MEMORIES OF A CHILDHOOD FRIEND
It's two in the morning and I can't sleep.
Just over 15 minutes ago, I stepped onto the back porch of my house to have a cigarette. Given my current asthmatic condition, this is without doubt the stupidest thing I could possibly have done. For the better part, I guess I just wanted an excuse to be outside, to enjoy the cold night air and perhaps spend a few minutes stargazing. In addition, my mind was besought with thoughts of someone whose memory fast escapes me.
The person I am talking about is a woman named 'Daulat'. She was one of my mother's best friends, and often used to babysit me as a child. Her background was Syrian, but it was virtually impossible to pick her ethnicity based on appearance alone. She had a fair complexion, but wasn't pale. I remember her skin as having a honeyish glow to it, and she had the most stunning eyes imaginable, like emeralds on fire. Thinking back, she is probably the only person I know whose looks matched her personality. She was angelic in almost every way, someone who would give her all for those she loved and cared for.
Daulat, being a qualified nurse, was often asked by my parents to 'scare' me with images of syringes and drips should I fail to behave. She humoured them, but always winked at me secretly to show she was merely acting in jest. On occasion, she would pick me up and hold me against her face, so close that our noses touched and it became impossible to escape those penetrating green eyes of her. She treated me as her own child, and did her best to care for me and my siblings during those periods when my parents were away on business.
Several years ago, Daulat had her marriage arranged to someone she scarcely knew. For various reasons, she kept this development hidden from my family - perhaps on account of being shamed that her will was over-written by what her family believed to be in her best interests. My mother only kept in touch with Daulat intermittently during this period. Daulat had become somewhat reclusive, and we could only speculate as to why this was the case.
Anyway, the last news I received of Daulat related to her untimely death. She had died in childbirth. My mother later told me that, soon after getting married, Daulat was informed by a treating physician that complications would arise were she to get pregnant. Her husband was informed of this but seemed to care little about his wife's health and wellbeing. He insisted on children and more or less 'raped' her in marriage. As a result, she died giving birth to his child - a stillborn.
For some reason or another, Daulat came to mind while I was on the back porch, smoking a cigarette and counting constellations. I have no idea what triggered her memory, but feel disturbed that I don't think of her as often as I should. Being an atheist, I don't believe that there is a 'life after death' - this particular facet of my atheist belief system is steadfast. On occasion, it also causes me a great deal of distress. Here's a woman who ought to be remembered, who ought never to be forgotten ... and yet very few would have even known of her existence.
I only knew Daulat in my limited capacity as a child. In so many ways, she seemed to mirror my own innocence. There was a certain naivity to her, but it could not be interpreted as a 'lack of intelligence'. Rather, Daulat seemed to see the good in people and was often willing to overlook shortcomings to bring out their best traits. She could've made such a difference in the lives of everyone around her, but her entire existence was cut short by a man who could not think past his desire to continue the 'family name'.
Several months after Daulat's death, her husband visited our family home - perhaps in an effort to bask in sympathy. My parents pretended to not know of the circumstances surrounding her death, and simply wanted him out of the house as soon as practicable. I felt differently. Upon walking into the living room, I threw a chair at his face and then stuck my heel into the nape of his neck as he hit the floor. I don't believe that my actions were pre-meditated. I cannot even remember forming thoughts at the time. Everything happened almost instinctly, without foresight. All I can remember is an indescribable feeling of hatred, so intense that it felt as if it had been distilled, purified into its most base essence. The last thing I remember of that episide is being thrown out into the backyard by my parents, and Daulat's husband gasping for breath on the floor of our living room.
Those feelings came very close to rushing back when I thought of Daulat earlier today. However, now it's more hollowness than hatred. The bitterness I feel over her death is not going to bring her back. If anything, it will simply serve to dampen my fonder memories of her existence and the imprint she left on my 'child' self. I just wish that there was some way to reconcile my atheist beliefs with my desire for her to be in some 'better place'.
It's two in the morning and I can't sleep.
Just over 15 minutes ago, I stepped onto the back porch of my house to have a cigarette. Given my current asthmatic condition, this is without doubt the stupidest thing I could possibly have done. For the better part, I guess I just wanted an excuse to be outside, to enjoy the cold night air and perhaps spend a few minutes stargazing. In addition, my mind was besought with thoughts of someone whose memory fast escapes me.
The person I am talking about is a woman named 'Daulat'. She was one of my mother's best friends, and often used to babysit me as a child. Her background was Syrian, but it was virtually impossible to pick her ethnicity based on appearance alone. She had a fair complexion, but wasn't pale. I remember her skin as having a honeyish glow to it, and she had the most stunning eyes imaginable, like emeralds on fire. Thinking back, she is probably the only person I know whose looks matched her personality. She was angelic in almost every way, someone who would give her all for those she loved and cared for.
Daulat, being a qualified nurse, was often asked by my parents to 'scare' me with images of syringes and drips should I fail to behave. She humoured them, but always winked at me secretly to show she was merely acting in jest. On occasion, she would pick me up and hold me against her face, so close that our noses touched and it became impossible to escape those penetrating green eyes of her. She treated me as her own child, and did her best to care for me and my siblings during those periods when my parents were away on business.
Several years ago, Daulat had her marriage arranged to someone she scarcely knew. For various reasons, she kept this development hidden from my family - perhaps on account of being shamed that her will was over-written by what her family believed to be in her best interests. My mother only kept in touch with Daulat intermittently during this period. Daulat had become somewhat reclusive, and we could only speculate as to why this was the case.
Anyway, the last news I received of Daulat related to her untimely death. She had died in childbirth. My mother later told me that, soon after getting married, Daulat was informed by a treating physician that complications would arise were she to get pregnant. Her husband was informed of this but seemed to care little about his wife's health and wellbeing. He insisted on children and more or less 'raped' her in marriage. As a result, she died giving birth to his child - a stillborn.
For some reason or another, Daulat came to mind while I was on the back porch, smoking a cigarette and counting constellations. I have no idea what triggered her memory, but feel disturbed that I don't think of her as often as I should. Being an atheist, I don't believe that there is a 'life after death' - this particular facet of my atheist belief system is steadfast. On occasion, it also causes me a great deal of distress. Here's a woman who ought to be remembered, who ought never to be forgotten ... and yet very few would have even known of her existence.
I only knew Daulat in my limited capacity as a child. In so many ways, she seemed to mirror my own innocence. There was a certain naivity to her, but it could not be interpreted as a 'lack of intelligence'. Rather, Daulat seemed to see the good in people and was often willing to overlook shortcomings to bring out their best traits. She could've made such a difference in the lives of everyone around her, but her entire existence was cut short by a man who could not think past his desire to continue the 'family name'.
Several months after Daulat's death, her husband visited our family home - perhaps in an effort to bask in sympathy. My parents pretended to not know of the circumstances surrounding her death, and simply wanted him out of the house as soon as practicable. I felt differently. Upon walking into the living room, I threw a chair at his face and then stuck my heel into the nape of his neck as he hit the floor. I don't believe that my actions were pre-meditated. I cannot even remember forming thoughts at the time. Everything happened almost instinctly, without foresight. All I can remember is an indescribable feeling of hatred, so intense that it felt as if it had been distilled, purified into its most base essence. The last thing I remember of that episide is being thrown out into the backyard by my parents, and Daulat's husband gasping for breath on the floor of our living room.
Those feelings came very close to rushing back when I thought of Daulat earlier today. However, now it's more hollowness than hatred. The bitterness I feel over her death is not going to bring her back. If anything, it will simply serve to dampen my fonder memories of her existence and the imprint she left on my 'child' self. I just wish that there was some way to reconcile my atheist beliefs with my desire for her to be in some 'better place'.
1 comment:
sam is this for real?
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