Fleeting Moments and Confessions (Nimco and Diiriye)

[Paragon]

[Guys forgive me were you to find slight spelling errors or gramatic mistakes. Thanks]

 

Part Three

The punishment of memories

 

After a short tearful moment, Diiriye reached deep into his trouser pocket, produced a white handkerchief, and dried his wet from the tears. He shifted his head from the front seat’s hand rest, sat upright and blew a heavy sigh of relief.

 

‘Oh for shame’ he murmured to himself ‘I cried’.

 

In his state of emotional exhaustion, Diiriye turned his thoughts at tracing the last time he cried. As far back as he went to remember, he could not find a time in his adult life that he did cry, except for today. He always remained extremely calm, and emotionally unsettled under any situation at all times.

 

However, recent trying times have changed my character, or so he thought. He sensed as though his affections for Sucaad were wearing out his strength to keep his emotions under control.

 

Lately, Sucaad has been appearing in all his dreams, seeming very real, and in each dream, he and Sucaad, were living in a harmonious bliss of marital companionship. In reality, however, Sucaad has eluded him and rejected all his attempts to win her over.

 

It for this reason that Diiriye decided to seek advice from Haajir, whom he considered a good friend. And after pouring his heart out, Haajir accepted to help Diiriye in succeeding to get the girl of his dreams. Haajir suggested that they visit his cousin, Nimo, who happens to be Sucaad’s best friend, and this brought Diiriye into Nimco’s presence. But he has never anticipated what was to unfold upon meeting Nimo.

 

Nimco knew Diiriye as the strange guy who has been unfailingly attempting to win over Sucaad. Every morning, she saw him standing on Sucaad’s route to work, bearing flowers, gifts and hand-written poems, which Sucaad uncaringly ridiculed.

 

Every time Diiriye handed flowers, gifts or poems to Sucaad, Sucaad would disdainfully pass it to Nimco to chuck it in the bin. At first, Nimco never use to think twice about chucking Diiriye’s offerings into the bin, but gradually, she grew slightly hesitant. Slowly by slowly she felt heavy-hearted about wasting the affectionate efforts of this love-wounded poor guy.

 

Then, on one auspicious day, instead of bining a hand-written love poem, she got herself immersed in conversation with Sucaad and total forgot to fulfil her bining duty. And as she normally does with all papers she finds in her hand, she threw the poem into her bag without paying attention to what it was.

 

Later that same day, while preparing to do some unfinished work-related research with tight deadline, she emptied all the contents of her purse onto her study desk, and out fell the poem. At a glance, she thought of ignoring the neatly folded poem paper, but then she grew slightly curious.

 

She picked it up and gently unfolded. She then realized that it was a hand-written poem addressed, ‘To you, Sucaad’, at which point she began to read it, and in every line of the poem, a beautiful yet a touchingly sad emotional message of love came through to her.

 

Impressed with the poet’s talent - in delivering an affectionate declaration of unrequited love- she forgot about what she was meant to be doing. Obsessively, she repeated the lines of the poem again and again, with no regard for time. Such was her preoccupation that she spent hours reading and re-reading the poem. And at the end of each reading, she would press the poem against her heart. That night, she fell asleep as tender feelings entertained her.

 

 

Part Five

In love with a poet

 

the following morning, she woke up and quickly dressed up, in order not to miss the chance to accompany Sucaad to where they both worked. She excitedly looked forward to see Diiriye’s usual stand along the pavement. Today, she hoped, he would be offering another beautiful poem which she intends to keep.

 

She rushed out of the house past her mother preparing breakfast, and reached where she and Sucaad normally meet in the nick of time. Unfailingly, Sucaad was there. After a few pleasantries of salutation, they both begun their ritual walk to work, and after few minutes, Diiriye appeared right before them.

 

‘Ooh!’ shouted Sucaad with irritation. ‘

This creepy guy is really getting on my nerves.’

Pretending to be the peace-maker, ‘honey, let me talk to him, OK?’ suggested Nimco.

‘OK.’

‘You keep working.’

‘Oh, thank you honey.’ Sucaad said.

 

Nimco stopped at Diiriye's stand and looked at his face and then what his hand was holding. And lucky was she, he seemed to be holding another folded paper that looked like a poem.

 

‘Listen, brother’ Nimco began, ‘my friend is angry with you bothering her. She wants you to leave her alone, you hear?

‘But I desperately need her to talk to me just once. That’s all I am asking, honestly,’ Diiriye pleaded.

‘Please, can’t you make her talk to me?’

 

Nimco paused to think.

 

‘I am sorry she won’t speak to you. But I can only help you to give her your gift later. OK?’ she told him.

‘Thank you, thank you so much’ Diiriye repeated.

‘Not a problem.’

 

Later that night, Nimco was at home hesitating to unfold the paper poem. She felt she was being dishonest betraying her best friend, but that did not stop her. She unfolded the paper and found in it another masterfully written poem.

 

This time, the poem was even more touching and sad-laden. With each line she read, a lonely tear dropped down her cheeks. Her whole body shook, and her falling tears socked the paper in her hands. By the time she was finished reading the poem, she had started to sympathize with the poem's composer.

 

She kept thinking about the kind of pain he must be in, and wanting to console his troubled soul, she thought of ways to be of some help to him. The compassion she felt for Diiriye was slowly turning to fondness. As each day passed, she was begining to slowly fall for Diiriye.

 

Although she felt slight jealousy about the sort of affections he showered on Sucaad, yet she felt sorry for her. 'Only if she knew the sweetness and tenderness with which Diiriye’s poems were written', she would murmur, 'she would have fallen head over heals for him in an instant'. She was surprised of how poetry not intended for her, has etched into her heart. She couldn't help feeling sure that Sucaad’s heart, if only she knew how Diiriye care for her, would feel the same way she now felt.

 

Nimco had, for several times, tried to reason with Sucaad to give Diiriye a single chance to get to know him. But every time Sucaad refused to consider such a request outrightly. Acknowledging how she now felt about Diiriye herself, Nimco once asked Sucaad if she would give her the blessing to try her chance with Diiriye.

 

To this, Sucaad replied ‘of course, my dear, he is all yours!’ with a nonchalant attitude.

 

 

In the days that were to follow, Nimco was beginning to fantasize about getting to win Diiriye’s heart for herself. That was before Haajir, her cousin, called to inform that his friend, Diiriye, will be coming to visit her at home about matter regarding Sucaad. The news of Diiriye coming sent her over the moon with joy. She could not believe her luck.

 

'The man I fantasized about was going to visit me? Ohhh' she kept repeating. She couldn’t be more happier. At first she couldn't take Haajir seriously and as he told her about Diiriye's future visitation, she repeatedly ask him ‘are you sure he is coming to visit’? Haajir somewhat amused, and couldn’t understand her excitement but confirmed the news anyway. 'This was my only chance', Nimco said to herself. 'I must play my cards right. It is do or die'.

tr>

 

To be continued, Insha-Allah...

[Lois Lane]

Wow J-11!

 

This is really good, Pls dont keep us waiting too long for the rest

[Paragon]

Dear a display name,

 

I shant keep you waiting, Insha-Allah. I have the next 5 parts ready albeit in need of some edition.

 

Will post more soon as.

[Paragon]

Introducing Artan & Natalya

 

Artan and Natalya

 

Desires of the soul when repressed

Give the anger in us its only chance

To set aflame our eyes and tongues

To scotch the hearts with evil wrath

 

Natalya dashed out of the seminar room and into the corridor, shortly followed by Artan. As soon as he was out into the corridor, he caught up with her leaning her head against a wall. He quickened his steps towards her, but the moment she noticed him coming, she turned to confront him, remaining silent momentarily.

 

‘Are you happy now?’ she screamed, ‘have your lies satisfied your ego, huh?’

 

He took a look at her highly irritated face with great concern, but all he could manage to do was an out-of-place smile. He was surprised to hear Natalya’s talk of ego.

 

‘My ego? What are you talking about?’ he stammered.

 

‘I am talking about your ego that offends me most.’

 

‘My ego, you say?’ shouted Artan.

 

‘Yes, your damn big primitive intellectual ego.’

 

‘What?’ Artan exclaimed, ‘be civilized now.’

 

‘Oh, and you think you’re the civilized one, you barbaric?’

 

‘Yes, I’m civilized and the class agrees with me.’

 

‘The class, you say? Well, they’re as barbaric, too!’

 

‘Whatever you say,’ Artan replied, angrily walking off.

 

Although he wanted to console her when she dashed out of the seminar room, still deep in his heart, he knew whatever he could have done would not have helped change her mood. After all, he reasoned, I happen to be the only one in a class over hundred and fifty students, who all he does is to reduce her to tears. Why has this become the case? he wondered

 

Mostly, whenever she was debating with other politics students, Natalya is transformed into a veracious and formidable opponent, who hardly fails to win the debate. The reputation she has gained was such that the university’s student union has even begged her; to represent them in some of their crucial meetings with the university’s governors.

 

On her part, she knew of her verbal prowess, and this knowledge always made her sure footed. She was confident that her powerful arguments could win her any debate. She was aware of this gift even before she joined London Guildhall University to pursue a degree in political science.

 

In the two years she studied in Guildhall, her confidence grew even more, as to give others the impression that she was an arrogant young lady. Behind her back, some of her fellow students have called her the ‘arrogant Jewish girl’, but she never liked to concern herself with such petty comments.

 

But the only thing that concerned her, and the same time alarmed, was how her heart seemed to swell up with anger whenever she was in the presence of Artan. His presence was not only concerning and alarming, but most of all, infuriating. ‘Why does he always have to be such an annoying bas!rd?’ she has asked herself on many occasions.

 

She could never understand what it was that made him come up with the most annoying arguments, especially against her. Only if she could figure out what it is that he had against her, she thought, she would once and for all, put Artan in his proper place.

 

That, however, had to wait for two more days until the on-coming Friday, when they’ll both attend another controversial seminar session on the politics of Middle East. A seminar session that she was sure would almost guarantee his unfailing attendance.

 

THE CLASH OF EGOS

 

The following Friday, as a seminar group of fifteen students seated itself, Natalya worked her way through the group, to grab the chair opposing the one Artan usually sits on. Although she knew she was sitting on another student’s chair, she was too determined not to give it up what come may.

 

When she was comfortably settled in the chair, she peeked across straight at the seat Artan was meant to sit on. But he wasn’t there, and hasn’t even attended the one hour lecture that preceded this seminar.

 

His absence did not worry her thought, because she knew very well that Artan rarely attended lectures, and often arrived late for the seminars. He has such a laidback attitude about him, which has strangely never affected his impressive academic performance.

 

Fifteen minutes into the seminar debate, Artan walked in nonchalantly, and as usual, armed with an apology for the tutor about his lateness. There was a new excuse every day. ‘You lying *******’ whispered Natalya, hoping that he would hear it. He didn’t.

 

He simply went straight to his seat, and from where when he looked straight at hi opposite direction, he couldn’t help but notice Natalya’s eyes fixed on him. He winked at her. Natalya did not any. She had no reason to.

 

The tutor proposed the topic to be discussed for session, which was going to be about the Palestinian Intifada and its wider effects on regional and global affairs.

 

This was a topic Artan feels strongly about, or rather, the legitimacy of the Intifada as a struggle against Israel’s occupation of Palestinian lands. When the tutor inquired who would start off the debate, Artan’s hand was up in the air.

 

‘Yes, Artan’ nodded the tutor, asking ‘what is your take on the Intifada?

Do you use the use of suicide bombing is/or can be considered terrorism or struggle for liberation?’

 

Artan begun, ‘I think the Intifada is rightly the desperate act of a people whose cause many in the world sympathize with…’

 

‘I beg to differ…’ interjected Natalya, ‘I strongly believe that not many in the world sympathize with what is clearly a terror campaign against civilians, marketed as a struggle for liberation…’

 

Artan cut her off in the middle.

 

‘First, let me finish what I was saying, will you?’

 

‘But you are talking nonsense, and your comment is misleading!’ she forcefully insisted.

 

‘Look, you can say what you want but let me finish. It’s my turn for heaven’s sake!’ shouted Artan repeatedly.

 

But Natalya could not be stopped and continued to yell back at him with her points of argument.

 

Artan could not allow her to continue as believed that since he believed it was his turn to speak and it was rude of her to interrupt. He just wanted her to stop, but when he realized she was never going to stop her interrupting, he turned to the tutor with a plea.

 

‘Sir, please can we have some order restored? You asked me to share my take on things but even that I can’t do!’

 

The tutor, who was also as equally confused as the rest of the students, by Natalya and Artan’s loud tit-for-tats, finally regained his focus. He shouted some authoritative orders at Natalya and Artan’s directions, immediately achieving a complete silence, and went on to say:

 

‘This is my class students and I am the only one in charge of it. No one speaks or sneezes unless I have him/her the permission to do so. Is that clear?’ the tutor stated.

 

All the students nodded their agreement and none of them uttered a single word.

 

‘Very well then, class. Wait for your turns and no more interruptions. If you have something to say, say your hand’ he reminded the seminar group, followed a moment of pause.

 

‘Now’ the tutor talked again, ‘I am giving this chance to Artan to finish his comment’ and marked his permission with a pointed finger at Artan.

 

‘As I was saying before, Sir, the brutality meted out against the helpless Palestinians by Israel’s insensitive occupation, has been the sole trigger of inception of the Intifada. Thus, a state of helplessness has made the Palestinians, and some of their sympathizers, to resort to suicide bombings out of sheer desperation’ said Artan ending with ‘I strongly hold the belief that such acts do not constitute terrorism as such!’

 

Natalya was already fuming, and seconds after Artan's comment to an end, a strongly worded rebuttal was already on the air and on its way to him. She could not even be bothered to raise her hand or ask for the tutor’s permission. The rest of group somehow knew that she had a score to settle with Artan, and for that reason, none of them raised a hand to contest her for time.

 

Natalya continued with her rebuke for ten consecutive minutes, and Artan on his part, like the rest of the group, simply kept silent with the occasional head shaking of sheer amazement. Moments after she finished her directed intense comment, silence lingered on in the room. No one could utter a word after her, and the silence was only broken by the tutor announcement that the session was at an end.

 

Artan pulled a surprised look at Natalya, as he prepared to leave the room. Her face was stone cold. She had too much anger in her, which made her a highly determined young lady. She looked directly at him, without breaking eye contact until he blinked and turned away.

 

Even then, she could not stop starring at him. If she could, she would have torn him to bits only with her fierce eyes.

 

‘See you on Wednesday…’ he said while going past her.

‘Yeah, sure, looking forward to it already’ she said sarcastically, feeling triumphant deep down.

 

To be continued, Insha-Allah...

[Lois Lane]

^ I decided to protest your stories!!

How can you start another one when I dont know what happened to Scary-cat Diiriye and "I'll-get-him-no-matter-what" Nimco?

 

cruel game this is my dear

[Paragon]

^ Sorry Lois. Diiriye's tale is getting a little monotonous and thus you see the introduction.

 

Yup, it is cruel. What can we do?

[Lois Lane]

Thats fine J11. Serves me right..following a Somali soap opera. Forget the characters, the author gets tired after a couple of pages loool

 

I kid..i kid