A luminous glow penetrated the masjid. Raza got up and walked to the door. It was night already, the full moon shone above. They might have been looking for him for hours. He slid his feet on his rubber slippers and walked his way home. Light from electric lamps or bulbs escaped from the houses’ open windows. His footsteps echoed in the deserted road. Suddenly, a figure emerged from nowhere, walking toward him. He stopped, unsure what to do. As the figure got close, he recognized it. He gave a sigh of relief. “Over here!” he called.
“Raza, is that you?” she asked, surprising Raza.
“Yeah, it’s me, Grandma,” he answered tentatively.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay. We were looking all over for you.” Raza didn’t know his grandma could speak English so well.
“Come, let’s go home. It’s already late.” She pulled him by his wrist to the direction of their house. “Where have you been?” she asked. Grandma and her fluent English.
“Uh. I was at the masjid.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” Grandma murmured apologetically. Then he remembered it again.
Their pace slowed down, the road unnaturally bright. “I feel so left out. Everybody knew the truth and I’m like a clueless participant,” he confessed pathetically.
“Is that why you’re mad?”
“I’m not mad. I’m just…” He searched for the right word, “…Shocked.”
“Why don’t we sit down?” She indicated to a bench in front of a tall bamboo fence where pink, orange and violet bougainvillea flowers found its way through the slits. She led him to it. They sat, their backs resting on the fence. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I will listen,” she offered.
“It’s just that I came here to meet you and Grandpa. Then suddenly I learn what I’ve believed my entire life is not true.”
“What part of it isn’t?”
“You know, that I’m the eldest; that I only have a little sister; that we’re the only family…that Mom had always been the only wife,” he blurted. And then he thought he shouldn’t have said that. It sounded lamer than he was really feeling. She urged him to go on.
He cupped his nape with his hands and tilted his head up. The moon was so bright and looked so close at that moment.
“Have you ever felt that feeling when the adviser announced you’re the class valedictorian?” he asked but got no reaction from Grandma. What a stupid question. Grandma may not appreciate such comparison. “And then suddenly a teacher comes to you and says he made a grave mistake in computing your grades and suddenly you’ve become a close second.”
“In that case, must you feel cheated?” Grandma asked consolingly.
“Well…no, but you were so hopeful.”
“Wasn’t it just fair for the other one?”
“It is. But they took something away from you,” he answered sadly.
“Something you don’t deserve and they gave you what was right for you. If you’re in the other person’s position, won’t you feel glad about it?”
He brought his hands slowly down to the bench and looked from the moon to Grandma’s face. Years of taking care of so many children were etched on her delicate face.
“I know Grandma that it’s Jam’s right to be called my elder brother. But it’s not that easy for me to accept. You can’t expect me to pat his back and say: ‘Oh, we’re brothers. How lucky of us, now we would really be close.’ and then would just smile at each other like we have been brothers all along,” he said dolefully.
“No one expects you to. But we hope that time would make you used to it. You don’t need to be brothers right away. You can remain friends until you get accustomed to having each other. No one’s rushing the both of you. Just acknowledge one another.” She squeezed his hand in a motherly way.
They fell silent around the chirping of the crickets and rustling of the leaves with bats swooping under the evening sky.
“Raza, there are many people out there without a mother or a father. Look at Jamil; he only had a father that he could only see maybe once a year. Yet you, nothing was taken from you. God even gave you something in addition—a brother on whom you found a friend. Do you feel that it was more unfair on your side?”
“No,” he said guiltily.
“You have to accept things even if it hurts. Nothing would change. You can cry, let it out, you’re only human after all. But what makes you alive is this.” She pointed to his heart. “It’s your willingness to take it all in, no matter how ugly it gets; to never stop even if you stumble or trip over many times. Life would continue throwing challenges and obstacles on your path. But if you stop fighting and let everything that happens overcome you, then remember this, child, you’re only breathing—you’re no longer living.”
Raza slowly nodded. He understood.
“Now, are you ready to go home?”
YOU ARE READING
The Journey Back
Spiritual"What?... I don’t want to go there. Is this some kind of sick joke?” Raza is a typical muslim teenager who grew up in a place where everything seemed 'instant' as he described it. But a deal with his father had sent him packing to a tropical islan...
