YARINYAR BABA Complete Document Written By Zainab Alkaseem
Description
“It’s true, Mom, I don’t want to go to that school,
To that useless teacher, no one has to go.
The boy looked at him blankly, as if he were a fool,
But Ilham, arriving, clapped her hands cool.
The woman called Mommy said, “You’re an inspiration,
Men, stop this meaningless, empty talk,
Even before your soul became wicked in this house.
There were some lovely children, a boy and a girl,
About seven years old, they came out smart,
In their uniforms, looking very interesting.
“Mommy, we’re ready,” then they looked at them,
With a hint of inspiration, necessary to defy the strangle,
“She didn’t go to school,” they told Auntie Ilham, “God’s son,
Please arrange a car, uncle, if we’re late at the run.”
Distressed, she looked at them and scolded,
“I don’t know. I told you to go. Find a place if you don’t want to.
Don’t push me to harm you; I’m your sister,
If you talk to me, I’ll sit down, and the school awaits.”
She received a hefty slap from her mother,
Leaving some marks on her cheeks like a celestial stunner,
Circling her head, reminiscent of an ocean’s calamity,
Saida broke down, revealing her soul’s frailty.
Just as she stepped out, she saw him in the hallway,
The sight of him made her collapse on the carpet, wailing away,
“Help me, God,” she cried, while he kneeled,
Hugging her, he asked, “Alright, inspiration, who are you?”
In a tearful voice, she replied, “Mommy said I should go to school,
But I told her, I won’t go; oh, inspiration, you can’t go to school,
Your brothers are waiting for you, all excited,
With a digestible dose of affection, her father insisted.”
“Because you’re not coming, go to your room, get some rest,”
Hassan and Hussaina, they will go with the driver, he stressed.
The children asked, “Daddy, why can’t you take us today?”
He answered, “Because your sister won’t come, and that’s the way.”
The children departed, sending messages, though they were small,
Expressing their disapproval of what Daddy did, overall,
In frustration, Mommy glanced at Daddy and said, “By Allah,
Keep the love you’ve shown, as the world can be an envious brawl.”
Filled with anger, both Mommy and Daddy left the room,
Their son didn’t want to hear the younger man’s gloom,
Love for inspiration, hoping for God’s grace,
Multiplying in his heart, a devoted embrace.
Frustrated, Mommy retreated to her room, saying to herself,
“Hmm, today I was lucky, it’s a relief, don’t put it on the shelf.”
At that moment, all of Saida’s soul seemed to convey,
That day, too, a part of her inner self died away.
Ilham sat on her bed and took out her iPhone 6,
Holding it tight, missing her chores, she picked up some tricks,
From reading novels to playing games on the phone, and yes,
That’s how she whiled away her time, much to Mommy’s distress.
Mommy reprimanded her, criticizing her excessive screen time,
Asking her to rest, reminding her she had no reason to whine,
Since even Mommy had no respite, with no one to support,
Their house was abuzz with activity, a bustling resort.
Tired, Ilham set aside the game on her phone, fatigue apparent,
She reached for an English novel, diving into it with fervor, relentless,
She read for about two hours, the joy evident on her face,
Her eyes grew tired, so she got up, switched off the fan’s embrace.
She stumbled a bit, reaching out for the air, needing a breeze,
Activating the air conditioner, ensuring comfort and ease,
She dozed for nearly three hours, forgetting the prayers to be said,
Lost in a slumber that offered no solace, just a sense of dread.
In the afternoon, she rose and made her way to the kitchen’s domain,
Where Mommy was busy, orchestrating the meals with a hint of disdain,
Answering Ameeno’s call, she hurried over, almost tripping on the floor,
Listening to him vent, she said, “Enough, Ilham is talking, no more.”
“Men, bring me my meal,” Ilham exclaimed, with a touch of command,
Ameeno swiftly responded, “Okay,” taking her stand,
Then she headed to the kitchen, serving up the meal with care,
Ilham was the girl who inspired her, despite the age gap they share.
Ilham was a little older, yet inspiration from her was a must,
While Ameeno was just about sixteen, being the youngest was just,
That’s how Ameeno laid out the meal before Ilham, her presence sweet,
Following it up with an orange and some water, making the task complete.
Ilham saw to it that everything was ready before she retired for the night,
Their room was in order, thanks to the help of Sarah and Hassan, all right,
The maid glanced at her, saying, “Hmm, daughter, you serve with pride,
And Ameeno said, let’s not forget, the wage you earn is a decent ride.”
Inna Jummai sat and listened to the commotion with care,
Being Mommy’s right-hand, her role encompassed more than her share,
Daddy, who was busy with Mommy’s son, was the only one unaware,
Of the activities unfolding, even the cooking and the communal affair.
She claimed to be helpful, taking care of every chore, including the food,
But where was her own place in this bustling neighborhood?
Inna Jummai sighed, “Hmm, I can’t understand this plight,
Ilham, dear, you shouldn’t be serving, that’s not right.”
The staff gathered, discussing their troubles and concerns,
Voicing their grievances about Ilham, who often earns,
Their disgruntlement, even the elder Aunt Jummai heard it all,
Acknowledging the challenges, as if the house were too small.
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