Latest posts by Muneera Jamal (see all)
- Motherhood Is Not Meant For Me, But The Hope Never Dies - November 11, 2016
- Five Minutes Of Motherhood - September 20, 2016
- Why We Don’t Talk About Men Rights ? - July 5, 2016
She got up to find herself soaked in blood. She did not know what was happening; the lone light bulb started fading away, she felt she was being plunged to darkness.
“Am I dying?” she thought aloud, waking her husband, Ayub up.
The mere sight of Nigarish lying in a pool of blood made him hysterical. He knew what it was.
The events that took place after that were a blur for Nigarish. She could not feel the needles being stuck in her but she clutched onto her abdomen as if guarding a prized possession.
“Save the baby!” She heard Ayub screaming at a distance.
She couldn’t believe her ears.
“I am probably hallucinating.” She thought to herself, but she knew it was her wishful thinking.
Ayub needed a ‘waris’, not her.
The realization was excruciatingly painful for her. She could not decide if it was the physical pain or the emotional trauma that pushed her into an abysmal pit of unwillingness- unwillingness to live.
“Breathe, Nigarish. Your baby needs oxygen.” She heard the doctor’s frantic command.
She complied, adamant on fulfilling Ayub’s wish.
Her breath raspy from the effort came in spurts.
She could feel the erratic thuds of her heart slowing down.
A sense of calm dawned upon her, the kind of calm one experiences after a storm. The storm, however could not wash away the vivid memory of Ayub’s husky voice.
She could hear her baby crying at a distance.
She could also hear a lot of commotion near her, the monitor connected to her wouldn’t stop beeping. She strained her ears to hear her baby cry but dead silence fell on her ears. Her pain eased as her soul left her body, floating heavenwards; light as a feather.
She had bartered her life for five minutes of motherhood.