Saturday, May 25, 2019

100 Rays Of Son - 13

Feeling A Slap On My Face

Rayyan is a decent child, who has never hit anyone, but that doesn’t mean you do not feel a slap on your face at times. I have experienced it quite often.
Once I saw Rayyan eagerly trying to do something in our backyard where it was neither safe nor clean. I wondered what this boy was up to and called him out. He came back running, and handed me my phone and was back there again. Finally, I went there to see what was happening and he informed me that there was a lost snake (I am not sure about that term, because where would you say in the backyard is the snake lost) who was terrified and he was trying to guide it out. In my phone was picture of the snake which looked slithery and scary to me.

I jumped back few yards and started shouting at Rayyan to keep his distance from the dangerous creature and he calmly replies, “Why maa? Is it going to skin me and make a wallet out of my skin, or is it going to pluck out my teeth and keep me in a basket to dance to its tune?” . All of the sudden the snake is a victim and I am the dangerous villain for being a human. I feel the slap on my face and also feel so scared to not stop him. Those who have not been moms to such weird children will never know the dilemma I face. Somehow, I always feel he is right, but I am not strong or brave enough to follow what he says. Finally, I stand at a distance and watch him guide the snake into bushes where it will not be in open to be found and killed. I have to keep this a secret from everyone because there will be panic and accusations from others in the neighbourhood for endangering their life by letting a snake escape when we could have killed it easily.
Once during Bakrid, one of our relatives who believe and do Qurbani had asked me to send Rayyan over to collect mutton from there. I was somehow foolish enough to send him over as requested. When Rayyan came back carrying bag of mutton, his face carried a disgusting and terrible look. He placed it on my kitchen counter and said in a sarcastic tone, “Here maa is your share of dead bodies”. I am shocked and go “WHAT?” Rayyan, who is already quite upset after seeing the killing of goats on Bakrid says, “You may call it chicken, mutton or beef but in real they are nothing but carcasses of dead animals. We eat dead bodies in the name of non-vegetarian food. That is what we enjoy eating, right? Just giving them a fancy name will not change the reality of what it is”. That was another slap on my face. Somehow, non-vegetarian food has not been the same to me anymore. You will never know the difficulty I had dealing with that mutton on kitchen counter. More than what Rayyan says in words, it is his convincing tone, his own belief in what he says and the emotion I see in him that hits me hard.
From a child who loved and enjoyed chicken a lot, Rayyan has changed a lot. I and Farheena have been affected by him as well, though we have not gone completely vegetarian. Occasionally Rayyan does eat a bit of non-veg food as well, like when we order pizza, but he does not eat it for the joy of it anymore.

Once Upon A Time When Chicken Was Not A Dead Body

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