It was the very congenial daytime when we both were sitting under the adorned tree in the end of December and speaking to each other; time passed in no time as we were having our eyes on the picture that we had in the very moment. We always hear one’s unspoken words from behind the invisible walls of silence. Silence was the only thing which we both adored the most. Similarly, in the year before 2017, she would often enunciated that during silence a message came to her that there was that of God in every person. “Silence is dear to me.” She repeated the same statement time after time.
Still, I remember her words as once she narrated, “Munaj, do you know? Whenever I spot the picture in the hand of my amiable mother day after day and night after night, I never grieve. Sometimes, I witness that my eyes began to tear in the memories of that decorated sprit,” she said time and time again when we get together after long waits.
“I love visiting the beautiful mountains of Balochistan and eyeing the nightfall is the best moment that purifies my hopeless soul; the sole moment on the mountains makes me be all myself and sitting in the solitude is another pleasurable moment for me. Silence? Leave it out!”
Considerably, she was engaged in narrating the story of her childhood, believe me, she didn’t cry, but her eyes were filled with tears after saying, “Eyeing the immortal picture, wail, a mother and siblings. The smiles of flowers bloom and I feel myself all alone.” She said and a long silence followed her reply.
Believe me, her every word was just wow for she knows the pains of departing the soul from the body. Sometimes, she smiles like the flowers and the other time cries in the lost of memories.
December 2020. I could witness a great chunk of people seemingly to be happy for the new year Eve and some other aged, young and innocent people in wailing one’s death – and whereabouts.
The rains of memories of rememberance are pleasant,
In long wait the planted seeds grow and bloom.