Abrish Habib

Ms. Davis

ELA

February 18, 2022

Laughter is Honey and My Soul is a Pot

The warmth of my Baba's hand seeps into mine, dancing up my rigid bones and jolting my heart

awake. Confusion invades my thoughts as the dull smell of metal prickles the hair in my nose, startling

me awake. The image of the heart monitor jolting lines reflects into my hasty eyes reminding me where I

am seated. My eyes beg me to put them to rest as those taunting stings prickle my eyes again. My lips

plead to keep them close as they start trembling rapidly, sending jolts of heavy pain to my selfish heart

which cradles those electric jolts as one does to a baby. Immediately as a protector, my uncradled hand

shoots up to my mouth plying it to be unable to move. My eyes unable to take the pain anymore unleash

the waves at bay. Droplets of warm salty water slide down my heating cheeks absorbing within the ever

greedy pores. Unable to raise my gaze I drop my heavy head onto my Baba's hand still intervened in

mine.

He told me that the heart was the powerful yet most fragile instrument that sang within us. The

instrument sometimes sang so loud it would pump out the thickest of blood cells, which would rush out in

red clumps and rebel against one another breaking parts of the instrument in the catastrophe. My Baba

described that as a heart attack and now his limp body rested peacefully on a hard inclined hospital bed

holding his form after the battle that resided within his ever loud instrument. The droplets of the salty

water from my lazy resting eyes twirl around the corner of my mouth teasing it. My tongue leaped out

like a tiger catching its prey scooping the sizzling salty drops back into its dark heated den. The buds on

my tongue inhale the salty droplet as one does to a freshly bloomed flower, wanting more and more. It is

never enough as greed overrides it. My damp eyelashes pick themselves up escaping the gooey water.

The image of my Baba’s snoring face sparkles within my eyes, the side of my mouth breaks barriers

walking up carving a lopsided smile onto my portrait. They taunt me again, my body unable to face my

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father in his state breaks down. My limbs tremble rocking my body. I plead my thoughts, holding onto

their crashing shores to drown me within another wave as my eyes break through sending its mourning

soldiers to crash onto my skin. Please. Please. I beg you. Drown me.

My tears drop onto my face biting it mercifully. They pinch and taunt me, laughing at me,

humiliating me. I blink up to see an angry grey sky slapping me with its wicked droplets. The rain

splashes around me hurling me along with it. The warmth of my Baba’s hand still engulfed in mine tugs

me forward. “Abrish beta, I understand the meaning of your name is rain, but you must not try to make

friends with it now. Let's get in the car before you catch a cold, or worse, our ice cream melts away.” My

Baba’s voice etched with intoxicating laughter fills the depths of my empty ears. My eyes immediately

dart up to see a mischievous smile sitting on his face, the everlasting rainwater splashing against the

surface of his face. “Race you!” His heavy voice breathing hard exhales as his huge hand scoops me up

in the comfort of his grizzle bear arms, contradicting his words. I am suddenly my Baba’s height as I

have been elevated. My eyes light up and dance with adrenaline sprinting through them. The corners of

my mouth tug up in the most wildest of smiles as my pearl whites push forward to shimmer in the wicked

rain. His boot claps like thunder against the moist Pakistani soil scaring the puddle to splash out of his

way as our bodies swiftly stride towards our gleaming silver 2011 Toyota Corolla, the newest model this

year.

“Baba! I call shotgun. Please. Pretty please.” My bottom lip glides out and my eyes widen in

haste pleading for him to agree. As the thunder cracks in the sad sky, my Baba’s crackling laugh

blossoms the atmosphere on the ground. “Oh my, you are just like your Mama. Amazing at persuading!

This is fantastic Beta.” I scrunch my button nose pushing all the skin into lionlike wrinkles to the top of

my nose. My Baba’s hand squeezes my ginormous chubby cheeks until they form into the colour of a

freshly bloomed rose. The warm squishy padded seat inhales my form as Baba droops me down hurriedly.

The drops of rain splatter like sharp bullets against the hood of the strongly build Toyota and dribble

down the sides like saliva when defeated by the silvery hard metal. Ice cream waiting to be licked in

Baba’s hand slops to the side in anticipation as Baba’s large drenched frame swoops under the thick roof

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entering the car. My eyes dance with glee as Baba’s large hand dives forward handing me my melting ice

cream cone which my taste buds sizzle to taste. My tongue darts out and swipes against the creamy

vanilla softening against my rough tongue. My eyes close in awe as I let the flavours smother against my

taste buds and my body erupts with the need for more. Baba's laugh erupts in the hollow car as the car

engine roars to life vibrating against my leg sending jolts of energy up to my tongue as my mouth

continues to be amazed. “You're licking the ice cream as you have never tasted anything like it before

Abrish. You always amuse me and never fail to make me laugh!” Baba's laugh vibrates with the engine

as our car pulls out of the parking lot fighting against the teasing wind and biting rain. Unable to stop I

continue to lick against the many layers of the sweet vanilla ice ball while Baba drives with one hand on

the thrumming steering wheel and the other hand clutched around the dripping chocolate ice cream.

Baba's long fingers stride over to the radio, flickering it to life. I turn to catch him with a huge

grin forming on his face and my own features reflect the very same smile. Paul Hewson's voice hums

alongside the harmonica grooving in the background. “Sweetest Thing” by U2 comes to life capturing us

in its intoxicating aroma. Baba’s eyes shut close as his voice comes out in a grumbly attempt to sing

alongside Paul Hewson even though the only three words he knows are, the sweetest thing. A laugh

crawls its way up my throat as Baba handles his Ice cream cone as a microphone. My head throws itself

back as bone-shaking laughter crackles out of me. Laughter becomes honey and my soul becomes the

pot, coating each part and crevice of it. Baba starts singing louder humming most of the song and

shouting, the sweetest thing every 5 seconds with my laughter booming in the background.

Too caught up in our concert, Baba's dripping ice cream cone slips from his loose grip splattering

all over the car. Suddenly the muddy dirt road catches onto Baba’s mistake as he loses all control of the

steering wheel. My brows fold inwards and my eyes widen in pure horror as my booming laughter turns

into the long screeches of the crying thunder being heard outside. Baba’s hand darts over my frame

protectively as he aggressively fights the brakes to give in. I clench onto his skin, my fingers burring

themselves within his arms. The thunder booms and small raindrops turn into huge balls of hail,

elbowing against the windows in hopes of cracking them open. My eyes were unable to clench together

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as my whole frame shifted to the left as our car skidded in reckless circles, waltzing along with the

slippery mud. My screams turn into long cries trembling against baba’s rigid arm. Ahead of us, the sight

of towering green arborvitae bushes welcomes our Toyota in a long awaiting hug as our car comes to halt

crashing into the dense bushes. Darkness overtakes the brightness that once played in the atmosphere.

My body startled and unable to comprehend the series of events gets scooped into the warmth of my

Baba’s lap. My arms wrap around his thick neck as my head rocks in the crook of his neck. Our bodies

rock together as our tears pool around us enrobing us as one. Unable to say any words we make a

language out of our own tears and the rain returns thrumming against the medal. My tears sing for the

warmth I have around me, they whimper at the thought of losing my Baba. My baba sets me down

looking into my teary eyes with his own jittering ones and pulls me into the warmth of his chest. “I- I

could never lose you Abrish. You are what makes me whole. Without you, my world would fade just like

without rain none of us would be able to survive. You are my hope. My- my fresh breath.” My heart

swells and tears of joy spring into my eyes as my wobbly lips form into the biggest of smiles. “Ba- Baba,

I love you.” Unable to say more I look into his teary eyes and shut mine, letting the calmness of the dark

inhale me whole.

The sound of the beeping heart monitor jolts me awake from my sleeping state. My sleepy eyes

flicker toward my Baba’s resting figure. I recall his words from 10 years ago. “You are my hope. My

fresh breath.” Unable to prosper more I hold my Baba’s large hand still intervened into mine, lifting each

finger like my own and leaving a small kiss. “Yo- you once called m- me your ho- hope. Your fresh

breath o-of air.” I choke out the rough words against my dry mouth. Pushing back the ever-rising tears I

try again. “Baba you called me your hope, your fresh breath of air. When we crashed into those long

bushes a-and we were so happy to have one another that we cried tears of joy. My brave Baba, do you

remember that? D- do you remember that?” I stutter out unleashing those wild tears. “Baba I am talking

to you. I am hope. Wake up!” I throw my hands against the white hospital sheets. “Oh Baba, I beg you.

Breathe me in like fresh air and let us fight this battle together, whether we are in Pakistan or Canada. I

beg you. BABA!” I shout as those violent tears jitter as my body rocks and I again, kiss the tips of Baba’s

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fingers. “Please,” I whimper. Please. My lips tremble against his fingers and the electric movement

shoots up my face. My eyes jolt like electricity at the movement. “A- Ab- Abrish-” His lips form to

sound out the taste of my name. Too shocked to stand up, I press the button attached to his hospital bed

signalling the nurses. To their cue, they all rush in like a stampede of buffalos carefully hurling my

unresponding body towards the waiting room. “Ma’am would you like a glass of water?” A female nurse

asks. “ Would you like us to call your mother?” The male nurse questions. “N- no. I want Baba. Tell my

Baba he has breathed in the fresh air. Hope has arrived.” I sound out, unable to think properly. “Ma’am,

are you feeling alright?” The male nurse questions again. “Who is hope?” The female nurse asks. An

uncontainable grin splatters across my face, “I- I am hope.” I croke out as those tears of joy strike my face

again gliding like jelly and sparkling like diamonds against my rough cheeks. Finally drowning me in

another coat of darkness that hums to comfort me.