After Mayo had been beaten, battered, dragged to his knees by the turbulence that dines and tarries with mankind. The gift in her was able to mend his kaput nexus with God and invariably led to the emergence of his true identity. The voice came to him expressly and pierced into his heart. It loosed him as his heart tilted. The tears of captivity was sluggishly shed and fountain of freedom installed at the center of his heart. The chains of murder was riven and relinquished to its murky background and began to shine like a star he was or rather he was.
We have been in this situation for so long I ought to have been changed, muttered Matrass
Mocachino who has vowed not to cease interceding for his sole to be renewed gawked at Matrass thoughtfully as tears rolled down his chicks uncontrollably. Matrass shook his head in dismay as none could console one another. Letters of frustration and disappointment printed in upper case at their faces seem glaring. Matrass became still instantly. Couldn’t fathom Matrass’s strange act until he sighted Mayo who tied towel round his waist.
Mayo raised Matrass up, picked his clothes he left there to straighten. Mocachino gazed at him, shook his head in amazement and muttered “come to our aid Lord for we look up to you”. The helpless and hopeless Mayo shook his legs inside his shoes as he headed out with his file seeking for a nest to shelter himself. Mocachino could feel agonizing weight exerted upon him after covering several kilometers in search of greener pastures to keep the body in conformity with the soul.
The ramshackle Mocachino gave up at the center of the road. His sole got disintegrated, fell apart and the centre couldn’t hold anymore. Mayo collapsed on the tarred road seeing a vehicle accelerating at high speed. Many witnessed the episode but Couldn’t intervene. The hopeless boy sighted Dorcas at his impoverished state,unusual strength came upon him and the wheel of fortune from her eyes drove him into the culvert. None could fathom how it happened.
He got up almost immediately and started pacing about searching for his file. “did anyone see my file? so much value was attached to the certificate- “ordinary paper” more than his life.Your file? Said a low beckoning voice that jilted him from the crowd, you survived this instead of you to thank God, you opted to shout your file? A file that has turned it back at you?. Hmmm! Take it, take your life. Mayo clothed with shame casted his head downwards with tears gushing out of his eyes like a water fall. He made his way back home. A footprint was planted in his heart by those words of Dorcas.
It took Mayo several hours to get to his apartment, walked sluggishly as though the ground forbade him from treading on it. The handwriting of frustration, rejection, disappointment, bitterness has transposed its font size on his face. ‘This is unbearable’, he muttered as he clouted the door with his leg and fele to the ground immediately . ‘Am tired of living, take my life God for you have been unfair to me, I have been humiliated, despised and rejected where others were accepted effortlessly. Why is my case different?’. He increased the tempo of his voice as he lamented continuously. A voice came to him expressly. He couldn’t detect whose voice it was but he knew that it must be a divine voice Just like Angel Gabriel speaking to Virgin Mary about the birth of Jesus. ‘you always put yourself before me as though you own your life. Treated me like an outcast, failed to acknowledge me. you make enemy with me and peace with men. You have changed my agenda for your life to that which suits your taste. That’s why you have not discovered that which is in you. you are loaded son indeed, you are a star. I ought to interrupt your plans but you shut the door of your heart at me. you put all your hope in your certificate and knocked me out of your life. He got frightened and lost in thought. He shouted out of amazement “am loaded? A star? “ but stars are meant to shine……
The voice vanished Being more worried, he opted to end it all. He picked a rope, tied it to the roof and the other end to his neck. Just as he was to sway himself to the air came another voice…. ‘Life may have torn you apart , waged war against you. you may have been drawn in the ocean of stagnation, bruised and cobwebbed in the negative circumstances of life, rejected and reduced to nothing, engulfed with Shame and reproach. I beseech you to look up to him who is mighty to save.
In him was life and the life was the light of men.
something stroke his heart as soon as he heard that of life, the rope was removed off his neck.
He rushed to the door shedding tears uncontrollably fell down at dorcas feet. He confessed, ‘you made me live once more’. Why would you take a life you can’t give? Says Dorcas, She led him to christ and his life transformed. He became a staunch follower of CHRIST. Many souls were won through him. YOU ARE REDEEMED FOR OTHERS TO BE REDEEMED.
A SPEECH GIVEN BY SHAH RUKH KHAN IN THE MOVIE “BILLU BARBER”
I’ve been told to give some direction to the children here.
Direction? It is a big word.
Forgive me, madam principal. I can’t. It’s too hard.
But I’d like to say one thing to my little friends.
Children, the days of childhood are the most beautiful and best days of your life.
Chunni, sitting over there would say that she has broken her tooth and it’s paining.
Or Bunty over here would say that his teacher had given him a sound beating.
Some kids are afraid of exams.
Those days are beautiful.
The most beautiful days
Yes, children. I want to assure you these are the most beautiful days.
Because Bunty, when you grow up and you have a beard like this gentleman (pointing at a man close by)
And Chunni, when you become a pilot and you are worried about flying a plane.
Then you would yearn for these days. But you will never get back these days and these moments.
Today, you’re heart is pure.
It is pure.
The relationships you form now.
The friends you make you’ll never ever make such friends and relationships ever in life. Looking at you, reminded me of my childhood. You have good clothes, good books to read and good food.
Maybe you won’t believe me but in my childhood I had none of these things.
My childhood was very ordinary and simple. I was not the film star Sahir, but just Sahir.
My father was very poor
We had nothing
But in everyone’s childhood there is someone who makes a definite impression on us.
He becomes a partner in our mischief and shares our troubles.
He’s our friend and companion.
I had a companion who was just like that.
The blessing of my God
Billu, my friend
I still remember, during our lunch-break children used to eat from their lunch-boxes.
I just used to drink water
It was Billu who used to pat my back and give me his lunch
My hair was as long as a girls’.
But I didn’t have money to cut them.
It was Billu who cut my hair when his father was not in his shop.
Billu…. My friend
When I used to be sad thinking about my mother he used to steal money from his father and take me to watch movies
He was Billu
While returning home, he used to get me to mimic characters from movies by promising to buy roasted
Groundnuts for me
Those evening and those lanes Billu had brought out the actor in me
I didn’t have as much faith in myself as Billu had in me.
One day he sold his gold earring and bought me a ticket to Mumbai.
He kept the rest of his money in my shirt-pocket.
I held his hand and told him that
I would return the money.
He told be that I didn’t have to return it.
I should help the needy with it and remember him when I did.
Then I came to fast-paced Mumbai.
I became Sahir, the film star in no time.
I went back to my village to find him, but I couldn’t find him.
Someone told me that he had fallen in love with a girl who didn’t belong to his caste.
The villagers were against them so they ran away in fear of their lives.
They left the village.
I would like to tell you the truth.
I have everything name, fame, all because of him.
Wherever I go, millions of people flock. They call out my name.
The air is filled with cries of my name. But even today amongst those millions of voices I search for only one voice
The voice of my friend, Billu
READ ALSO: REMEMBERING ZAHRA’U
It was on a Friday evening that everything changed for me. My dad had just returned from the mosque; that was when the alarm clock said eight, and as was his tradition he wouldn’t remove his long white jalabia before he shouted.
Why is the generator not started yet?
I knew within me he was going to complain about my not coming to the mosque that evening which would add up to the problem at hand. To cover up one of the problem I dressed in a long Jalabia and left the house through the back door. I had to pretend I also went to the Masjid.
I sluggishly walked towards the door and tapped on it as though the Chinese door was complaining of body pains.
Who is that?
It’s me, I said stammering
When the door was opened I walked in as though I was carrying the weight of Mount Everest on my legs.
Where you not the one talking in your room few minutes ago? Queried my mum
Oh no? I shouted inaudibly. Mum you have destroyed my plan. How is your headache, she added. By this I knew I had to face my dad’s interview soon. Am getting better I said looking away.
My Dad was sitting on the sofa pressing his tablet pc. It was obvious he was reading news or perhaps on Wikipedia because as far as I knew him he never liked social media. He looked up briefly and turned all of his attentions back to his tablet pc, but I could see the ire inside of him waiting to be released.
Good evening sir, I said as he pretended not to have heard at all. I turned and was about leaving the sitting room when he roared out.
Come back here, you are now taking decisions for me in this house right?
Not so sir, I said babbling
Then how, tell me am listening, he continued. Maybe he was right. Often when ever he was away the house does as I say not because they were afraid of me but because I was given that opportunity and it was getting out of hand since I was misusing the golden opportunity.
Am sorry sir, I said leaving again but this time he got provoked as he stood up almost immediately and gave me the dirtiest slap ever. I slumped and it was the last thing I remember immediately I woke up on the hospital bed the following morning.
I was an asthmatic patient couple with the fact that I was feverish that day that I sweat and felt dizzy after walking few steps even in the room.
Immediately I opened my eyes I saw my Dad sat almost in front of me staring straight into my weakened eyes and it was at this time clear he was very sorry. His eyes carry the colours of a virgin sunset and his facial look was that of a cow. As far as I knew him he would never say sorry even though he was.
How are you feeling now Prof? He said touching my neck maybe trying to feel my pulse. He was fond of calling me Prof right from when I was a kid. I don’t know why but I could tell from his character how my education and lifestyles seems to be more of importance to him compare to my three other siblings.
Am fine, I said even though I knew I wasn’t as he made his way out of the ward. Let me go and see the doctor, he said closing the door behind him.
Immediately he returned, he rigidly supported his back on the wall. He stared vacantly at the window that barely had better curtain and shook his head every seconds and his eyes clouded with tears which he couldn’t shed.
“I will be back,” he said again even though it was not up to two minute he had just returned. The tone rang hollow, his emotions encased in a vacuum. He spoke as if it were some well-rehearsed line he had already repeated a thousand times. The announcement, though cold, remained firm, and it indicated more than just a temporary absence. The finality of the statement slowly took substance, and it lingered in the cozy room.
The words fell upon my senses like a lead weight. I stared at him turning his back, impatiently waiting for further explanation; and I was offered nothing.
Your mum will be here soon, he said as he finally bangs the door behind him.
It was when my mum returned that I was told I needed a blood transfusion, which I was given some hours later. It was getting late and my dad was yet come to the clinic which was some miles away from home.
We waited patiently but he didn’t come but only made a call to my mum that he wouldn’t be able to come until the next morning. My three other siblings were in a boarding school which means he would be alone in the house.
Mum there is something wrong with dad, I said pathetically.
What do you mean?
The way he left this morning had something more to it than just “I will be back” that he said before leaving. I said throwing away my face.
You know your dad, he hardly show his emotions, she said feeling relieved.
It was the next morning. The day was getting closer to noon yet dad was yet to come to the clinic and by this time the panic was high as his number refused to go through. My mum became restless and she couldn’t sit nor stand. Maybe it was because of my statement the previous day.
Hours later, the doctor walked into my ward and his face had stories to tell.
Hajia please come, he said as both leave the ward in slow motion motive. I waited for my mum but she was yet to return. I lethargically came down from the bed and made my way out the ward. In the reception I met one of neighbors and two of my family members sobbing and crying oceans out of their eyes.
What is happening? I asked as none of them answered.
You are not yet strong, the doctor advised as he led me back into my ward.
Towards evening I was discharged and met my house like a stadium. Everyone nodded their head like matured agama lizards.
Somebody help me, somebody please! Can anybody hear me? My mum sorrowful screams pierced through the neighborhood in a heightened tone. Her neck was revealing all the veins that lie therein as she cries the sorrow out of her heart. She shook her head vigorously and stamped her feet heavily on the harden earth yet it wasn’t enough. She rolled herself to the ground as she cried uncontrollably; she was absolutely inconsolable. Her cries of anguish echoed and wildly permeated through neighboring homes and within minutes more people hooted in. the entire compound was crowded with streams of sympathizers. Oh! Dad is dead? It can’t be, I cried
No! It can’t be. He is the most religious in this neighborhood; he can’t kill himself. He knows vividly how punishable it is for one to commit suicide. One of the mosque congregations lectured.
I sluggishly walked into his bedroom where his lifeless body lay in the bed. I was kaput and I bent to touch his feet as his bed was covered with his own pool of blood and the next thing I heard was “Prof, wake up its time for prayer”.
Subhanallah! I shouted. I am dreaming! It was a dream! But how can dream be this long and so true? Thank God I said with tears dripping down my eyes. Even though I couldn’t tell anyone the dream no doubt changed me for better.