2.
FLASHBACKS
(Nad)
“Can’t you be
faster? Geesh!” This is the third call for me. I asked my best friend Syaz to
accompany me to the toilet because the sports complex’s toilet scares me a bit.
It is always dark all the time. Well, on the outside. I cannot give an excuse
to go to the café’s toilet (which is more far than the stadium’s restroom)
because the sunlight could trespass into the window inside the toilet.
So anyway,
Syaz is being pretty annoying outside, and I’m actually struggle to wear the
knee pads inside a small “room”. I couldn’t run or do any active movements
without them – the knee pads, I mean- my knees ache on certain occasions and it
will just bug me to stop myself from exercising or do any kinds of sports.
Then I heard footsteps come towards my
bathroom door and heard a loud knocking sound, which irritates me more. I
opened the lock and saw a girl of my age, a few inches shorter than I am and
looked more or less annoyed. “I told you I have always had the problem when it
comes to wear the knee pads back again. They’re so tight,” I complained. Well
actually just to be in the safe side, because Syaz’s look irritates me a
little.
I headed
towards the sink and wash my face. As I looked up at the mirror, I saw Syaz’s
face; her eyes looked as if she’s looking at something gruesome. I follow the
direction of her hazel brown pupils, and asked “what’s wrong? You alright? Is
there something at the floor?” Her eyes seem to look at the floor where I stand
but there was nothing there, well besides the dirty tissues that fell on the
floor.
“Nad, you’re
bleeding.” Sure enough, blood trickled down my leg from behind my knee. I
folded my track pants until my knees; well that’s how both of us could see the
blood clearly. It’s red as red geraniums. “Oh I must have cut it when we try to
climb over the back gate this morning.” We just entered the campus in September,
as new sophomores, and we were just super excited to ‘work out’ at the campus’s
proud sports complex, or a stadium-what we preferred to call it, because the
complex is actually very big.
It has a big
trampoline placed at the centre of the stadium. And the red tracks are just so
welcoming. We just cannot wait to officialise our newly bought pair of Nike
runners. Just for the information, our campus has two different sports stadium
which separate between the genders, which is great because I’m easily self-conscious
if guys watch me run. But of course that’s not the main point. It is always good if places like this,
separable.
Today marks
the day of our ‘freedom’- we just finished our orientation week, and it was
quite hectic, that’s why we yet to have dibs on the stadium. The front gate is
not opened until 8 am, but I got some info from our very helpful seniors that
there’s a back gate, and you just need to climb over it to be inside the
stadium, and there is nobody around if you go there early.
The fences
are not that tall. As I’m 5 feet 7 inches tall and the fences are almost two
inches taller than me, so it wasn’t a big of a problem, only it was for Syaz
though. However, the fences are quite sharp at its tips. We just couldn’t wait
until 8 am, that’s why we felt that we want to have the tracks all for
ourselves, not to mention the trampoline. We packed ourselves breakfast boxes
into our backpacks, and headed to the stadium as early as 6.45 am.
I reassured her, and take out some Kleenex out
of my backpack and wiped off the blood and secured the tissue over the cut.
Then I stick on the plaster. “And it’s still bleeding? This morning you mean
6.45 am this morning? Now is almost 1 pm, Nad. And you’d have thought it would
have clotted by now.”
I rolled down
my folded pants and rearrange my shawl. Agh, I’m always in a bad ‘tudung’ day,
like my friend would call it. Ignoring Syaz’s statement, I said “Let’s go, I’m
hungry” while dragging Syaz towards the exit.
{
A month has
passed and I’ve considered the library- or to be exact, the carrel room to be
my second home. In fact, I’ve got my favourite already, room 241, and the
windows facing the vast green field.
The backdrop
is not cloudless and always dashing blue, well except when it rains, but the
ambience really motivates me to study and actually finish my works. Assignments
are piling up, and I can’t possibly finish my tutorials while my room at the
hostel keeps remind me of the bed.
But today my
favourite carrel room has been taken by somebody else, and I blamed Syaz. If
she could stop bothering me at the café this morning to linger a bit when my
eyes keep darting at my Swatch, and my legs are begging me to go to the library
fast because it’s about to open –well I might have the opportunity to book my carrel room, but no I just had to
‘linger’ at the café a bit because Syaz kept pestering me about Im, who’s also
having his breakfast two tables beside us. “Omg, he is like just beside you!”
Ugh, and I don’t even know why I bother confided to her about this. But she is
still my best friend. I know she’s acting like a normal best pal would do.
I’ve got my
headphones on and Danial Jang’s Violin Cover of a famous Korean song pounding
slowly into my delicate ears. It has been delicate since ages, which is why I
really cannot stand loud music. I’ve got biophysics homework to finish today
and as I was about to put my pen down to start an answer essay, Ami –my Biochemistry
classmate, also my good friend- came in front of my table.
She leaned across the table and whispers “just
got to tell you this, I’ve won the Manga Comic Fiesta tickets! I’ve got to
attend Tokyo International Anime Fair!!! I got to go to Japan! Aaaaaaah!” She
practically shouted on “Japan” and all of the students nearby shot us murderous
looks. Well, literally. Ami, being a ‘good sport’, rolled her eyes at them.
I lunged at
her to hush her down and she just laughed, catching my wrist. I grimaced as her
fingers closed around my bruise. She dropped my arm, and folds down my sleeves,
and eyed the ugly purple mark in surprised. “What’s that? And how did you get
it?” She looked worried, and I’m too. “Just a bruise and I don’t know.” I was
curious myself but I couldn’t figure out how I got them.
I tossed my
backpack on the study desk, and slumped myself onto bed. Today is a tiring day,
the most exhausting day, perhaps. But I’ve been feeling tired these days, and I
thought I had took enough of vitamins. And actually it is only 10 am in the morning. My girlfriends have been saying that I
look pale. Whatever it is I need some rest before Mr. Lopez's class at 2 pm.
I look at the paper butterflies hanging above
me. I cut them out of multiple colour manila cards and decorated it with my
roommate’s remaining scrapbook kits last week at the common room down the hall
at the library. I planned to read the newspaper, also, try to finish my 5 pages
of tutorials but instead found a few used manila cards, and thought instead
letting them to waste I should innovate them or something.
Yeah, I could
be easily distracted. And when I came back into the room bringing the scrapbook
kits, I don’t know it will turn out to be this lovely. But something else
happened at the common room. Reminiscing it, I realized something is wrong with
me, besides keep being self-conscious with myself because Im keeps appearing in
my life; I’m no less than confused and curious.
(Im)
I texted Fik
that I would be heading to the tennis court after I drop by at the common room
to return the newspaper I borrowed. Today’s headline is about my brothers and
sisters in Islam are in grave battle in Rohingya – May Allah protects them
always, besides other political issues and gossips on the local celebs.
As I’m
placing my Blackberry inside my pocket, I heard a ‘thump’ sound ahead of me,
besides looking at papers strewn everywhere, and one paper was right in front
of my Converse. I took the paper and realized I have seen one just like it
before; a Calculus tutorial, except that this paper’s owner has way better
handwritings than mine.
As I look in
front of me, I saw a body lying down on the dark blue carpet, trying to get up.
I run towards her and saw the familiar beautiful face again. “Nad, you
alright?” I looked around to see if there are any female students that could
help her, but at the same time, my eyes cannot release from looking at her
condition.
She looked
weary and helpless, and I on the other hand, trying as hard as I could to
resist myself from touching her to help her up. “I’m, I’m fine, I just
stumbled, that’s all,” she said while standing up. But her face couldn’t mask
the lie she just told me. She looked different, not healthy of different. She looked
darn pale.
I saw two
girls walking towards us, and quickly ask them to help her, to carry her
things, because she really needs someone to lean onto while walking, or at
least walk behind her just in case she falls again. Nad shot me a startled look
and turned her head towards the girls and said, “It’s okay, I’m fine. My friend
here just thought that I’m not well. You guys may carry on.”
The two girls
looked a bit taken aback and felt half-guilty but they walk on when Nad kept
reassure them that she’s fine. I flinched when she addressed me as her
“friend”. “I said I’m fine, you could go now,” Nad said to me after the girls
were gone, in a stern way. She then crouches down and quickly gathers her
fallen tutorials up.
She was about
to continue her journey but I stopped her and said, “Hey, you forgot this” and
handed her handmade butterflies. She took it with her right hand and her baju
kurung sleeve fell down a bit, exposing her fair skin, I guess she’d probably
forgotten to wear her arm socks, like she always did, well not that I’m aware
of at most of the time.
But that doesn’t bother me as much as the
serious purple bruises on her arm. I think she caught my startled eyes and
quickly grab the butterflies and secure her sleeve. “Thank you” Nad said and
walks away. I had made her feel self-conscious; I noticed that when she pulls
down her sleeve, heck does it even matter. In my mind, I was asking are you
alright, Nad? And I watch her from behind until her tall figure has disappeared
from my sight, before I turn my sneakers to the opposite side, towards the
common room.
{
I don’t know
why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and her pale look during the
incident last week. Well last week is not that long. Two days ago, on Saturday.
A voice deep inside me saying that she is not fine. I look at the book in my
hand, I’ve been trying to finish re-reading this book for three days now, a
revision that I thought I urgently need before I conduct my usrah this Saturday
morning – Mazha Yakni ‘an Intimai Islam (What is the purpose I profess in Islam)
by Fathi Yakan is such an indispensable book, for all of us who consider
ourselves as Muslims. And I’ve got the last part to cover up.
Two hours has
passed and Alhamdulillah, I managed to absorb every word written by the late
prominent Islamic scholar. I lie down and thought to take a short nap before ‘Asr
but as I took a glimpse at my phone, I recalled my previous conversation with Am,
my good friend and Nad’s classmate, that she had been called to Miss Lisa’s
room. She’s the Head Guardian Counsellor for our course department. And
normally students who got to see her are either because they are problematic or
have some problems that needed guidance and counselling.
No, I’m not
being judgemental to those people who walk into and out of her polished wooden
door, but she always said it herself whenever she presents her speech;
introducing the department’s Guidance and Counselling Unit, as if we students never
heard about it. I looked at my Blackberry, and I fought with myself whether I
should text her, ask her myself whether she’s fine or even call her if I have
the guts.
But calling her
would be a very brave attempt, I know she would not be fine with me calling
her, and I know that it’s not the right thing to do. Our nuqaba’ reminded us
always about ikhtilat. Yes, another reason that caused me to be concern about
her is because we go for the same usrah.
That would be
a good reason to answer the questions that kept pounding inside my head; why do
you have to be so worried about her? Have you fallen for her? But I could only
answer the first question. The second question keeps me in curiosity. But, the
bruises. I can’t forget the vivid image that I’d seen on her arm last weekend.
I asked Syaz
on the same Saturday when we stumbled into each other outside the cafe, it was unusual already that she’s not
with Nad. They’re like glue, stick strongly with each other, Am would have
commented. After a few hesitations she said she also thought that Nad is not in
a good pace and she told me about some more bruises.
She was going to say more but she stopped
herself, I figured she felt she had betrayed Nad’s trust if she did. She told
me was because she has a better trust in me, she mentioned the words, “with the
same fikrah, that’s why I trusted you with Nad’s condition.”
I would have done something the next day, on
Nad’s sake, but Am caught me on hold, he got injured during his rugby practice,
and he needed further treatment, which later caused him to have 20 stiches on
his knee. Alhamdulillah he’s fine now, and he assured me by saying “Go and
solve your Nad’s problem. This is the first time I’ve seen you cannot solve an
equation. Nad is surely a pretty tough one. Ha-ha”
I threw at him hard, a pillow, and if he
hadn’t fallen injured, I would have done more, I flinched when he laughed. But
I can’t possibly do that when he doesn’t even know the other side of Nad’s
story. He said that because he thought
I have a crush on Nad or something. Which I, don’t. I realized that I’d been
staring at the book too long now. I grab my Blackberry, and start texting.
(Nad)
I can’t
believe she could say that! The next thing I knew I find myself collapsed into
my bed in tears and exhaustion. Today is the most weird, awkward day for me.
First is the situation with Ami, next with Miss Lisa. That was the first time I
went to the GCU – Guidance and Counselling Unit, and I already loathe the wooden
door of her entrance.
She would have probably thought she is helping
me, but saying the words makes me feel I’m that problematic, like you could
watch in movies where the counsellors trying to get hold of the kid, and
normally the situation is because the kid is problematic. Am I problematic? I
compete in marathons; I finished my coursework and tutorials before the due
date. I’m an active participant of our debate team, in fact we were scheduled
to have an International Championship in the UK, London to be specific, next
January- approximately one month to go
from now.
If I’m problematic won’t I be able to go
through all that, I mean if you watch movies, problematic kids are usually timid
in personality, and doesn’t want to disclose themselves to the world. But to
think again, I’ve stopped participating in marathon because these few weeks I
cannot walk right. I feel tired most of the time, and those mysterious bruises.
I never tell
this directly to Syaz, let alone my family. I don’t want to screw up our current
family status; ‘reforming the happiness’ within our family, besides, I trust
myself to be independent. I knew I’m skipping classes, but I don’t care. I
won’t want my classmates and lecturer to found me in this state, enough of
unwanted moments already. I turned my head and recalled each and every word
that came from her red lips.
I was having
my lunch -mac and cheese- at the café with Syaz when I was summoned to the GCU.
Curiosity dodged Syaz and I down the hall to Miss Lisa’s room. But on entering,
I asked Syaz to wait for me outside while adding “but if I’m late, just go
first to Mr. Lopez class.” Our lunch break is an hour and a half before
Microbiology. And it’s 2.00 pm already, I hope this won’t be a long meeting
because I’ve got to head to the musolla first before 2.30.
I walked into a baby blue coloured room,
finished with fully furnished office set, and in front of me sat a
professionally dressed woman in a bright pink scarf. “Assalamualaikum, have a
seat Nadhia.” She motioned to the chair in front of her neat and orderly
expensive looking desk.
I replied her
salaam and sit down while my pupils not moving from looking at her pretty face
and the red lips. I still cannot tell why she calls me here. “Congratulations
on your debate championship last month. You’ll have an International
Championship scheduled next year in London, am I right? Well it’s certainly the
best one IIUM had to date.” She said beaming at me.
I nodded, I still can’t figure out what’s
behind this somewhat pep talk. “Thank you Miss Lisa.” A slight case of jitters
set in while the pretty figure in front of me studied me for a few thoughtful
moments. “Have I done something wrong Miss Lisa?” I asked. “Not at all,” she
said while looking straight at me.
After a few
long seconds, and I could no longer possibly facing the red lips in front of
me, I said, “Is there anything wrong Miss Lisa, because I’ve got Microbiology
in less than 15 minutes. I haven’t performed my Zuhr yet.” Impatient and
apprehensiveness outgrew me.
What’s with
the look? “That’s what I want you to tell me, Nadhia.” She walked out of her
desk and crouches in front of me, and patted my hand, as one might stroke a
frightened child. “My dear, there are
laws protecting children from parental abuse.” “E-Excuse me?” I was
dumbfounded. The counsellor offered an indulgent, all-knowing half-smile. “The
bruises, on your legs and arms have been reported Nadhia. You can tell me the
truth, is anyone hurting you at home?”
I was
horrified. I stared at her open-mouthed. “Now dear, please understand me.
Although you’re not a minor, you are still protected by certain laws and the
university personnel only want to make sure that no one harms you. You are a
brilliant student Nadhia. You’ve got long path ahead of you. And we don’t want
anything to change that,” she continued.
My thoughts
whirled and tumbled. She thinks my
parents beat me! The impact of the thought sent blind rage coursing through
me. A mental picture of my family -learning and helping each other to mend the
broken pieces two years ago; trying to fill in our leisure times with much
happiness as possible; mother trying as hard as she could to be a good mom; and
dad works hard for all of us- flashed through my mind.
In an instant
I was on my feet. “Are you asking me, implying if my parents hit me? No one in
my house struck me! No one!” I seemed to lost control of myself. I forgot
everything what my naqibah had taught me, about patience, and courteousness,
about how our beloved Prophet, may peace be upon him, has the best akhlaq that
I should always conform to.
“Please calm
down, Nadhia. We can’t ignore those bruises.” She seemed taken aback with my
attitude, the look on her face shows that my respond was unexpected. “I don’t
know how I got these stupid bruises. But they didn’t come from my parents. There
are some other reasons for them.” My anger was so intense.
“What other
reason?” She asked further despite seeing my fury. “I don’t know! Maybe it’s
because of my strenuous training for the marathon a month ago. I just don’t
know!” I sputtered. Miss Lisa kept going as if she knew everything. “I can’t
let this go unreported Nadhia. I must call your parents for consultation. I
would be negligent in my duties if I didn’t.”
“No! My parents, they’re wonderful! They would
not strike me, alright? Just leave this alone. Don’t involve them!” Without
knowing, I bolted out of her office, and ran outside into the bright afternoon
light. I did hear she called my names, but I can’t possibly return back.
“A moment of
sadness to seek Allah’s pleasure, is a thousand times better than
being sad
every day because of love for this Dunya.”
-
khadimulquran.tumblr.com
