غير مألو - Unfamiliar

Chapter 6

The ocean waves were crashing onto the hard rock. The beautiful waves of foam were hitting the cold core of boulders in loud roars. The fortunate curls which, manged to escape the harsh accident, ran for their freedom towards the sandy shore which had turned golden yellow with the setting fiery ball of fire. Yet Alas. They could run no more. They couldn't be free. For their determinations and hard work were crushed as they were pulled again into the blue ocean and their existence forever destroyed, giving birth to yet another curl of wave in the middle of the ocean. The birth of another innocent wave to be destroyed.

He stood to the side watching it all. He felt like his life too was no more than a-wave. Constantly trying to free himself to no avail. For his past had him chained to it, in strong bonds unabling him to move.

God, save me. I need to live.

He cried in hopes of being liberated from this. In expectations of mercy. Mercy to live.

An urgent want urged him to look down. So the man looked down. There was a chain snaked around his ankle. He was chained. A chain with an Endless end, disappearing into eternity.

"No!"

His cries were loud. Loud enough to pierce the setting fire ball and making it cower. To make the moon dread its rising. To make the waves crawl back to to the deep ocean of dark monsters, away from the roaring man. Away from the grief that could pull you in to it's insanity and the anger that could create a blaze and make you burn.

Suddenly, the cries of a child disrupted the loud wails of the grieving man. Desperation and Misery lacing its folds.

Omar jolted up from his bone-crushing dream, unable to comprehend the reality and nightmare. After all, he was living a nightmare.

He took in his surrounding.

The white curtains were blowing to the music of the wind, swaying to the sides. The cold breeze kissed his skin. He felt cold. In that moment he understood that he was drenched in sweat. He touched his forehead to feel small beads of sweat.

And the chilling cries of a baby reached his ears, again.

Rushing forward he ripped of the white sheets away from his body, wiped his sweating palm onto his pajama shirt and opened the door.

He entered the darkened hall, squinting his eyes to adjust his sight to the darkness which surrounded him. Turning around, he checked if anyone was awake. After confirming that no one was, he turned the knob of the door adjacent to his room. And the cries came in an unbearable intensity, making him wonder if the infant was doing it on purpose, to possibly damage his hearing ability.

Do you even call a two months old baby, an infant?

He didnt know. Sometimes, he forgot he was a father.

But soon, fear overwhelmed him, making him rush towards the crib which stood in the middle of the room in all its glory. He wasn't used much to parenting. But this time, he couldn't take any risks.

Holding the edge, he peered into the small crib, as if a child sneaking a peek. It felt strange. To see a full grown man, near a small crib.

There lay a baby, cocooned in thin small blankets around him, forming a cute bundle. Two rolls of soft pillow were on either side which acted as barriers, just in case. They were white in color and had polka dots of green on it. The blankets , mirrored the same pattern.

It was what the baby had gotten as a present from his Uncle Khalid. Khalid loved the baby unconditionally.

Not having a child yet and expecting a child in seven months, Khalid treated Omar's child like his own flesh.

The little baby now, was almost red after crying for so long. Not so delicately, Omar picked the baby from the crib and trued cradle it. The cries didn't cease.

He wanted to rip his hair out.

What the hell was he supposed to do. Should he call his mother? Would that stop this monster from crying?

Clenching his jaws, he brought the baby to his chest and proceeded to cradle slower than in the earlier attempt. He still hadn't got accustomed to holding a baby properly. But he was progressing little by little.

The baby's cries gradually reduced a little, after a while, relaxing Omar.

"Sleep." he begged.

And the baby dozed off into deep slumber with thin pink lips opened a little with a little drool dripping. Omar wiped it with his finger, then wiped his own hand on his shirt.

Omar placed the little bundle in the crib again and switching off the light, he left the room.

He wasn't still accustomed to being a father, but he never denied his responsibilities. Omar wasn't affectionate and nor was he expressive much, like his other families. But if there was anyone he cared for more than his own life, it was his blood. His child.

And frankly, it wasn't much either.

The bright lights in the hallway blinded him, suddenly. Looking from side to side, searching for the person, he squinted his eyes.

His mother stood there, with her hands crossed across her chest. His mother although almost fifty two years old now, managed to look radiant as ever. Not only physically but also at heart. She was a kind woman, a mother, who would sacrifice her life for her loved ones and her children.

The silky nightgown flowed down her slender body in pleasant waves, highlighting her thin figure.

No wonder his father fell in love with the woman every passing day. It was bound to happen. His own father, Salim Fatih who was always stressed and troubled, only relaxed in the presence of spirituality and his wife.

But Omar's inside twisted as he discerned the stern yet warm look his mother, Umaira was throwing at him. He was all too aware of the look.

Omar Fatih was known to be an intimidating man, to others. Maybe much more feared than his own father?

But to Umaira Fatih he was always the 10 year old, who hugged his mother when he slept.

"Go to sleep, Omar. Let's talk in the morning." she said frowning, as if contemplating something.

He didn't whether to feel relief or anxious. He could see the fairway look on his mothers face. The wheels turning in her head. Nevertheless, He nodded and without another look entered his room.

He sent a silent prayer.

Once he hit the bed, he couldn't help but contemplate his situation. How it had turned down south in just a moment.

Was it even worth to think about it?

***