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Andaleeb (II)

             At the break of dawn, as the sun heralded the moment that his nightingale would morph into a blazing ball of fire, the old man woke up.  The glaring white electric light beaming from the kitchen pierced his eyes with a ruthless ferocity; an ominous sign that all today’s beginnings would end in some sort of cruel farewell. It was six o’clock in the morning, an early and odd time of day for the old man. When your day is devoid of all meaning you aren’t used to getting up that early.
 
- Dad, would you like a cup of tea?
 
             Andaleeb’s presence produced a sense of warmth which reduced the droning sound of the fluorescent light.

- What are you doing awake so early, my child?
 
- I’m going to the factory in Belen to find out if the soldiers have left – to see if I can go back to work again.
 
             The lie was flung into the thin air, and both of them decided to ignore it.
 
              An open flame boiled water in a pot as she prepared green tea for two. Bitter tea. Keeping her hands busy and her eyes lowered to the ground, she made a point of facing away from the table where her father was taking a seat. She could still feel the painful empty pangs of her stomach.
 
             They drank their tea slowly, as the scalding liquid scorched their throats. This could be the reason why they don’t talk. It could also be why the father, sitting opposite his daughter, isn’t able to look her in the eye, because, with every sip, she closes her eyes. Time ticks by very slowly at this ungodly hour, when only the silence can embrace one’s lost thoughts, and the conscience knows more than it thinks.
 
- It’s very early, Andaleeb, you’d better go back to bed.
 
              The girl ends her tea at once. She doesn’t feel the scalding pain any more. And suddenly, everything becomes rushed.  With one hand, she adjusts her headscarf while grabbing her small handbag with the other. The shape of a thick book is visibly bulging from her tiny handbag.
 
- I will be back at four – she says.

             The old man notices that she – a regular sugar addict - didn’t add a single granule of sugar to her tea.
 
- Eat something, Andaleeb.
 
- I can’t Father. I have an upset tummy and I want to throw up.
 
             During her first day of training with Assef, when he had given her the Book with all the Answers, he had told her “to kill is not difficult, young Andaleeb. The difficulty lies in trying to find answers to all those questions.  Eliminate the questions, and death will be a simple and natural act”. His eyes, like black ice, confirm confirmed what he meant.
 
             Andaleeb was brave, and that was why Assef liked her. Even though she was a young woman, she was a seasoned survivor.  But the thing that attracted him the most was her total absence of hatred towards any person or thing. That was good. Hatred has the ability to simmer silently, and then suddenly erupt, without warning. And that’s when hatred can fuel feelings of doubt. Hatred is a good technique for weak minds, but his apprentice was intelligent, and sharp. She had come to him guided only by her sheer courage and conviction, and it was his duty to preserve that honest and instinctive commitment. In that girl, he detected a purity of soul that can only be found in the most perfect of soldiers. The only thing that he could do was to try and keep her away from anything that could in some way violate that purity of conviction.
 
            To learn how to handle bombs and weapons was an easy task for the skilful fingers of the nightingale-soldier. She practised her technique at night, when she told her father the half-truth that she was going to spend time with her friends, studying. The true part of the story ended in the cellar of a vegetable store, far away from the city centre, where the sweet thunder of Assef’s voice caressed the wings of his nightingale.
      
              Andaleeb wasn’t very talkative, but Assef noticed how often she would refer to the Book with all the Answers. In the beginning, he thought that this was a sign of obedience, but he soon started to worry about her.  A silence like hers could lead to questions.  There was too much loneliness. Too much self-sacrifice.  A girl with many friends but no boyfriends.  What was she thinking? He knew that too many thoughts could be dangerous for a smart mind such as hers. How long could he keep her mind away from being polluted by such notions? It was essential that his small bird flew to her destiny. Very fast.