Ramadhan Muslim [COMPLETED]

Chapter 11: Harrowing Journey



Though I have taken a thousand strides
I know I have reached nowhere in life

Farra sat on her prayer mat, her mind wandering around in circles. As much as she wanted to stay in her self-made coccoon, a part of her wanted to step out, and build a new life. A part of her wanted to forget the past and move on with her life. A part of her wanted to patch up the huge hole on the tapestry of her life. It might not look perfect anymore, but then, at least it will be complete.

Though she was slowly learning to pull out the arrows shot, the scars remain etched deep in her heart. The arrows pierce away pieces of skin while she tried her best to pull it out. The path to healing is tough, she told herself. But nothing is more rewarding than knowing that the pain that once broke you, will never be able to break you again, once you learn to survive it. 

She knew it was futile to just sit on the prayer mat and do nothing. She knew she has to stand back up, on her own two feet and take baby steps on the path of life. It was indeed a mammoth task, to rebuild a desolate  structure again, putting each brick back into it's place. But I am determined to not give up.

Farra could hear faint noices of clinking and clattering from the kitchen. "Perhaps I should help Bella out in the kitchen, atleast to occupy my mind," she thought out loud.

She stood up, and folded her prayer clothes neatly. She moved to put it on the side table when something caught her eye. Something so beautiful and exotic, it mesmerised her.

Wait, was she blind? How did she not notice a 3D structure of a beautiful house, made out of ceramic, sitting comfortably at the edge of the table?

The 3D structure seemed simple from the outside, but it was pretty neat and intricate on the inside. The box-like outer structure was completely opposite to the lush designs on the inside. The structure lacked a roof, and the middle part of the structure, also called the courtyard was wide with a patch of green potted plants in the middle of the house. Sofas, tables, chairs, rooms and ornaments surrounded the patch of plant. The walls of the courtyard was beautifully embellished by delicate Islamic geometry. The house would have been spacious in real life. If she were to describe the house in one word, it would be 'breathtaking'.





However, there was one detail that struck her. The outer structure seemed to be collapsing. It was as if a bomb had struck the outer structure. The 3D structure was a picture, a piece of broken memory of the once "perfect" household. Though she was curious, she had no idea who to ask about the house. So she shrugged it off her mind and chose to trace her steps to the kitchen. The image of the house played in her mind, and she made a mental note to ask Bella about it later.

As she strolled through the cramped hallway towards the kitchen, she heard loud chatters of two ladies in a language she can't quite understand. It was probably Arab. As she reached the kitchen, a lady with sunken figure in wheelchair and a wrinkled face greeted her with an affectionate smile. Farra quickly bowed down, took her hand, gave her salaam and kissed her hand. She uttered some words to me, which Bella translated as "May Allah reward you with good health and wealth."

"Bella, who is this again?"

"Meet my mother, Farra," Bella answered with a smile on her face.

"May I help out with the cooking?"

"That's very nice of you. Please help me to chop the onion," uttered Bella while handing me a knife, small chopping board and a large onion.

"Wait, what are you cooking again?"