Missing

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Missing Page 4

by Mian Mohsin Zia


  “To be honest, when I read your message, I said to myself, ‘He sounds like a bratishka.’” Lena sounded as if she had a little smile as she said this.

  “Bratish… pardon?”

  “‘Bratishka’ means brother,” she clarified.

  “To tell the truth, I— ” Z choked, but managed to continue, pretending he needed to take a deep breath. “Be it as a brother or a father or an older person, when I first heard your voice, it reminded me of my Angel. I mean, my daughter, and I had her at the back of my mind every time I spoke with you and heard your voice. Maybe that inner voice of mine made me sound like that to you and made you feel that way,” he concluded.

  “Your daughter— ” but before Lena could finish, the call disconnected.

  Lena called Z, and he answered, “Hello, Lena. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, I can. Sorry, the call got disconnected,” Lena said. “I think there was something wrong with the internet. Anyways, I was about to ask where your daughter is.”

  Before Z could say anything, it sounded as if a door opened, and someone entered Lena’s room, and what Lena did next made him realize he was right.

  She quickly said, “I think we’ll continue tomorrow. It’s already a bit later than usual.”

  Z looked at the time and realized she was right. 6:36 already. “Sure, no problem, but one last thing before we end.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Just to avoid any miscommunication in the future caused by the internet, I think we should exchange our numbers so that even if we don’t have internet access, we can inform each other to avoid disappointment,” Z said politely.

  “It would be very expensive to call internationally or to send a message,” Lena said.

  “Yes, I understand that. But I’m not talking about making an international call. SMS, and only if necessary, and only in case, there’s no internet. Hope that makes logical sense.” There was a silence, so Z went on, “Well, if you’re not comfortable sharing your number, then that’s not a problem. I can understand that. I just thought that based on what happened a few days back.”

  “Yes. You’re right,” Lena agreed.

  +0011234567890 Z wrote and then said, “Here’s mine in international dialing format.”

  Similarly, Lena wrote: +0079876543211 and said, “I hope this is how mine would be in international dialing format.”

  “Thanks! Talk to you tomorrow. Take care. Goodbye.”

  “Take care, bye,” Lena said and ended the call.

  *******

  May 2007 – Thar Desert, Sindh, Pakistan

  Holding his jacket, Z drops down off the truck and looks around the highway. The sun’s above his head and blazing down at full strength. His black shirt on his back makes him feel like he’s in a sauna. This is the heat of the Thar.

  He looks at the passing vehicles. There’s dust blowing all around him. He takes his phone out from his pocket. It’s still turned off. He looks at it, about to press the power button, but immediately stops.

  “No, not with my cell phone. I’ll call from a payphone,” he says to himself, slipping it back into his pocket.

  He can’t see any taxis and decides to get a lift. He signals at several vehicles before one pulls over. It’s a motorbike, one of the most common forms of transport in Pakistan.

  “As-salamu alaykum,” Z says as he steps toward the bike.

  “Wa-alaykumu-s-salam,” the man responds, looking into Z’s eyes. He seems to be around forty, short, over-weight, and with his belly bulging out of his shirt, while he’s sitting on the motorbike.

  “Can you please drop me at the railway station?” Z asks, his throat getting drier and drier in the severe heat, while his head is getting wetter and wetter.

  “Well, I’m not going to the railway station, but I’ll drop you as close as I can if you want,” the man says, as he wipes the sweat trickling down from his eyebrow.

  “Sure, thanks,” Z says and gets behind the man on the bike.

  The scream of Bhai! echoes in Z’s ears as the man drives off.

  It’s not just America. It’s the United States of America, and I’m an American.

  None of these echoes in Z’s head make his eyes move. He’s lost in the moments when he heard those voices originally.

  Angel.

  We’ll both do well. Burn together in hell.

  The voices ricochet non-stop, the scenes flash before his eyes. Eyes of a woman. Gunshots. He’s falling.

  Z’s consumed by what he hears and sees, but then he realizes the bike has stopped, and the man has turned around and is questioning him, “Are you alright?”

  “Yes! What’s happened?” Z asks.

  “I’ve been asking you how come you ended up in the middle of this place all alone without any vehicle, but there’s been no response from you. After asking a few times and getting no answer, I decided to stop to see if you’re OK,” the man explains, and Z feels a bit awkward about not being responsive.

  “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. Just out of luck, that’s all. Shall we?” Z asks, pointing in the direction the bike was going.

  With a smirk on his face, the man drives off again.

  *******

  8 Months Earlier – September 2006 - Los Angeles, California, USA

  “Let’s look at the proper pronunciation. As you can see, the stress in the word спасибо falls on the ‘и’ sound leaving the ‘о’ unstressed. In Russian, an unstressed ‘о’ sounds like an ‘а.’ That’s why you’ll hear Russians pronounce it as ‘spa-SEE-ba.’ You can often find it written phonetically as spasiba.

  “Sometimes, this simple спасибо is enough. For example, when someone holds a door open for you or passes you a plate of hot homemade пельмени (pelmeni – ‘meat dumplings’). Of course, if you really like пельмени, you might say большое спасибо (bal’shoye spasiba – ‘Thank you very much’). If you really love them and have been waiting for this for years, you might even say огромное спасибо (agromnaye spasiba – ‘Thanks a ton,’ which is literally ‘A giant thank you’).

  “Just a moment, please, so I can make my notes,” Z said, as he concentrated on writing these things down for later reference.

  When he’d finished, he said, “As I said before, I love the way you use transliteration. It makes it so much easier for me to learn. By the way, you mentioned the masculine and feminine thing the other day. Does that have something to do with the names of males and females in Russian?” Z asked.

  “Yes, like my name is Lena Volikova, but if I have a brother and his name is… ” Lena paused momentarily as if she was searching for a name.

  “Zia,” Z said at once. “Z sounds like an older person, like a father or a bratishka. You said that the other day!” Z smiled as he spoke.

  “Zia Volikov,” Lena said, and Z could hear in her speech that she had a smile. “The name changes.”

  “I see.”

  “The most common girls’ names in Russian are Maria, Yelena, Daria, Anastasia, Anna, and so on; and the most common boys’ names are Vladimir, Sergey, Matvey, and so on,” she said, but after a moment she resumed as if she’d thought of something else. “We often have two names, a Russian name, and an English name. So, for instance, my Russian name is ‘Yelena,’ but my English name is ‘Lena,’ which is easier to pronounce as well.”

  “Yelena,” Z repeated.

  “Ye-le-na,” she helped him with his pronunciation.

  “Ye-le-na,” Z copied.

  “Correct, but I’m called Lena, or Len, depending on what people want to use. Like my family….” She stopped for a moment at the mention of her family and then carried on as if she’d recalled something, “Like when your family calls you by a nickname. You understand what I mean?” she asked, but thought some more to make sure she’d said everything she could on this topic.

  “Yes, I get it. You know you put a hundred percent effort into making sure you cover every little detail for the topi
c you’re talking about. It shows your sincerity and honesty. You make sure you pass on all the information you have to help me learn. That’s a great quality,” he said, pausing while he thought. “At times, I feel I’m not able to explain as well as you do,” Z said, and he genuinely meant it.

  “Thanks!”

  “No, no, no! That’s not fair!” Z said, making Lena feel as if she’d made a mistake.

  “What’s happened? Did I say something wrong?” Lena asked, sounding surprised.

  “No more ‘thanks.’ Just ‘spasiba!’” Z said as he chuckled.

  “You’re a joking man!”

  “It’s ‘funny’ not ‘joking,’ but I’ll take that because it’s the time for a joking man,” Z said as he laughed. He heard her laughing with all her heart and soul for the first time. He was looking at his Angel’s picture while he was laughing too, and scenes from the past flashed before his eyes — the times when he’d joked around with her, and she’d responded just like Lena had now. He could feel some similarity between Angel and Lena as if Lena was the grown-up version of Angel.

  “Are you there?” Lena asked while Z was lost in Angel’s picture. “Hello?”

  “Yes! I’m here,” Z answered when he heard Lena and remembered he was on the Hype call.

  “By the way, what drives you to learn English? I can understand it’s an international language, but what other reasons do you have?” Z asked, while he tried adjusting his headset again, as it still felt a bit uncomfortable on his ears.

  “As you say, English is an international language, so in Russia, there are great opportunities for people who are good at English, and they can even get good salaries in Moscow. There are great opportunities, especially in hotels. Even interpreters are highly paid.”

  “So, you want to learn it because you want a good job and make good money— ” Z cut Lena short with his question.

  “No. That’s not right. I said that, because I wanted you to understand why people in Russia want to learn English, but I don’t want to learn it for making money. I don’t worry about money. I believe money makes relationships dirty. I hope you understand what I mean by that,” she said, her tone suggesting that what she’d came from her heart.

  “Yes, I do. So then, what drives you to learn English?”

  “I want to learn it because I want to make a positive difference in people’s lives. I’m a final year student in the Faculty of Mathematics at MO National University. Every year an international conference of mathematicians is held somewhere in the world. Last year, it took place in Germany. Mathematicians from all over the world attended, and I want to attend as well. That’s the biggest dream of my life, and it can help me take my life forward to achieve my aims. I believe one day, I will, but— ”

  “Insha’ALLAH!” Z interjected.

  “Insha’ALLAH, but for that, I see fluency in English is critical, to convey my ideas, concepts, and mathematical model,” she said, and she sounded pleased about that prospect… but she’d also surprised Z by copying what he’d said.

  “I see. That sounds good. When do you plan to attend one?”

  “I don’t know, but I dream one day I will when I have the money.”

  “Can anyone attend this conference?”

  “No. You have to apply, and if you have the relevant education, expertise, and experience, you get selected. You have to submit a proposal, and you can attend, only if it’s accepted.” Lena paused. “The proposal is enormously significant, as you can see, and the interesting thing is that it must be in English, so you can see how vital English is.”

  “And how much does it cost?”

  “Around $2,200 US depending on the country where it’s scheduled. Here is the estimate I calculated for the last one held in Germany. The entry fee was $700, but when you have to travel internationally, accommodation, food, and all the other expenses make it way too expensive. Some people can’t even afford the $700.” She smiled as she added, “But there are no bills or taxes on dreaming for something. I hope someday they’ll schedule it in Russia.”

  “I hope so too. It sounds interesting. How do you apply for it? Submit a proposal, pay a fee, and wait for an acceptance?”

  “They have an official website, and everything’s there. I’ll send you the link once we end this call.”

  “Thanks. That would be great. How long have you been studying at MO National University?” he asked as he heard the same noise in the background that he’d heard the other day — the one sounding like an opening door as if someone had entered her room.

  “I’ll send you the link. Let’s continue tomorrow. I didn’t notice that it’s quite late again,” Lena said, sounding as if her attention had been diverted, and she wanted to end the call.

  “Sure, take care. Goodbye,” Z said, as he realized Lena was right. It was 6:40.

  “Take care, bye,” Lena said and ended the call.

  CHAPTER 04

  Z looked for Lena’s email after he returned home from the gym that night. It contained links to the conference website and other relevant information about the conference.

  Z checked the links, looked around the website, and also found an update announcing the deadline for applying for attendance at the next conference. It was to be held in India.

  He forwarded the link to the latest update on the official website to Lena via email.

  *******

  “So, am I correct with the pronunciation you taught me yesterday?” Z asked when they had their next lesson. “I spent extra time late last night mastering those phrases,” he added.

  “Yes, you are. Can I ask you one thing though, as you mentioned ‘time.’”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “What time is it right now for you?”

  “It’s 5:50 in the morning for me, and it must be 3:50 in the afternoon for you.”

  “Exactly!”

  “Moscow is 10 hours ahead of LA,” Z added.

  “So, you get up early for our lesson?”

  “No, I wake up early for prayer. That’s why, when you first asked if this time would be fine, I said yes — because I wake up early for prayer every morning.”

  “Do you pray five times a day?”

  “Yes, I do, and no, I don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems you know that Muslims pray five times a day, but I pray six times a day. Alhamdulillah.”

  “How come?”

  “Apart from the five prayers, I also offer the Tahajjud prayer. Don’t get confused, though. The five prayers, as you probably know already, are the obligatory prayers for all Muslims— ”

  “Yes, I did know that.”

  “They’re the ones required from all Muslims. The Tahajjud prayer is not mandatory, but it does have its significance….” Z paused. “The Tahajjud prayer is also known as the ‘night prayer.’ It’s a voluntary prayer performed by followers of Islam. The Holy Prophet Mohammad (Peace be Upon Him) said it regularly himself, and he encouraged his followers to do that too. Furthermore, the Holy Prophet Mohammad (Peace be Upon Him) was advised by the Almighty ALLAH to share his hardship with HIM in the Tahajjud prayer, when he was going through his hardest time while preaching Islam. So, I wake up early to offer the Tahajjud prayer; then, I recite the Holy Quran, and by then, it’s the right time for the Fajr prayer, so I offer that. Finally, we have a lesson.”

  “Now I can understand what used to happen,” Lena said as if she was whispering to herself in her thoughts, but Z overheard her.

  “What did you understand?” Z asked out of curiosity.

  “I’ll let you know some other time, but thanks for telling me about the prayers. I think we’ll end here for today.”

  “OK, as you wish. Take care and goodbye,” Z said and looked at the time. It was 6:15.

  “Take care… bye,” Lena said, ending the call.

  Lena left Z with a thought: Maybe Lena left because she wanted to make sure we’d ended the lesson before someone entered her room, which
I’ve felt twice recently.

  *******

  Sitting around a table for a party, Marshal asked, “Z, how’s this for a change? I mean, you simplified your life by only going from home-to-gym and gym-to-home, so how does it feel now to be at this party for a change?”

  “Change is the only constant, my friend. Change, that’s all I can say,” Z said, smiling as he took a sip of fresh juice.

  “How true. I still recall the times when you were hardly at home, or the gym, as you were away on duty most of the time, and now you’re only to be found at the gym or home!” Marshal smiled. “Thank God! At least you’re at home a bit more now, credit to Lena. There were also times when you only went home to sleep and were at the gym for the rest of the time.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please?” A voice took everyone’s attention. It was Linda, a fifty-four-year-old black woman standing in the middle of the room. “Welcome, everybody! I’m so blessed that my son, Howard, has graduated and joined the Military like his father. I’m a proud mother, and I thank all of you for your support and for joining us here today to celebrate. It feels like a dream come true.

  Howard, a twenty-six-year-old, six feet tall, well-built young guy with a buzz cut, was standing next to Linda and patted her on the shoulder.

  “To my right, stands a great gentleman that I can’t thank enough.” She paused and smiled. “He’s Zia, but we call him Z out of the love that he truly deserves from us. Some people help you in life with money, and some help you with their actions and deeds. They lighten you and your soul and empower you by having a great impact on your life. Z’s that kind of inspirational person, not only for me but for my son Howard, as well. He’s the kind of person who shows up to help without you asking for it. He’ll make sure you get to your comfort zone. I thank you, and we love you, Z. God bless you, son.”

  Everyone clapped again, as Linda and Howard hugged Z tightly.

  “Would you like to say something?” Linda asked Z.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your applause, but only Linda and Howard deserve that. Whatever Linda has said about me, she may have said in good faith, but please don’t take it seriously. She sees the good side of people because she, herself, is a good human being, and that’s why she’s said all those nice things about me,” Z said, looking at Linda as he spoke.

 

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