She was a woman…

She was a woman…

(Translated from the Arabic short story by: Muna al-‘amad.)

They were celebrating joyfully. It was a great occasion, a grand event. They have succeeded in the assassination of the great Muslim warrior. It was the aim that they have strived & struggled hard to attain for a very long time. This warrior was to them, 'a pain in the neck.' He led hundreds of operations & attacks that cost them dire losses. They tried hard to find him & arrest him but all their efforts went in vain. Now with the help of a traitor, they could trap him & kill him. Lying there, in front of them, they drank & cheered; congratulating each other at the great victory.Suddenly, one soldier came in & looked into the face of the martyr.He exclaimed anxiously,

  "I am worried about the possibility that we may have mistaken someone else for him." His words had an explosive effect on the atmosphere of the room & its occupants. Their hands stilled, their eyes widened & their jaws dropped. Those words spread like fire in the camp & the arising question was; where is he then, if this isn’t him? One of the soldiers exclaimed, "Oh, don’t tell me that he is planning for another attack... Or is he here among us performing his plan." He was going to cry. Their hearts slammed against their ribs, their eyes wandered anxiously here & there fearing any unexpected attack. They hated that feeling more than anything. How hard they had tried to get their hands on him. If all their plans were again of no avail then they are seriously going to collapse into fits of hysteria.

One of the officers tried to revive hope & calm them down. He said, "It is him, I am sure. & to ascertain that, let's bring his mother here."

Some soldiers were sent to bring the hero's mother. The old lady came with a raised chin & a confident gait. She walked disdainfully through the rows of heavily-armed soldiers & reached to where the martyr's body lay.

Removing the cloth from his face, the officer asked the old woman, "is it him?"

They gazed keenly at her face, desperate for any sign that might give her away. They hoped she would collapse into fits of vapor but she surprised them by saying with mockery & scorn, "no, it isn't him."

Oh No! Their hearts sank. One of them cried, "It's him, I swear. I can tell him from a hundred faces." But the rest weren’t certain. A mother can never bear the death of a son. She would have thrown herself at him sobbing & moaning. At least, she would have stooped to kiss him farewell.

But then, these people are not normal human beings. These are an uncommon & novel type of species. Normal human principles of emotions don’t apply to them. But she had seemed so indifferent. They wondered if it was the shock that had made her so emotionless. Or is it truly not him? Oh, how could they forget that woman who yelled joyfully at her son's murder last month? These people don’t consider death as a loss. It is to them the victory & more. It is their aspiration & they yearn for it.

The confusion grew to an unbearable degree. They decided in the end to call his uncle. When he was brought & he saw him, his knees could hold him no more. He dropped at the martyr's side & wept brokenly kissing his face & hands, he cried, "oh my son… oh my dear son."  The soldiers were perplexed. They weren't pleased this time. They asked him, "are you sure, he is your nephew?" He nodded between his sobs. But they weren’t satisfied. How can a mother be indifferent to her son's death when an uncle cannot bear the death of his nephew? At last, they decided to call the mother in the presence of her brother. The old lady came into the room with dignity & pride but she was unnerved seeing her brother weeping at the martyr's head. She lowered her gaze to the floor & realized that now she could avail nothing by her denial. She reproached her brother gently saying, "Why?" the officer sighed with relief but he asked her, "I want to ask you one thing; why did you deny it the first time?" she didn’t deign to answer him but raised her gaze to her brother instead & said,

            "I wanted them to fear him when he is dead as they had feared him when he was alive."