While walking on the road as my eyes ran across the tall Kaheer*, and I felt heavenly relieved. The journey I embarked upon in the morning was supposed to run over a distance of five hours by foot. When I was about to leave, my youngest son, who is 11, insisted me to accompany him. Somehow I managed to beguile him but unmindfully left my water bottle at home. By then I had covered a distance of around two hours and was gasping with thirst when my eyes fell upon the Kaheer on the right side of the road. I diverted my path towards the very tree to halt and rest for a while. As I reached closer, I found a woman already sitting there. Before I could get the opportunity to say something, she struck up the conversation herself: “Come in but do close the door”. I was startled as there was no door there. Then I asked, “Ma’am, do you have some water on you? I am thirsty”. “I knew you would bring the thirst of the entire city along, hence I asked you to close the door. But how can a man who is unable to see the walls see the door?” I was looking for my eyes amid the walls and door, when she said: “For a long time, I had had my mat spread out on water that someone may become thirsty. But people love their water-bottles more than their children. Children have been forgotten but water-bottles have never been forsaken”. Hearing that, I don’t know if my thirst died away or reached its lowest ebb. I felt that I no longer need water to drink. Thus, I said: “Madam, I will proceed only if I get your permission. I am already late”. “If you are able to open the door, then you are free to go”. I took the route ahead. After covering a long distance as I looked back I saw that I had left the Kaheer way behind. I also noticed a man approaching me. As he drew nearer he asked me: Do you have some water on you? I am dying of thirst.” I replied: “No I don’t, but there is woman sitting under that Kaheer you better go there”. “But she had closed the door and pinned the bolt on your brow right between your eyes. Neither can Iopen it nor can give it a knock”. He replied. Since then whenever I feel the urge to itch my forehead I just smile. g Kaheer: The local name for one of the trees of Acacia family. This Baloch short story by Munir Momin has been translated by Fazal Baloch Published in Daily Times, February 17th 2018.