Life Of Laila

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 "Every story begins with a whisper of possibility, a flicker of hope that beckons us to turn the page and discover what lies ahead."

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Chapter 1 ———>>>>>>

The Community Tap.

The sound of water gushing out from the short tap embedded on the muddy ground is so loud that I could hear it from my line.

I was the middle on the long everlasting line of fetching water, I turned behind me and was not shocked to realize that more people have join the line. That was the daily routine of every Bakwai resident who couldn't afford to pay the water bills.

"kije gaba (move forward)" the girl behind me said as she nudge her head signaling me to move forward as the one infront of me has moved, meaning the person fetching water is done, so we keep moving until it's your turn. I carried the two rusted metal buckets and move forward slightly.

I sigh in relief when I realize that I'll be next after the lady fetching the water now. I tapped my foot getting impatient with the whole scenario. The lady infront of me carried her bucket and left after it was full.

I happily put mine underneath the tap and waited for it to be full. The sound of water gushing from the tap filled the air, a familiar yet essential part of daily life.

Laila stood there, her wrapper adjusted neatly around her waist, as she maneuvered the heavy buckets that awaited her. Each bucket represented more than just water; they symbolized the daily struggle and resilience of the community members. As she filled them, the gentle splashes echoed around her, punctuating the quiet of the early morning.

Around her, the neighborhood began to wake up. The distant chatter of neighbors could be heard, mixed with the sounds of children preparing for school.

Laila glanced around, noticing the familiar faces of the people who also came to gather water, each lost in their own thoughts. The sun began to rise, casting a warm glow over the scene, illuminating the determination etched on everyone's faces.

As she filled the last bucket, Laila felt a sense of accomplishment. This simple task was a reminder of the strength and unity within her community, where everyone shared in the same struggles and joys. With a sigh of relief, she hoisted one bucket onto her head and held the other with her right hand, ready to make her way home, feeling grateful for the water that would nourish her family and the bonds that tied them all together.

The community tap had long been a lifeline for the less privileged, standing as a solitary source of water amidst a sea of neglect.

Countless taps had succumbed to disrepair, leaving this lone, resilient fixture to serve as a vital artery, quenching the thirst of the people.

Once, the Bakwai area thrived with vibrancy and life, but as time wore on, it became a shadow of its former self, reflecting the inevitable changes that life brings.

Laila set her two buckets down on the muddy ground as she adjusted her wrapper with careful hands, retying it to ensure a secure fit. She carried the rusted handles creaking under the weight, she pressed on, her long, tattered hijab slipping over her eyes as she struggled to balance the load carefully.

She had decided to remove the one from atop her head and held it with her left hand as she walked, Relief washed over her when she finally spotted the door of their home, a battered metal slab that seemed to teeter on the brink of collapse.

Gently, she pushed the door open, mindful of its fragile state. "Laila kin dawo (Laila you're back)," Jamil called out, his ears attuned to the sound of water being poured into the drum. "Eh baba (yes father)," she replied, setting the buckets aside before sinking onto the mat beside her father.

"Where's Lila?" she inquired about her twin sister, her heart heavy with concern. "I have not seen her since morning," Jamil answered, his gaze fixed ahead, unfocused.

Sometimes, Laila pondered whether her father truly saw the world around him. Jamil had lost his sight serving in the army many years ago, yet his spirit remained unbroken. He had done whatever he could to make sure they had a roof over their heads and not be broken yet deep down be still questions himself wether he has achieved that or not.

"Hope you have eaten the food I prepared?" Laila has asked, already anticipating his answer as she noticed the empty plate beside him.

 "Naci nakoshi Alhamdulillah (I have eaten and satisfied, we thank god)" Jamil replied his daughter who smiled feeling content that her father is satisfied.

"I should go and freshen up then" Laila said as she picked herself up and entered the small room she shares with her twin sister. Lila.

Although their home was small, the joy still held them, warmth enveloped them, a stark contrast to the struggles of their daily lives. Laila felt a deep well of love and concern for her father, understanding the challenges he faced without his sight. She vowed to keep their household afloat, as she always did, and hoped for Lila's swift return to share in the rhythm of their lives once more.

Laila's heart raced as she settled onto the worn mat in the room, the rough texture against her skin a reminder of their humble abode. The small room was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the walls, casting delicate patterns on the earthen floor.

The air was thick with the scent of spices lingering from the morning meal, mingling with the faint aroma of wet soil from the buckets she had just brought in.

She glanced around the room, her eyes searching for any sign of Lila. The walls, adorned with faded photographs of their childhood, seemed to whisper memories of laughter and shared secrets. Each frame held a piece of their past, yet it felt incomplete without Lila's vibrant presence.

The mat where they often sat together was now empty, and Laila's heart ached at the thought of her sister's absence.

"Where could she be?" Laila mused, her mind racing with possibilities. Perhaps Lila had gone to visit Fatima again, who lived in the city, or maybe she was roaming around Bakwai town. The thought of Lila out in the bustling streets, navigating the chaos of life without her, sent a shiver down Laila's spine.

Lila had met a friend named Fatima and they have beeb going out together more often making not only Laila but Jamil worried.

She could almost hear Lila's laughter echoing in her mind, a sweet sound that could brighten even the darkest of days. Laila longed for her sister's company—the way they would share stories, dream of a better future, and support each other through every challenge that life threw their way.

As she sat there, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the patterns on the mat, Laila made a silent promise to herself. She would make sure Lila never fall astray and bring her back home, no matter what it took.

With determination brewing in her heart, she stood up, walking towards the broken mirror glued to the wall, ready to take her bath before venturing out into the world, fueled by the bond that tethered her to her twin.

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Creation is hard!

Total word count- 1244words.