HIJAAB WAALI
By Ikram Abidi
An untold tale of love
Once upon a time there was a princess
7th December. 2000
Karachi, Pakistan
5:00 p m
I still don't believe that I've lost her forever.
Perhaps I didn't deserve her. She was such a nice lady, such a wonderful female. I know that I can find many girls in this world, even more beautiful and more attractive than she was. But no girl can fit into that specific portion of my heart that has been reserved only for her now.
What shall I call her?
Aggressive? Absolutely not. She was so patient, so calm.
Hard and strict? Never. She was so flexible, so adaptable, very compromising too.
Rude and proud? No way. She was so understanding, friendly, and sympathetic.
Extremist? Impossible. She sure knew her boundaries and limits.
No, there's nothing I can call her. I can't give her a single, sole name.
She was truly wonderful, capable of doing miraculous wonders.
She understood me. I don't think that anyone could ever understand me like the way she did. She made me realize myself, arranging my life's book neatly into this world's shelf. It's only because of her that I am who I am.
I will not say that she was perfect, but she was the best one I ever could have hoped for, not only because she had a tremendous amount of unconditional love, but because she shaped who I am today, my qualities and characteristics. She was the one who made me beautiful in every sense. The kind you didn't see much anymore. She was simple but yet so mysterious. She was so familiar but ah, at the same time, so strange too.
In the paths of life, sometimes, you find faces, which you can't forget ever, no matter how much you try. So, how can I forget that fairy-face that'd let me know the reality of life? Those lake-like deep eyes which, when low, used to bring night and when high, were the source of daylight. She was the poetry of a born poet. Flowers needed her to grow; autumn required her to become spring.
She definitely was a dream girl, a beautiful scene of my sleep. But she was a reality too. A reality, which creates history. A reality, you can't imagine your life without whom. She was so alive. One, who could give you life in one glance. There was just nothing else like her at all. It was her attitude toward life that made her uniquely captivating. She had a quick intelligence and a lively curiosity about anything she happened to encounter.
And then... she was gone when I needed her the most. She came and she left. But she didn't leave alone; she had my life too.
I'll never understand one thing, and that is, why those times pass so quickly when you're happy? And why those times take so long to pass when you're sad?
Did I love her?
He closed his eyes to minimize the intense expression of pain. Then, after taking few deep breaths, he began to write once again.
I will not talk about my dark, ill past. But for sure, at present, her love is the greatest present for me.
I love her not only for what she was but for what she was when she was with me.
I love her not only for what she had made of herself but also for what she was making of me.
I love her for the part of me that she brought out.
"Did 'she' love me?"
Yes, certainly. No other woman will ever love me like the way she did. No one else will ever stand by me like her.
Finishing his last word, he stopped writing, took off his fine, neat, half-framed spectacles and blew off a long, cold, lonely sigh.Tipping his head back on the headrest of the easy chair, he finally closed his eyes.
"You look good in glasses." Her whisper was very near.
"Huh?" He turned quickly to locate the source. Not here and there, she was no where. He was alone in his room. Memories were like endless rain for him. Once began, they would never stop. As her voice faded with his consciousness, he thought he felt a tear strike his cheek.
The wind was particularly cold and wet, even for December in Karachi. Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he stood up from his place and opened the side window. Sharp and cold wave of wind hit him full in the face, a stream of air with strong noise of sea waves nearby.
Thank God for the wind! It broke the silence.
Through the huge plain glass window, he stared at the beach of white sand that seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Long white breakers came out of the night and broke on the shore. Far out at sea, mysterious offshore lights winked and moved steadily along.
With a long breath, he smelled the sea-scented air and closed his lashes. As soon as his anatomical eyes closed, his imaginative eyes opened and from the fantastic window of imagination, she came in front of him, like always. Smiling! Everything about her was absolutely beautiful. Even her appearance, he thought.
What to say about her external beauty and looks.
If beauty is limited, then she was its final limit.
Smiles were not very usual feature of her personality.
"Because of myself." He thought painfully. "Yes I didn't give her much chance to smile. Rude, brutal, animal-like, I was like a sharp knife for her."
"You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know what you're really like! You're a ... a... Bad-mannered, ill-tempered ... savage!" His own conscience showed him the mirror.
Although he had not seen her smiling a lot still he thought that flowers used to bloom when she smiled. Yes, her smile was as innocent as a young flower bud, as fresh as a sweet and scented morning breeze.
Apart from her smiles, he always wondered what was so "different" in her appearance? She sure had something unique and powerful in her face that always differentiated her from the other women. Only now he found out what made her face and her personality so different and impressive. Yes, it was that particular glory, that specific charisma, which comes only on the faces of those women who have strong character and firm principles. Who never compromise on their beliefs and who observe…
He couldn't think more. Such a shiny, bright 'noor' she had on her face.
Her hair was the first cloudiness, which appears before rain. Her long, shiny locks were the source of comfort for the desperate and tired traveler.
The musical ringing of the phone in his room dispersed his thoughts. With slow, tired steps, he reached and picked up the receiver.
"Yes?" While holding the cordless receiver in one hand, he used the other one to take his remaining cigarette to his dark lips.
"How's my good boy today?" A soft, caring male voice came from the other side.
"Assalaam O alaikum Maulana uncle." He sighed with relief as he heard his teacher's voice and then said, "I was actually going to call you in few minutes. I have some good news for you." Not just his face, even his voice was smiling. "Thankfully, your prayers got colors."
"You made my day son. I have waited so long for this very day." Maulana uncle's voice became shaky with emotion.
"Dr.Waris has called me tomorrow for my final check up. He said that hopefully they would issue the mental health clearance certificate for me this time." He said, leaning against the railing of the upstairs terrace. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark black hair.
"And what about police matters?"
"One of my friends talked to D.I.G. Crimes, he has assured us that there're no more charges remaining on me now. My file has been closed. The police does accept the fact that whatever happened was something I did when I was not mentally normal." He finished his long sentence. "I'd never forgive myself ever though."
"Yes. Why not, thanks to Allah, you're normal now, physically as well as mentally." Maulana uncle was as supportive as ever. "It's been a long way though."
"Uncle, I don't believe that it's been more than two years now." He took a long breath. "The loss is unbearable however."
Maulana uncle remained silent this time.
"Uncle, tell me. Tell me, why does it hurt to love someone?"
From the other side, he heard a soft, sober laughter.
"People don't offer thanks when they're happy. Yet they object when they're hurt."
" I… I will be thankful this time." He sobbed. "Sometimes, I just want my love back uncle. Although I know it's impossible. Those who have gone forever, never come back." He murmured painfully. "And please, not this time. I don't want to get hurt again. "
"Your love was meant to be…
"If it meant to be, why did I lose her?" His voice became loud, as he cut in.
"You didn't lose her...I'd say you let her go!" Maulana uncle replied. "And that was your mistake."
He did not reply. He had nothing to say.
"How's your poetry going?"
"My only hobby these days." He laughed emptily. "Yes I wrote some thing new."
"And what I could be?"
"My new poem, want to hear?" He asked, resting against the railing again and gazing far out to sea.
"Why not."
Hearing his response, he set his neatly framed glasses back on his nose and opened his diary again.
"Alright, here it is…I have dedicated this to her, the same person for whom I wrote it. By the way the title is 'Thank you'.
"Hmm, sounds interesting. Let's begin now."
He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and began to read the poem in a soft, low voice but with an impressive accent and perfection.
"You there uncle?" Finishing his poem, he asked.
"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful my son." Maulana uncle's voice was laden with joy and appreciation.
"While thanking Allah for making us better and the best, we should not forget the channel, which is the source between Allah and us. Your " thank you" is just fantastic."
In answer, he smiled soberly and said, "Well, what can I say in answer except another "Thank you!"
Maulana uncle laughed again.
"Son, I'd like to suggest something for you and you really need that!"
"And what's that uncle?"
"Change. You need change."
"Change or 'escape' from my worries?"
"No, I mean change of atmosphere. Go to some good picnic point of your city, it will provide you chance to gather your thoughts again or…" Maulana uncle left his sentence unfinished.
"Or?"
"If you know what I mean, you can change your place too, I mean your home…
"Uncle please…" He cut in sharply with pain.
"You know it's one of the last memories of her. I can still feel her fragrance here. I can't even think of leaving this place…
"But my child, don't you think these three thousand yards are too big for a single, solitary you?"
"Uncle, I suppose we shall leave this discussion for later times, if you don't mind." His voice became spotless, his face expressionless. "But I'd definitely think about what you said about change of atmosphere!" He assured him seriously, blowing another puff of cigarette smoke.
"May this change bring many other pleasant changes to you son. I'd visit you soon."
"Thank you uncle. I'd be looking forward to welcome you here."
"Alright. And do inform me about your medical report as soon as you get it. Theek?"
"Sure uncle! Take care. Allah hafiz"
Hanging up the phone, he finished off his remaining cigarette. Now, it was time to sleep.
"It won't come so easily though." His own smile was sarcastic for himself.
Continue ....
Please, give your comments..Thanks
By Ikram Abidi
An untold tale of love
Once upon a time there was a princess
7th December. 2000
Karachi, Pakistan
5:00 p m
I still don't believe that I've lost her forever.
Perhaps I didn't deserve her. She was such a nice lady, such a wonderful female. I know that I can find many girls in this world, even more beautiful and more attractive than she was. But no girl can fit into that specific portion of my heart that has been reserved only for her now.
What shall I call her?
Aggressive? Absolutely not. She was so patient, so calm.
Hard and strict? Never. She was so flexible, so adaptable, very compromising too.
Rude and proud? No way. She was so understanding, friendly, and sympathetic.
Extremist? Impossible. She sure knew her boundaries and limits.
No, there's nothing I can call her. I can't give her a single, sole name.
She was truly wonderful, capable of doing miraculous wonders.
She understood me. I don't think that anyone could ever understand me like the way she did. She made me realize myself, arranging my life's book neatly into this world's shelf. It's only because of her that I am who I am.
I will not say that she was perfect, but she was the best one I ever could have hoped for, not only because she had a tremendous amount of unconditional love, but because she shaped who I am today, my qualities and characteristics. She was the one who made me beautiful in every sense. The kind you didn't see much anymore. She was simple but yet so mysterious. She was so familiar but ah, at the same time, so strange too.
In the paths of life, sometimes, you find faces, which you can't forget ever, no matter how much you try. So, how can I forget that fairy-face that'd let me know the reality of life? Those lake-like deep eyes which, when low, used to bring night and when high, were the source of daylight. She was the poetry of a born poet. Flowers needed her to grow; autumn required her to become spring.
She definitely was a dream girl, a beautiful scene of my sleep. But she was a reality too. A reality, which creates history. A reality, you can't imagine your life without whom. She was so alive. One, who could give you life in one glance. There was just nothing else like her at all. It was her attitude toward life that made her uniquely captivating. She had a quick intelligence and a lively curiosity about anything she happened to encounter.
And then... she was gone when I needed her the most. She came and she left. But she didn't leave alone; she had my life too.
I'll never understand one thing, and that is, why those times pass so quickly when you're happy? And why those times take so long to pass when you're sad?
Did I love her?
He closed his eyes to minimize the intense expression of pain. Then, after taking few deep breaths, he began to write once again.
I will not talk about my dark, ill past. But for sure, at present, her love is the greatest present for me.
I love her not only for what she was but for what she was when she was with me.
I love her not only for what she had made of herself but also for what she was making of me.
I love her for the part of me that she brought out.
"Did 'she' love me?"
Yes, certainly. No other woman will ever love me like the way she did. No one else will ever stand by me like her.
Finishing his last word, he stopped writing, took off his fine, neat, half-framed spectacles and blew off a long, cold, lonely sigh.Tipping his head back on the headrest of the easy chair, he finally closed his eyes.
"You look good in glasses." Her whisper was very near.
"Huh?" He turned quickly to locate the source. Not here and there, she was no where. He was alone in his room. Memories were like endless rain for him. Once began, they would never stop. As her voice faded with his consciousness, he thought he felt a tear strike his cheek.
The wind was particularly cold and wet, even for December in Karachi. Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he stood up from his place and opened the side window. Sharp and cold wave of wind hit him full in the face, a stream of air with strong noise of sea waves nearby.
Thank God for the wind! It broke the silence.
Through the huge plain glass window, he stared at the beach of white sand that seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Long white breakers came out of the night and broke on the shore. Far out at sea, mysterious offshore lights winked and moved steadily along.
With a long breath, he smelled the sea-scented air and closed his lashes. As soon as his anatomical eyes closed, his imaginative eyes opened and from the fantastic window of imagination, she came in front of him, like always. Smiling! Everything about her was absolutely beautiful. Even her appearance, he thought.
What to say about her external beauty and looks.
If beauty is limited, then she was its final limit.
Smiles were not very usual feature of her personality.
"Because of myself." He thought painfully. "Yes I didn't give her much chance to smile. Rude, brutal, animal-like, I was like a sharp knife for her."
"You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know what you're really like! You're a ... a... Bad-mannered, ill-tempered ... savage!" His own conscience showed him the mirror.
Although he had not seen her smiling a lot still he thought that flowers used to bloom when she smiled. Yes, her smile was as innocent as a young flower bud, as fresh as a sweet and scented morning breeze.
Apart from her smiles, he always wondered what was so "different" in her appearance? She sure had something unique and powerful in her face that always differentiated her from the other women. Only now he found out what made her face and her personality so different and impressive. Yes, it was that particular glory, that specific charisma, which comes only on the faces of those women who have strong character and firm principles. Who never compromise on their beliefs and who observe…
He couldn't think more. Such a shiny, bright 'noor' she had on her face.
Her hair was the first cloudiness, which appears before rain. Her long, shiny locks were the source of comfort for the desperate and tired traveler.
The musical ringing of the phone in his room dispersed his thoughts. With slow, tired steps, he reached and picked up the receiver.
"Yes?" While holding the cordless receiver in one hand, he used the other one to take his remaining cigarette to his dark lips.
"How's my good boy today?" A soft, caring male voice came from the other side.
"Assalaam O alaikum Maulana uncle." He sighed with relief as he heard his teacher's voice and then said, "I was actually going to call you in few minutes. I have some good news for you." Not just his face, even his voice was smiling. "Thankfully, your prayers got colors."
"You made my day son. I have waited so long for this very day." Maulana uncle's voice became shaky with emotion.
"Dr.Waris has called me tomorrow for my final check up. He said that hopefully they would issue the mental health clearance certificate for me this time." He said, leaning against the railing of the upstairs terrace. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark black hair.
"And what about police matters?"
"One of my friends talked to D.I.G. Crimes, he has assured us that there're no more charges remaining on me now. My file has been closed. The police does accept the fact that whatever happened was something I did when I was not mentally normal." He finished his long sentence. "I'd never forgive myself ever though."
"Yes. Why not, thanks to Allah, you're normal now, physically as well as mentally." Maulana uncle was as supportive as ever. "It's been a long way though."
"Uncle, I don't believe that it's been more than two years now." He took a long breath. "The loss is unbearable however."
Maulana uncle remained silent this time.
"Uncle, tell me. Tell me, why does it hurt to love someone?"
From the other side, he heard a soft, sober laughter.
"People don't offer thanks when they're happy. Yet they object when they're hurt."
" I… I will be thankful this time." He sobbed. "Sometimes, I just want my love back uncle. Although I know it's impossible. Those who have gone forever, never come back." He murmured painfully. "And please, not this time. I don't want to get hurt again. "
"Your love was meant to be…
"If it meant to be, why did I lose her?" His voice became loud, as he cut in.
"You didn't lose her...I'd say you let her go!" Maulana uncle replied. "And that was your mistake."
He did not reply. He had nothing to say.
"How's your poetry going?"
"My only hobby these days." He laughed emptily. "Yes I wrote some thing new."
"And what I could be?"
"My new poem, want to hear?" He asked, resting against the railing again and gazing far out to sea.
"Why not."
Hearing his response, he set his neatly framed glasses back on his nose and opened his diary again.
"Alright, here it is…I have dedicated this to her, the same person for whom I wrote it. By the way the title is 'Thank you'.
"Hmm, sounds interesting. Let's begin now."
He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and began to read the poem in a soft, low voice but with an impressive accent and perfection.
My love...
I am a different person,
A better person
since we first met
your honesty helped me
to see my weaknesses,
and your support helped me
to turn them into strengths.
Thank you,
Thank you for being my real, true friend
for not saying the things
you thought I wanted to hear,
but for saying the things
I needed to know.
You're one of the few people
I trusted when you told me
that I've done well,
because you are one of the few
who will tell me
when I could do better.
You challenged me
to be the best I could be...
by accepting and appreciating me,
you helped me
learn to accept
and appreciate myself.
Thank you for being my teacher!
I was helpless, you supported me
I was restless, you comforted me
I was ignorant, you acknowledged me
Thank you…
And now, I know, you're not with me,
But know what, you're still in me
Thank you for being my 'every thing'
I am a different person,
A better person
since we first met
your honesty helped me
to see my weaknesses,
and your support helped me
to turn them into strengths.
Thank you,
Thank you for being my real, true friend
for not saying the things
you thought I wanted to hear,
but for saying the things
I needed to know.
You're one of the few people
I trusted when you told me
that I've done well,
because you are one of the few
who will tell me
when I could do better.
You challenged me
to be the best I could be...
by accepting and appreciating me,
you helped me
learn to accept
and appreciate myself.
Thank you for being my teacher!
I was helpless, you supported me
I was restless, you comforted me
I was ignorant, you acknowledged me
Thank you…
And now, I know, you're not with me,
But know what, you're still in me
Thank you for being my 'every thing'
"You there uncle?" Finishing his poem, he asked.
"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful my son." Maulana uncle's voice was laden with joy and appreciation.
"While thanking Allah for making us better and the best, we should not forget the channel, which is the source between Allah and us. Your " thank you" is just fantastic."
In answer, he smiled soberly and said, "Well, what can I say in answer except another "Thank you!"
Maulana uncle laughed again.
"Son, I'd like to suggest something for you and you really need that!"
"And what's that uncle?"
"Change. You need change."
"Change or 'escape' from my worries?"
"No, I mean change of atmosphere. Go to some good picnic point of your city, it will provide you chance to gather your thoughts again or…" Maulana uncle left his sentence unfinished.
"Or?"
"If you know what I mean, you can change your place too, I mean your home…
"Uncle please…" He cut in sharply with pain.
"You know it's one of the last memories of her. I can still feel her fragrance here. I can't even think of leaving this place…
"But my child, don't you think these three thousand yards are too big for a single, solitary you?"
"Uncle, I suppose we shall leave this discussion for later times, if you don't mind." His voice became spotless, his face expressionless. "But I'd definitely think about what you said about change of atmosphere!" He assured him seriously, blowing another puff of cigarette smoke.
"May this change bring many other pleasant changes to you son. I'd visit you soon."
"Thank you uncle. I'd be looking forward to welcome you here."
"Alright. And do inform me about your medical report as soon as you get it. Theek?"
"Sure uncle! Take care. Allah hafiz"
Hanging up the phone, he finished off his remaining cigarette. Now, it was time to sleep.
"It won't come so easily though." His own smile was sarcastic for himself.
Continue ....
Please, give your comments..Thanks
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