The World Through Aliya's Eyes

“Aliya!  Aaaaaliyaaa! Where are you hiding this time?”

“Ma, have you seen Aliya?”, I asked my mother.

“Did you look under the drawing room sofas or behind the curtains?”, she replied.

“How did I forget about those two hiding places?”, with that I rushed into the drawing room.

The grandfather clock in one corner of the room showed 7:00. It was a beautiful Saturday morning outside. I had woken up about 5 minutes ago to the warm golden sunlight streaming in through my window, dispelling the darkness of the night and bringing a hope as fresh and beautiful as a baby’s smile. As I had looked out of my window to see the birds, chirping and sharing my thoughts of renewed hope as they had flitted about for their early morning chores of gathering food, a loud meow of my Persian feline had snapped me back to the surroundings of my room. I had jumped out of my bed and had run straight out of the room looking for her.

I found her squatting behind the curtains in the drawing room staring beyond the French doors, out into the verandah. “What is it out there that you find so alluring?”, I asked walking towards her. She looked up at me, with her two big, button like eyes, full of confusion. She gazed at me for a while before giving me a signal of recognition with a little meow and resumed her constant stare out of the door.

With a jump I sat down cross legged besides her. “I don’t understand what is it that you see out of this door everyday with absolutely nobody in the verandah. You can’t even look at anything beyond the house boundary. There is the tap out there and the tiles and only these plants and, and ooooh myyyy God, they are beautiful.”I finished my sentence with a tone of surprise and amusement.

“No wonder you sit here every morning never once breaking your tradition Aliya”, I continued.

Now almost level with her eyes, out in the verandah, I saw a world from Aliya’s eyes.

 I caught the leaves in the middle of their morning chat with their neighbours as they all swayed merrily to the tune of the morning breeze. I saw, as two sparrows settled elegantly on a stem and started their talk about the nuances of their babies and husbands.  After a hearty discussion the sparrows flew away, maybe back to their young ones. A shift of gaze to the floor brought me to the world of ants where they scuttled in and out of their lair carrying their food and following their leader’s instructions. A bee, a butterfly, a few pigeons, some mynahs; from where Aliya sat, it seemed like a miniature jungle out there, bustling with life and activity.

I stood up, scooped Aliya in my arms to go out into the verandah. The instant I stepped out of the door, she jumped deftly onto the floor and stealthily found her way across the verandah. There she sat crouching behind a pot. Suddenly, without any warning she pounced on a plant and at the same moment, the sound of panicked ruffling of feathers and alarmed pigeon coos filled the air as Aliya’s prey struggled for its life, clinging on to a flimsy ray of hope to survive and escape the pursuit. Then as the final blow came, all was quiet and still.

With her diamond trophy dangling from her mouth Aliya triumphantly strutted to the shelter of a tree to enjoy her kill and to enjoy a perspective of the world that was entirely her own.