gothic
09-06-2007, 03:32 AM
First of all, I posted this story in general writing and was utterly dissapointed to see the lack of response,couldn't figure out whether it's just that the story doesn't deserve any comment or I put it in a wrong place. So, whatever you feel reading this story, say it any way you want- but DO say something, cause it's really important for me to know,as it is my very first short story in English and I need to know how did it go.
The Azaan
‘There he is’, I gasped, totally exhausted from running all this way from the science building of the school. I rushed at the boy in the corner, poring over some papers in his hand. “Saom”, I called out, may be it came out a bit louder than intended, cause he gave a jerk and looked at me, seemingly startled. “What?”. “What what? I hope I didn’t scare you to death?” I said a bit testily. “No actually…,”he gave me an awkward smile,” Every time I hear any loud voice or sound it comes being translated to me my father grumbling-“ why do people scream all the time? Our Mahanabi told us to always keep it quiet and calm. If they only listened…”
“Yeah, I know, your father’s a bit…whatever, are you coming or not?”
“Where?”
“You know, to the cultural program!”
“Oh, sure, I love listening to songs…I thought you’d start about that again…”
“I am starting it dear. Are you singing there or not?” He sort of blushed and replied in a meek voice-“I told you, I have never learned music in that sense. Not that I sing well too…”
“Well,” I said patiently,” I don’t need to hear that I-don’t –sing –good thing again. It sucks. And your voice rocks-is all that I know. Okay, lets prove that you are the worst singer we have ever seen. So, come with me and prove it.” I took him by the hand, he shook it off. “You are not getting it. It’s not only how I sing, it’s my father too. He is the Muazzin of the mosque and just despises this kind of things. He would never let me…he’ll kill me…”
“ For singing in the program?” I couldn’t suppress the disgust. ”Don’t you think you are over reacting? I mean…come on, what could he do if he knew? He could be mad at you, throw things at you in the extreme, what more?”
“ You don’t know him. He becomes murderous at times he’s angry.” He closed his eyes and it seemed as if he shuddered for a moment and sighed. “I am not going”. He looked stern.
* * *
“So, what do you say now?” I raised my eyebrows sarcastically.” How did it feel with whole of the hallroom screaming-ONCE MORE, eh?” He just smiled in answer. ”Didn’t I tell you, man, didn’t I? That you were going to rock it, but all you knew was saying- “I am not much of a singer…” I mimicked him in a tony voice. He laughed mirthfully, his face glowing like I’ve never seen before. “Tell me one thing”,I put a hand on his shoulder,” Where did you get this? This thirst for music? I mean, as you have always told about your family, so conservative and all…how did you grow this interest dwelling in that sort of environment?” He chuckled-“You really want to know?” I chuckled back at him and nodded.” It’s the azaan I got the aspirations from.” “Azaan?” I sounded confused, as I was. “Yes!” An unknown bliss swelled in his voice.” Have you ever heard it in the other way? It’s a song with an unearthly tune! It’s so gripping…no wonder people have been responding to this summon for ages…it totally grasps one…and it taught me the first lesson of music-when you do music, try to bring out your soul in your tune,your voice-to be heard!” He stopped abruptly.” May be you are thinking me nuts.” He mumbled. The same old Saom was back again. “No,no…” I shook my head in a confused manner.” You just put it right,” I tried to sound thoughtful,” I never thought in that way before…I wish your father saw it that way.” And I knew at once I had made the mistake. All the colors drained from his face.”Do you think he could know somehow?” “Of course not. How could he? He’s not going to come to the school,is he?” He didn’t answer.
Saom felt happier than ever. He felt so contented with himself that he even winked at a pretty girl while walking on the pavement; the girl gave him a scowl in turn. He was so happy. He whistled all the way home, the tunes of the songs he had sang in the program .His eyes still dreamy from the old vision- a great mob before the stage, all applauding together after each if his songs. Oh God, did that all really happen? He still couldn’t believe it…
Her mother was at the front door, standing with a pale face that he didn’t remember seeing a less pale since his birth. Or was it a bit paler than usual? Before he could figure out or his mother could speak, his father’s chilly voice came- ‘Saom, come in…’ Saom could feel the blood draining from his face. His mother seemed as if she had frozen. He quietly shoved her aside and entered. His father sat on a chair in the dining room, looking totally blank and stiff. “So, you sang today, huh? What was the song, the first one- “I have bound my soul with yours..” wasn’t it? ‘What a lovely song and you wouldn’t believe how beautifully your son sang,’ Maruf’s father said. Shouldn’t I be proud of my son! And what was the second-“I give you this blue-necklace, love…”,he stopped abruptly and looked him into the eyes. They were small and black, but now somehow they looked red. “Didn’t I tell you to always abide by the rules of the holy Quran and the Hadis? Didn’t I?” his voice shivered in anguish.” And you, despite all the forbidding, you sang and danced before all those mediocre people…” “Father, I didn’t dance…” “Don’t! Don’t you argue with me once, you, you…” the man lost words and to fill the lacking took out the hand that he held behind his back all through. It was holding a chopper, sharp and shining in the dim yellow light. At the sight of that thing, Saom suddenly felt a strong urge to vomit. His head was spinning and eyes denied to focus on anything and the last thing he heard before losing consciousness was his mother’s shrill voice-“ No! Oh Allah, save my child…”
The doorbell shrieked and annoyed as ever I opened the door. Saom was standing at the door, barely supporting himself by the help of the wall. His face and hands looked all bruised and he wore a weird smile on his face, an eerily sick smile. “Could I stay at your house tonight?” He croaked. I was petrified.
* * *
I met him outside the mosque one day. The same old Saom, but somehow he looked fresher. I called out- Hey Saom! It didn’t startle him and he yelled back at me- Oh, Kabir! Can’t believe it man! You are really here!” I took his hands in mine and stared silently. He stared back. “Such a long time has passed…” he said almost inaudibly. Both silent, all the memories welling up inside. “So, I heard you were teaching English in a college…” at last I found words. “ Oh yes, yes, you heard right. And as I heard you are…” “just holding the old business of my dad, not feeling bad.” He smiled. “You certainly came for…” He cut in-“ To give the azaan.” I didn’t say anything, actually did not know what to say. “Father’s still alive and he still is working for the mosque. He gets sick sometimes and then I give the azaan in place of him.” He said in a firm voice. His face was passive and calm. “ That’s good, I’d say, that’s good. So you haven’t missed your prayer, right? I have. And won’t deny that it happens everyday, can’t help it pal…”
“No, you have forgotten. I don’t pray anymore.”
I gazed at him for a while.
“Oh,yes, I remember now. Since that day?”
“Since that day.”
The Azaan
‘There he is’, I gasped, totally exhausted from running all this way from the science building of the school. I rushed at the boy in the corner, poring over some papers in his hand. “Saom”, I called out, may be it came out a bit louder than intended, cause he gave a jerk and looked at me, seemingly startled. “What?”. “What what? I hope I didn’t scare you to death?” I said a bit testily. “No actually…,”he gave me an awkward smile,” Every time I hear any loud voice or sound it comes being translated to me my father grumbling-“ why do people scream all the time? Our Mahanabi told us to always keep it quiet and calm. If they only listened…”
“Yeah, I know, your father’s a bit…whatever, are you coming or not?”
“Where?”
“You know, to the cultural program!”
“Oh, sure, I love listening to songs…I thought you’d start about that again…”
“I am starting it dear. Are you singing there or not?” He sort of blushed and replied in a meek voice-“I told you, I have never learned music in that sense. Not that I sing well too…”
“Well,” I said patiently,” I don’t need to hear that I-don’t –sing –good thing again. It sucks. And your voice rocks-is all that I know. Okay, lets prove that you are the worst singer we have ever seen. So, come with me and prove it.” I took him by the hand, he shook it off. “You are not getting it. It’s not only how I sing, it’s my father too. He is the Muazzin of the mosque and just despises this kind of things. He would never let me…he’ll kill me…”
“ For singing in the program?” I couldn’t suppress the disgust. ”Don’t you think you are over reacting? I mean…come on, what could he do if he knew? He could be mad at you, throw things at you in the extreme, what more?”
“ You don’t know him. He becomes murderous at times he’s angry.” He closed his eyes and it seemed as if he shuddered for a moment and sighed. “I am not going”. He looked stern.
* * *
“So, what do you say now?” I raised my eyebrows sarcastically.” How did it feel with whole of the hallroom screaming-ONCE MORE, eh?” He just smiled in answer. ”Didn’t I tell you, man, didn’t I? That you were going to rock it, but all you knew was saying- “I am not much of a singer…” I mimicked him in a tony voice. He laughed mirthfully, his face glowing like I’ve never seen before. “Tell me one thing”,I put a hand on his shoulder,” Where did you get this? This thirst for music? I mean, as you have always told about your family, so conservative and all…how did you grow this interest dwelling in that sort of environment?” He chuckled-“You really want to know?” I chuckled back at him and nodded.” It’s the azaan I got the aspirations from.” “Azaan?” I sounded confused, as I was. “Yes!” An unknown bliss swelled in his voice.” Have you ever heard it in the other way? It’s a song with an unearthly tune! It’s so gripping…no wonder people have been responding to this summon for ages…it totally grasps one…and it taught me the first lesson of music-when you do music, try to bring out your soul in your tune,your voice-to be heard!” He stopped abruptly.” May be you are thinking me nuts.” He mumbled. The same old Saom was back again. “No,no…” I shook my head in a confused manner.” You just put it right,” I tried to sound thoughtful,” I never thought in that way before…I wish your father saw it that way.” And I knew at once I had made the mistake. All the colors drained from his face.”Do you think he could know somehow?” “Of course not. How could he? He’s not going to come to the school,is he?” He didn’t answer.
Saom felt happier than ever. He felt so contented with himself that he even winked at a pretty girl while walking on the pavement; the girl gave him a scowl in turn. He was so happy. He whistled all the way home, the tunes of the songs he had sang in the program .His eyes still dreamy from the old vision- a great mob before the stage, all applauding together after each if his songs. Oh God, did that all really happen? He still couldn’t believe it…
Her mother was at the front door, standing with a pale face that he didn’t remember seeing a less pale since his birth. Or was it a bit paler than usual? Before he could figure out or his mother could speak, his father’s chilly voice came- ‘Saom, come in…’ Saom could feel the blood draining from his face. His mother seemed as if she had frozen. He quietly shoved her aside and entered. His father sat on a chair in the dining room, looking totally blank and stiff. “So, you sang today, huh? What was the song, the first one- “I have bound my soul with yours..” wasn’t it? ‘What a lovely song and you wouldn’t believe how beautifully your son sang,’ Maruf’s father said. Shouldn’t I be proud of my son! And what was the second-“I give you this blue-necklace, love…”,he stopped abruptly and looked him into the eyes. They were small and black, but now somehow they looked red. “Didn’t I tell you to always abide by the rules of the holy Quran and the Hadis? Didn’t I?” his voice shivered in anguish.” And you, despite all the forbidding, you sang and danced before all those mediocre people…” “Father, I didn’t dance…” “Don’t! Don’t you argue with me once, you, you…” the man lost words and to fill the lacking took out the hand that he held behind his back all through. It was holding a chopper, sharp and shining in the dim yellow light. At the sight of that thing, Saom suddenly felt a strong urge to vomit. His head was spinning and eyes denied to focus on anything and the last thing he heard before losing consciousness was his mother’s shrill voice-“ No! Oh Allah, save my child…”
The doorbell shrieked and annoyed as ever I opened the door. Saom was standing at the door, barely supporting himself by the help of the wall. His face and hands looked all bruised and he wore a weird smile on his face, an eerily sick smile. “Could I stay at your house tonight?” He croaked. I was petrified.
* * *
I met him outside the mosque one day. The same old Saom, but somehow he looked fresher. I called out- Hey Saom! It didn’t startle him and he yelled back at me- Oh, Kabir! Can’t believe it man! You are really here!” I took his hands in mine and stared silently. He stared back. “Such a long time has passed…” he said almost inaudibly. Both silent, all the memories welling up inside. “So, I heard you were teaching English in a college…” at last I found words. “ Oh yes, yes, you heard right. And as I heard you are…” “just holding the old business of my dad, not feeling bad.” He smiled. “You certainly came for…” He cut in-“ To give the azaan.” I didn’t say anything, actually did not know what to say. “Father’s still alive and he still is working for the mosque. He gets sick sometimes and then I give the azaan in place of him.” He said in a firm voice. His face was passive and calm. “ That’s good, I’d say, that’s good. So you haven’t missed your prayer, right? I have. And won’t deny that it happens everyday, can’t help it pal…”
“No, you have forgotten. I don’t pray anymore.”
I gazed at him for a while.
“Oh,yes, I remember now. Since that day?”
“Since that day.”