Broken hopes

for Auld Lang Syne,

my friend.

for Auld Lang Syne

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for Auld Lang Syne.

a night still four years ago...

The moon was out, it was the closest she had seen it. It shone on them like delighting in their big circle as they held on to another, sang a friendship ode. they had had their last paper that afternoon and the next day was the long awaited departure. on her own term, A dreaded departure.

"be your sister's keeper.

look over your shoulders,bear no malice,

forgive and bid goodbye,

starting from your neighbor."

someone read aloud.

"good bye sister" the closest to her hugged her first and for politeness sake Salima returned the gesture.

physical contact had always been uneasy. she knew nothing of its warmth except that she despised the feeling.

The home she had grown, she only knew of fire, fire that burned endless and she knew cold too, distance of a loved one. an in-between was impossible, teetering on the brink of the two extremes, hot and cold. It was a mad house, a fight ground.

they didn't speak to one another, they yelled.

there was no room for forgiveness, she only knew punishment.

no friendly looks, no soft cheek pinches. No handshakes. no hugs

home was not home.

It was only four walled. a forced alliance of unfriendly strangers.

home was fire, home was ice

home was far from everything where she wanted to be.

She mingled on. reluctantly returning hugs, shaking hands with whoever deemed it the proper au revoir and exchanged few words of reverence till she lost count and with that she felt her farewell overdone.

the large circle broke as friends regrouped in smaller circles. playing, laughing, sharing every piece of the evening.

some sat together watching the night sky, they shared a few laughs then began to cry.

She just watched, somewhat surprised. It was not in her to cry about people, to miss them.

it's not that they were dying.

If it was her biological makeup or the life she had lived, she didn't know. and liked it as she was.

"are you surprised at people who can use their hearts" Habiba's voice shutting out her thoughts.

"and who told you I don't use mine"

answered Salima turning to view her friend.

"common sense and observation"

" there are mobile phones, distance is not a barrier. you can always connect with people" her weakest trait was keeping friendships.

whether she was with people or not. It was the same for Salima.

"connection over wavelengths never beats real human contact"

Salima was cynical. She didn't believe in kindness but motives. She leaned on the pragmatic side even if concealed inside, she wore her heart on her sleeves.

"they're a little bit being dramatic.

if you want to cry go somewhere where you don't have to pull attention.

you really miss people you won't have to prove it to everyone that you do"

"I agree on that one, some are doing it simply for attention" Habiba admitted watching some group of girls wail loudly in the most exaggerating manner.

"what's to waste this beautiful evening watching other people"

the night was juvenile, there was a lot of time. many things to be done before morrow

"other people who have hearts in them." Habiba precised.

"they've arranged a movie, bookclub evening and a wide range of things.

all safe for girl teens" Habiba cared to mention knowing how ethical Salima could get. one time they had done a night play, Salima had sworn to never attend any one ever again after she had caught a handful of volunteer male teachers gawking at the performing girls.

"I'm in for the book club,

It's once in a long while to have the chance to read together with many book lovers under the gaze of the night sky"

" The movie is good too. biopic on strong women. a feminism kind of thing, Habiba winked.

"I'm not a feminist, that I don't think women are of less intellect and belong only to birthing children is not feminism

I would clean my home, and raise kids, if ever get the chance to. that is"

"If you ever get to?

who does not want to raise a family?" the utmost disinterest on Salima's face answered it all.

Habiba had always known Salima to never chip in when the dorm mates would share their fancies of the family they'll have in the future.

what she did not know was some families raised their children amidst flames and battle cries. they taught their children that the world was aflame

they showed them that they've burned for too long not to carry coals on them. even if they raised their own, they'll set it ablaze too.

Salima had been ablaze her whole life and she'll rather burn alone.

"you won't understand,you just won't.

one day I might tell you" Salima smiled, Habiba was from an ideal family. she didn't know, she couldn't know what it was like even if she told it.

"let's go pray Isha, we have one fulfilling evening before us" Salima took a quick look at her watch, it read few minutes to eight 'o clock.

As they walked to the masjid quietly listening to the call to prayer, Habiba contemplating Salima's suddenly sour mood.

Salima thought of the uncertainties of tomorrow yet was not oblivious to the sight of a few happy girls who found no reason to lament but rather celebrated their walk into a new chapter of life, enjoying the present. the light of the moon illuminating their faces revealing the happy curves on them.

she wished she could be half as happy not lost in a past she could not change or fretting about an unknown future. they were so many little things she wished she had been admonished about - like being present, to live in the moment, to hold on to every single memory, the tears, the laughter and to not treat any passing moment with levity no matter how small because when life drowned you in it's sea of surprises and you're fighting to survive,

those moments, the ones you thought never mattered might just be the anchor that keeps your head above troubled waters.

**

"My mother always said you never regret trying something new, you're either left with a content full heart or a hand full of lessons" Habiba yawned tiredly, dusting her deflated mattress.

for whatever reason Habiba changed her mind last minute and attended the book session instead. It was a biograph on Harriet Tubman. she had been a freedom fighter at the time when the black race was plagued with slave trade.

" So what are you left with?" asked Salima who was still shuffling around her bag looking for her thicker nightie to protect her against the cold.

"somewhere in between, at least I learned that books are not that boring. I like to listen to stories of strong women" Habiba stated.

Salima was surprised at her confession "thought you didn't like it. I saw you doze halfway through"

"blame that on the balmy weather not me" she replied this time stretching wrapping her cozy blanket around her even more tightly. "Thank God it would be my last night of feeling metal bars clash with my bones" Habiba expressed thankfully else one more day sleeping on the mattress could land her in a hospital.

"If you didn't sleep so much, your mattress could have been a little chubbier" Salima commented earning a weary eye roll from Habiba.

"you know one thing that baffles me" Habiba asked capturing Salima's attention as she pulled her blanket over her ready to sleep.

"what?" Salima asked even more curiously, she hardly saw Habiba question things and for her to mention something baffling her meant it was serious business.

"Harriet had seen a dream where she lead her people to freedom, she believed it was a vision."

"and she really did free them, she was even nicknamed the Moses of her people" Salima affirmed wondering if it was Habiba's way of saying she believed her.

" so what I'm saying is maybe it's not always your subconscious,

some things like that just happen Habiba continued.

With Allah is the knowledge of the unseen and to whoever He wills He reveals. Ma Sha Allah"

"uhhm" Salima exclaimed surprisedly at Habiba sudden change of mind that dreams were sometimes more than mind imagery.

" Allah alone knows our future, and if He gifts us a sight out of His Mercy,

what can we do but be thankful" Habiba was a scriptures enthusiast but on the subject of dreams, she knew little to nothing.

for Salima's sake she had browsed the library. she had read stories, commentaries too. real life events about people and their dreams.

"and such a gift could also leave you fearing a certainty you could do nothing to change" Salima uttered, tone heavily clad in moroseness.

sensing the fear in Salima's voice, Habiba was quick to add

"some dreams could be shaytan instigated, to scare you. they play with your mind at the moment of weakness in worship,

although nothing happens without God's permission, good or bad

we should be awed at His munificence that sometimes it's for us to see the wrong in our own selves that need be corrected." the realization of tomorrow's departure made her sound more sage than usual.

"and if you still feel like talking about your dreams, I know you're speaking truth, sorry for earlier dismissal" it was the first time Habiba had apologized directly.

"come on, it's been three months.

and if anyone had told me a thing like that too, I doubt I would have believed

and you were right, I should think of good too,

negative thoughts could take up form of nightmares,

so thank you too"

"I'm glad you took no offense,

good night" Habiba uttered between yawns.

"good night"

less than a minute of their exchange Habiba was already snoring away slumber of an exhausted day.

Salima laid on her right, lucky as she was to have her bunk by the window. the moon was adjacent and she watched with delight. childhood imagery of when she thought there were people who lived on the moon. the 'moonizens' a name baba had coined when she had told him. the moonizens with their whitewashed faces, their greyish-white castles and silvery suits. It was once a dream to live with the moonizens,

baba had told her stories of the moon and if she studied well, she'll go to the moon. the moonizens would welcome her grandly. they'll gift her a helmet too and she would be allowed to fly rockets.

blurred memories flooding and she hated to remember what it once was. force-shutting them out as drowsiness was overcoming her.

her hands cupped over her face muttering the nightly supplications. As her eyelids got heavier, a heartfelt wish sprang in her heart and she uttered hopefully that all she had seen was indeed deception of shaytan.

She rushed forward and back again. an attempt to douse the fire that was crawling at an alarming rate engulfing everything it touched.

It blazed in its fury promising to burn her if she got any closer,she sought help,she couldn't do this alone but mama and Iman sat amidst the growing dilapidation, their stares fixed on the ground and their faces blackened with smoke, they looked dead in the face not literally but of a person deprived of the zeal of being alive. none of the two of them attempting to leave the building or douse the fire.She managed to drag them along and the minute they were out, the whole building crashed,nothing spared not even something as inconspicuous as a pin.

they were out, scratched but safe

her father was nowhere around.

she grew frightened. eyes darting furiously across the utter ruins,her worried gaze returning futilely each time until she looked behind her

and there he was, a scornful smile playing on his lip. His crackling white shirt dazzled amidst the grey ambience,untouched by as little as a speck of dust. Baba seemed perfectly fine not bothered the slightest with their plight and just when she tried to speak to him,he turned his back climbing into his sleek car slamming its door against their cries and drove out of sight. Oblivious to his wife's hysterical wail,her hands pulling at her hair. his younger daughter who sobbed quietly rubbing her mother's shoulder and Salima who just stood dumbstruck - the ash of the ruins mound on her palm falling through the spaces between her fingers.

She awoke in sweat gazing into emptiness, the stark black room as dark as the state of her mind pierced by the faint light of the moon. A lone tear she didn't know had formed raced down the sides of her face,it fell free until it had formed a puddle on her pillow.

she had only thought of the moon before sleeping

wonders why such a dream repeating itself, this time making it the fifth.

there was little time asking questions nobody will give her answers to, she turned her head to her left seeking refuge against the devil and dryly spitting thrice. she could have done more but the excessive darkness and eery silence of the dormitory would not let her leave her bed.

not at all desiring any more sleep she stayed awake listening to the throbbing of her heart while her eyes shed water that was enough to render her dehydrated. She watched night morph into sweet dawn which she was not in a right state of mind to enjoy and after hearing the bell for what would be her last day in the dormitory, she got up rounding off her morning routine all the time meticulously avoiding meeting Habiba's questioning gaze. she didn't need anyone to tell it, her eyes looked like puffed balls judging from how heavy they felt whenever her head bent downward.

"why do your eyes look like overgrown potatoes?" Habiba knew Salima's sour mood from the night before was suspicious.

"nothing" Salima denied blatantly.

slightly annoyed at Salima's stubbornness.

"you don't have to keep things bottled inside of you, sometimes you need a listening ear no matter how strong you claim to be,

and masking your emotions is not a sign of strength but rather indicates the opposite" no insults intended Habiba had to tell her the truth.

Salima busied herself with packing thinking of a suitable white lie to cover up for her sullen morning mood and her swollen eyes.

"Got overwhelmed by nostalgia,

I can use my heart too" she smiled weakly zipping up her box.

"I hope it's that" Habiba eyed her knowingly and Salima felt her gaze infiltrate her down to her very soul.

"well one more thing,you owe me this" she handed a colorfully designed book to Salima "everyone else has signed my friendship book except you"

Salima wearily looked at the witty questions queued on the page waiting to be answered by her.

"friend, acquaintance or just an irrelevant schoolmate" Salima read out aloud "A combination of the three, you should have left an option for annoying bunk mate"

"Tah! you know that is not true"

Salima nodded silently attesting to Habiba's truth. despite they shared nothing in common except the same birth month and that they lived in the same city, they had managed to be quite good friends or even, very good friends.

"and done" she handed Habiba's note back "do I still owe anything?" she asked.

"nothing except I need a little assistance with an extra bag, it's small"

" I have a hand for that, bring it" pulling her box out the gates among the plethora of excited girls, she proceeded in fearful anticipation.

"home, home. here we come" Habiba cried joyfully behind her.

just as immediately as they had reached the checkout point that trooped with parents signing passes and helping their kids with baggages, Habiba ran into her father and he wasted no time engulfing her in a father bear hug. Salima watched the warm exchange then courteously greeted before helping Habiba with her extra luggage to the gate. after exchanging good bye, Habiba ending it in a witty banter Salima watched her form finally disappear before heading back to the waiting block.

she waited and hoped.

it were the most dreaded waiting minutes of her life,

was her father coming?

she counted and waited till two hours had passed and she saw him, he was in a shorthand three piece suit and looked nothing like a man hatching any evil. he smiled as she greeted, the fine wrinkles formed by his eyes same as hers as she smiled back.

she searched for the scorn, the indifference in his face and could see nothing, absolutely nothing as he helped her with her bag leading her through the gates, she affirmed tacitly

It was still her father, the one she used to wear matching colors with at her younger years, the one that had told her stories of moonizens not the Baba she had seen in her dream, it was the devil's plot, negative thoughts all in her head and hopefully they remained there and died there too.

her dream was her mind's fallacy she confirmed.

all was good,all was well.

even though her mouth had denied the claim, her heart still held on to a truth she'll be taking a long time to accept.