The entire city was spinning at a rapid pace. If I could, I would have brought it to a halt and gone in search for my relatives, one by one. But I could not. I wanted to cry and yell out their names, but I could not manage that either. My throat was parched. I felt robbed of my wails and cries.
Amid these thoughts and reflections I fell asleep. As I woke up in the morning, I found the entire city had settled in our courtyard. I looked around to locate my house but, it was not where it once had been. I wanted to rise and search for my house but I could not, I was numbed like a stone. I felt age had crept upon me. I wondered if anyone in my family would recognise me anymore. It was a long time since I had departed from them.
My feet had given in and despite all my efforts I could not move forth. I wanted to go in search of my house and my family but I lacked the strength
But my heart refused to believe this. “Your siblings might not acknowledge you but how could a mother fail to recognise her son?”
I was still watching the sky, when I heard a loud call, “brother!” The voice was coming from a deserted house. My eyes followed the sound, and someone unconcerned with their surroundings was calling me.
Through a giant window I got a clear view of the house. My brothers were standing by the windows and my sisters were consoling my mother. As the cries of my mother reached my ears, I felt I was released from a prison and like a child I sprinted towards her.
While wiping my mother’s eyes they seem to say, “We are the dregs of this city since ages, but we do not even have a proper house. We do not understand their language and cannot adapt ourselves to their customs and rituals. Let’s go somewhere else.”
Thus we decided to leave the city but we could not find the road that we were supposed to take. Again we had to pass through the courtyard of the outsiders and seek their help to get to the desired road. But my mother refused, and with tearful eyes we were back to our dark and deserted house. The window of our thoughts had turned close and our throats had gone dry. Only our eyes were open to look around.
This is a translated version of Balochi short story by AR Dad
Published in Daily Times, July 2nd 2018.
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