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Tears in the Desert

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06.12.2018

Ethics, customs, morality, perceptions, family and above all fate-the so called main driver of our lives- are the contours which define our lives as social beings. They might be good to discipline our lives provided that they are interpreted not with a jaundiced eye. With so many schools of thought and within each school of thought so many angles of interpretation make them difficult to comprehend and at times they prove shackles in the way of self-actualization. Even at times it makes life a struggle to sail against the flow. Everybody, at some point in life, has come at cross roads with these forces who depending upon their individual capacity either bent the forces or being bent or broken by them making them living dead bodies— having preserved the process to breath in and out, not for sustaining and availing opportunities of life, but to count the seconds to end.

I know of such a living dead body, who is counting the seconds to end rather to avail it. Provided my concern not to break her more I never bothered to carve for details of her tragedy, as, I believe, reminding past for her would be adding insult to the injury. What I knew through humorous exchange of thoughts and often through noise of the silent tears is here to be shared with you. It was in 2015 that the drastic turn of events changed her life. She was a young active literate girl doing her job as an English teacher and enjoying the sweet sensibilities of her loved life. She was not married but she was in a relationship—a relationship which every young girl aspire to be in. A relation which was everything to her: a beacon of hope in times of despairs, her strength in times of weakness, her security which she aspire to be there forever, her Adam’s ale for the thirst of sensual sensibilities, a description of all her sublimities and a best partner for her emotional catharsis. In fact he was all in all in her life. She was very content and had great plans for future but the forces were contrary to her plans. It’s here when the dome of great expectations smashes to pieces.

It was early in 2015 that her health started deteriorating, day by day, having whole body aches dizziness paleness and intermittent unconsciousness—you may prescribe it to fate. At last she was admitted in hospital and diagnosed as thalassemia patient. It was nothing but a bolt from the blue which took everything from her. Nobody came to her even her all in all, who was being convinced by family either due to her disease or customs that she is not of your type— a modern, liberal working girl. It took everything from her and added to that the comments of her’s all in all father were nothing but an attempt to put a bloton her character. She never met him again, though like a true lover she knows where he is— a father and a married man. They never get time to explain themselves but they understood each other through silence which reminds me one of the forty rules of Sham-e-Tabriz, the last line of which says, “That which cannot be put into words can only be grasped through silence.” She is no more in her country but have migrated to Saudi Arabia to avoid the blaming eyes of her relatives and acquaintances and her home town, its streets, parks and road which are nothing else than agents for reviving the nostalgic feeling related to her past, which an Urdu poet has very aptly coined in his couplet “Yad-e-Mazi Azazb hy Ya Rab, Cheen ly Muj sy Hafiza Mera.”

You might be thinking O, only for Love, which is a buzz word of 21st century, one can suffer so much. If you ask me I might say, it varies from individual to individual. For some it might be satisfaction of sensual pleasure, but for others it is an obsession and they can’t let it go , for some it is life blood and for others it is drinking without quenching, for some like Plato it ‘is a serious mental disease’ but for others the sole purpose of life to actualize oneself spirituality. But in her case it is not only love which played havoc with her balanced life but a lot of other factors also: the customs of society, the stereotyping about women which blotted her character and compelled her to live abroad and more importantly fate-– her disease. Who and what to blame? Fate? Society? Norms? Morality? or she herself? She has nothing left to live for. It is a situation which tests the actual mettle of a person. When one is so much dejected, pessimist and has nothing left to live for one need a push to his life to start anew but it is not that much easy. Human mind is the complex of God’s creation, when one is used to unhappiness then mind resist any change to the already strongly built circuits of unhappy thoughts in mind, if you forcefully bring happy thought the resistance will make the unhappy ones even more stronger. So what should be done? Nothing….yes nothing should be done, let it be, as it is. One should revert to childhood only avail the present moment. Seldom anybody is unhappy in the very present moment; it’s either lamenting a past moment or yearning for a future one which spoils the present moment. But this too can’t be achieved easily and in fact people served their lives to master this skill, especially Sufis— who are after called Sahib-e-Hal(possessors of the present). One should deal with one’s mind cleverly, on one hand not forcing the old circuits to vacate, to the extent of making it stronger but on another keeping up busy and availing only the present moment will make new circuits which definitely will replace the old ones and ultimately wiping it out.

Coming back to her: a dejected sole, an emigrant, a lost lover, a victim of society and its stereotyping, a living dead body, a waiter who is counting her seconds to end, a thalassemia patient who is dependent on blood transfusions to keep her breath moving in and out—and often at times she even refuse to take transfusion either due to unaffordability or out of pessimism that what for she will live. Whom or what to blame, fate, society, morality, or love? It is only one life, have we ever ponder over that how many tears would be shedding in the desert, have we the guts to wipe off those tears and show a beacon of hope to them to relive? Have we the guts to shun those doors which lead to such misery? For now I leave these questions open for you and appealing that if you can do nothing then at least you can remember her in her prayers.


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