MARIYAM

Prologue

It was summer of August 1947, when the British rule in subcontinent was at verge of demolishment. The night of servitude was dissolving, and a new sun of freedom was rising as Pakistan and India for the people of subcontinent. It was an achievement of impossible goal for majority, but there were few among both nations who took the opportunity to spread chaos. There was anger on both sides, which took the form of most violent reactions.

One fine morning, on 12th of August, the young soldier Abbas Raza reached Bombay Army headquarters for delivering some important files. He overheard a conversation that forced him to make a quick decision for his family. Hindu-Muslim riots had begun in different regions of the subcontinent.The last train was due tonight, back to Abbas Raza's small village, in a province of future Pakistan. The complication was the knowledge of this fact to everybody which meant competition for survival.

The horrible night arrived, when Abbas along with his wife and two daughters reached the platform which was to serve an altar for hundreds of killings tonight. The luggage was placed in a truck secretly rented by five Muslim soldiers. The families were divided into three groups, with women and children guarded by two males. But Abbas Raza decided to guard his family alone. The three groups took different routes, in case, somebody followed them. At the train station, everybody was to get together but this never happened. The truck of luggage never reached the station, along with the other two groups.The weather made the escape a lot more different, there was windstorm with heavy rainfall. The people sitting on the floor of the platform were like insects, hundreds of them covering every inch of the floor. The whistle of the approaching train would provoke a stampede, and everybody knew this.

Abbas looked around for his fellows, but it was impossible to recognize anyone in the darkness. The lights of the station went out due to the storm. The silence of the sea of people was deafening. It wasn't the calmness,but the fear that has sewed their lips. The tranquility was gone as soon as the whistling of the train was heard. The panic began, and people darted towards the approaching train. It wasn't only the whistle that triggered it, but the brakes of  four large trucks full of men with swords.

There was deafening screams, as the swords pierced through the bodies of innocent people. The blades teared the limbs of the children, and took out the unborn fetuses through the torn bellies of the pregnant.There was streams of blood flowing towards the train track. Abbas dragged his shocked daughters and wife towards the train. The only way out of this was to ride the train, and reach back to his village,somehow.

The train started moving 10 minutes earlier, as the chaos begun. He was successful to ride his rented suite in the middle of the train compartment. He hid his daughters under the seats and asked his wife to close all the windows immediately. This suite was for the five soldiers and their families but only four out of 25 people managed to reach. Abbas stood in the door way, trying to close the door as the people rushed towards him like zombies. He stood there, pushing them away as the train started moving.

Abbas saw a familiar face sprinting through the crowd towards the door, it was Javad khan, one of the soldier from the group. His clothes were soaked in blood. Abbas offered him his hand, but Javad pushed something else towards him. It was a 10 years old boy.

"He's my nephew. Take him to his father."

Abbas pulled the little boy inside and turned to help Javad but he sealed the door of the train cabin from outside. The swords pierced through Javad's body as he waved his last goodbye to the fast moving train.

They were off to Pakistan!

A bunch of scared kids, a shocked wife and Abbas Raza.  The little boy hid next to the girls when the father spoke,"We're safe now. You can come out."

"What's your name,child?" The woman brushed back his hair with motherly touch.

"Ali khan."

"Who's your father?"

"Sikander khan."

The wife exchanged looks with her husband and pushed the child back. The name of his father raged her, to an extent, that it was hard for her to look at him.

"You knew, who he was?" She questioned her husband.

"Yes, a child who has to reach back to his family. The enmity of our ancestors couldn't cloud my judgment of saving him or any one else."

"Snake is always a snake, no matter how young it might be."

"ENOUGH, Asma!"

Ali Khan listened to them sadly, and buried his head in his lap. The 7 year old daughter of Abbas sat next to him as her elder sister crawled towards her mother.

"Don't worry.We are safe now. You can have this, if you're scared."

She took off her arm bracelet,and gave to him.

"It's an amulet, it would protect you."

"What's your name?"

"Mariyam Zehra."