The woman was so extremely overcome with grief and emotion that she almost behaved frantically upon the arrival of her kids into the room. She started kissing them, their foreheads, their heads, and, one after the other she looked at them for a few moments and then pinned each one of them to her chest for a while. Then she spoke to me with eyes full of tears and a sorrowful smile on her face, these are the kids, my kids. He (pointing to the younger about 3) is Adnan, he (pointed to the elder about 4) is Salman. I was surprised to see such young kids studying on their own in a madrassah.
The girl spent about an hour with the kids. The kids seemed so well-mannered and so unlike the regular kids. All the while, they did not shout, cry or make any mischief so typical of other kids. They just kept quiet as their mom spoke to them. Only occasionally would they respond to their mom. It looked like they were not even sure if the person was their own mother. After an hour, we were told that another parent wants to meet their kids and we should, therefore, leave.
The girl was pretty ok until we got back into the car. In the car, she started crying loudly. Everyone outside in the dark, narrow streets was looking at us wondering what made the girl cry. Everyone seemed to first look at her and then me to know if I was indeed the reason behind her turmoil. I could not drive fast because so many carts and make-shift stalls were spread out in the street which was already too narrow.
Finally, we reached back home. I asked her what she wanted to do next. She told me she wanted to meet her mom if possible. She called and her mother told her that her father was away so she must come for a few hours. I drove her to the place where her house had been. This time it was not an anonymous dingy lane. It was one of the posh areas and her house was just near a famous Costa Coffee that I often visited with my friends. I had to park the car in a lane next to the one where her house was. This was to make sure no one sees her getting off my car. "This would be enough reason for my father to shoot me right now", she told me. She told me she would come to see me in the same cafe in the evening.
I returned to my hostel since it was closer to the place than my house. I slept for a couple of hours. In the evening, she came. She told me how terribly bad she felt to burder me despite the fact that we had no relation and that I was a busy person. I told her it is ok, it is for us humans to help each others out in the time of distress. "Today it is you, tomorrow it might be me", I told her.
We decided to go somewhere to spend the evening. She said she would like to go to a park but I told her it was too hot for that. Finally, we went to a mall and just strolled past the corridors for almost two hours.
For a while I found that she had ceased to be the person she had been so far. She started smiling without showing any signs of grief. Her eyes shone as she talked and she even told me a few funny things about herself. She asked me a billion questions about myself. She told me how she was afraid of doctors as a kid and how she had run away from the operation room on the day of her eye operation.
We went to a restaurant where there was an all you can eat deal. After having our dinner, she told me this had been her first time in several years to have a full meal. She told me she was never able to enjoy anything in life after what happened to her. She said she only lived for her kids and would have died a sweet death long before had the two kids not been there.
While we were coming from the dinner, I thought it would definitely not be a good idea if we stayed together in the same house for one more night. So I thought I would leave her at my place and would come to the hostel myself. But she discarded the idea by saying she was too scared to stay alone in a house.
The woman was so extremely overcome with grief and emotion that she almost behaved frantically upon the arrival of her kids into the room. She started kissing them, their foreheads, their heads, and, one after the other she looked at them for a few moments and then pinned each one of them to her chest for a while. Then she spoke to me with eyes full of tears and a sorrowful smile on her face, these are the kids, my kids. He (pointing to the younger about 3) is Adnan, he (pointed to the elder about 4) is Salman. I was surprised to see such young kids studying on their own in a madrassah.
The girl spent about an hour with the kids. The kids seemed so well-mannered and so unlike the regular kids. All the while, they did not shout, cry or make any mischief so typical of other kids. They just kept quiet as their mom spoke to them. Only occasionally would they respond to their mom. It looked like they were not even sure if the person was their own mother. After an hour, we were told that another parent wants to meet their kids and we should, therefore, leave.
The girl was pretty ok until we got back into the car. In the car, she started crying loudly. Everyone outside in the dark, narrow streets was looking at us wondering what made the girl cry. Everyone seemed to first look at her and then me to know if I was indeed the reason behind her turmoil. I could not drive fast because so many carts and make-shift stalls were spread out in the street which was already too narrow.
Finally, we reached back home. I asked her what she wanted to do next. She told me she wanted to meet her mom if possible. She called and her mother told her that her father was away so she must come for a few hours. I drove her to the place where her house had been. This time it was not an anonymous dingy lane. It was one of the posh areas and her house was just near a famous Costa Coffee that I often visited with my friends. I had to park the car in a lane next to the one where her house was. This was to make sure no one sees her getting off my car. "This would be enough reason for my father to shoot me right now", she told me. She told me she would come to see me in the same cafe in the evening.
I returned to my hostel since it was closer to the place than my house. I slept for a couple of hours. In the evening, she came. She told me how terribly bad she felt to burder me despite the fact that we had no relation and that I was a busy person. I told her it is ok, it is for us humans to help each others out in the time of distress. "Today it is you, tomorrow it might be me", I told her.
We decided to go somewhere to spend the evening. She said she would like to go to a park but I told her it was too hot for that. Finally, we went to a mall and just strolled past the corridors for almost two hours.
For a while I found that she had ceased to be the person she had been so far. She started smiling without showing any signs of grief. Her eyes shone as she talked and she even told me a few funny things about herself. She asked me a billion questions about myself. She told me how she was afraid of doctors as a kid and how she had run away from the operation room on the day of her eye operation.
We went to a restaurant where there was an all you can eat deal. After having our dinner, she told me this had been her first time in several years to have a full meal. She told me she was never able to enjoy anything in life after what happened to her. She said she only lived for her kids and would have died a sweet death long before had the two kids not been there.
While we were coming from the dinner, I thought it would definitely not be a good idea if we stayed together in the same house for one more night. So I thought I would leave her at my place and would come to the hostel myself. But she discarded the idea by saying she was too scared to stay alone in a house.