The Power Of Calmness

Chapter 30

Being calm, collected, composed or whichever word you want to describe a coolheaded person with, doesn’t always mean that’s how they truly are on the inside. The exterior of a building, never genuinely determines the interior. A fragile man may act resilient and sturdy just so he could look powerful yet, he does have weaknesses. Likewise, one who is hardened may act all sweet and loving however, he also has deficiencies. One of these categories describes Bukar.

He drove like a crazed human to the hospital. Totally losing it when Habeebah called to inform him about what happened, to which he practically ran out on his friends. It felt like his heart was ripped out because, the ache in his chest was unbearable and couldn’t stop throbbing. His head kept pounding, his whole sense of reasoning felt numb. Her words still blared in his ears 'Ashraf had an attack', something that hasn’t happened in a long while. What triggered it? What was he doing?

“Shit!” He cussed hitting the steering wheel. The traffic jam has been on for 5 minutes but to him, it felt like eternity. He grabbed his phone to dial Habeebah’s number which she picked on the first ring.

“How is he doing? Is the doctor out yet?” He rasped petrified.

“He hasn’t come out yet, where are you?” She also asked distressed.

“I am stuck in traffic but I will be there soon. Please take care of him for me.” Bukar said sullenly.

“I will, please be quick.” Habeebah replied before ending the call.

He stressfully ran his hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. “Ya Allah! Nothing bad should happen to him please.” He repeatedly prayed, tears trailing down his face. He couldn't recall the last time he cried, he was feeble, frail and looked tired already.

Horns blared around, cars started moving. Bukar sped off, not caring to stop at another traffic signal. Within few minutes, he arrived the hospital scurrying out of the vehicle. The security guard hollered for him to park properly but less did he know, that a properly parked car was the least of his problems.

“Ashraf Bukar Ali.” He said between pants, reaching the receptionist desk.

“Who are you to him?” The lady asked, scrolling through the computer.

“I am his father!” He snapped impatiently. “What ward is he in?”

“Sorry sir,” She stuttered a bit frightened. “Ward number 26, down the hall way to your left.” He didn’t let her finish before rushing off.

Habeebah paced in front of the room, anxiously glancing at her phone. Immediately they got to the hospital and Ashraf was wheeled in, she called Bukar to tell him what happened and also placed a call to Humairah to do the same. It’s been over 20minutes but none of them has shown up. Malam Bako sat on the waiting chair opposite the room. He also, was disturbed.

“Please Hibba, sit down. You have been standing since we came in and that too, barefooted.”

“I am fine, just worried that no one has shown up yet.” Habeebah replied, checking her phone again.

“They must be on their way, I am very certain about that.” He sighed. “Hey look, Bukar is here.” He gestured to a sweaty Bukar, running their way.

“Thank God you arrived safely.” Habeebah said relieved.

“Where is he? Has the doctor come out?” He asked breathless.

“They are still in there. You don’t need to worry, Ashraf is a strong boy he’ll surely come around.” Habeebah consoled, more to herself.

“How did it happen? When? Where!?”