ABeautifulDay

AShortStory
By:FaisalAlBandar

A Beautiful Day
A short story by: Faisal Al-Bandar

ii

Copyright Information
A Beautiful Day by Faisal Al-Bandar is licensed under the Creative Commons AttributionNonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/.

iii

To Michael S. Hart, the inventor of the e-book

He is too old now, a Hadj. However, he was once a little baby. In fact, he was first a newborn,
so small and only as heavy as a tiny fruit basket. He yelled for the first time, cried for the first
time, opened his eyes for the first time and felt his mothers arms around him for the first time,
seventy nine years ago, in a tiny little house, in a small village, far, far away from here. His older
brother told him that he came to this world on a beautiful day: round silver moon shining in a
clear sky, golden wheat spikes in the field dancing with the cool breeze, even there was some
wedding in the village, with everyone singing so loud that his baby-cries were barely heard.
Since then, the Hadj yelled a lot, cried a little, but he never, ever again opened his eyes. He never
left his village, and was not aware (to the full extent of that word) that there is a huge world
outside the village in which he was born, and that there are people out there who dont grow
wheat and barley they grow grapes instead; and that there are people who dont grow anything,
theyd rather do incomprehensible things in their strange giant villages called cities, around
which there are no fields of any kind. He didnt know that the world is big, and he couldnt care
less: so long as his wheat is yielding and the harvest is good why would he ever care if the world
was big or not? Let it be as it likes to be! Some people actually find it odd that everyone calls
him (Hadj) when he never, in fact, took a step for the pilgrimage outside his village.
When his son, then still a young man, asked him for permission to leave for college, and
convinced him that seeking science is what the prophet Mohammed asked from us, he couldnt
but agree to his sons wish. And he will come back eventually, wont he? But he didnt come
back, except for brief visits to the little village, after he found a better home in the big city. And
the days went by and the son was still in the city, and the father was still in his village, never

worrying whether the earth is spinning, so long as his golden wheat spikes dance for him in his
wide field.
He thought, once, about leaving the village to see the world, the beautiful, shiny, glamorous, and
betraying world, or so everyone said for him the world was neither beautiful nor shiny nor
betraying, for him the world was wheat spikes, water level in the little river, rain season and
when his fellows told him about the big cities, the gigantic skyscrapers, the cars and the
television, he laughed in secret, and replied only with a friendly smile, thinking to himself (how
juvenile!) Those who leave the village are madmen, madmen! Why ever leave the village?
Whats there outside? Nothing of worth certainly, nothing of worth
One day an old holy man visited their village. All the villagers held him in high regard; they said
that he was connected to God, and that he could perform miracles: stories that filled the Hadj
with wonder. And the Hadj found himself overwhelmed with awe and deep respect for this wise
man that ate only old bread and drank only water. He wanted to ask him about the future,
perhaps he does know the future! And whats there to know about the future? To whom should
he sell some of his cattle, maybe? Or perhaps he wanted to know about the next years rain? No,
he already knew all that. No need for a holy man. And suddenly, a strange idea conquered his
mind, his curiosity was focused on one thing; and he liked to ask the only question that no one
knew the answer to: (Sheik, how shall I die?)
The Sheik looked at him with tired, peaceful, kind eyes then he looked away and informed
him in low, but clear voice: (It will be a beautiful day.)
And the Sheik left the village and went to another one.

And then the years flew by, and all the old villagers left, not to other villages, but to a small
patch of land just outside the village, on which many prayers were said, and many tears shed.
The young villagers left also, they sought a new life in the city, where everything is nicer and
easier! The Hadj, however, swore that he will leave the village only to lie in rest next to his
father and brothers. But things started to slip away from the grip that was one day rock-solid,
only to end up trembling, shivering in the wind. First the shovel slipped, and it was fairly easy to
pick it up was it not for this backache that made his life intolerable. Then the whole field slipped
away. Then life itself found it meaningless to reside in this wreck; he fell ill and had to leave the
comfort of the wheat field for the misery of bed. His son hurried from the big city to his father - a
dying man in a dead village. He wouldnt let his father suffer in that little house; he took him to
the big city, where hospitals and doctors will take care of him. The son wont accept the
villagers ways now; he learned the ways of the city people!
The Hadj opened his heavy (they seemed very heavy) eye lids, to find himself lying in a queer
room. There were curious people doing peculiar things and eating unnamed food everywhere.
His son looked at him from the side of the strange bed, and with a happy voice cried: (Father!)
The Hadj struggled to make his word heard, and after some hard seconds, with a low, trembling
voice replied: (Son)
The son started explaining: (This is a hospital father, people here get well and illnesses are cured,
with Gods will of course. These are nurses and doctors, and its their job to make you feel
better. And these things around you - they do good things to you; everything is good, no
worries father.) But the fathers eyes were closed, he was very tired, so the son left him to rest

and turned on the mini T.V set in the room, muted the sound, and started watching while his
father gets some sleep.
But the Hadj wasnt asleep, he was thinking, and recalling far memories with every little detail,
and he only closed his eyes to be able to concentrate better. He remembered that today is the
harvest day, but alas, there is no wheat to harvest now. And he remembered the old wise Sheik,
and his prophecy that seemed utterly wrong (You will die on a beautiful day.) Beautiful!!
Wheres that beauty you talked about, my Sheik? My father and all my brothers are gone, my
spikes dried in the sun, my arm lost its strength, and here I am: away from my house, the house
in which I and my son were born. This is not a beautiful day my Sheik, its an ugly and dark day!
A small tear found its way out of his eye and down his cheek, or so he thought for these eyes
havent shed a single tear in ages.
But then he remembered: (Heres my son, my dear son, away from his house and his weird
family, sitting with me in this terrible place to give me comfort in my dying moments.) And he
opened his eyes, with difficulty, and found his son looking at a shiny piece of glass that
displayed pictures of people a thousand times stranger than those he saw here in the hospital.
And he asked his son, with that low voice that he could make out of his tired throat:
-

What is this, son?

Its a T.V father; you look at this screen and see many things from the entire world; some

real and some arent real. But what we see now is very real.
-

And how is that done?!

The son smiled at him:

Science father, science!

Aha! Yes, Science!

So this is the science that his son left the village to learn: he wanted to watch a strange screen
that displays pictures from the world! But what he saw now was beautiful: funny people wearing
exotic things and dancing in an odd fashion, but somehow they all seemed so happy The Hadj
asked:
-

What are we seeing now?

Its a wedding father, the princes wedding.

The princes wedding? Now??

Yes, right now and just as you see it!

Of course they were happy, its the princes wedding!

-

Our prince?

No, Father. A prince of a faraway land.

Far away? Say, on my white horse, how many months will the journey to it take?

The son smiled again, and he explained:

-

Perhaps um two years - I dont know! Its very far away, and no one goes there on

horse backs!
-

The end of the world!

Not really. There are places even farther away.

And son, whats there between us and them?

Other lands and other people.

Other lands and other people, strange! And even though speaking troubled him, he wanted to ask
more:
-

Son, do you know how many people are there in the world?

Yes, Father. A little less than, um seven thousand thousand thousand people

The Hadj gathered all the strength left in him and exclaimed, with a faint air of disbelief:
-

All those people!

Yes. But there are more babies born every day so the number is rising.

Today? There are babies born today??

Oh yes, so many!

Where??

Everywhere!!

The princes wedding! And babies are born! And the Hadj continued:
-

Are there other weddings, too?

Oh yes, so many!

Strange!!
-

And there are also people harvesting wheat spikes today?

Yes, there are people harvesting wheat and people having babies and people getting

married and people celebrating their sons marriage and people laughing and talking and
visiting each other, so many, thousands and thousands, and all that is today!

The Hadj closed his eyes. How big is this world! And his ears were suddenly crowded with the
cries of a thousand babies seeing light for the first time The laughter and the singing of a
thousand women happy for their daughter or their sister or their friend, on her wedding day
His heart leapt with joy in the same manner as when he was told that he had a son, only now it
leapt a thousand leaps - for a thousand men are having their babies born today And oh how
lovely it is the smell of the golden wheat spikes, dancing with the wind in the harvest day, and
that salty taste of the sweat that breaks like a waterfall from the foreheads of the thousand men
carrying their scythes And also, the princes wedding is today, and everybody is dancing and
laughing and having good time in his wedding
Today, joy is everywhere!!!
Its a glorious day my Sheik, so odd and so beautiful!!!
He wanted to see his son, so he opened his eyes for the last time. And he smiled, albeit a halfsmile. Then, with that half-smile on his face, he closed his eyes forever.

(End)

About the author

Faisal Al-Bandar is a young man who has unlimited
imagination. His passion for exploring the world
through books is only paralleled by his wish that, some
day, he could offer the same enjoyment to others by
writing something interesting and delightful for them.
This short story is not his first. However, it is the first
short story he writes in English, and it is his first
published work.

2012

Published via Project Gutenberg Self-Publishing Portal