Death and destruction roamed every street of Palestine.
Noor Saba, a little fairy-like child, helpless and desperate, was running for her life with a blanket over her head. A wound on her tiny forehead was still bleeding, the red mixing with the softness of her delicate face. Her radiant eyes brimmed with tears, yet her lips carried a faint smile—because she was innocent.
She had no one left in this world, no one but Allah.
She had lost everything in this war—her father, mother, brother… she had seen all their lifeless bodies.
She trembled, she shivered, she was terrified. Then someone shouted, “Run from here! Save yourself!”
And she ran.
She looked back many times with longing toward her destroyed home, but there was nothing left for her anymore. She kept running, not knowing where to go—because she was just a little girl, and she was innocent.
She reached a square and sat down to catch her breath.
Someone had mounted a television screen on a broken wall to catch the latest news. On it, the Israeli leader was delivering a victorious speech. The audience in front of him clapped in joy.
Seeing this, Noor Saba too began clapping.
She didn’t understand their language.
She had no idea that these were the very people responsible for her suffering.
She didn’t know it was these politicians who had made her an orphan and a refugee.
How could she know that the so-called “civilised” leaders of the world were actually bloodthirsty beasts?
How could she know that those Jews who were once oppressed in the 20th century, many of their descendants, had now become oppressors in the 21st?
How could she have realised that some greedy people play with fire just to gain power and to become important, putting millions of lives at risk?
Or that history is, in truth, a tale of rise and fall—and this world is a test of power and helplessness?
What did she know of all this?
She was innocent.
She was still meant to be playing in the streets.
But for some reason, these merciless people feel no pity even for the innocent.
Suddenly, the sky rumbled with the sound of fighter jets. Her heart began to pound again.
She remembered how those same dreadful sounds were followed by raining fire from the sky, and how, in mere moments, their peaceful home turned to ruins.
The whole neighbourhood was turned to rubble and corpses.
Without waiting any longer, she pulled the blanket tighter over her head and started running again—until the sounds of the aircraft faded into silence.
How could she know that in times like these, running from death is futile?
She was just an innocent child.
When she reached a narrow alley, a stranger asked her,
“Child, why are you holding that blanket over your head? Do you think it can protect you?”
She replied with deep innocence,
“Uncle, I know this blanket cannot save me.
But when the sky fills with those terrifying sounds and the fireballs start falling, I wrap it tightly around my head to close my eyes and ears…
And I imagine that I’m already dead—like my mama, baba, and everyone else.
I feel that now those roars and bombs can’t hurt me anymore.”
As she spoke, she smiled in a way that pierced the hearts of everyone who saw and heard her.
Her eyes were still wet with tears, but her lips bore a gentle smile—because she was innocent.
Perhaps the power-hungry rulers of this world have made the slaughter of the innocent their favourite pastime.
Noor Saba didn’t know that no matter how much her little heart longed, or how hard her young mind tried to dream, fate had already written fear and death into the pages of her childhood—
Because she was innocent.
Hilal Bukhari
bu*****************@***il.com