Printemps

She could hear the shrill whistle of the bombs dropping. She closed her eyes tightly, but it was impossible for her to shut out the vision of what was happening all around her. The sky was ablaze, and she was deafened by the sounds of the automatic fire weapons, roaring planes, and the thump of deadly mortar shells. Huge mammoth structures were collapsing as if they were mere dust and terrified people were running in every direction, trying to outrace death.

From somewhere a voice was reverberating in her ear drums,’ are you alright miss?’
Slowly she opened her eyes in disbelief. She had faced hardships before but was never so close to death.
‘Miss—are you alright?’
She was in the ambulance when she gained consciousness. ’Yes, I am fine. Thank you. ‘
Inadvertently blinking, she came to senses with the man’s shrilly voice. ‘Wait a minute! You are the famous reporter of WBC. I watch you on television every night’. It must be very exciting for you to cover this war?’

‘Yes.’ Her throat was dry. She really couldn’t make out how one can find covering a war exciting. She was on her reporter duties at the war stuck Taliban. In her short visit, she saw people blowing to shreds, seen bodies of babies thrown down wells, and bits of human jetsam flowing down a river of red. It made her sick. The bombing and shelling had finally stopped. She was surveying the aftermath effects of the war - the physical and emotional destruction.

She was in an orphanage where small kids were looking at her with eyes filled with desperation to meet their parents. Some of them had lost their limbs and some were lost in thoughts. A small girl pulled her cloak and asked’ are u going to take me to my parents?’.
The caretaker told Sana that the girl lost her whole family and their was no one claiming her. Sana hugged her tears rolling out of her eyes.

And suddenly she was back in her own past.

‘Oh! Mama, lemme go, why do you always embarrass me? I am grown up mama.’
‘Do I? oh baby I am sorry ,next time I will see to it that I stop myself from hugging you every time I drop u to school’
‘You promise?’
Yes of course I do dear, now get going u are already late for the school. Bye
And she never got a loving hug from her mother again.

Memories flashed across her mind like a huge callous tide, receding and exploding spasmodically whenever she was let free for herself. But she was not going to break down so easily by emotional hurdles. She had learnt it the hard way and she was going to fight it the hard way. She was Sana Denver.

Sana was barely nine when she lost her mother in an accident. Her father took Sana to a boarding school. Sana was waiting outside the office while her father was in conversation with Sister Agnes regarding Sana’s admission.

Sana loved her father as much as she liked her mother though he had not returned a peck of gratitude towards her. She dint mind of course as she knew that he was a busy man. She was terrified at the idea of learning in a boarding school but was relieved on learning that on public holidays she could be back home with her father.

‘Sister Agnes was very happy Sana. She says she would be glad to admit u. behave like a nice girl’ and Mr. Hudson left.
‘Come in child. I am sure u will love it here. U will have lots of friends. Mr. Hudson is very kind. He tells me that he found you when he was on his usual holiday trips in the back countries and felt agonizing pain when he came to know of your ill fate. But as u see. He is quite busy he left u here’

Sana gave a shocking glance at the sister and then simply stared at her baggages as if trying to find words in a muted world and reconciled herself thinking that Sister Agnes must have misinterpreted her father assuring herself that she was going to see him this Christmas.

‘Oh come on girl. I have got other works to do’.
Sana struggled to keep her pace with the sister, double taking her steps. The journey to her room seemed endless.
And then she saw the huge emblem of a cross and below it was a caption in glaring red “ST. PETERS ORPHANAGE”.

Sana had believed her life was over. The orphans institute was a nightmare for her or rather she thought it was. She missed her mother a lot and felt excoriating pain when she thought about her. The strict routine bothered her even more. She listened to the agonies and heart touching stories of other orphans and thanked god for whatever she was now. At least she had the comfort of home shelter and the security of having a father, though she was not expecting him to come to her.

At two o’clock every Friday afternoon, the boys and girls would line up as prospective foster parents arrived to evaluate them and select one to take home. As each Friday approached, the excitement and tension among children rose to an almost unbearable pitch. They would wash and dress neatly, and as adults walked along the line, each child would inwardly pray to be chosen.

Every Friday was the same, but Sana would still wait hopefully as the adults examined the line of candidates. But they always picked other children. Standing there, ignored, Sana would be filled with humiliation. It would always be someone else, she thought despairingly. No one wants me.

Sana wished desperately to be a part of a family. She tried everything she could think of to make it happen. One Friday she would smile brightly at the adults to let them know what a nice, friendly girl she was. The next Friday she would pretend to be preoccupied with something, showing them that she didn’t really care whether she was chosen or not, and that they would be lucky to have her. At other times she would look at them appealingly, silently begging them to take her home with them. But week after week, it was someone else who was taken away to wonderful homes and happy families.
Miraculously, one day as usual, she smiled at the couple who seeked to adopt a girl.

The only thing she knew was that Mr and Mrs Scott were happy to adopt her. The orphanage was overrun by children and perhaps the staff wee too busy to check the credentials of the couple. Within three days Sana was sent to be part of the family of Mr and Mrs Scott.

She had only known their surnames but what she dint know was a looming ill-luck was following her. There was no Mr. and Mrs Scott. The two of them harassed Sana to death and then she realised that they were traffickers who sold Sana to a brothel.

This was the last thing on earth she had expected to happen. She was arrested in a dark room with faintly anything visible and could hear voices from outside. All she could make out was that she was the scapegoat and the customers were bargaining the price of the scapegoat. Somehow Sana was not as frightened as she had anticipated. She was engrossed in the lacerations and deep cuts which were tearing her apart. Fate had been wrong with her for so many years but she was used to it now and she had learnt at the orphanage that right things happen at the right time, and she was waiting for the right time to arrive.

Sure it did. Before Sana could become the victim of the evil human desires she was set free. The brothel was raided by the police accompanied by a non profit agency aimed at improving the lives of ill fated girls like Sana. From then on Sana spent her days at the reformation camp, went to school and struggled all along her life and is living on her own as a renowned journalist.

‘Excuse me maam but you are hurting me’ cried the girl. Sana frisked the child out of her grips and asked her what she wanted to become when she would grow up. ‘I will become a doctor. All my friends here are sick but there is no doctor to take care of them’. And the girl looked into Sana’s eyes and for a moment she thought she was looking at herself, the girl fifteen years back who was waiting eagerly to be adopted. And she could listen to the silent appeals of the girl asking Sana to take her away from this hell. As if it was understood between the both, the girl said ‘my name is Renée. My mom used to say that it means rebirth’.

Would u like to come with me? We will have a nice time together.

Renee plunged her arms across Sana and then she felt the same warmth she had felt the last time she hugged her mother and told Renée ‘right things happen at right time! Don’t they?
Renee smiled at Sana and said’ sure they do’.