He looked up to see the world around him and saw people walking swiftly and ceasing their errands. He saw some wearing animated expressions, laughing and chattering, without a care for the world. Little girls with pink bows and white frocks were exiting a candy store. A bunch of teenage girls huddled together gossiping over a cup of coffee in a nearby cafe’. A boy was inscribing graffiti on a wall using spray paints. He saw peddlers in the streets trying to lure customers into buying their merchandise in the damp weather. He saw a dog drinking water from a drainage ditch; the flowers humbly bowing down due to rains and the birds overhead flying to their nests.
He saw a dark rain cloud looming in the sky, threatening to explode and felt the zephyr on his cheeks. His mind suddenly went pensive and he was a little boy of 10 again. He was running across bright green pastures towards a rivulet to play with his paper boat. His mahogany hair dazzling under the sun appeared like a lion`s mane. His eyes reflected the sparkle of the water and invoked a sense of serenity. The cold liquid on his strong young hands made him feel like Poseidon.
He wanted to capture the tranquillity and happiness he once felt years ago. The honking of the cars brought him back to reality. He was not a 10 year old energetic young lad anymore. He was 75 now. Years of hard labour had calloused his hands and feet. His eyes had lost its twinkle, mouth forgotten to smile. His facial skin had sagged, hair uncombed and beard unshaved for months. Old age had robbed him of his strength and vigour.
With a chagrin look, around the corner of a busy street in a ramshackled old store, he sat. It was thundering now but he didn`t hear it. His life`s grief was filling up and drowning him. With the first patter of the rain drops, his eyes brimmed with tears and joined the rains.
More from Asma Ahmed:
* Divided in Life, United by Death
* A Tribute to the Lost Lives and the Grieving Souls
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