CHallenge! by Zeneefa Zaneer All rights reserved@Allah's presence “Now that is enough! I said enough! Don’t try to fool me around. Take out your books!” His mother said shaking her pointer forcefully. Iman, just ten years looked at his mother being frust...rated. He picked his books being irritated. He dropped the heavy books on the table giving a big thud. His mother turned and frowned. “Don’t show your anger, boy! Nothing is going to change. Finish your homework; memorize your poem and your speech…no mistakes this time!” She said trying to control her anger but her cheeks blushed being reddish. Iman bit his lips and looked at his books being sad. A big tear drop fell on to the brown paper cover. And it began to smudge and leave a wet scar on the paper cover. Being just ten didn’t give him the art of controlling the tears. He didn’t know that men rarely cried. He was just a small kid in his fifth grade at school. “Now don’t start pouring Iman! You are a boy!” His mother screamed once again. Iman wiped his tears from his fist and pulled a chair. The noise of the dragging disturbed his mother now but she only gave frown and turned back looking at her half left quilt. Iman unfolded his poetry book. He had to memorize the poetry before this Sunday, just another two days. He already memorized two stanzas, but another two to go. He sighed being tensed. Iman was a bright student MashaAllah. Yet his mother wanted him to be super bright. She wanted him to be the first always. Iman studied hard. He forced himself trying to keep everything in his memory. He saw other children play outside. How excited he was to just watch them play. If he was allowed he would run out like a bird being free from its cage. Little Iman closed his eyes trying to control not to listen to the chattering of the other kids. He couldn’t control himself. He stared out at the window. All his friends were playing cricket. How wonderful it would be if he could join them too. Iman grieved. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing Iman!” He jumped from the chair hearing his mother’s voice. He quickly looked at his mother with a fright. She was concentrating on her unfinished quilt. She’s got eyes everywhere, Iman thought being annoyed. “The snare by James Stephens” He said lazily. His mother stared at him again with a disapproving look. Her eyebrows shrunk. “The snare! By James Stephens” Keep a pause and then recite it expressing that you know the meaning of the topic” She said explaining. Iman gave a blank look and then gazed back at his poetry. “The…snare…by” “The snare…don’t whisper say it loud!” This time her voice went up in high pitch. Iman bit his lips again feeling exhausted and frustrated. Yet he had to go through. “The Snare! By James Stephens” He took a deep breath and tried to express his feelings through the title, giving his mother the satisfaction she expected. “That’s better…go on!” She said approvingly and turned her gaze back on her pink quilt. I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid! Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid! Making everything afraid! Wrinkling up his little face! And he cries again for aid; - and I cannot find the place! And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare! Little One! Oh, Little One! I am searching everywhere! Iman read the poem in one breath. He could recite two stanzas without looking at the book. So he read like a parrot. He tried hard to pour words into his mind to keep them protected there until he participate the elocution competition. “You won’t get points for reciting like a parrot. Do it properly Iman. I don’t want to be disappointed this time. You missed the trophy last year by two marks. It was all because of your less expression while reciting the poem.” Why don’t you participate’ Iman’s mind asked angrily. Sun was setting and the sky glowed in orange and red. Little by little darkness approached their house. His mother got up and closed the windows and switched on the lights here and there. Iman watched her from the corner of his eyes. No matter what she did and how busy she was her concentration was on him. No escape at all, his little mind thought sadly. Wasn’t he in the same situation as the little rabbit in the poem? Poor you and me! He whispered sadly. The call for magrib prayer was heard distantly. He felt a great relief. He could walk to the masjid peacefully, he thought happily. He got up from the chair. Tiny legs felt numbness. The chair went back and the noise of a creak broke the silence. “Why?” “Masjid mama” He whispered. “You are not going anywhere until I hear you recite the poem without seeing your book, understood? Pray at home!” She said firmly and walked to the room. Iman looked helpless. Big tear drops rolled down happily for they were dancing in his eyes for so long time. ******************************************** It was Saturday. Iman felt tired. Alhamdulillah he was able to memorize all four stanzas of the poem. He satisfied his mother as she wanted him to recite the poem with facial expressions. He thought he was free and his mother would let him go out today. But he had to practice more. So she advised him to stand before the mirror and recite the poem again and again imagining he’s in front of hundreds of audience. Iman grinned, smiled, frowned and tried to express everything what he felt for the poem. But every time he saw an innocent child in front of him, pleading for freedom as same like the rabbit in the snare. He heard a nock on the entrance door. His mother checked the clock and then looked at his father. His father reduced the volume of the television and walked towards the door clumsily. He just arrived from his work. He looked tired too. “Assalamu Alaikum Haji…” Iman heard and he quickly recognized the voice. It was his Quran teacher at the madrasa. A pleasant smile touched his lips. He tried to go to the hall yet withdrew his thought seeing at his mother’s frown. He heard them talking. “Iman didn’t come to the madrasa all these days. I thought to see whether he’s doing fine” The teacher, said with a low voice. Then he heard his father’s voice. “He’s got his elocution exams on Sunday…he has to get ready for that Hazarath!” Iman’s father said proudly. “Is that? I thought whether he was sick. By the way, what’s that exam about?” He asked. Iman heard his father’s mocking laugh. He saw a corner of his mother’s lip curved with a mock. Iman felt sad. He likes his teacher a lot. “What kind of a world are you in hazarath? Elocution is to teach the kid to talk and pronounce English like a British! It is kind of speech training” Iman heard his father’s voice mixed with mock and humiliation. “Oh! Haji, Iman has passed his exam in Quran class. He can now join the upper grade. He can learn to memorize the Quran” He heard his teacher announcing proudly. Iman felt happy. “That can be waited hazarath! He’s just ten years. Anyway he’s not going to be like you…he’s got better scope in his life” Iman heard his father’s voice. It was an insult to the teacher. How rude his father is to comment like that? Iman’s little heart cried in pain. “Alhamdulillah! Iman is a very bright child. Give my salams to him, I’ll see him after this exam InshaAllah!” Iman’s teacher said. Iman ran to his room being angry. How hurt it would have been to his teacher? What a kind person he was? The little heart throbbed. He wept. The sleep brushed his eyes giving him peace and relaxation. ***************************************** “Iman! Iman! Wake up! Get ready soon, hurry up!” Iman’s mother came rushing into the room and said briskly. Iman couldn’t move. He curled his legs and hugged his knees. He was shivering. His mother came close to him. Her presence made him frightened. She would scold for today is his competition. She came closer and pulled his blanket. Iman felt too cold. He shivered and he gritted his teeth. “Iman! Why what happened. Oh! No. She gasped seeing him shiver. She quickly kept her fist on his forehead and neck to check his body heat. “You are sick darling!” She said tearfully. She hugged him to comfort. Little Iman wrapped his arms around his mothers neck searching for love and care. “I’m sorry mama, I’ll get ready” He said. His mother’s eyes wetted. “Get ready to go to a doctor” she said painfully. “c..om..p..tition?” Little voice trembled. His mother felt crying. She hugged Iman for few seconds. And then she hurried him to get ready to visit a doctor. “Nothing is wrong with him…he looks stressed! Did you tire yourself in school work son?” The doctor asked examining the child. Iman’s mother felt embarrassed. She felt regretting. Iman looked at his mother shaking his head. He didn’t want his mother being angry with him. He searched the answer from his mother for she always had answers ready in situations like this. But today he couldn’t find his mother being ready to answer. “Let him stay at home for three four days. He’ll be alright.” His mother shook her head. The doctor looked at Iman again smiling. Iman tried to draw a smile. “You’ve got holiday’s son!” The doctor said cheerfully. “I’m sorry mama” Coming out of the doctor’s cabin Iman said sadly. He felt sad to disappoint his mother. She bit her lips regretting and patted his cheek. “It’s ok Iman, let’s go home” She said trying to smile. Iman smiled back happily for he saw his mother being happy although he couldn’t win the trophy this year too. ******************************