Fiction Story: Sehaj And Sabba Blog 7

Continued from Fiction Story: Sehaj And Sabba Blog 6

Daima was observing Sabba feed her granddaughter. Baby Sehaj was laughing out loud when she purposely missed opening her mouth while Sabba tried to feed her. The sound of the innocent laughing baby was a constant sight for her sore eyes. It felt like she had her son with her, she could see his dimples in his daughter, the same golden curly hair. She terribly missed her son!

It's almost 4 months that Farhan has passed away, Sabba's iddah is coming to an end. Daima felt a dread thinking that she will have to let Sabba go to her parent's place after that. In fact if she was to be fair, she should also let Sabba re-marry. She felt a tight knot in her stomach. Faizal had stopped taking any interest in anything and everything. He felt like a body without a soul. Not even his beloved granddaughter could hold on to his attention for more than a couple of minutes.

"In this condition, I should be the one who should do the right thing and take a decision which will be for the good of Sehaj Betiya"  thought Daima.

"Sabba, I know this may not seem to be the opportune time for us to be discussing this. But after the iddah is over you can go and stay with your parents, if you wish to." Daima saw the flicker of pain in Sabba's eyes.

"Nahi Ammi, I do not wish to go to my parents'. I should have never gone there in the first place, I still can't understand why I went there during that fateful day. Allah has punished me Ammi, I have lost everything - please don't ask me to go. I don't want to leave this place cause Farhan's presence can still be felt".  Sehmat had now started crying miserably and Daima felt all her resolve to be poised crumble down.

Both the ladies were bawling their eyes out, finding solace in each others' embrace. Both feeling excruciating pain of separation from their beloved. Both of them going to emotional trauma which seemed insurmountable, both of them hating their lives and the vacuum that Farhan had left behind.

To be continued...

Disclaimer: This blog series is a work of pure fiction. Only names, characters, free images, events and incidents are the products of the author’s life experiences at various times. Total resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Author in no way wants to hurt anyone and is just attempting some creative writing. 

Fiction Story: Sehaj And Sabba Blog 6

Continued from Fiction Story: Sehaj And Sabba Blog 5 

Why didn't I pick up the phone and call him? Why didn't I ever tell him that I really love him? Why did I keep all my warm feelings for him unexpressed? Sabba kept asking these questions while looking at the lifeless body of her husband through the glass door of the I.C.U.

They said, he is very much alive and just in coma. I can't understand how can these nurses be so casual about saying he is  "just" in coma? Look at the loss that I am feeling, It is not "just" a coma, it is the "life" of my husband we are talking about.

What if I  lose him forever? Allah rehem karna. I will never ever ask anything else from you in life. 

Please Allah, rehem karna. Sabba controlled her sobs, they were struck inside her. She could actually feel pain in her chest area. She looked at Daima cradling Sehaj as if nothing has gone amiss. Sabba could not even imagine what her mother in law must be going through. 

If Sehaj gets a minor fever, I feel totally upset and helpless. She has to see Farhan is much worse state, what with all those wires running through his system, trying to keep him alive while lifeless.

She looked at Faizal Ali standing lonely at the far end of the corridor. The tall, proud, well built Pathan She knew as her father in law now appeared to be just a husk of his former self.

It is as if their lives were just plug ons to Farhan's. Why aren't they saying anything to me? Why aren't they talking to me? Why aren't they blaming me for Farhan's accident? After all, if I had been home, he would never have left for the late night motorcycle ride.

The moment our land line phone started ringing at 3 am in the night, I knew it is bad news. I had a piercing dread that something wrong had happened but never in my life did I think that the call was to inform that my husband of just 1 yr is now fighting for his life in the I.C.U.  

Why Allah? Why did this have to happen to me?? What did i do to deserve such fate in life???

To be continued...

Disclaimer: This blog series is a work of pure fiction. Only names, characters, free images, events and incidents are the products of the author’s life experiences at various times. Total resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Author in no way wants to hurt anyone and is just attempting some creative writing. 

Fiction Story: Sehaj And Sabba Blog 5

Continued from Fiction Story: Sehaj And Sabba Blog 4 

"Sojaa jaan, chaand ki roshni laye mithe khawb, sojaa jaan , hu saath teere mein hardam" Sabba was singing the lullaby seeing Sehaj's eyes droop slowly. Sabba settled the sleeping baby gently and went to the balcony.  

My days come and go so fast, I don't even realize I am living. It's like my human body is on an autopilot mode. Get up, feed the baby, take care of the baby, feed and clean the baby, yadda yadda yadda. Not that i mind doing all this but somewhere I feel I need to do something more, become someone other than being just a mother. Even Farhan has not called me  in the whole day. Sometimes I wonder if I really matter to him. Or is it just a marriage of convenience? Sabba was going into one of her grey moods and her mood was becoming like the dark clouds in the night sky.

One would think that her husband would miss her if she is not in the house.  If not for anything but the tasty dinner that she always keeps ready with a smiling face but guess my husband is happy to be on his own. May be it's only she who loves him and not vice versa. Or is he angry because I called him a good catch for marriage or that I told him I want to study further? I don't understand why this silence on his part. Sabba kept having these negative thoughts while getting ready for bed.

Farhan kept watching the huge wall clock in his hall. 11 pm. His parents and he just finished off the sumptuous meal prepared by his mother. Now they were chitchatting and catching up on local news and gossip. He had thought of calling Sabba at 10 pm knowing that they sleep early at her parents' place but his mother was so excitedly telling him about her friend's son's latest car that he could not really stop her and excuse himself to make the call to his wife. It may seem frivolous.

"Guess now it's too late to call the wife. I might as well catch up with my friends from the colony. Recently I have missed all the late night hangouts cause Sabba has made me civilized enough to want to sleep early" thought Farhan when finally his parents wished him goodnight and left for their bedroom. 

It felt really odd for Farhan that he actually missed having his wife and daughter around. "Full on signs of being the new domesticated married man, not good my booyyy. La la la la la..." Farhan started humming as he rode his favourite trustworthy bike.

It was drizzling a bit and the atmosphere was smelling of wet sand. Farhan loved to ride in the night, with the wind blowing softly against his face, the awesome smell of first rains, the roads empty of traffic.

"La la la la la.." Farhan was still happily humming his favorite song when suddenly there was a huge bright light that flashed in his eyes and before he knew it, he felt a sudden jolt from the front.

Nooooo, Am I really on the road with no help while the person who hit me with his car actually take off like my life was worthless enough to be ignored and run away from???? These were Farhan's last thoughts before losing consciousness...

To be continued...

Disclaimer: This blog series is a work of pure fiction. Only names, characters, free images, events and incidents are the products of the author’s life experiences at various times. Total resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Author in no way wants to hurt anyone and is just attempting some creative writing.