All These Sorrows

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It started slowly but by noon over a thousand people had gathered in the Nathan Phillips Square in downtown Toronto. A late October day, exceptionally warm and sunny, with deciduous trees around the area displaying beautiful fall color – it could have easily been a pleasant day out if not the reason they convened was so extraordinarily tragic and heart-wrenching. Rehana was wrapped in a shawl over her salwar-kameez and a pair of flat leather sandals as she sauntered up the crowded street toward the Square looking keenly around her, searching for her friends. Fearing parking could be a nightmare she had taken the subway to get here. It was a bit of a walk to the Square from the nearest station but considering the nice weather she actually enjoyed it. Now only if she could find her friends, she would be all set. Once in the Square she called Rubina and got her voicemail. She left her rough location and called Fatima next. After about ten minutes and several calls back and forth, she finally joined her friends – Rubina, Fatima, and Parvati. They hugged each other and shared their excitement about being part of this event. Of four Parvati, in her early thirties, was the youngest. Rubina and Rehana were in their mid-fifties, and Fatima was a few years older, closing on 60. Their acquaintances happened in a Walmart where they all worked and over the years morphed into strong friendships. Fatima looked impatient. She was a graying short woman with high spirits. It was she who had insisted on them coming. This protest is not about any one group of people. This is a  cry to uphold humanity, an appeal for peace. She led them close to the center of the square where one lady was delivering a fiery speech.               ‘…we must do everything in our power to stop this Israeli genocide of innocent Palestinians in Gaza. In the name of fighting Hamas, they are trying to annihilate the Palestinian people. More kids have been killed there in just a few weeks than in all global conflicts annually since 2019. Can you believe that? We do not condone terrorism - by Hamas or by IDF. We demand an immediate ceasefire. Stop the war! Stop the killings! …’             The crowd chanted ‘Stop the war’, ‘Stop the killings’– repeatedly, becoming louder and louder as scores of attendants waved Palestinian flags. The urgency and intensity of the roaring chants gave Rehana goosebumps. She hated wars. Many years ago a bloody war in her birthland Bangladesh had taken the life of her two teenage brothers. She was just three and had no memories of them. A couple of old grainy images were all she had.             The protest soon departed the Square and marched along University Ave toward the Ontario Legislative Building, where the organizers planned to hand over a set of written demands to the provincial government.             As they walked briskly, the four friends huddled together, surprised to see how people from all walks of life had joined - young mothers with kids on strollers, old men in their Scooters, office folks in suits, and an abundance of angry young people.             “Don’t walk too fast,” Fatima warned them. “Save your energy. Especially you Rubina – diabetic and high blood pressure. Don’t want you to get sick. ”             Rubina was already looking tired. She got a water bottle out of her oversized purse and took a big sip. “I didn’t realize we’d be walking so far.”             “It’s not that far,” Fatima reassured. “Just look ahead. You can see the parliament building. On our way back we’ll probably take College Street to Bay and return to the Square. At most a few kilometers. Did you bring some snacks with you? Just in case your blood sugar level falls.”             “Not much, just some crackers,” Rubina hesitantly said. “You said we’ll stay in the Nathan Phillip Square.”             Fatima shrugged. “That’s what I thought. The plan changed. I found out after getting here. Don’t sweat about it. You’ll be fine. There are tons of food places here.”             A new chant started to catch on. “Hey! Hey! Ho! Ho! The occupation has got to go!”  Fatima chorused with all the strength in her voice with Parvati and Rubina joining her. Rehana lip-synched. She suffered from autoimmune diseases and didn’t want to risk exhausting herself. She nudged Rubina and whispered, “Take it easy. Don’t kill yourself.”             Rubina nodded uncomfortably. Coming all the way here and not doing her part seemed worse.             Rehana’s phone was ringing. She fumbled inside her purse to find the cell phone. It was Monti - her husband. She had been waiting for his call. He was supposed to take Happy, their cat, to the vet for a check-up. She was pretty old at 10 and had been showing signs of discomfort lately. While Rehana’s whole family had a strong bondage with the feline, she was particularly attached to Happy. She had insisted on having the cat checked. If she hadn’t had this protest planned she would have surely accompanied Happy to the vet.             Monti had bad news. “The vet took x-rays and took blood for tests,” he said over the phone. “His diagnosis is not good. He is saying she has fluid in the lungs, possibly a tumor somewhere else. Need more tests to be sure. What should I do?”             Rehana was annoyed. “What do you mean what should you do? Just ask him for a treatment plan. There gotta be something he can do, right? That’s why he is a vet.”             There was a relatively long silence from the other end.             “Are you still there?” Rehana barked. Monti had a bad habit of keeping things out of her knowledge. He probably wasn’t saying everything.             Monti cleared his voice. “Ummm, the vet is suggesting we should put her down,” he finally said.             Rehana froze. “What?” It took her a long moment to find words. “Is he mad? Just ask him for some medicine and take her home.”             “He is insisting that Happy is too sick to continue to live. Saying if I don’t agree to put her down then he’ll have to report me to some kind of a pet society and they’ll get in touch with us to determine what is best for Happy. I have no idea what he is referring to.”             Rehana felt her body shaking. Happy has been like a child to her since she first arrived just a few days old. She had a small section on her bed where the cat slept. When she felt stressed or lonely she would take Happy in her lap and cuddle with her. Happy would take it patiently even though she might not be in the mood. Rehana had forgotten long ago that in that feline body, it was not a person. The kids treated her like another sibling. She was the center of all of their attention for years. Lately, as she aged she had become quieter and slower but her meek presence still filled their home with joy.             Fatima noticed Rehana had stopped and looked upset. “Rehana! Everything okay?” She called out.             Rehana nodded. Her friends had moved ahead. She didn’t want to fall too far behind. She hurried to catch up pressing the cell phone on her ears to reduce surrounding noise.             “What do you want me to do?” Monti asked on the phone.             “Why are you even asking that?” Rehana barked. “Take her home. When I come back I’ll figure out what to do. She is not so sick that we have to let her go.”             “When are you coming home?”             “I don’t know. We are going to the parliament building. Maybe from there I can take an Uber and get home. Just take her home. I don’t care what the vet says.”             After ending the call she caught up to her friends and described the dire situation. They had all been to her house many times and knew Happy very well.  They looked genuinely concerned.             “Maybe you should go home,” Parvati said. “You look very disturbed.”             “I want to go at least up to the parliament building,” Rehana said hesitantly. “Otherwise I‘ll feel guilty. I am sure she’ll be okay. I am so sorry, girls. Innocent Palestinians are dying out there. They have no home, no food, no safety, no medicine. Even the hospitals are not safe.  What a hell they must be living in. And here I am lamenting about my pet!”             Fatima shook her head gravely. “A dear one – be it a person or a pet, is no different. You are okay to be worried. Look around you. Many of these people have relatives in Gaza. I can tell. They may never see them again. Those bastard Israelies are bombing everywhere.”             “Hamas killed a lot of Israelies too,” Rubina quietly reminded. “So many innocent people died.”             “Hamas exists because of them,” Fatima rebuked. “They have imprisoned Palestinians in their own land. Allowing illegal settlers to build homes on occupied lands. The two-state solution is all but dead. Do you think people can continue to live in a situation that is dehumanizing, and disgraceful? When you take away people’s dignity and kill their families - what else do you expect them to do? Send you love letters?”             As Fatima spoke her voice raised. Others around her paid attention and nodded in approval. Fatima suddenly raised a hand and chanted “Free, free Palestine!” Several dozens of people spontaneously joined her. Soon the whole area reverberated with that slogan. Rehana, Rubina, and Parvati glanced at each other. Fatima had suddenly become a voice in the procession. She looked bolder, angrier as she marched ahead. They struggled to cope.             The procession met some resistance from heavy police presence to keep order but was allowed to move ahead. By the time it reached the architecturally beautiful legislative building, it was almost 2 PM. As the crowd chanted Rehana tried to find a little quiet corner because her phone was ringing again. Monti.             “What’s happening now?” She inquired anxiously.             “I brought her home,” Monti said hesitantly. “But she is looking really sick now. The vet probably did something. Might have given her some medication. She is even bleeding a little. I think I gotta take her back to the vet. Maybe… maybe he was right. We probably should consider his suggestion.”             Rehana was quiet for a long moment, allowing the extreme idea to set in. “Don’t do anything. I am coming home. Just stay with her. Okay?”             Rehana hung up and looked for a ride in the Uber app. Usually, there would have been plenty but due to protests, some roads were closed, others clogged, forcing the Uber drivers to stay at a distance. The nearest pickup location was a couple of blocks away. That wasn’t too bad.  She looked for her companions. The area had filled up with incoming protesters faster than she had expected. She couldn’t see any of her friends. She hesitated for a moment and texted Fatima - Got to go home. Need to see Happy – maybe for the last time and hurried back to University Ave, toward the nearest intersection where a driver agreed to pick her up.                The Uber driver, Joseph, a gentle-looking man in his fifties, seemed like a nice man. As he drove slowly through heavy traffic after picking up Rehana, his eyes veered off from the road ahead to his female passenger in the back seat who appeared to be in distress. “Ma’am, are you okay?”             Rehana was trying hard not to have a breakdown but she wasn’t succeeding. Once she got into the car and headed home all she could think of was poor Happy who probably looking at her imminent demise, possibly just hours away. For ten years she had been with Rehana and her family. It never occurred to her that this day would come someday.               “My cat is dying,” Rehana managed to say as she sobbed quietly. “I am sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you but she is very dear to me.”             “I am not bothered in the least,” Joseph said quietly. “Pets are like kids. You are okay to mourn. Did you come here to protest?”             “I did but now I am feeling guilty. So many deaths, so much suffering and here I am crying for my cat.” Rehana muttered.             Joseph sighed. “Don’t feel guilty. There’s nothing bigger than love and sorrow. Looking at me you wouldn’t even know what I am going through. I wish I could let it out like you. I wish I could cry.”             “Why? What happened?” Rehana asked, surprised.             “You won’t believe it if I tell you,” the man said as his voice appeared to break. “I am an Israeli jew married to a Palestinian woman. We have five kids. My older daughter just turned eighteen. She wanted to visit Israel, Gaza, and the West Bank. We have relatives in all those places.  I didn’t want her to go. I just didn’t think it was safe. She wouldn’t listen to me. So, I didn’t want to pay for the trip. She got mad at me. She had some money from her part-time job, borrowed some from her friends, and went anyway.”             “Where was she during the Hamas attack?” Rehana shivered even thinking of the worst possibilities.             “I don’t know. She didn’t contact us. We called most of our relatives. Nobody knows where she is. A few in Gaza we couldn’t connect to. She could be very well in there, either already gone or running around to stay alive.” He pauses for a moment. “Just the fact that we don’t know where she is, how she is – is killing us. I’d have gone there to look for her but I have a family, four other kids. I gotta put it all inside me and keep going. Thousands are dying there, my daughter would be just one more.”             Rehana’s heart sank. “I am sure she is fine. Communications are disrupted there. Maybe she can’t call home. Don’t give up. Be strong. Okay?”             “Do you know what hurts the most?” Joseph said, his voice wet. “She didn’t even tell us when she left. No byes, no hugs. I just want to hold her in my arms once. I just want to tell her how much I love her.”             Something happened to Rehana. She leaned over and put a hand gently on his shoulder. “You will. I am praying for her.”             The man suddenly started to sob. “I hope so. I sure hope so.”             An hour later, embracing frail and drowsy Happy Rehana whispered in her ears – Sleep in peace, sweetheart! – and put her inside the carrier, and nodded to Monti who took her away to the vet for her final journey.             Rehana performed ablution, sat on the prayer mat, and prayed for Happy, Joseph’s daughter, Palestinians, Israelis, and every person on earth. Dear Creator, give us the strength to bear all these sorrows.