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*The boy who had dreams*
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Fadhi Faisal
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Ali was brooding by the riverside. He was a twelve-year-old Palestinian kid. He hadn’t ate anything in the last two days and though wearing a ragged black qumbas ca long loose robe, one could well make out the bones that have pushed forward as though in protest. The food he ate two days ago was nothing but a loaf of bread dipped in water. Proper food had been available because of the help of relief organizations from all over the world. But the organizations were banned for almost two weeks and the prices of food materials had soared up because of the war. This all resulted in scarcity of food which is now ubiquitous.
Ali along with his parents and an elder brother had led a moderate life before the war. Ali’s father Hassan worked in a leather factory before the war and it had been almost a year since it was destroyed. The family had kept moving because of Khalid’s (Ali’s brother) job. He worked for the Palestinian army but the wages were low and he found it hard to make ends meet. The family lived in a cramped apartment in a three-storey building. And though Khalid craved for their facilities he was forced to live there because of the meager wages and the ongoing war. Before the war they had lived in a modest neighborhood house. It was utterly bombed and only because Khalid was a soldier they got an apartment. Many other civilians, thousands of them are homeless. The conflict between two countries mostly hits hard on the citizens whose normal lives are disrupted. The life they led before the war was a distant dream now. Peace was completely shattered in the holy land as even women and children are killed by the callous behavior of the Israelites. War was still at its full altitude with no signs of ending.
Ali felt hunger gnawing at his stomach. He felt very weak but by no means would he miss his coming to the riverside. Sitting by the riverside with a pen and paper, he would write poems and stories. Ali had a strong desire to become a great poet. Before the war when Ali went to school, he had read books of famous poet like William Shakespeare and Victor Hugo. He was fascinated by their works and drawing inspiration from many such authors, he wrote. The sad thing was that books were no longer available for him to read. He had mostly read in the school library but it was destroyed as a result of the war. He felt as if the war had come to put a stop to his dreams. Even when he was sitting by the river side, he could hear bombings and sirens in the distance. The sound of bombs instilled a fear pf death in Ali. Though he refuses to admit, it was a reality. Ali very much desired for the war to end as he could go back to school to show his works to the English teacher.
Looking at the horizon, his gaze got arrested by the picturesque scene of the magnificent splendour of the setting sun. The sky had turned crimson. Realizing it was time to go home now, he got up and wrapping the traditional keffiyeh around his neck, he headed for his house. He felt weak walking. He felt very empty inside. Though Ali was a determined child who refuses to give up, sometimes he too felt hope slip out of his hands. The flower of hope had well withered in Palestine though some ambitiously using some petals out. How can people have hope when they see bombings and people dying everywhere, every day. They all had a feeling now that they too would die shortly. It was sad. Ali knew he was lucky to be alive, that too he had both his parents and brother with him. His friend Majid’s parents and his little brother had died in a hospital bombing. Majid was lucky to escape it, he now lived with an uncle of his at Hebron almost fifty kilometers away. Ali missed playing with Majid. Life was all hue before war. Now everything seemed gray and dull. What use and fun is life when everyday you starve and hear the sound of bombs exploding that will in anytime blow you up? Life was not worth it, death was better.
As Ali drew towards his apartment, he heard his brother yelling at him from atop the building. “Where were you, Ali? I’ve told you not to step outside after 5’o clock. Its dangerous for you to be outside at this time. Can’t you obey?”
Ali had been severely warned before to not go outside at twilight hours, however the time felt like monotonous melody and his desire to write increases at that time. So grabbing his writing utensils he would step out, headed for the riverside. His strong urge to write contaminated the tendency to obey his brother.
Increasing his pace, he quickly ascended the steps and he had barely reached the second floor where their apartment was located, when Khalid gallantly strides towards him and without a word his flat palm cleaved the empty space as it struck Ali’s cheeks. He was very much startled by this sudden act. Cupping his cheeks with his hands he intended not to break down as a protest, but pain took the better of him as tears streamed down his hollow cheeks, giving a horrifying glance at his brother he ran inside and closed the door of the bedroom he shared with his brother. Looking it he laid on the bed bottling up the ache of the strong hit. Outside h could hear his mother and Khalid quarrelling. “He could’ve been killed, Mom. I’ve warned him before not to outside in the evenings. There’s a war happening outside. Don’t you understand?”, bellowed Khalid. His mother’s voice was comparatively calm and fragile. Ali didn’t hear what she said as her voice was very faint. Ali’s father was a hedonist and he sat on a chair throughout their quarrelling as an idle spectator. He put on a phlegmatic face as though he was unaware of the cacophony that filled the area. The loud voice acted as a melody as it slowly lured Ali to sleep.
As the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window and caught Ali, he woke up. Gazing around he saw Khalid sleeping on the floor in an old mattress. Reclaiming his senses, he walked out of the room where he saw his mother laying out clothes to dry on an aisle in a sunny portion of the room. His mother seeing him spoke all of a sudden, “why can’t you listen to your brother? He beat you yesterday because he loves you and want you to be out of danger”. “But I was so bored staying in the house all day. What is the problem if I went out for a few hours? Its as if enemy are waiting for me to kill me according to brother”, Ali replied in a harsh tone. “Dear son, these are not peaceful times. If you aren’t careful you will end up dying a harsh death. I would have left you if there’s not a war outside. You must understand that it is for your own safety. I quarreled with Khalid yesterday for striking you on the face. I can’t stand up for you everytime Ali. Next time you disobey him, I’ll not say a word in favour of you”.
“Alright, let me see to it. I’ve done wrong but why the need for slapping me. Gosh! The slap was very powerful that it gave me nightmares”. Ali spoke calming a bit now from his earlier rage. Ali’s father emerged suddenly boaring a happy expression on his face. “I have good news. I just read the newspaper and it says some relief organizations had been given pass to enter Palestine. There’s a group from Qatar handing out food near the old stadium. “Khalid and you” he said pointing out at them “should go there and bring food”, his father concluded. “I may have gone but the ulcer in my stomach is killing me. I should go to a hospital soon, the pain hasn’t lessened a bit” he said in a low tone.
“Its okay father, we’ll go. Can’t wait to eat something. I’m starving”, Ali replied. Khalid woke up a little later and the moment he saw Ali, he suddenly felt a pang of guilt for beating him hard yesterday. Looking at Ali’s happy hollow cheeked face with pimples sprouting here and there, he felt as if there wasn’t a need for hitting him. It was only out of concern for his safety that Khalid beat him. Apologizing for yesterday Khalid held out hand around Ali’s shoulders as they set off to get some food. Both the parents from atop the building saw their brotherly affection and a few tears came out from their mother, feeling very sorry that their children had to undergo hardships just to fill their tummies. The old stadium was about a kilometer from there and their father wondered how they would walk such a long distance with weak bodies. He felt as if he wasn’t doing much for the welfare of his family. Alas, only if this wretched war could end, he thought.
Ali felt great being outside in the warm morning air. As they both made their way to the old stadium, Ali notices the flax leaf fleabane which has broken through the asphalt here and there as a result of the recent downpour. The usually dried trees oddly placed standing their way also seemed a lot greener. The atmosphere seemed vivid and bursting with nature. Ali felt very happy to live.
Ali and Khalid had only walked for sometime when they saw a fighter jet speeding to the opposite side. Khalid quickly took hold of Ali’s hand as they ran to seek shelter. From the distance Khalid could see some Israeli soldiers rushing to the area where their building was situated. They had just entered a fruit shop when a loud bang occurred, taking the shivers out of Ali. In the distance Ali could see their building collapsing as the result of the bomb. Khalid was also in shock he didn’t realize Ali slipping out of his hand and had run back to their house. Calling out his parents, Ali’s mind became numb as he kept on running. There was an eerie silence after the bomb drop. There was only the sound of Ali whose voice calling out became lesser and lesser, as he didn’t stop running like a lunatic. Khalid glancing at a soldier targeting Ali from a distance felt hopeless.
“ALI!!!”, Khalid’s voice which seemed about to break drew a trembling line through the brutal silence. Ali had barely looked back when the bullet shot from the soldier lurking behind a tree seized him on the chest as he fell on the hard ground spluttering dust all over. He laid there scrambling as life ebbed away. His lifeless eyes which had once held dreams glistened in the morning sun as it was now completely shattered by a bullet.
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