Now I can’t even remember for how long I had been visiting that graveyard. As long as I was in my hometown I used to pass my evenings in the graveyard. When I moved to another city to seek a job, I always felt nostalgic for the graveyard there. Whenever I returned home, I would often visit the graveyard. By then my parents also lay buried in that graveyard and I myself was the father of a 10-year-old son, Mehrneyad. Whether it was a wedding ceremony or a gathering of friends, he was always with me. I accompanied him to the graveyard as well. He had seen none of his grandparents but if I pointed at their graves he would innocently reply, “Yes, indeed. They would often bring something for me”. We were passing through a narrow lane without exchanging a word and then suddenly Mehrneyad stunned me with his words, ‘After your death, I will regularly visit your grave, father’ It was a Sunday morning. Mehrneyad’s school was off. A soon as I opened my eyes, he too got up and followed me. I opened the door and Mehrnyad looked at me and said, “Dad! Let’s go to the graveyard”. As soon as I heard these words, the grave of my father flashed in my mind. It had been a week since I had arrived but I hadn’t visited the graveyard yet. After having prayed in the graveyard, we took the route back home. We were passing through a narrow lane without exchanging a word. Mehrneyad stunned me with his words, “After your death, I will regularly visit your grave, father”. I looked at him. He was about to hurl his paper dart into the air. The writer is a lecturer at the Government Atta Shad Degree College and can be reached at fazalbaloch144@gmail.com Published in Daily Times, August 31st 2017.