, the class teacher, announced… You are here in school today as you are seniors and have your major examination coming up soon. The younger ones have been given off due to the impending war like situation. Your safety is our main concern and if you get to hear the siren, immediately leave everything and rush to the basement. Our school is in the vicinity of the naval office which may be a target of the state’s enemies. While no one will bomb the school but collateral damages can happen. Moreover, our army, navy and air force are all on full alert to repel any enemy intrusion into our territory. These are difficult times and we all have to make sacrifices for our beloved country.

The students all shouted… Yes teacher… in unison. While the teacher started reading from a new chapter in Persian history, four girls in the last row looked at each other and smiled. One of them quietly opened her desk and passed on a magazine to the friend sitting next to her. The one who got the magazine, placed the magazine on the inside of the history text book and gently flipped through the pages, all the while with an impish smile on her face. Having reached the end of the magazine, she took a look at the teacher who was teaching with great nationalistic fervour about the glorious past, and attempted to pass the same to the extended arm on the adjoining desk where the other two friends were seated. Despite having done the routine many times as the trained relay runners do in athletics, the baton sometimes falls… the magazine slipped and fell on the floor with a sound that everyone heard.

What is that? The teacher exclaimed and got up immediately from her seat and saw the magazine lying on the floor between two desks. She walked to the place and picked up the magazine and returned to her desk where she flipped through the first few pages. She covered her mouth in disgust; her eyes had a look of disbelief and dismay as she was taken to a world of blasphemy printed in the finest of art paper. 

Who brought this magazine into the classroom? I want the culprit to step forward. Otherwise, I will punish the entire class.

There was a pin drop silence in the class room and all the girls put up their hands together as if admitting that all were part of this misdemeanour.

Oh… so now you girls are trying to protect your friends thinking that by collectively owning the blame, you will all be saved. No… that will not happen. I want to give the real culprit, who is a coward and hiding somewhere in the class, one last chance to admit and step forward. If she does not do it, I will report the matter to the principal and this matter will go to the holy council whose retribution is something I need not have to explain. So, if you want all your friends to face the whips and stones, you can stay quiet or else, step forward and admit. Save your friends, O you coward and begetter of pestilence of the lowest order into the holy precincts of the madrasa, may you and your family rot in hell.

Suddenly, all the eyes in the class room moved to the rear as four girls stood up. They were the inseparable quartet of Rabia, Arzoo, Roshan and Fatima who spoke up….

It was us, teacher, who got the Vogue magazine to school. The others are all innocent so please spare them the punishment. We admit that having possession of this magazine and bringing the same to the school was completely wrong on our part. We are sorry for the incident and would request you to pardon us this one time. This shall not be repeated and we are ready to do penance that may be required under the law. 

Penance... you think this blasphemy merits your merely doing public service. No way. This is too severe a sin and if I were to let you get away lightly, the matter will surely reach the higher ups and I will have to suffer the consequences. They will not even spare my family. I am sorry girls but I have to report you to the school principal and the education board who alone can deliver their judgement. It is way beyond me to take law into my own hands.

The teacher led the girls to the principal’s room from where the other children and staff could distinctly overhear the shouting of the lady whose temper and adherence to religious laws were known to all. She did not spare any opportunity to demonstrate to the students and her higher ups her strictness, something which had paid her rich dividends. She had already been recommended for promotion to the education board and would soon be moving into her new role. This was another opportunity to show her mettle.

Take these infidels and lock them up in the cattle shed for now. I will be sending the letter to the education board and authority for religious matters asking them to step in and take a decision on the level of punishment these four girls ought to get. Shaheen, you call up the parents of these girls and say that they will not be returning home till the judgement is passed and they have served their punishment.

The girls were all in tears and no amount of apology worked with the principal. Shaheen teacher walked the four girls to the cattle shed that was a little distance away from the main school building and locked them from outside. There were a few animals kept in the shed and no one ever cleaned up the place. The stench there was unbearable and the girls felt that they would meet with their creator even before the religious police could punish them. They quietly sat in one corner hoping that someone would open the gates to at least allow some fresh air inside.

Rabia shouted at her friends… I got the book to school. Why did you all take the blame? Only one would have faced the stones and the whips, why should you three suffer?

Arzoo quickly cut Rabia… Who paid you to buy the magazine in the black market? We paid which means we are as guilty as you. We swim or sink together, today and tomorrow. So, no more talk on this subject.

Fatima smiled approvingly and said... It is so hot and suffocating inside here. Let us take off our hijabs and we will feel somewhat better. If they are anyway planning to hang us, they might as well add this crime to our devil’s scorecard.

All laughed and took off their hijabs and once again sat facing each other. Roshan spoke in a calm voice… Now that our death is certain, and not too far, let us speak of our dreams. Like, what will we do if we survive this day?

For me, it is an easy decision, said Rabia. The country now appears more like this shed. It is dirty, enclosed and suffocating. I will go off to Paris where my aunt lives and will become a fashion model. Someday, you girls will see me on the cover of Vogue and tell your boyfriends and husbands… that’s my friend! I have been practising my moves as well. Do you want to see?

Yes, others agreed. Rabia acted as if she were wearing high heels and a beautiful evening gown. She walked up and down the small and smelling enclosure with the other three cheering her all the way…. Rabia, you’re the best and you will set the Seine aflame once you land there.

I want to be a teacher, not like the mean Shaheen or the dreaded Princi, a good one, said Roshan. A teacher who the students love and respect. I will go to college and do my Masters in literature and history. While I would love to go to Oxford or Cambridge in the UK but that may not be possible. I will make the best of the opportunity this country has to offer.

Fatima announced… I will go to college here and work with the other student leaders to bring about change in the way the country is being managed. My focus would be to lead women to seek their freedom and respect. If it means, facing immense odds and making sacrifices, I will be willing to do it. I will not be cowed down by anyone till the dream is achieved. I will make sure the country we leave behind for our children is a better one.

Noble thoughts Fatima and I wish you all the best in making this dream come true, said Arzoo. I dream of going to India and working in the movies. I have been seeing their films and am in love with the way they make their movies with songs, dance and so much of romance. It’s a world of dreams. They are much better than the Hollywood ones which are dark, gory and boring. I also have the talent to make it to Bollywood… I can act, sing and also dance.

Oh, you dance as well. Show us some moves.

Here you go… Arzoo put her one hand on her chin as if acting coy and with her other hand started moving it in jerky manner as if it were raining and began singing…

Bijlee girane, main toh aayi
Kehte hain mujhko, hawa hawai
Hawa hawai, Hawa hawai

Super Arzoo… you have passed the screen test and we are offering you a movie with Ranveer Singh…. Shouted the three girls who just could not stop laughing at Arzoo’s act.

In the midst of all the happiness, the dreaded siren blew three times… the enemy was attacking but they had no place to rush and hide. They were stuck in the dilapidated shed which seemed to shake with the sound of the explosions that the girls could hear. The girls held each other’s hands and sat down in a huddle. The sounds of the explosions grew louder and closer to where they were and then they heard the biggest explosion and the roof came crashing down. Everything went blank and dark thereafter.

In some time, the ambulances rushed to the school. All the rescue workers tried entering the main school premises which had been completely flattened. Drills were used and the rescuers tried finding some evidence of remaining life, but there was none. All the teachers and students who had gone to the basement had been crushed beneath the big structure above and the destructive power of the missile had sucked out life from the area.  All seemed lost when a dog started barking where the shed lay broken down. A few rescuers now went towards the shed and started removing the rubble. In no time they saw some girls lying there with some semblance of life left in them and realised that a miracle had happened. Other people were called over and quickly the place was cleared and the girls were put in ambulances and sent to a nearby hospital. After a couple of days, four mothers were waiting by the bed side of their respective girls who were bandaged all over. The hospital bulletin showed that one of them needed an amputation of one leg, the second was on life support system, the third had lost an arm and the fourth, her sight.

“War does not determine who is right, only who is left,” and what is left in the boulevard of broken dreams. 

Dil hai chota sa, chhoti si aasha
Masti bhare mann ki, bholi si aasha
Chaand taaron ko, chhoone ki aasha
Aasmanon mein, udhne ki aasha…

SS

PS. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.