Saturday, June 08, 2013 Fatima Akbar Shah 1 Comments Category :


                                                 Khawab Martay Nahi……

                             

Are these only the eyes which have been endowed the power to dream?

I believed so until I came across a word!

A word-mere thought of which would exude sweetest juices from the farthest corners of my mouth.

The sweetness would be absorbed to stir into my flesh and blood submerging me into madness

A madness to render it through my tongue and relieve myself of the frenzy

I could not!

My all five senses were engrossed in a creation:

Through my eyes I would create a dainty structure

Hear it call my name in her most chorus vocals

Felt the velvetiness of her hands…..

I had known nothing of how that contraption existed in originality. I had simply contrived it after hearing the melodious inflection of the name spoken every once in a while in my neighborhood-every time cutting another of its angles- ‘dur-e-mahak’, since the time I rented that small apartment. How chorus the noun was!

Though the shackles of the callous social norms detained her in the four walls: but nature had revealed to me it was really Dur-e-mahak; meaning a pearl with fragrance-radiance of gemstone superadded by aroma-precious indeed and had to be safeguarded in an oyster. Only the chosen drop of rain would procure the honor of a rendezvous with it. It is made known to the entire marine life that a pearl is nurturing in the oyster but none have the audacity to peep in so had I known that a Dur-e-mahak was being carved and polished but could I think of stealing a glimpse. In my whims I would dream of Dur-e-mahak and wallow in its heavenly scents.

DUR-E-MAHAK, uttering this word was my dream until my mother bluntly said, ‘Son, her family has reservations regarding your financial status. They have a number of high notch proposals. I have been badly disgraced by a flat refusal. Don’t insist me anymore. There are far prettier and frugal girls I can bring for you’

And it remained a dream.

*                                         *                                   *                                                      *

REFLECTIONS

‘A pearl is growing in the oyster’

‘I have to take utmost care, lest any odd should harm’

‘I wanted to relish the phonation of this word throughout my days, wished to be bewitched by the tantalizing shimmer of its beauty. Nature is giving me a chance; in another and most chaste form’

‘She has begun to quicken’

‘Three more months and the pearl would hatch’

‘Dur-e-mahak would come into the world’

*                           *                                                            *                                                   *

‘It is the fourth time that you are putting yourself under the weight of conception’

‘If this time too it gets aborted, we will enliven a Dur-e-mahak through our own means acclaimed by God’

*                          *                                   *                                           *

To those who were beaten and battered, to those who were put to trials and tribulations and to all those who carry the satchel of unfulfilled desires: there is a meticulously subtle supremeness operating through ages. It intervenes in the course of your plans and manipulates them to yield a fruit even more salubrious and much alluring. You merely dream and it is God who materializes them into such concreteness that before them what you had thought was a flimsy wall of sand prone to even the slowest gusts of air.

I was exiting through the automatic door of the departmental store when a transparent donation box placed at the corner encroached into my arc of vision. The box was stuffed to the brim with coins and notes the customers would wantonly fling on their way out. Jostling, I slid one step left and unclenching my fist freed a five rupees coin the cashier had returned me. The meek fellow guarding it handed me a brochure. It read,

‘For the love of my dreams

For my unborn daughter

I lay the foundation of Dur-e-mahak welfare trust

To shelter the widows and orphans’

RELATED POSTS

1 comments

  1. To those who were beaten and battered, to those who were put to trials and tribulations and to all those who carry the satchel of unfulfilled desires: there is a meticulously subtle supremeness operating through ages. It intervenes in the course of your plans and manipulates them to yield a fruit even more salubrious and much alluring. You merely dream and it is God who materializes them into such concreteness that before them what you had thought was a flimsy wall of sand prone to even the slowest gusts of air.
    Awesome. One of your best blog entries to date. I see what you did there (Y)

    ReplyDelete