By: Ujjesha Vashisht, Apeejay school, Pitampura
Hanna Mariam hoped to be invisible like one of those actors from her favourite American movies, just inconspicuous behind those heaps of gnarled metal and broken cement and shredded lands covered with dust and agony. The 12-year-old girl with lustrous black hair, pinched nose and smoldering almond eyes had seen the war raging in her country since the past one month. The infamous war between Gaza and Israel.A girl with a humble family of four-mama, papa ,her brother wasim- A girl who had dreams to catch and goals to achieve.
In the initial days, a shiver would run down her spine as her heart would frantically throb at being a witness to such atrocities inflicted on the Palestinians. Letting sleep engulf you, not knowing whether eyes would see the light again .A constant fear nagged her that if she went away from her family, she might never see them again. Meanwhile, at home, everyone was trying to acclimatise to the devastating situation around them. Going to school ,going to work with an opulence of terror hovering around like a phantom-Would you see your family again?
The horror gripped them, and unlike the embellished moon, it didn’t seem to wane away.
It was a similar day in all aspects; she was walking in the back alley, hearing the artillery shells whizzing overhead .Her timid steps carried her stealthily across the alley as she tried to keep her head low, clutching the straps of her bag as if her life depended on it. Her mind was racing, clouded by the fear of the unknown. A palpable feeling of restlessness and anxiousness shrouded her as her pace quickened towards her house.”Oh!..I have forgotten to bring Wasim’s ..He won’t be pleased, uhh…”She spoke aloud to herself as her steps gradually slowed and her voice found itself lost among the cacophonic sounds, just like the shrill shriek of a mermaid fades amidst the ripples of the emerald sea. Her lips slightly quivered and parted as her knees sank down and her legs gave way .A lone tear seeped from her sombre eyes.
GONE! Just like that, they were gone! Mama, papa, wasim-GONE!
She knew no more of the world as her eyes beheld the grotesque scene, her house blown into shreds and all her dear ones sliding away toward the death chariot. In the wake of the blast, even silence forgot how to whisper .Everything started whirling in front of her eyes as she was taken away to an orphan camp. Her mind once a sanctuary filled with memories, was now ensnared with the ultimate truth, and like a wild child she hoped to steer her way through it. She wailed and cried that night, letting all the angst and misery out, blaming Allah for the cruelty he had shown her.
A reader flicking through Hanna’s story might think of her as a simple survivor, but she isn’t a girl whose identity can be lost in the bulky volumes of the history of war.
Hanna Mariam was taken in by an Israeli doctor in charge of the orphan camp. To a mere observer, she might have looked like a regular school-going child who grew up to be a doctor, but in Hanna’s eyes she strived each day to ensure that the memories of all those who were ripped apart from their families wouldn’t just become part of a dusty newspaper clipping. And years later when she stepped on her homeland again, the breeze brushing against her face she let her eyelids droop ,her heart overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude towards the Israeli doctor who showed her the beacon of light in time of melancholy darkness ,who instilled her faith in humanity when all seemed lost ,because of whom she was able to fulfil her parent’s last wish to see her donned in the white apron as a doctor.
As Hannah started walking towards the ruins of her house, she finally let all her worries wash away.