Chapter Two - Abide With Me

A panic it was which ran all over the city – but this small girl with a black Djellaba hood covering her head - was passionate to draw and get her manuscript on drawing published. Striking through and passing along the charcoaled bricks - a flourishing reddish-brown that faded over time. No noticeable difference have the wall reacted to when getting a sensational touch by her tiny, painted with charcoals fingers. Children of all ages were busy in bullying, pulling and throwing away each other – their version of playing a game probably. 

Standing on the stairs a deep thought carpeted this little angel's blue eyes which were stuck on the old styled rusty cooper bell hanging around the opening of the door. Clinching and digging deep her fingers into each others, scratching the skin with her blackened nails. Looked all over the place. No one was walking around to get the help of. Turned around and sat on the stair she was standing on. Waiting for some one to pass inside but no one did. Unable of waiting no longer she stood and organised her self took a deep trembling cold breath smacked and bit her lower lip. Suddenly her eyes caught a site of corner of a bench that was kept hidden behind the opened Solid Oak wood door - probably, where her grand father use to sit with a stick in his trembling but strong hands as a door guard. No one now guard this place any further after his death. She kept her belongings on the stair and went towards the bench - in no time she was seen applying all her force into pulling and pushing the heavy bench. Dragged till it came on to the spot just under the hanging bell. Lifted her Djellaba up till her soft knees to save it from any damages.

Rang the old styled rusted bell hanging over the door. Stepped in the little girl with few papers covered well in a jute fabric. There came outside a strange stranger upon the hearing of the loud bell who looked no less than a creature of her age with big ears and lips with beautifully done French plait wearing a frock that covered her feet. The little girl discovered that strange looking creature had limbs no less than like humans – probably she was born with all other defects in her with extra sweetness to count on.

The little girl named Sana aged seven from Morocco was a celebrated and god-gifted child with certain talent that does not hit a human every now and then without learning from an educated instructor. She was well aware of the pros and cons of sketching from scrap. She sold dry bread to people who had animals to live and feed on. She collected dry bread each morning from houses in downtown where she lived with her old and blind granny. Everyone loved her because she was a fine looking young girl with unusual watery grey bluish eyes and of course with that dent in her clean and fair cheeks she took many hearts – big and small - away already.

After collecting these dry pieces of bread she use to sell them, as I mentioned earlier, to the people who bear animals like goats for meat and cows for milk of course for selling purpose.

The money she earned every day, use to buy daily supplies of food for her and her granny – saved a few pennies to buy her charcoals and papers. Sana, extra ordinary looking girl as everyone thought would grow up into one attractive young woman with slender shoulders good height fair complexion and slim stature to start with. She looked more like Lebanese then Moroccan in her disguise.

Back to the publishing house where Sana found this strange looking girl of her age. Born to a couple who lived in and hailed from Morocco. About her looks that she got from her mother, when she was expecting with Sara, went into a severe accident which affected the unborn child’s genetics disfigured her whole stature and looks who was later diagnosed with cancer. She was put under child labour against her will by parents who did not need her since she was not an ideal figure that a man could demand in marriage for. Looking at no other possibilities, her local goldsmith father decided to put her to earn money into this small publishing house in whatever work she was allotted, to fill the water tanks to clean the concrete floors. Over the time she found her passion in philosophy also which was instilled naturally in her.

“Oh you draw.” Looking around with fearful eyes she asked Sana in low voice, “can I… I see it?”

“Ok!”

Sara turned the pages hastily and found unsaid sadness, courage and love of nature onto the clear papers.

“I am sure you picked them from somewhere else in the town. Or maybe some unanswered and holy soul wrapped dry pieces of bread in it.” Sara guessed.

“no!” exclaimed Sana, “I made it.”

While Sara tried to judge the status of papers if it was twisted and thrown. But it wasn’t. The papers were as clean and wrinkle free as they should be once it has agreed to adopt the a given face and purpose to live for.

“You know what? A paper is like us, humans.”

“Are you really a human?’ asked Sana with such an innocent accent.

“Well, yes I am. Oh it is the thing which I got from my mother.” She continued while walking around on pane of the window that collects all the works from artists, writers, musicians etc. “a paper is when twisted turned quenched so badly it loses its shape. But when it is queued to receive a face a purpose an ultimate disguise it turns into.” Sara continued with her words and somewhat Sana was paying a great attention to the words. Though words are neither her predecessors nor her ancestor’s occupation.

A heavy voice approached the girls while coughing. The hit of the walking stick over the concrete floor was certain to every intent ear. Sara left the papers belonging to Sana over the pane of collecting window and jumped down heading towards the nearest opened door.

“Hello young woman,” the man laughed while taking his seat and resting the stick next to the wall. 

“What do you have for me collect?” Inquired the old man after pulling a rod attached with downlights fixed under an old mahogany ceiling fan and bending himself along his table fixed beneath the sliding window.

“I sketch.” She replied.

“You… SKETCH?” No wonder, haha,  but then my little women, we don’t entertain small readers here as you can see from height of the counter from where i can bearly see your face.

Sana pushed herself backward and joked about his big belly giving him another possible reason for him that prevent him to see things beneath his big belly. the old man looked furiously from behind his specs with no glass attached to it.

“It is, sir, not for small readers it is for all, I have many a drawings of your interest.”

“And how you know what interests me exactly? HAAN?” the old man said in a heavy voice while clearing his sound pipes and smoking through a midwakh.

“Love, of any kind is an interest in itself, Sir,”

The old man was busy in turning the loose pages around that housed many stories in lines and shadows.

“You made… this… entire, young woman?”

“Yes, Sir.” Said Sana with a twinkle in her eyes and smile on her small so gentle visage.

“you have a sweet smile my little girl.”

“Thank you, Sir, my mother gave it to me.”

Laughed the old man upon Sana’s innocent words. 

“I am afraid my child your words are innocent but the drawings don’t say that you made them. Can you make one for me, right now?” Snuggled  he in a heavy voice.

“Yes sir.” Sana sat on the floor and searched her hanging bag that resided many dreams in it. Got all her material out while the old man watching her material that wasn’t of the quality that is required. But the quality of the material can never stop a talented person to hit and break the concrete walls. The papers and charcoal were just as common as a student might have in their early stages of learning.

“what are you going to make for me?” questioned the old man.

“I am making a You for you Sir.” Sana Replied in return.

“Making a ME young woman? Haha” swaying his belly down the table while laughed he upon innocent reply.“I wonder if you or Sara were under each others' influence ever.”

“No, Sir, I just met her now.”

“Oh you already met. No wonder. Haha.” The old man continued with his signature laugh.

Sana was still unfinished with her given job when a handsome young man with dusky skin entered the collecting counter cabin and bidding a good morning to the man behind the counter. Soon as the old man saw him coming in he kept Sana’s sketches aside and occupied himself in getting the big ledger book out. The handsome man with such an attractive personality handed an envelope to the collector and signed into the big ledger book.

He shocked the pen down where Sana was sitting on the floor with her charcoal and a few clean papers that showed traces of black lines those got from her hands all coloured black by the handling of the charcoal that she used as a pencil to draw her dreams. She grabbed attention of the young man by the way she was swaying her tiny hands over paper.

The young man, without signing the register sat down with Sana – she reserved her cloak and pushed herself a bit far then his knee touching hers without looking at him. Suddenly, he grabbed her tiny hands and started scrubbing them with a white handkerchief that he drew from his coat pocket.

“Abide with me; I’ll buy u some good charcoal that won’t stain your hands.” And started packing her bag filled with some wanted and some unwanted dreams. He stuffed her week wrist into his strong palms to make her stand. In no time the old man heard her balgha clattering all over the concrete floor swaying away clueless with the kind gentle man who donated the publishing house for those who have no resources and is heavy on their pockets to buy material.

Old man was inquiring the brown envelope full of money to complete the entry into the register, lying down in front of him on the cracked Oak wood table polished with walnut veneer; there appeared suddenly the young man again to fetch the sketches of tiny Sana. Left astray the opened register fluttering of papers caused by old ornate 54" brass ceiling fan reminded him to sign ceremonially with a gold platted pen drawn from his front coat pocket. Tipped the pen down on register under his name - instead of signing he scrapped his name and took the envelope full of money from the trembling hands of the old man. He left the place like wild wind never to come back. As if he got what he was throbbing for ages on Atlantic oceans, The Casablanca.

Hands if stained with talent is good but hands if stained with hard work is associated to nothing then the quick steps to success - she had both under her cloak. 

This is what he found in my little Sana. The courage and the God-given talent.