When I Heard That Noise

By: Maryem Farooqi

Class: Prep III-N

Maryem Farooqi is a student of Prep III-N, Darakshan The City School. She wrote this story while she was learning about Partition in history class. The hardships that the Muslims went through inspired her to write this short story. Other than writing stories, she likes writing poems as well.

                                                                       

The cellar was cold and damp, with spider webs hanging from the cabinets and water leaking from the pipes. The windows were plastered with two inch wood that had a horrible smell. It could collapse any second, I silently prayed that it would not do so. Our life depended on it. Everything was ghostly quiet. In the midst of the still air, I could hear a faint sound of Bano crying.  I hushed her up, and grabbed her hand for warmth.“Shhh” I whispered to her. “There is no benefit of crying. We’ll be rid of this place soon.” “But Apa I don’t want to leave!” she cried “Can we not remain here, with Dolly?” She indicated a wooden doll lying on the floor. “There is nothing left for us in India. We mustn’t stay here any longer” I said. “But trust me, Pakistan will be better. And we shall get you another doll once we reach there.” I expected this to cheer her up. But it did not, instead she grabbed the doll and clung to it and burst into heavier tears. “I shan’t leave or change dolly ever in my life!” she cried.

                                  

                                                                     
“Alright, alright we’ll keep her”. I said, slightly angered at her devotion to the doll. It was given to us by my mother. That was the only thing she possessed to bequeath to us at the time of her death. For Bano, that doll was as special as my mother herself.

The clock on the stone wall murmured ‘tick-tick-tick’ as fast as was possible. Yet my heart beat faster out of fear, and soon I felt as if the clock wouldn’t match the pace of my heartbeat. My eyes drifted. Bano was already asleep. I was so tired I felt as if I was to be swept into slumber. But before that was possible, I was roused awake by the most dreadful noise that I ever heard.

A gunshot struck the glass of the window (which was luckily covered with wood) a few inches away from my ear. There was such a terrible buzzing noise in my ear I felt as if a hundred bees were buzzing in my brain. For one moment I was in complete shock. I felt Bano pulling me, than a few footsteps. As bad as the pain was in my ears I tried to listen to whoever was coming. I heard an icy voice say,“There is none here, let us leave now.”

I prayed that whoever was there would leave. But they didn’t, as I heard a man say “Who knows, Harry, shall we have a check at least there may be some blackie’s here.” My heart fell deep; as I knew they were to enter.

I thought of only one thing now. I grabbed Bano’s hand and ran as fast as me legs would allow me, ignoring the buzzing in my ears and Bano’s wails and screams.  We ran into the dead of night. But we were not alone. Dozens and dozens of people were sprinting in every direction hoping to escape the terror of the foreigner’s hands. But just as I thought my head could feel no more pain, I felt something hit my head from behind. This time I could not bear the pain, and I collapsed on the ground unconscious, and when I opened my eyes a while later, Bano wasn’t there.

I remember that day vividly. I cried for hours, my head still buzzing but none heard me. I was all alone on a heap of rubbish on the ground. There were a few bodies on the ground, but I tried to keep my focus off them. Instead my focus was on Bano’s doll. It was lying about a yard away from, but I didn’t dare to grab it. For some reason there was anger boiling inside of me. That doll, just like Bano, was a burden my mother had given to me at her death. I moved forward and grabbed the doll, not to hug it. But I threw it as far as I could until I saw it disappear behind the corner of the street. I bit my lip out of anger, which had proved to be stronger than fear. It was only when I realized this that I had considered what I had done. The only memory of mother and sister, was gone. I had to run to where I threw it, but then fear paralyzed my legs once more. I tried to be angry again, as I thought it would help me move. It didn’t, and I felt like collapsing on the ground once more.

But then I thought of my mother, and my sister, and ignoring the severe pain in my head and ears , I said a prayer, bit down my fear, and ran in the direction I  threw the doll, not caring if it led me to my death or if someone was waiting with a knife with my name written on it.

I wish I could say at that moment that I ran smoothly without tripping, but I did trip. And the most painful part was that the doll wasn’t even there. Yet I didn’t stop just yet, I ran further for ten minutes until my body was lost of all its energy. I collapsed on the ground and hurt my head. This time the pain was blinding. The last clear voice I ever remember hearing was of a woman’s beside me who said “Let us offer this young girl assistance she is injured”. I opened my eyes. I could see her lips moving but could not hear her words. The pain in my ears had gone. I was deaf. But I wasn't alone. There was a group of people before me. My eye, however, had caught something else huddled in a corner. On the small bed at the corner, fast asleep, was Bano. The doll had led her to me. I got up, thanked God silently, and hugged her as tightly as I could.