Name Game

So, Sahar sat down on the bench facing straight at that elegant woman.

"Good Day, Sahar. I am your class teacher, Erica gnome. You must call me Erica. So,Tell me about yourself" She introduced.

"Good Day." Sahar said, thinking just the otherwise. She probably doesn't have anything to tell her significant.

"Oh, A shy one. Anyways, how was your day?"

"A very quiet one, I guess." Sahar hated whenever people would call her shy or rude. Like Duh, She is a wholly different person.

" Oh. Any new friends?"

"Nope."

"Then how about you sit with this girl who is sitting on bench number four? She is the best candidate for your benchmate."

"How can you say?" Sahar asked, curious.

"My tricks. The lunch has started. You should get going." Erica said, looking at her watch.

When Sahar got back to her classroom, she found the room noisy and packed. Faces were the same but places were not. Mostly, great bunches could be seen hovering on benches. Atleast, her bench was deserted. She saw Samantha chillaxing with her friends. It felt wrong amd invading to ask her about eating together. Thus, she opened her lunch box and began munching onto the Sandwich Mrs. Suleyman made this morning. It was delicious, with the perfect amount of  mayonnaise, tomatoes, onions and other veggies. It also reminded her of Brandon, considering was his favourite.

Just when the bell rang, Bench 4! flashed in Sahar's mind. She shifted her bag to the bench wit a bag casually lying on it. The owner was nowhere to be seen.

" Are you gonna sit with Han?" A blue eyed girl asked. She was sitting behind her designated spot.

"Um..Yeah. Miss Erica asked me too."

"Don't feel sad but I don't think you two hold a good chemistry."

"Really?"

Sahar sighed and hung her head on her table. When she got her head up again, she saw herself locking eyes with Miss Faded Skirt. "What are you doing on my bench?" She asked.

" Tis your bench?" Sahar asked in disbelief.

"That ain't my answer. And yup, it is."

"But Miss Erica asked me to sit here." Miss Faded Skirt hunched her left eyebrow a little up, then said, "Then it is fine. Sit down but be cautious. I am not so friendly to hijabis."

Sahar gulped and sat down. Is it because of today's deal? Geez, she is such a hard mess!

Biology started as soon as Mr. Abraham joined the class. He was a lazy fellow of about sixty with an oversized tummy. "So, Girls, today we'll learn about evolution. Open your books at page number thirty five. And you, last bench. No, No, The one beside you. Start reading." And then he will start picking his ears and nose with occasional turns, saying "quiet Girls; Only talking and gossiping. Shut Up!"

When dispersal bell rang, She thought nothing else is left to tear her. But, Boy, were she wrong? Miss Faded Skirt or Han, as Sahar knew her, was leaning on a wall with her friends.

"Sahar Suleyman. How are you?" The blue eyed girl, Ria said, reaching out her hand. Somehow, it felt wrong to Sahar.

"Fine. So will you clear this space."

"What's the hurry? Can't you just hangout with us for a bit. We are friends, ain't we?"

Friends...Huh? You can't be my friend. "No, we are not. Sorry, but I gotta go."

"You have got a nice tongue and I will love to break those." Qora, the girl with a pixie hair cut said.

"Will you please let me go? I am afraid I don't have time for this talk. Can we continue it tomorrow or maybe two years later?"

"How dare you speak like that! And to Han?" Ria cried.

"You are the people invading my peace. Plus, I don't think I am the bad one here."

"If only you hadn't dared to mess with Han in the morning then, this scene would never have happened. So, apologise!"

"No! No can do! It was Han's fault not mine."

Ria's forehead furrowed when she shouted, "YOU USED THE NICKNAME I GAVE HER?"

Sahar was shocked at her reaction. She just said a word and that too out of utter ignorance.

"Then what's her name?" She asked.

"My name is Hanar Saifi. And I am a munafiqoon who hates Muslims. Especially you hijabi girls." Miss Faded Skirt or Hanar joined.

"Why? I don't see any reason why you hate Islam." Sahar reasoned.

"Scissors!" She called and Qora obliged.

"Wait, What are you doing?"

"Just a little makeover for our hijabi girl who lives in a harami world."

She snapped Sahar's hijab out and hunched it inside her bag, "You lost the game. Good Bye! Or else you may lose your bus too."

Sahar crouched on her knees. She could not believe that girl, who was supposedly her benchmate  was such a hypocrite. Such a sinner. Tears could not escape her eyes. How could she?

In the bus some girls questioned about her hairs now being a complete mess. She simply replied she fell. But everybody somehow knew she was lying. Her eyes said it all.  The questions had to stop when she reached her stoppage. Phew, finally!

A note was left for Sahar, pasted on the door.

Dear Sahar,

When you will reach home, I would not be able to receive you as I forgot to buy that last ingredient, Tamarind. You know where the key would be. Also, I have left some clothing to be drier. Hang them on the clothesline.

You extraordinarily beautiful Ma.

The key was with Sahar, always residing in her bag. Tears were still overflowing when she got in the shower. (Of course, she did what her Ma said her to.)

The shower felt soothing and calming. With each drop caressing her oppressed veins. Her roughly and accidentally cut hairs making their way down her spine and curves. There was water all over her body. Her eyes were moistened too. But with the water produced by her insides. "How could she do that? A hijab is not only her identity but her respect and her life. Never in her life has she gone out without a hijab. Atleast, not after her twelfth birthday.

When Sahar was in her room, reclining on the wall with hole, she heard that same voice. The voice of a boy. "Hey, Are you crying?"

"None of your business. Besides, I told you not to bug me."

"I thought you could use a friend and now you are crying. Trust me, I am not a bad person." He said.

Sahar didn't replied and continued her sulking. She picked up her phone to call Julekha. But, she was busy.

"Why isn't she replying?" She said in frustration. Well, her voice collided with the boy's, who said," Why arn't they coming?"

They both jumped.

"Hey, is your friend not available too?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk with me? You see I am at leisure."

Sahar could definitely use him as a chatbot, considering the fact that he can't see her.

"Fine. I got bullied by my munafiqoon classmate who hates me for my hijab."

"Woah. Bullies have been upgraded. Well, they were always racist though."

"I just don't want to go back. I want to be with my friends. But they live miles away."

"Don't worry, I will be  your friend."

" Thanks. But my bully is my benchmate."

"Don't ignore her. Try to be friends. That's what Islam teaches us. You gotta show her the beauty of us." It felt like he was winking.

"A good idea. That way, I can do also stay out of boredom."

"Good! What's your name?"

"Sahar. Sahar Suleyman. You?"

" About mine, I have a great plan. How about I give you options to pick from. Say five? You'll have to guess within two months."

A name Game? Sounds Cool.

"I accept! Now, my options?"

"First, Zaid. Second, Faiz. Third, Omar. Fourth, Dawood.  And last but not least, Osama."