Chapter 1 Hadji.
Well this was an interesting topic that my brother suggested. I was not quiet sure where to start. Then it hit me. I grabbed my pen and started writing.
~~~~Thirteen years ago~~~~
"Mother!! No! I do not want to go!" I screamed in Hindi. "Mother! Please! Do not make me go!" Tears were streaming down my six year old face as I pleaded with my mother.
"Please, child, go with Pasha." She knelt in front of me. She spoke to me in Hindi, as I knew no English. She stood up and faced Pasha. "Take good care of my son, Pasha."
"Maammaaa!" I screeched as Pasha picked me up and headed for the airplane gate. "Mother! Please! I love you! I am sorry I was not good! Please do not send me away!"
"Pasha! Hold!" My mother came to us and took me in her arms. "I love you, too my son. I am not sending you away because you were bad. You are a good child! I am sending you away because you are in danger!" She handed me a small wooden box, inside was the ruby that my father wore on his turban. "Take good care of this, my Hadji. It has been in your father's family for centuries." She handed me back to Pasha. "Be good for Pasha."
"Momma!" I screamed again. I saw tears on my Mother's cheeks.
"Get going, Pasha, or they shall find us," Mother urged.
"Mommaa!" I screamed as Pasha headed for the ticket agent.
"Shānt ho jao dost."* Pasha whispered to me. I buried my face in his neck and wept.
"Mother." I whispered. When we got to our seats I my crying was slowly stopping.
I had to leave my home in Bangalore. My father, Hasheem, was dead and my life for some reason was in danger. My life was in danger as I was to take his place.
During the flight, Pasha tried to teach me English, but the only word I picked up was 'name' before I fell asleep.
The next thing I knew, Pasha was shaking me awake. "Hadji, we are here." I was still holding on to the box my mother had given to me. With my free hand, I picked up my backpack and put the box in it and grabbed Pasha's hand.
We had arrived in the American state called Florida.
"Pasha?" I called
"Yes, child?"
"Why could my mother not come?" I asked as we headed to a window where Pasha exchanged money for American money.
"Pasha?"
"Yes, Hadji?"
"Why are they after us?"
"I do not know child." He said as he hailed a taxi and told him where to take us. When we got there, Pasha paid the driver and grabbed my hand. I put my duffle bag on my arm and grabbed Pasha's hand.
We headed to a small restaurant not far from some apartment buildings. Pasha ordered us some food. I did not say anything during the meal. Pasha on the other hand, tried to make me talk, but his attempts failed. He kept pointing out items and telling me the English word for that item. I did not pay any notice to what he was saying. He finally gave up midway through the meal.
After lunch, we headed for one of the apartment buildings. We headed up the stairs to room 326. When we reached the door, Pasha knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. "Richard? Are you there? It is me Pasha." He called in English while he knocked. "Richard! Open up! I have the child."
The door never opened. The air was soon filled with a loud thunderous crack. I knew that sound. I heard it once before. Gunshot. Pasha and I turned around quickly. The sound came again. I heard Pasha cry out a second later. He had been shot in the arm.
"PASHA!!" I screamed.
"Do not worry about me, Hadji!" he said to me. "Just RUN!! Hadji, please run."
"Where?" I called as I ran down the stairs. The gunmen were two floors above us.
"As far as you can, child. Just run! I will find you!"
I ran out of the building and down the street. I glanced behind me. The gunmen were behind me. I dodged into a store. They followed me. I hid in a rack that had dresses on it. A blonde woman saw me hide. She placed herself between the gunmen and me.
"May I help you?" I heard her say.
"Move aside, lady. The kid needs to come with us." Said gunman #1.
"Why? Are you his parent?" she said. I climbed out of my hiding spot. Even though I did not understand what was being said, I knew that the woman was saving me.
She glanced down at me. "You don't look like him." She said to the first gunman. "Besides, why do you have a gun if you are just catching a child?"
The woman knelt down in front of me. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Name?" I repeated. "Name Hadji Singh."
"Why are these men chasing you?" she asked. She spoke English.
I just stared as the men slipped away.
"Chickens." I spat in Hindi. The woman nodded.
"Why were those men chasing you?" She said in Hindi.
"They want to kill me." I said. I turned to run.
"Hold on kid." She said to me. "Why are they trying to kill you?"
I shook my head. "My father is dead. My mother is in Bangalore. Pasha took me away from her. Pasha says my life is in great danger." I suddenly remembered Pasha. "Oh! Pasha!" I tried to run again. Once again, the woman stopped me.
"You are not going anywhere by yourself." The woman grabbed my hand. I struggled to pull away. I was scared.
"No! Let me go!" I cried.
"Hadji?" the man said. "I want you to come with me"
"Where?" I rubbed my eyes. The woman placed her hand on my cheek and wiped my tears away. I knew she must have a child of her own. She reminded me of my own mother.
"With me." She smiled gently. For some reason, I knew I could trust her.
"Name?" I asked her in English.
"My name is Rachel Quest." She stood up and grabbed my hand.
"I know I can trust you." I said in my own language. "You remind me of my mother."
"Maybe that's because I am a mother. I have a son that's about your age. How old are you anyways?"
"Next week, I will be seven."
She nodded. "My son is five right now. He won't be 6 for two more months. I think the two of you will get along."
She led me to her car and opened the trunk. She grabbed the duffel bag that I thought that I had dropped, and tossed it in and slammed the trunk. She led me to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. As I got in, I heard her mumble something.
"How am I going to explain this to my husband?" she said in my language.
I looked at her and said, "Tell him it was motherly instincts." She laughed. I smiled despite all that had happened.
*Shant ho jao dost====be calm, friend
Well this was an interesting topic that my brother suggested. I was not quiet sure where to start. Then it hit me. I grabbed my pen and started writing.
~~~~Thirteen years ago~~~~
"Mother!! No! I do not want to go!" I screamed in Hindi. "Mother! Please! Do not make me go!" Tears were streaming down my six year old face as I pleaded with my mother.
"Please, child, go with Pasha." She knelt in front of me. She spoke to me in Hindi, as I knew no English. She stood up and faced Pasha. "Take good care of my son, Pasha."
"Maammaaa!" I screeched as Pasha picked me up and headed for the airplane gate. "Mother! Please! I love you! I am sorry I was not good! Please do not send me away!"
"Pasha! Hold!" My mother came to us and took me in her arms. "I love you, too my son. I am not sending you away because you were bad. You are a good child! I am sending you away because you are in danger!" She handed me a small wooden box, inside was the ruby that my father wore on his turban. "Take good care of this, my Hadji. It has been in your father's family for centuries." She handed me back to Pasha. "Be good for Pasha."
"Momma!" I screamed again. I saw tears on my Mother's cheeks.
"Get going, Pasha, or they shall find us," Mother urged.
"Mommaa!" I screamed as Pasha headed for the ticket agent.
"Shānt ho jao dost."* Pasha whispered to me. I buried my face in his neck and wept.
"Mother." I whispered. When we got to our seats I my crying was slowly stopping.
I had to leave my home in Bangalore. My father, Hasheem, was dead and my life for some reason was in danger. My life was in danger as I was to take his place.
During the flight, Pasha tried to teach me English, but the only word I picked up was 'name' before I fell asleep.
The next thing I knew, Pasha was shaking me awake. "Hadji, we are here." I was still holding on to the box my mother had given to me. With my free hand, I picked up my backpack and put the box in it and grabbed Pasha's hand.
We had arrived in the American state called Florida.
"Pasha?" I called
"Yes, child?"
"Why could my mother not come?" I asked as we headed to a window where Pasha exchanged money for American money.
"Pasha?"
"Yes, Hadji?"
"Why are they after us?"
"I do not know child." He said as he hailed a taxi and told him where to take us. When we got there, Pasha paid the driver and grabbed my hand. I put my duffle bag on my arm and grabbed Pasha's hand.
We headed to a small restaurant not far from some apartment buildings. Pasha ordered us some food. I did not say anything during the meal. Pasha on the other hand, tried to make me talk, but his attempts failed. He kept pointing out items and telling me the English word for that item. I did not pay any notice to what he was saying. He finally gave up midway through the meal.
After lunch, we headed for one of the apartment buildings. We headed up the stairs to room 326. When we reached the door, Pasha knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. "Richard? Are you there? It is me Pasha." He called in English while he knocked. "Richard! Open up! I have the child."
The door never opened. The air was soon filled with a loud thunderous crack. I knew that sound. I heard it once before. Gunshot. Pasha and I turned around quickly. The sound came again. I heard Pasha cry out a second later. He had been shot in the arm.
"PASHA!!" I screamed.
"Do not worry about me, Hadji!" he said to me. "Just RUN!! Hadji, please run."
"Where?" I called as I ran down the stairs. The gunmen were two floors above us.
"As far as you can, child. Just run! I will find you!"
I ran out of the building and down the street. I glanced behind me. The gunmen were behind me. I dodged into a store. They followed me. I hid in a rack that had dresses on it. A blonde woman saw me hide. She placed herself between the gunmen and me.
"May I help you?" I heard her say.
"Move aside, lady. The kid needs to come with us." Said gunman #1.
"Why? Are you his parent?" she said. I climbed out of my hiding spot. Even though I did not understand what was being said, I knew that the woman was saving me.
She glanced down at me. "You don't look like him." She said to the first gunman. "Besides, why do you have a gun if you are just catching a child?"
The woman knelt down in front of me. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Name?" I repeated. "Name Hadji Singh."
"Why are these men chasing you?" she asked. She spoke English.
I just stared as the men slipped away.
"Chickens." I spat in Hindi. The woman nodded.
"Why were those men chasing you?" She said in Hindi.
"They want to kill me." I said. I turned to run.
"Hold on kid." She said to me. "Why are they trying to kill you?"
I shook my head. "My father is dead. My mother is in Bangalore. Pasha took me away from her. Pasha says my life is in great danger." I suddenly remembered Pasha. "Oh! Pasha!" I tried to run again. Once again, the woman stopped me.
"You are not going anywhere by yourself." The woman grabbed my hand. I struggled to pull away. I was scared.
"No! Let me go!" I cried.
"Hadji?" the man said. "I want you to come with me"
"Where?" I rubbed my eyes. The woman placed her hand on my cheek and wiped my tears away. I knew she must have a child of her own. She reminded me of my own mother.
"With me." She smiled gently. For some reason, I knew I could trust her.
"Name?" I asked her in English.
"My name is Rachel Quest." She stood up and grabbed my hand.
"I know I can trust you." I said in my own language. "You remind me of my mother."
"Maybe that's because I am a mother. I have a son that's about your age. How old are you anyways?"
"Next week, I will be seven."
She nodded. "My son is five right now. He won't be 6 for two more months. I think the two of you will get along."
She led me to her car and opened the trunk. She grabbed the duffel bag that I thought that I had dropped, and tossed it in and slammed the trunk. She led me to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. As I got in, I heard her mumble something.
"How am I going to explain this to my husband?" she said in my language.
I looked at her and said, "Tell him it was motherly instincts." She laughed. I smiled despite all that had happened.
*Shant ho jao dost====be calm, friend