Sunte hain fazayein badlengi

So little do we know of life. We are here today, will be somewhere else tomorrow; or we won't be. These thoughts hovered over my mind as I listened to Imam sahab's Jummah Khutba carefully. I felt like I would be dead the moment I leave the masjid and then I am sure going to burn in hell.

Any form of evil alive on this earth dwells inside me. I lie to my teachers, my parents. I lie to my friends. I steal their stationery. Last week only I threw away my younger sister's toy ape and pretended like I did not even know that she owned one. That is a lie too, right? I sure am gonna get grilled deep in the gallows.

I was not the only one who was unhappy about his deeds, many others were ashamed of what they were doing with their lives. One bearded man in the northeast direction was sobbingly crying, perhaps seeking pardon. Another man in the front row had buried his head between his head and shook it left to right with regret may be. The good ones were present too. One fine young man was checking texts on his mobile phone. Imam sahab's khutba was not important to him. Perhaps he had already booked a suite, for himself, in heaven.

My train of thoughts was halted by giggles of few little boys from across the room. I turned around to spot them. They were in the first row during the namaz, pushing and poking each other. Now they had scattered. One of them resumed his place after wandering all around the room while the two others had taken the last row. They were now trying to throw tinies on their mate and squeaking like sparrows. I only wished for these kids to know how serious life was going to be for them when they are older.

They say children are angels. No bad things are noted in their report card. If I was a year younger, I would have been spared too.

Once I am out, I would ask for their forgiveness and never lie to them again. I will be a good guy. I will even say sorry to my sister for throwing away her toy ape, breaking her doll's left arm, tearing out pages from her notebook and, and everything.

I left the mosque and forgot my commitments like all other Fridays, thus adding one more regret for next Friday.

The Last Magic Trick

Stupefied, the little girl sat in her chair while her grandfather repeated the same card trick again and again. She watched him shuffle the pack. “Pick a card. Look. Don’t tell me. Put it back and here, I shuffle it again. The card is gone, right?”, he wore a mischievous know-all smile and took out the same card from his pocket. “How do you do it? You have to tell me.”, Samantha insisted. “I will teach you. Now go, help your mother with the dishes.”, he would grin.

Samantha always believed her Grandfather to be a magician. “Grandpa is the greatest of them all.”, she would tell her friends. Her grandfather’s trickery never failed to amuse Samantha to the fullest. He made a coin disappear and pulled it out of her hair, put a piece of cloth in his coat and brought out a bunch of roses. Samantha would clap and laugh.

Samantha-7 years old, pale yet beautiful and fair haired- lived with her mother and grandpa in a summer house. Her father was always travelling for work. Johnson came home once in a blue moon. “Why don’t you stay? It will make me happy.”, Samantha would tell him. “I will, darling. Someday.”, he replied.

Samantha was a much loved kid. While her father stayed away, he wrote a number to letters to her. Her mother, Julia, would read Samantha a letter everyday before putting her to sleep. “Daddy is working very hard for his little girl. He wants you to grow up into a beautiful and kind lady. Be nice to everyone, will you?”, Julia would tell her. She always replied with a nod- nod of agreement.

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“Samantha Linhares, Warden calls. You’ve got a visitor.”

Samantha walked down the stairs to find her Dad waiting. She has grown into a fine lady. Her hair is a mess but she is still beautiful and adorable. “Hello?”, she greeted her father as coldly as it could be. “Hey sweetie, How are you?”, her father tried to make a conversation. He examined his daughter head to toe. All this while, Samantha only wondered if she was dressed appropriately to be seen by her father. Her ways had changed since last time they met. “I see you have dyed your hair red. Looked better before. You had beautiful hair.”, Johnson soon realized that he might have hurt sentiments of his daughter. “This. It looks fine too. It does.”, he approved.

Ten long years had passed, since Samantha saw her family last. She was 18 now and with each year passing, she only got angrier with her Dad for being away all the time. Johnson did return for his daughter but too late. Samantha had joined college and stayed as far from home as she could.

“Grandpa is not well. He wants to see you.”, Johnson said. “I don’t plan to see him any sooner.”, Samantha replied. “Sam, it is bad. Please come see him once.”, Johnson said helplessly.

“It is bad.”, these words kept ringing in her ears. Samantha had hated her grandpa all these years for a reason. But all of a sudden all the reasons seemed stupid to her and she realized that she had known it for a long time. She just never was strong enough to face her grandfather again or to justify her behavior.

Samantha left with her father to see Grandpa one last time. She recalled her time with Grandpa and cried all the way to the hospital. As soon as they reached, she was taken to her Grandfather. She found the old man lying in his bed with a number of machines synchronized to his system.

Samantha had seen similar machines long time ago. That was when Julia fell ill. Samantha, in her thoughts went back to that time. The beeping of the machines got louder and she could see Julia and everyone there. She saw herself younger again. “What are you doing, darling?”, Grandpa asked. “I am writing a letter to daddy. I will tell him that mommy is ill and he needs to come back to her.”, Samantha replied.

“Her condition is deteriorating. I am worried that we won’t be able to help her any further.”, Samantha was there when doctor told them this. That was the first time when she was angry with her father for not being beside her.

“Help her. Why don’t you help her? You are a magician. Use your magic tricks and bring her back to life.”, Samantha had expected a lot too much from his magician grandfather. “She died because you did not save her. You killed her.”, those were her last words to the oldie. After that there was just hatred and anger. 

A pat on her head pulled Samantha out of her thoughts. “Grandpa, you are awake. I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”, Samantha held his hand. “He can not talk. He wrote this for you.”, the nurse took a diary from the trolley and gave it to Samantha. Samantha opened the diary.

On the first page was a roughly written note:

 ‘Dear Sam, Grandpa loves you. I am sorry my magic did not work when you wanted it to. Please do not hate me anymore. I had promised that I will teach you a magic trick. Here is a step by step instruction that you need to follow.’

Second page:

‘Raise you hand and hold your fingers together.’

Third Page:

‘Now place your hand on my chest. Feel the heartbeat.”

Samantha did as instructed. She felt the heart- Once, twice and a flat line showed on the heart monitor.

Next page:

‘Hey Magician, you just made my heart stop.’

AN AFFAIR

Every foot step they took left an apparent mark on the white tiles he had been brushing for an hour now. Off he would scrape one, and other may appear. Each flock of visitors brought in a new muddy pattern as it had been raining whole day, still was. Akka had been appointed as a cleaner by Farash Sahab who paid him Rs. 250 a week for cleaning one diminutive lobby and two itsy-bitsy rooms of his bantam hotel/restaurant. The blue plank with the writing ’Farash Hotal- Rooms and Wazwan available’ in red, that stood at the top of single storied building was the only immense thing and the second most attractive thing in the hotel- first most attractive thing being the tiled lobby which was fairer since the day Akka joined.

As he scrubbed off the marks one by one, his heart cried inside. He only wished if he could ever undo the things he had done in his life- things he regretted- like he cleaned mud off the tiles. While some old break up song played in his ear, he rubbed even harder and sang along until one of the seven customers staying in one room fussed about it.

Akka- seemingly in his early 40’s- was a tall, partly bald and sported a not-so-handsome goatee. He had eluded from his house about a year ago. “Village life does not suit me.'”, he would tell his people. But the actual reason, he knew in his heart, was that no woman in the village wanted to marry him. Akka unlike many men of his age was a single swinger. Even in the city he made advances, all went astray. His first spot was landlord’s daughter Samina. He had to lose his second home because of this deed and then he kept changing abode every weekend.

“That is enough for today. Go ring your vocal bells elsewhere. You will scare away my customers.”, Farash Sahab handed over Rs. 250 to Akka and showed him the door. Akka was not as coquettish now as he was back then. Something had changed him. He made no kittenish remarks, passed no playful comments.

Akka’s current dwelling was just fifteen minutes walk away from his workplace. Unusually, he had been staying at this one for more than a month. He had dinner at Farash sahab’s daily. He prepared his bed, peeped out of his window to find the window of the house across closed. He sighed and lied down on the bed.

When Akka first came to live there, he was a cruiser. He made many flirtatious advances on the girl next door- Aasifa. In the beginning, it bothered Aasifa a lot but soon she started responding positively. This change in Aasifa’s behavior changed Akka’s ways. He turned into a much decent guy. He finally started to believe that he had found his last love. He channeled all his efforts to further impress his beloved. 

Akka cursed the time when he unintentionally broke his sweetheart’s heart. He couldn’t sleep. He had not slept properly for last 7 nights.

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Aasifa, on the other hand, was despairing and furious. She only looked at the window of her room and wept like a baby. She knew that on the other side were two eyes looking at her window wanting to catch a sight of her beauty, deep down she knew it.

It was not easy for her too. After having hated Akka for his playful nature, she had started to like him. The thought of forgiving Akka came to her mind many times but she could not do it.

Next morning when Aasifa left her house she found an envelope with nothing written on it at her front door. She put it in her purse as she was already late for school. However dedicated to her job, she couldn’t keep her mind off the envelope. She knew what was in it and who kept it at her door.

As soon as she reached home, she locked herself in her room and started reading the letter. As she thought, the letter was from Akka. It said:

 

“Dear Aasifa,

How are you? I want you to know that I couldn’t sleep last night. I hardly sleep now. I only wish that you could give me a chance to explain my situation and apologize for my misbehavior.

I still remember when I first came to this place, you were the only serenity in the wildness. And how can I forget the good soul that used to wake me up every morning. I loved that voice so much that I could just sleep all day and let it try to wake me up.

But Aasifa, you got to understand that since I joined Farash sahab’s I worked late. And I could not tolerate that sound waking me up at such an early hour anymore.

Had I known that the rooster was so dear to you, I would never have committed the crime of grilling it in the Drum Tandoor and serving it to my thankless friends. But my love, let me swear on your life that I did not have a piece bigger than a ‘Kulfi’.

My darling, let us be together again. Forgive and forget.

                                                                                             Yours and only yours,

                                                                                              Akku.”

Aasifa folded the letter, opened the window, threw the letter out and closed the window to never open again.

Holodomor

With the people, he was dissatisfied,   For they won’t let go of their lands, His idea for the farms to collectivize,
Men would not accept his aim.

To break’em all down, did he use clout,
And asked his men to be brute, “Snatch their bread, let them wander about,
Deprive them of their food.”

Destroyed their crops, crushed their grains,
He manufactured a deadly famine,         Watched them poor kids starve to death,
Mothers did naught but cry.

On the land prevailed such cruel man, With a mind so crude,
Compelled people to succumb to death,
Or accede to his rule.

Disgrace to the existence of human kind,
Does put whole history to shame,
An episode of remorselessness, Witnessed by the land of Ukraine.

Companion

Seated at a round table placed in the middle of the brimming restaurant, Atta looked at his wrist watch as the clock in the restaurant struck one. His eyes chased the waiters who were already very busy serving others. A waiter, who had visited Atta's table few times already since Atta walked into the restaurant about an hour ago, observed him from a distance. After following the other waiters, Atta's eyes finally made a stop at the counter.

The waiter who had been looking at Atta for a long time now, let the counter go off his arm's grip. He took a notepad and started walking towards Atta's table. "Hello, sir. What can I get you?", he asked. Atta returned the greet, "Umm hello, actually I was waiting for someone." "Oh, I can come back in ten minutes?", the waiter said. "No, no. A friend was supposed to be joining me for lunch. I may start ordering. Let us see. What all do you have?", he checked the menu card. "Would you like to start off with a refreshing drink from our bar, sir?", waiter asked. "Ummm. No. Had enough water.", Atta pointed towards the half filled glass on the table.

"Half rice, one fried chicken, one bread and one mutton curry.", Atta ordered. The waiter repeated after him and said, " Would that be all for now, sir?" "Yes. Enough.", he replied and returned the menu card.

After the waiter left to get the order ready, Atta looked at the entry door, then the watch and again the door. He put his hand into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a bundle of Rs 100 and Rs 50 notes. He counted the money, shook his head and put the money back inside.

Atta rested against the back of his chair and noticed all kinds of people, mostly rich, sitting in the place. Some had come with families, others with friends and some with their beloveds. There were tables for two, tables for three, tables for four and tables for more. Atta was the only one sitting alone at the table for two.

He looked at the people , not stare. They were all well suited and booted. Wore expensive dresses and jewelleries. All fancy shoes in there.
Atta looked at his coat and smiled. He put his hand in the side pockets and thanked God for the clothes, he wore, that kept him warm.

Atta looked at his shoes. He had cleaned off the mud before walking onto the well furnished and crystal clear floor. It had been raining for second day today.

Atta did not like rain. It would spoil his clothes and shoes. Also, the rain water got into his friend's house and make him sick. The thought of the rain reminded Atta of his friend. "Did the rain make him sick again? Last time I remember we had fixed the ceiling of his house. What if rain got in again?", he thought to himself.

Atta went to see his friend every second day but he had not seen him for last three days. Atta looked around for the waiter. He was taking orders from other tables. As soon as his eyes contacted Atta's, he nodded. After he finished taking order from that table, he disappeared into a cabin.

Atta again looked at his wrist watch and compared its hour with the clock in the restaurant. The waiter returned with a tray in two minutes. He walked to Atta's table and placed each item one by one, "Rice. Bread. Chicken. Mutton curry. Sir?". "Ummm. I hope the curry is not too spicy. My friend doesn't like spices.", Atta said. "No, sir. The spice is just favourable. Sir will like it. Any news from sir? Will he be joining?", the waiter said. "The rain. It won't stop.", Atta replied. "Yes, sir. Must be the rain. Enjoy your food, sir.", waiter replied and left.

Atta took the rice and curry. He finished rice. He stared at the chicken for a while and then, took a leg and the breast out. He was done eating in not more than 15 minutes. Also, ate some bread and kept the left out in his side pocket. He started looking for his waiter again. The waiter was standing near the counter. As soon as Atta raised his head up, the waiter arrived. "Can I get you anything else, sir?", he asked. "Umm. That would be enough.", Atta replied. "Seems like my friend won't be joining after all. Can I get all this packed?', he continued. "Sure, sir.", waiter replied. He cleared the table and came back with the packed food in 5 minutes. "Your food, sir.", he said. "Bill?", Atta asked. "Yes, sir.", the waiter said and went to the counter. He came back with the bill. Placed it on the table and left.

Atta took out that bundle of money and turned over the bill. Rs 1156.45 said the bill. Eight notes of Rs 100 and eight notes of Rs 50 did he place in the booklet and gestured the waiter to take it. The waiter returned with the change. Atta took out four Re 1 coins from the book and left the other change there. "Have a nice day, sir." "Nice day.", replied Atta, took hold of the bags and walked towards the door.

Atta opened the door to leave and saw few puppies sitting under the shade of the door. He saw the sign board at the door which had a picture of dog crossed and said, "No animals allowed." Atta smiled at the puppies and said, "I got lucky. I am a social animal." He took out the loaves of bread he had saved in his side pocket and left those near the puppies. He watched as the puppies, who had probably not had anything to eat all day, fought each other to get the biggest share.

Atta opened his umbrella. The umbrella had been hanging by Atta's left arm all this while. He ran to the other side of the road. The muddy water climbed upto his waist. He walked along the footpath and finally stopped by a house. This house belonged to some 'Mr. Siddiqui', so said its name plate. The house was not very big. The roof of the house was so built that all the rain water fell down at a distance from the door of the house, at the footpath, making everyone who passed by wet. The stairs were dry. Atta cleaned his muddy shoes with the rain water falling off the roof and climbed the stairs. He sat down at step two and called for his friend. The window of the house opened and a kid peeped out. "You seen him?", Atta asked. The kid nodded his head in denial.

"I got him food.", Atta said and took out the packed boxes. He opened each box and smelled the food. "Such delicious food. Call him, will you?", he talked to the kid. The kid closed the window and ran downstairs. He opened the door and sat close to the old man. "He is here.", the kid said.

"My boy is here.", Atta said. He started serving the food as he noticed a shadow near by. "I was afraid my friend might have fallen sick. Did the rain wet your house again?", Atta asked. "No, I keep a check in your absence. The roof you built is very strong. It doesn't let the rain in.", the kid replied.

"Good. I am glad I could help the homeless.", Atta ran his head over his friend's head. After the food was finished, Atta got up and said, "Time to go home." The kid walked to the end of the street with Atta. "Don't fall sick. You are the only friend the man has.", Atta said and let Peter into his home.

Atta and Peter had been friends for three months. The kid had been witness to this unusually strong friendship all along. Peter was a strong built, well muscled black (not anymore) stray dog.

Old chap

A fellow very old, 
Lived down the memory lane;
So grey, so very pale,
Too old a chap was he. 

Did he make fun faces,
To scare away them kids, Fierce snort he'd bid, But, vain would go it all. 

For they'd only laugh,
Make fun of the gentleman, Have him clatter and clank, Laugh did'em a lot. 

Angry would he get,
Grumble did he so, Exasperation thus would show; 
And so, groan would he. 

But deep down in his heart,
Would he too along do laugh, Own fury he would mock;
And Chuckle, giggle,grin. 

Them devils knew the trick; Annoy him, would they again, Calm won't they let him stand,
 And, Laugh and laugh will them. 

"Ye tiny little brats,
Ye rascals make me insane. Give'em old man so much pain.",
Would he them, then, tell. 

When on one fine morning, Missing did he go,
And all day did not show They searched all fields, all barns. 

"Dead, buried is he,
Don't look, he won't come back.
They put him under his slate.",
Told them the elders, then. 

No fun do they know now, 
Do not they be now gay;
Nor do they,now, know play Do cackle not anymore.

Dreams

I have seen a place, in my dreams,

A place so calm and serene.

Drunk from  waters of the purest mizzle

Walked on the grass so green.

Played with the nature, talked to the rain,

Watched the boundless sky,

Wished in my heart, to conquer the blue

And like the kites, to fly.

Where birds sing melodies, soft and rich,

And tootle along the trees.

With their music do dance, the hail and drizzle,

And with them jingle the bees.

The place so calm yet so alluring

Ever Chanting a spell of beauty.

Revealing a showcase of bewitching elegance,

Unfolding beguiling delicacy.

Distant from the worlds so full and packed,

Apart from the realm so raspy,

Place where the heart feels blissful,

Comes true the fantasy.

How I wish that world to be real

And there I could be,

Stay, dawn to dark,

Have a day to none but ME.

Hope

Akram watched the colours of autumn through his window as his gaze followed the leaves falling off the branches and being carried away by the wind in the redness of dusk. He looked at every leaf at the tree and he was reminded of the story where a last leaf brought back the hope of survival in the hopeless. As he noticed every leaf fall, he felt a wrench at the centre of his chest.  A mixed feeling of anger, sadness and helplessness took over his chain of thoughts and he began scratching the window pane in frustration. His eyes were wet and red. He turned to his right to find weak and ailing Razia sitting on the bed. She was busy noting something in a black diary.
Akram and Razia had been married for 30 years. They had two kids- daughter Sarah and son Sameer. Sarah was married to Azhar and had a son too. They lived in abroad. Sameer was studying engineering in Jaipur.
A year ago Razia was diagonised with cancer. Doctors started the treatment as soon as they got to know about her illness. In the beginning, they believed that Razia was recovering miraculously but two months ago they rendered the treatment useless. Razia's body was no longer responding to the therapies. When Razia's condition started to worsen, Sarah came to live with her parents and look after her mother.
Akram hoped that some miracle might happen and his wife would be cured. Razia on the other hand had lost all hopes.
Akram moved to the bed side and stared at Razia for five minutes. She was counting things and then adding another to the list. "Here. This is the list of every small to big things you would need after me and their locations too.", she closed the diary and gave it to Akram. Akram listened to her patiently as she continued, "Also the winter clothes. It gets too cold. You may want to know where your jackets and shawls lay."
Sarah entered the room with a bowl of soup. "Beti, help your father in finding all the things. You know the house like I do.", Razia said to her. Sarah nodded and gave her the soup. She knew how much pain these talks were causing to her father. She looked at him and said, "Abbu, dinner is ready." "Yes. Let me watch your mother finish the soup. We can leave and let her sleep then."
"Good thing that you all have taken out your pherans. Seems like winter is here already.", Azhar came in and looked out of the window. He always tried to keep up the moods. "Salaam Abbu. Ammi. All well?", he asked.
Akram and Razia replied to his greeting together. "Where is Suhail? I've heard the disease is not contagious. What else be the reason to not let my grand son near me?", Razia scoffed. "You think, mother? I let him stay with Azhar's parents so that I can look after you well.", Sarah said. "We will get him to see his nani maa tomorrow. We can do that once in a while.", Azhar said. "Yes, as if I have got world's time.", Razia replied as she pushed the soup bowl away. "I am done. Please let me sleep. Close the door on your way out.", she said.
The sickness was getting to Razia's head now. She would feel bad about very little things and then cut herself off of the family. Family never minded her behaviour because they realised what she was going through.
Akram ran his hand on Razia's forehead as he watched her sleep. They all left the room.
Silence prevailed at the dining table. Nobody was eating the food. They were just playing with the crumbs on their plates, moving them from one side to the other and then back.
"Did you talk to Majid? What did he say?", Sarah asked Azhar. "Just the usual. Nothing new.", Azhar replied to this. They were talking about Razia's condition.
Majid was Azhar's friend and a doctor. He was the one who took them to the best oncologist and got the treatment started. Majid regarded Razia as his mother. "I am so helpless. Even doctors can't do anything now. Pray for her.", he'd told Azhar the last time they met.
On listening to Sarah and Azhar's conversation about Razia's condition, Akram got uneasy. He started shaking his right leg.
"Sameer is worried. He has been calling all day. You should talk to him and tell him all is fine.", Azhar told Sarah, to which she just nodded.
Akram got up to leave. "Abbu, your food?", said Azhar. "Keep it. I am not hungry.", he replied and walked towards the room. "I will try and not wake your mother.", he whispered as he disappeared into the door.
Akram wanted some time to himself and his wife. He had a lot of things to say, many questions to ask. He didn't sleep that night as if it was their last night together. He just stared at Razia and questioned her in his mind.
Next morning, an ambulance stopped at the front door and Majid rushed in with another doctor and two assistants. Azhar showed them into a room.
The doctor checked the pulse and said, "Heart stopped working. I am sorry." Majid and Azhar broke the news to Sarah, who was waiting in the lobby, together.
Sarah didn't talk. She just went to Razia and started crying loudly. "What is it? Missing your mom already?", said Razia. Sarah's red eyes looked into her mother's. A tear rolled down Razia's eyes as if the mother could easily read the reason of tears in her daughter's eyes.
"You know? Your Abbu came to me last night and talked to me. He said that he is the head of this family. Only he, and nobody else, gets to lead us everywhere. Now I know what he meant.", Razia said. "Don't cry for him. He only got what he wished for. Just pray. Pray for him.", she put her hand on Sarah's head and looked the other way at the bare tree whose last leaf had just fallen down.