Come Down Here!

Having a bedroom of my own is quite a blessing and having it on the top floor of the house is a super kind of a blessing. I am free to make my bed or make it look like a nuclear wasteland, dust the dresser or do it some other time – which could stretch to a week - since my mum is not so keen on climbing the stairs to check how girly the room looks like the good ol' days. Moreover, having experienced fitful sleeps on the couch in the living room, in my kingdom, there are no possibilities of interruptions by an unwelcome visit or blaring telly or doorbell.

Unfortunately, my room has disadvantages too. The architect who designed the house some 40 plus years ago gave me unnecessarily large windows overlooking the street, which has reduced it to a watchtower in times of crises. Of all other rooms, it has been hit by the largest number of shrapnel, which has forced me to forget about aesthetics and watch the spellbinding sunset through ugly X-duct-taped panes.

Through those windows, I could see the mosque, which was built in the early '90s, which had put an end to worshippers' arduous trips to other places dozens of kilometers away and given them a worship place of their own. Though I never planned to attend any congregations during the early years, I was so satisfied with the idea of having one at the centre of the neighbourhood; it meant timely prayers and listening to the angelic voice of the Imam in Ramadan at the time.

Sadly, attacking mosques has become in vogue lately. As for ours, it has been barraged with mortar rounds two Fridays in a row. Some hit the surrounding areas, others hit houses and others empty spaces - no casualties so far.

Before those repeated attacks mum and stepdad used to tell me disheartening stories of people, as stubborn as I am, as they put it, who live on top floors just like me, whose lives were ended by mortar rounds. After two horrifying weeks, the warnings have been reduced to orders – with wagging fingers - Friday nights must be spent on a couch, a mattress, the carpet, or whatever as long as it is in the living room, lest I'd be a statistic.


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