What We Left Behind

My bed is filled with all kind of colourful, glittery boxes, and with some papers I can’t read, given by the two adults earlier as they said, ‘welcome to the family, Karim.’ Normally, I’d be jumping out of immense joy for those red, yellow, green covers are smooth like milk, and they shine so bright it’s almost blinding me. It’s like those stars back in our village, singing lullaby to me and my friend, Amal back in my village. “Amal…” I whisper. I glance around searching for him among other children. I can’t live without saying a proper goodbye to him. He’s like my brother. More than a brother I’d say. We have always been together, ever since we’d potty in our pants. From stealing mulberries, skipping school and tossing stones in our small community pond, him drinking my share of milk so I won’t get scolded for not doing it to shutting our eyes together under the stars. Though not much was said, it was so obvious that we were inseparable, to the point that we ran together when our houses were burned. “I saw him running towards the pond!” Amaira speaks out loud pointing towards the direction of the small pond in our orphanage. I’m already skipping in that way, because I want to apologise to him for leaving, letting myself go. I don’t want to leave him behind. Not like this, anyway. I found him sitting by the edge of pond by himself, with his head between his crossed arms on his knees. He jumps when I put my hands on his shoulder, “hey, its me, Karim” He brushes my hand and decided to get up. “why won’t you talk to me? It’s not like I want to go without you” “Then why are you going? Is somebody forcing you to?” His voice is so stern, I feel like my eyes will give up. “Amal…” “You were always so selfish!” I know he didn’t mean it. He is angry and I understand. Even I’m hurting, I don’t want to leave without him. But how do I explain it to him that I will bring him back once I get some resources. I’m not even sure he’ll believe me even. “I hate you…!” he keeps on repeating as he tries to run. I will not let him avoid me, so I hug him tightly. Even as his arms flail and hit me, I won’t let him go. I know he’ll regret leaving like this later, I don’t want him to live with it, even though I have to. But I will carry any burden for both of us. After sometime he give up and his arms hang so loose and my heart breaks when his voice starts wailing. “…please don’t leave me, Karim! Please…” I hug him tighter. “Have you eaten, friend?” …no” he is still sniffling. “Come let’s eat together” as we walk towards the house, he clings to my arm, wiping his nose up. I can’t express my emotions in front of him. I have to be strong for us. As my head hits on the pillow, my chest let lose the knot it was holding for so long. My eyes starts wetting the sheets as my mind wanders to tomorrow. I’ll be leaving this orphanage, these good people who took us in, the friends I made here, and Amal. I can’t sleep and keep turning through the times when we ran from our country, as the rifles were being fired and riots were inciting. We had no idea why we were being chased our of our school like that. Our teacher gathered us and asked to run as fast we could and not look back until we find people like us. Who knew that it’d be the last of we’ll see of our country. Me, Amal, Amaira and four other kids were on our feet skipping stances as fast as we could. “What about our parents?” Amaira stopped. “I’m sure they’ll find us…” Amal replied. We all wanted to believe it so bad. If I knew better of what was happening to our country, I would’ve looked for them. I would’ve…tried harder. We halted near a tree to catch our breaths. “Is that our school?!” Amal called for us. A stream of heavy, black smoke with the fire so bright and high came out of what used to be our school. Now, just a dark, smoky ruin. If it was a normal day, we’d be giddy about not going to school anymore, but that was least of the horror we’d see as we walked and walked. Walking aimlessly for what seemed to be non ending days, we started making notes in our head. Walking over the muddy paths was like a luxury. That was the time we’d take our shoes off and walk barefoot, to save as much as of the leather for sandy, stony paths. It started good if I put it in a positive way. It was like we had all the free time in the world to play, to lurk around, climb trees, ‘steal’ fruits and no one to notice. But we all missed our mother’s voice and father’s shoulder but no one spoke of it. We were all pretending to be strong. Amal would tie his shirt around his neck and stand on a big rock and pose like a superman and promise to save the world. Our play will come to an end by night when we’d satisfy our hunger from the water we collected in our bottles from wherever we could find. Some days we’d find some soldiers on our way, and observe them from behind the trees and rocks. The sway of their rifles was so fascinating for Amal. If we find some river, we’d play all day long in it. Amaira was the most emotional among all of us. She’d cry often, demanding for her parents, refusing to walk. The other two older boys will convince her that they’ll be waiting for her on the other side of the country. But we didn’t even know where we were walking to. One night as we hurdled together deep in our sleep, a rifles was shot. I jumped up and looked around. “Amal…Amaira, wake up!!” I couldn’t see those older boys. “Boys! RUN!” one of those boys came running towards us, with the Scarlett all over him. We were so horrified when he a bullet was fired again, this time through him. I shook my friends and we were on our feet again. Our hands pressed so tight we ran, ran and ran. When we were assured of not being followed, our knees gave up. “My feet hurts” I glance at our feet. “Oh no! We forgot our shoes!” Amal screams. Though we were used to the rough paths but without shoes it felt impossible to step any further. We wouldn’t sleep after that day. We just couldn’t. None of us wanted to relive that ever. God forbid, if something like that happened to…I shake my head before I let it linger for long. I’d pray every night to gods, if there is any to not send any more of those soldiers towards us. Two nights later, I found Amal praying beside me too. We’d walk everyday, all day, with no idea where to go. It seemed like the time has stopped for human beings. We met some adults on the way, they were quite horrified to see three kids walking all by themselves, in contrast to us being so relieved after meeting them. Though we were reluctant to come in front of them, they could be soldiers right? But they had no rifles. “You kids are all by yourselves?” the men said in unison. “Yes” I said covering my friends behind me. “Thank the gods, you didn’t come across some wild animals” the woman touched Amaira’s face and said. The faces of those older boys came in front of me. The soldiers. Wild animals. I thought if there was any difference. “we met many soldiers on the way. If it was up to me I would steal their big rifles.” Amal said excitedly. I hit him on his back, eyeing him, ‘don’t get so comfortable’. “today we rest…okay?” The woman lifted Amaira in her arms and pressed her against her chest. So began the journey of adults and three kids. It was not so hard with the adults. They’d hunt the food, give us the water. We were asked to collect twigs for the fire, accompany the adults on the night watch, fetch water. Amaira demanded less of her parents. We all were getting comfortable with them. Though we weren’t allowed to play much, but we had the security so we can’t complain. They talked about a country which could welcome us, as ours was torn apart with war. It meant that there were other kids, people, wandering in forests just like us. According to them, we blindly walked in the right roads. That country was not very far. It’d be matter of a few nights and we’d already be on the other side. “We’ll finally meet with our parents?” Amaira’ s glinted with hope. “…maybe” I didn’t know what to say to her. I let her words linger for a moment longer, somewhere I was hoping for that too. We were almost done with our food bank, then we saw the colourful flag on the other side of the fence. There were innumerable tents as far as our eyes could reach. It had the logos of the same flag. We reached near the wired fence looking at us like a hungry tiger. Amaira’s neck was bent upwards as she lurched from behind with the woman. Amal stood so close to the soldier admiring his rifle. Though they didn’t look like the soldiers we encountered on our way, the fear smelled fresh in my head. The adults talked in foreign language, I couldn’t understand much of it, except some English words—visa, orphanage, adoption. The men were nodding to what they were being told. The gates opened, and with that we were free from the danger. The men sat until their eyes met ours. “listen boys. You’ll be taken to an orphanage. They’ll take care of you. Okay?” the fear of being stranded alone again frightened me. But, I’ve gotten stronger. “I’ll protect them.” I said to the man. He smiled contently, “I know you will.” Amaira wouldn’t leave the women, and she screamed and threw her limbs once forced down. They walked back towards the fence, saying goodbye to us. They never looked back. Amaira was still crying. We tried consoling her, but to no avail. One of the female soldier carried us to an old building, with the colourful flag. Amaira was asleep after she cried enough on my shoulder. Amal was so fascinated by the soldiers, he’d point at their rifles and ask the female soldier, “I want those too.” She’d just smile and pat his head, as his cheek turns red and he’s silent again. For the first time since we left school, I could smile. We were welcomed in by an old couple. They had striking similarity just like my grandparents. They picked Amaira in their arms. There were so many kids in the house. We were to share the dorm and it was so crowded. There were almost 40 beds with three steps on it. Though we can’t complain as this was the most comfortable we have ever been. We were fed, schooled, cleaned everyday. We’d hear of some news about the war worsening and more people coming to the camp everyday. We never looked for our parents, maybe it was replaced by the hope for our own futures. In a way we all grew up sooner. Amal made lots of soldier friends, though I never can imagine being ‘friends’ for the older boys would visit me in my dreams. Amaira being the youngest, was the princess of our residence. Life was getting on track until the two adults came with some papers, and I’m still turning as think of how I’d leave tomorrow—today. I got up, and found myself walking towards the pond. Its very similar to the one we had near our house. I sit by the pond, breathing all the memories, memories of—my home, those boys who gave their life for us, the adults who carried us all the way here, the old couple in this house, Amal, Amaira, other kids. I hear footsteps behind me, and I wipe my cheeks, cause I’m strong. I can’t break. The old man, sits besides me. “It’s fine to cry, Karim.” I can’t look at him. “though Amal can’t write as good as you. He wrote a letter for you and Amaira and other kids decorated it together.” He spreads his hands and there it is—a colourful envelope. I carefully take it in my hand, I open it and there are scribbling of some words in a bad handwriting: ‘we mis you Karim’ with a linear drawing of three kids holding hands of each other. Behind them is the river and mountains. One of the boy is wearing a cape. My throat is hurting for holding something for so long. “I can’t leave.” I throw myself in the arms of the old man. I didn’t know I could cry again. The eyes have let lose the dam of streams. “It’s fine, Karim. I’ll take care of them.” He keeps rubbing my back and wiping my cheeks as I hug him tighter and press the letter closet to my heart.