L-R: Me, Mayaan, Illiyah and Rammah
There were many journeys within this journey of mine. Many surprises. Nothing like I’d have expected. Not even close.
The flight was full of families with kids. My whole section had kids, mommies and daddies.
Mayaan sat on the seat in front of me. Her smile had me crushing on her. At eleven, she was like an angel sent from above. Impeccable beauty, you know the kind where you just know they are beautiful souls.
Two seats beside me were vacant. I had made my mind to fuel up and catch some sleep. It’s always a matter of luck to have vacant seats beside you on a long flight, 11.5 hours to be precise.
I noticed Mayaan kept getting up, eyeing the seats next to me. I wondered if she wanted to grab the two vacant seats and sleep for the rest of the journey. I felt obliged to let her, if that was the case.
A young boy was put to sleep on these very seats by his father. On fulfilling his sleep quota, he happily retreated to his mommy and daddy. Well, that boy was just so adorable as well.
On Mayaan’s third attempt of staring at the vacant seats, I told her that she could move beside me, if she wanted to. An instant smiled popped up. A mashallah smile. A heart-warming smile. Full of zeal and twinkle. Well, long since I saw a sight like that. On some consultation with her mom/dad, she was seated beside me within a couple of minutes. Smiling and looking content.
Well, I guess she was happy to have two seats to relax in the later part of our journey home, back to Houston. I was wrong because she didn’t batter an eye lid for the longest.
Right after settling in, she asked, “You India?” And I replied, “Yes”.
She said, “I from Syria.”
My heart skipped a beat. I thought to myself, could it be that she was an immigrant and her family was an immigrant family. I lacked the courage to ask, but was curious nevertheless.
Instead, I asked her what her name was,”Mayaan” she said and we shook hands. I remember listening to religious Muslim epics describing the mayaan as a sword case. That was my best guess to what it meant. Returning from a trip to Istanbul and East Europe, having seen several of these sword cases and their intricate work (Dolmabache palace in Istanbul has a nice collection), I thought it was a beautiful name especially after viewing the glow in her eyes, when she understood my question, and replied promptly with a smile. I told her my name and she was quick to register.
Next thing on Mayaan’s mind was whether I was married and had kids. Well, I usually would not consider this appropriate for strangers to ask upfront. But wait, she was an angel in my eyes. All granted for it was out of sheer innocence. I was doting at her like she was my own. She felt like my own. Anything for her, I thought. What melted my heart was how she asked me. She enacted the engagement scene, showing me her ring finger and using her other hand to show someone put a ring on it, and promptly moved her hands to her stomach signalling pregnancy.
I smiled, surprised at her acting and mannerisms. I made my best attempt to explain that I was neither of the two. Let’s leave it at that.
Next up, she told me in her best attempted English, that she was eleven. And asked how old I was. I said I was twenty seven. Sixteen years elder to her. She nodded in acknowledgement.
Her sisters and friends started to gather around. Almost like a flock of angels. Have you seen one? I had seen umpteen such figurines in the cathedrals and churches in Europe, with wings, mostly around paintings of Jesus, Mother Mary and Emperors.
I couldn’t tell if they were all sisters, so I asked.
I had to make multiple attempts to help Mayaan understand. Whenever she didn’t, she responded saying, “I don’t understand very well” and she said that eloquently.
Like all kids, restless and wanting to eat and drink, these kids kept moving back and forth to the pantry. Especially Mayaan. She seemed to be the eldest of all. Tallest too. In the middle of all this, I started watching the Animation movie, Alice through the looking glass. Twenty odd minutes into the movie, I was disinterested.
Another cutie was beside me now. She was younger than Mayaan. I asked her name, and she didn’t understand. She tried to contemplate what I was asking. Then shyly, smiling, gushing rather, ran away to fetch Mayaan. No points to guess where.
I guessed she was around six years old. I was surprised she wasn’t able to tell me her name. She did not know English. She surely knew love. They all did. Read along and you will know how I arrived at that conclusion.
Successful on my second attempt, Mayaan told me that Iliyah was her best friend. The little one who sat next to me and couldn’t tell me her name. Illiyah.
I asked if they fight (box each other action) and she said no. Happy team. Loving team. Good stuff.
Well, most girls at this stage didn’t engage in fighting, I guess. Bad question.
Well, my brother and I fought hard. Played hard. Had fun. And lots of amazing childhood memories. Never had such close girlfriends early on in my life.
The other one was her sister, Rammah. I didn’t get a chance to ask her age. But it was safe to assume she was six or so. It was easy to notice that Rammah and Mayaan wore the same outfit, just different colours. Peach and Pink. They were polite, obedient and harmonious kids. Soft spoken and enjoying each other’s company. Mayaan comes back with Apple juice for me. Well, not much to say here.
Hearts. Hearts. Hearts.
What a journey this has been, I thought.
I smiled, thanked them and thought how this juice was the best drink I’ve had on my travels. There were several pairs of big eyes, gleaming at me. Smiling and looking forward to me accepting the juice. Last I enjoyed a drink this much was homemade vegetable and fruit juice with momma dearest.
I took a few sips and dared to ask.
“Is Houston home? “She didn’t understand.
I asked if she had been to Houston before. She didn’t understand.
I asked if she likes Houston. In the attempt to understand and respond, she said, “Houston is big, is good”and placed her hand on her chest to convey that Houston is good for her. I understood she meant good with respect to a better future.
I asked which school they went to. She named a Syrian school.
I asked if she’d go back to Syria. ( Debatable question). She responded saying “Syria is finished”. And her actions depicted that it’s all gone. Nothing remains. Like we would enact a building’s demolition.
I acknowledged that I have been reading about it. Well, what better could I do. I was tempted to hug them all.
Moments passed, they go busy eating and chatting amongst themselves. I knew our intermittent chats would continue. Their trips to the pantry would too.
I started watching this movie, x+y. Interesting subject.. Mathematical prodigy heads to the Olympiad, his journey and traces his relationship with his mom. Movie was engaging. I watched on.
And then Mayaan got me a glass of coke.. Well, I assumed the apple juice was because I had the window seat and didn’t fetch food or drink myself and they were happy to share with me.
Coke was unexpected and simply too gracious. They loved me. I knew then. I couldn’t deny. I gladly accepted.
And then she shared her ear phones with me. She wanted me to join her in listening to the music that she was. Well, it was really upbeat and fun. I did so.. For a few Minutes.. Retreating to my movie again.
What would you guess happened next. A sandwich in Mayaan’s hand extended out to me.
I wanted to ask her to stop. But I didn’t want to disappoint her either. I couldn’t.. I humbly accepted.
They loved me. They all did.
They had an inflated aeroplane model baring the Turkish Airlines logo on it. Mayaan tried to tell me that we are all flying in a bigger version of this baby. I agreed.
Her best friend, Iliyah got another set of headphones. The wide u-shaped ones that connect over your head known as on-ear headphones and can’t be shared between two people. She seemed to be having a good time and by then had figured some good music for herself. She offered her headphone set to me to listen in. I did. These girls had really good feel for music, I thought to myself.
And then when Mayaan got chocolate milk and offered to share, I politely declined saying I was full. Followed by lots of thank you’s. They agreed and went ahead sharing amongst themselves.
If they were immigrants, which could be the case, they didn’t seem stressed. I would have been stressed about moving to a different country, if I were them. But well, they didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t be happier about the fact that they all seemed happy. Maybe they received help and support to embark on this journey that we shared together.
I wondered, if Syrian children were like these angels, what is the world worried about? Embrace your arms to these wonderful young kids. To a new culture. To new traditions and a different outlook. To love. To compassion. To brotherhood. They didn’t know me but showered me with undeserving amounts of love. What would they do, if you helped them when they needed it the most? A waging civil war for five years now, a hundred and forty thousand dead. A country shattered. Dreams desolated. Who is the most affected? Families. These young ones. Right here. These kids.
WHY AND WHAT are we SCARED of? Scared of love, but not scared of war?
Syrian angels. Much much love. May the world see light. May the world see peace. May the world see your love. May you be the shining examples of a today that sows seeds of a tomorrow that we are proud of. A chance beholds us.. A choice beholds us.
Maybe these kids here, will be the ambassadors of what the world lacks. You and I know well, what the world lacks.
Notes:
1.This article is written under the premise that the author guesses the kids are immigrants. She never finds out.
2.The author backs the UN for its efforts to take in more immigrants and giving this crisis and those people a hope of a better future.
3. The author has no intention to hurt anyone’s feelings and or sentiments. The article is an attempt to merely share a personal experience in the hope that the world alters its prejudices and biases about refugees from Syria.