Missing

by Mian Mohsin Zia

  “I get it… it must have been extraordinarily tough for you,” Lena said in sympathy, and after a moment went on. “Good and bad go hand in hand and exist in every country, city, and society, but that doesn’t mean we should label others or judge them based on our own bad experience or someone else’s ignorance, cruel act or unfair play. No country or society’s impeccable.”

  “Hmm, hmm,” Z agreed.

  “I’m sure crime and criminals exist in the US, just as they do in Russia and other parts of the world, but that doesn’t mean we should label it as a bad country and develop resentment against it. I bet if you turned on a news channel right now, regardless of which country you were living in, the local news would be reporting and arguing about something obnoxious. There’s no perfect country. We have to understand that and accept the fact that Muslims shouldn’t be seen as terrorists. Terror has no religion,” she said.

  “Well said!”

  “In this world, every person suffers from something. We, humans, suffer from failure, hatred, injustice, disease, poverty, terrorism, corruption, racism, discrimination, pain, unkind acts by others — all sorts of things. Every one of us is suffering from something. However, on the other hand, I also believe that we share common problems and common goals. For example, we have children to feed, bills to pay, and dreams to pursue. These ordinary things bind us together to make us human and feel like one. If we just realized this, it would help us to accept each other.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Z agreed, “and we can only realize this if we open our eyes to the world as human beings.”

  “We all think that others are happy and that we’re the only ones having a bad time… until we get to know what others have gone through and put ourselves into their shoes,” she added.

  “It’s called empathy,” he said.

  “Pain is like a shadow for humans,” Lena said and sighed.

  “Sometimes pain connects people, though,” Z suggested.

  “Yes! Pain binds people. As humans, we relate to the things we have in common — happiness, love, pain, sorrow, parenting, family, etc.,” she clarified.

  “It sounds like you’ve been through some pain in life — the name AngelInPain suggests that too. Would you mind sharing your pain as I just shared mine?” Z asked very politely.

  “I…, I feel like pain is a real constant for me.”

  “Why is that so?” Z asked curiously, but he heard Lena’s phone ringing, and he stopped.

  *******

  May 2007 – Late Afternoon, Karachi Railway Station, Sindh, Pakistan

  Z is standing in a phone booth, dialing a number. “Pick up… pick up the phone, Howard,” Z urges, as he listens to it, ringing against the background noise of train announcements. It must be very early in the morning for him.

  The phone keeps ringing, and finally, Z hears: “Hello, this is Howard Bernard. Sorry, I’m not able to answer your call at the moment. Please leave your name and number after the beep, and I’ll get back to you soon. Thanks!”

  Z closes his eyes for a moment in despair as he listens to the beeping and suddenly decides to record a message. “Hi Howard, this is Z. Hope you’ve heard about me in the news. Remember, you once said, ‘You can count on me for anything, bro’? Today, I’m counting on you. I don’t have a number you can call. So, please wait for my next call and make sure you have your phone next to you. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 05

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

  Lena’s phone was ringing. “Just a minute, please,” Lena said as she answered the call. Z could hear her talking in Russian but could only understand the basic phrases he’d learned.

  “Pardon, I’m back now. Let’s continue,” Lena said.

  “Based on what you said, it seems you’ve been through some pain in life, as the name ‘AngelInPain’ suggests too. I asked if you’d mind sharing your pain since I just shared mine,” Z repeated his question very politely.

  Lena started speaking straight away. “How would it be for a child to grow up believing she has to be perfect in everything so that she can gain the approval of everyone around her? How would it be for a child to go through her whole life believing that everything always is, and always will be, her fault? How would it be for a child to be bullied and shamed for everything she does? How would it be for a child to spend a lifetime fighting battles nobody else can see?” Lena paused, and Z assumed he should respond.

  Before he could gather his thoughts, she went on. “There are certain things you can feel, understand, and see, but you can’t explain them or make others understand them. My father passed away when I was just two years old, so I never had his love,” she said.

  “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” Z said sadly.

  “As I grew up, I was treated as if I was trash. I was low in confidence, never allowed to have my say. My mother controlled me and made every decision for me without ever finding out what I wanted. Sticks and stones can break our bones, but words cannot hurt me. That’s wrong!”

  “Yes! You’re right, and I said that to you in my response to your email as well,” Z said.

  “It’s important to be careful with our words and actions, because they can have an ever-lasting impact, especially on children,” Lena spoke with authority, which Z felt in her tone of voice.

  Z was impressed by the strength of her attitude.

  “But there was more than that. My mother dated several men and finally remarried when I was nine. My stepfather molested me, and when I told my mother, she believed him, rather than believing me! Imagine how I felt then! Imagine how it feels when you’re telling the truth, but people don't or won't hear you!”

  “I can imagine that,” Z said sadly.

  “I was hurt and broken. My mother neither listened to me nor helped me and even took her husband’s side! I had to hide myself and do whatever I could to protect myself from him when she wasn’t at home. I was overwhelmed by what I had to deal with at home, that it made me depressed and affected my life at school. I was bullied, and the other kids laughed at me. They called me bad names and made jokes about me,” she said.

  “Gosh! How terrible for you,” Z commiserated.

  “My stepfather cheated on my mother and divorced her. As a result, my mother became violent and often shouted at me. She started drinking and became an alcoholic. Eventually, I fell severely ill and didn’t get better. My mother took me to several doctors, but none of them diagnosed what was wrong with me. When you’re psychologically dented and lose confidence in yourself, no one can help,” Lena’s voice softened.

  “Day by day, my health was deteriorating. Finally, my mother decided to leave me with her mother in her village. I assumed she thought that village life and the rural environment would be good for me, but in reality, she just wanted to get rid of me, as I was a burden on her.” Lena sighed a long sigh before she could go on, and Z took a few sips from his water bottle.

  “Olga Barkanova, my grandmother, was very kind to me. She treated me like a princess. That was the time in my life when I got to work out who I was. She taught me how to treat others and how others should treat me in turn. She cared for me lovingly. She used to monitor me and my health. Every day, she’d hold some bread in her hand and read something on it and then put it aside. A cat used to come daily and eat the piece of bread. Gradually, my condition got better, but the cat got sick and died. I felt as if I was the reason for its death — the poor cat gave its life to save mine,” Lena was further tormented by pain.

  “Why do you think that?” Z asked.

  “I’ve got no idea, but that’s how I felt. I started getting better and eventually went to school in the village. Weeks — months — passed, but my mother never called to inquire about me. She never visited, and one day, the police informed us that she’d died in an accident when she was driving while drunk.”

  “Oh dear!” Z exclaimed.

  “Life started to get better, and I was recuperating well, b
ut then the next blow fell. My grandmother passed away. I was eleven. Life always has something up its sleeve,” Lena said bitterly.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more about that,” Z said.

  “I felt broken all over again, but that was when Granny Maria started taking care of me.”

  “Granny Maria? But you just said your grandmother passed away!” Z said in surprise.

  “Yes, that’s true, but Granny Maria wasn’t my real grandmother. She was my grandmother’s best friend and mine as well. She lived next door and was instrumental in my recovery. Once my grandmother passed away, Granny Maria took full responsibility for me and treated me like her grandchild,” Lena explained.

  “Got it….. She had no family?”

  “Well, like my grandmother, she had just one daughter. Her daughter was married and had moved to the US. Granny Maria and my grandmother each lived alone but were company for each other. Granny Maria was a retired schoolteacher. She helped me to regain my confidence and self-esteem,” Lena’s voice warmed.

  “I see.”

  “Initially, she home-schooled me and later I went to the village school. She was a great character and a wonderful role model for me. She taught me how to be courageous and confident. She not only counseled me but also empowered me. She gave me the strength to listen to my inner self. I believe, if I hadn’t been sent to my grandmother and Granny Maria, I wouldn’t have survived in this world. Excuse me for a moment. I need a drink of water,” Lena said.

  “Sure. Please!”

  Lena sipped quietly until she was ready to continue.

  “My grandmother had her personality, and Granny Maria had hers. They had different gifts that helped me in different ways. Granny Maria was a counselor, a mentor, a teacher, a role model, and above all, my best friend. She made me learn what I should do — and should not do — when I was out of my comfort zone and how to stand up to bullies. It was she who helped me to stand tall. The way I am today is all due to Granny Maria,” and Lena’s voice was very self-assured.

  “I can feel that. You’ve sounded very confident and focused on everything you do for as long as we’ve spoken and known each other. It’s not easy to believe that you’ve come from such a troubled childhood. The credit definitely goes to your Granny Maria,” Z acknowledged.

  “But that’s not all of it. Granny Maria's greatness, her aura, and her charisma went way beyond my imagination. It’ll surprise you — she was a Muslim, and her religion was Islam! So I, a Christian, was raised by a Muslim woman who followed Islam but never made me conscious of that difference. Granny Maria was a pious lady. She was a Muslim like you.”

  “Now, I understand why at times, I felt you knew certain things about Islam when we were talking… about prayer, for instance,” Z admitted.

  “Yes. Islam is the second most widely professed religion in Russia. Still, I’ve seen it from very close because I was raised by a Muslim woman in the form of Granny Maria, and that helped me learn more about it. I had no place to go to and couldn’t live on my own when my grandmother passed away, so Granny Maria extended her help which I needed so badly. She was the only one along with my grandmother, who tried to reconstruct my devastating childhood.”

  “What a blessing that you had your grandmother and Grannie Maria! You were fortunate indeed to have had them. They must have been magnificent human beings.”

  “The harmony in which they lived made me realize the real meaning of humanity. Grannie Maria raised me without any discrimination or bias. She was a wonderful example of a good human being and a real Muslim. Even though I was an Orthodox Christian like most Russians, she used to give me the space and freedom to practice my religion. She took me to church. She bought me new clothes and gifts at Christmas and Easter,” Lena related.

  “That’s wonderful!” Z smiled.

  “She practiced Islam but never imposed it on me. I used to see her pray five times a day, and at times, when I used to wake up in the middle of the night to drink some water or to go to the bathroom, I used to find her praying. I guess she was offering what you referred to as the Tahajjud prayer.”

  “Yes.”

  “I never asked her about it, but I realized it must have been something related to prayer. She used to recite the Holy Quran, and I used to read the Bible.” Lena paused, awash with memories. “They say, seeing is believing. But to me, experiencing is believing. What we see on TV and hear in the news is nothing but propaganda against Islam,” she asserted.

  “That’s so true,” Z agreed.

  “The news reported isn’t reported to educate people, but to shape their decisions and to influence their mindset to match the views of the newsmakers. They do it deliberately, because the media is concerned about ratings, investors and not, in the end, the truth. Ask me, and I’ll tell the world — Islam is a religion that preaches peace, love, and compassion. Ask me, and I’ll give you the example of Granny Maria, but please don’t use the name of religion to disgrace or trick others,” and Z could feel Lena’s emotions through her voice.

  “Very true and to add to that, in the Holy Quran, the Almighty ALLAH has called HIMSELF the Lord of all the creatures, be it Muslim or Non-Muslim. The Almighty ALLAH hasn’t said that HE’s only the Lord of Muslims. HE’s the only one, and HE’s for everyone. Moreover, in the Holy Quran, the Holy Prophet Mohammad (Peace be Upon Him) is referred to as a mercy for all worlds, which includes humanity and all that exists, not just Muslims,” Z added, and then thought of something else. “So, you live with Granny Maria?”

  Lena was silent for a while before she responded.

  “As I said earlier — pain is the only constant. Last July, Granny Maria passed away just a week before my twenty-first birthday,” and her voice choked with sorrow.

  “Oh… I’m truly sorry to hear that! Please, have some more water,” Z said with concern. There was silence. Z could feel Lena needed a little time to get herself together again, drink some water, and calm herself at the mention of Granny Maria’s death.

  “I live in a hostel with Dasha, my best friend. The call I received earlier…?” Lena continued.

  “Yes?”

  “That was Dasha telling me she’d be late today. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had such a prolonged lesson.”

  “I could understand very little of that call because when you talk in Russian, it’s very fast in comparison to when we talk. I’m a Russian beginner, so you adjust accordingly. But now I understand why at times I thought someone had entered your room and you asked to end the lesson. I assume that must have been Dasha?” Z asked.

  “Yes, that’s right. Once she returns, I don’t want her to think she has to be silent because of our lesson,” Lena explained.

  “How do you pay your expenses, university fees, and manage everything?” Z had another question.

  “That’s an excellent question. My grandmother took a loan from the bank for my upbringing, as she didn’t have much income. What she had was enough for herself but not enough for me as well. After her death, the bank sold her house to recover its money. When Granny Maria took responsibility for me, I was happy to live with her. She took care of me and paid for all my needs. As she was a retired teacher, she used to receive a monthly pension. She also used to make money by teaching students in her home as a private tutor.

  “In her last days, when her daughter, Alina, visited her from the US, Granny Maria specifically instructed her that she wanted me to be well taken care of and all my expenses to be paid until I graduated from university. Until then, Granny Maria wanted me to only focus on my studies and not worry about other things.

  “Alina sold the house after Granny Maria passed away, as she was already settled in the US and didn’t want to return to Russia. She paid all my university fees, hostel fees, and other expenses upfront and in full. She also deposited an amount in the bank based on my average monthly expenses to last until I graduate and finish at university. That money covers my monthly expenses. I never wanted to be a burden, but Alina
insisted that I accept her offer, because that was Granny Maria’s last wish. She wanted me to focus on my studies and excel in life.

  “Now, I’m finally in my last semester and would have loved Granny Maria to see me graduate. I wonder why the people who dream for you never stay around to see you excel and have their dreams fulfilled?” Lena asked and took a deep breath.

  “So, this is your story, and this is why you’re ‘AngelInPain,’” Z concluded. Before Lena could respond, Z’s doorbell rang. “Sorry, someone’s at the door,” he said as he looked at the time. It was 7:56.

  “No problem. I think we must end here anyway.”

  “Sure, take care. Goodbye.”

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

  After seeing to the person at the door, Z attached a few more pictures of himself and his family that he found. He emailed them to Lena before he had to leave for the gym.

  *******

  Later that evening, after returning home from the gym, Z turned on his desktop to revise the morning’s lesson and recall the Russian phrases he’d been learning. He checked his inbox as well and found an email from Lena.

  Dear Z,

  I was trying to sleep but couldn’t. Thoughts from our conversation earlier today kept on going around in my head, so I decided to turn on my laptop quietly and found your email with some new pictures.

  Thanks for all of them! They weren’t just pictures — but a lifetime! I could see it. Angel, Sara, and your parents. You all looked so beautiful together.

  After talking to you this morning, I felt much better. At times, it’s hard to absorb what I’ve gone through in life. But sharing it with others can help, and it develops trust.