Another Beginning
I wrote this on one of my birthdays. Dedicated to the memory of my late younger brother, Asim Saleem.
A thick silky fog swept through the street that had only one lamp-post to leave a blemish of a light on its hard trodden surface. Beside the lamp-post, rested a lazy bench, having lost one of its legs to mischief of some young souls and replaced by a distorted pile of red bricks. The morning was too young, unpolluted by the sun’s rays.
The watchman, after a long night’s journey, was ready to fall into the land of dreamless hibernation. The newspaper man, on the contrary, rode his bicycle through the street with his drowsy eyes, ringing the bell vehemently as he passed through the wavering silhouette of the watchman. The doors of the grocery shop were slit open by the shopkeeper whose hands were agonizingly shivering with cold that penetrated through his body when he touched the freezing handle. Asim, the 12 year old seventh grader, sleepwalked along the footpath, drowsy, avoiding the bench and almost hitting the lamp post; today was his day to set up the desks before everybody showed up in the classroom.
I had woken up early and even before I could open my eyes, I frisked around my bed table for my cell phone. There was no message, there was no missed call. She said she would be the first one to wish me; I thought there was still time. I slipped into a cardigan and walked out the door.
I picked up the paper and sat down on the bench. Asim reappeared from the grainy smog, rushing towards the bench, “Amir Sir, happy birthday” he said while breathing heavily, “See you later in the day” and he disappeared again.
She wasn’t going to be the first one now; still it was a good start.
“Oh, it’s your birthday” the watchman overheard the news, “well, congratulations.”
“Congratulations?” I don’t think he had ever wished anybody that before.
”Oey Hanif, get Amir babu a warm cup of special coffee with extra cream, its his big day today.” Iqbal, the grocery guy yelled from his shop to the coffee stand a few yards away and then turned his face towards me, “And Amir babu, happy birthday; foggy, cloudy and cold, it sure is your day.” I looked back at him, chuckled and then hid myself in the paper.
The day went by and she didn’t call, no message, no words. Each minute, every moment slipped away in utter silence; not even the sound of my own footsteps polluted it. It didn’t make me sad, it didn’t make me angry, it didn’t surprise me, it didn’t hurt me; it just happened to me.
In the night, when the clock was about to strike 12, I switched off the light and went to bed. Just then, before the clock would escort the night into another day, a faint knock at the door was followed by a whispering shout, “Hey Amir Sir, happy birthday” I heard Asim as he ran away laughing. I smiled and tucked my face in the blanket.
It was a good beginning to end the day.
Category: On Second Thought
so she never wished u later ??