He walked through the fields of wheat dry brown grass crunching under his feet, broke a few sheaves to check the size of the grain and sighed to see how small and unhealthy it appeared. He turned his head towards the sky squinting to avoid the blazing sun – the wheat crop always suffered when there wasn’t enough rain. His servants were keeping a respectful distance and let Shan wander in and out of the wheat fields – almost ready for harvesting any day. He walked on to where the cows and goats were grazing close to a mud hut – where the person on night duty always slept.
Shan looked at the Charpai(local wooden bed) under the tree and was about to sit down when one of the servants ran to cover it with a clean bed sheet. ‘’Its OK’’ Shan gestured with his hand and sat down on the bare charpai ‘’My clothes are full of dust anyway ‘’ he said smiling and attempting to clean off the dust his clothes had gathered in the wheat fields. ‘’How much milk are the cows giving now’’ he asked the keeper of the cows. ‘’Depends on the rain and grass saab jee, if we have a good season then go to 5 or 6 KG otherwise just 4 or a little more.’’ An old man brought him some Lassi in a metal glass. The Lassi was fresh and sweet and felt good going down his parched throat. Many children mostly barefoot and dressed poorly stood around in a circle watching with curiosity at what this ‘’bara sahib’’ from the big city was doing in their poor little village. ‘’Shan eyed the children and asked the old man ‘’why are these children not at school ‘’ ? The old man turned around filling Shan’s Lassi glass from a shiny metal jug , he waved at the children ‘’go home you brats’’ he shouted at the children ‘’why are you standing here’’? The children moved away a few feet but did not leave , their dark eyes watching every detail of the interaction carefully. The old man sat on the ground near Shan’s feet ‘’ Saab Jee What to do – we used to have two primary and one secondary school but now we have no school for twenty miles. The education department closed them down as they didn’t have enough money to pay teachers and maintain the buildings. ‘’ Shan looked at the children standing around and a look of sadness came into his eyes. ‘’So What do these children do all day long?’’ he asked handing the metal glass back to the old man ‘’ Saab jee, Those who can afford to , send their children to another village – and the rest you can see here’’ he said with a sheepish grin. ‘’ Did you like the Lassi saab ji’’ he asked trying to change the topic.
All the way back to the city Shan’s heart was heavy with the image of dusty barefoot children gawking at him with curious dark eyes. He was calculating how to raise enough money to repair their school or build a new one. Harsh reality took over as he neared the city – with all the expenses for his political party , he was barely coping there was no way he could afford to pay for a new school . He made a note on his phone to call some of the rich land owners around the village about the matter, it won’t hurt to try he thought to himself.
Several people were waiting in his small office next to the sitting room at his home in the posh suburbs of the city. – as he started looking at the papers and applications they were holding – a servant came in to tell him his wife was waiting for him at the dinner table. He looked at the people apologetically running his fingers through his thick wavy hair ‘’Can you take these applications and put them in a file ‘’ he asked the servant standing behind him ‘’Sorry guys if it’s really urgent come back tomorrow morning’’ He went to the bathroom to wash his hands and feet still covered with a fine layer of dust from walking in the wheat fields. His wife followed him to the bathroom and stood in the door rocking the baby as she stood there looking at his back ‘’Why do these people have to follow you home, when you are out all day?’’ She asked in a shrill shrieky voice. ‘’Are you never going to have any time for me – for this baby?’’ He turned round mopping his face with a towel – he smiled and put his arms out to pick the baby up. The baby cooed happily and nearly fell out of the mother’s arms trying to jump towards his dad. ‘’You can’t hide behind playing with the baby and not answer my question’’? She said sullenly her pretty face looking pinched and bitter .‘’Lets have dinner then we can talk about it ‘’Shan said playing and cuddling his son.
In the rally the crowds were huge, All you could see was a sea of heads and colourful flags. The people were cheering and chanting to the sound of the national songs. The mood was upbeat. The heat of the summer sun was nearly gone and the cool of the summer night put everyone in a cheery mood. Shan’s critics were always jealous of the huge crowds he pulled and blamed him for turning something serious like a political rally into a rock concert. But Shan knew better – This generation of youngsters had grown up with video games and the internet , words had to be wrapped in several layers of things relevant to their lives. Upbeat music was relevant and the youth loved it. The air was electric with anticipation followed by wild euphoria as the crowds saw him on the stage and the huge screens all around the ground. The crowd went wild cheering for him and not a word could be heard over the din for at least 10 minutes. He stood there smiling waving at the crowd telling them to calm down and let him speak. But the crowd wouldn’t have it – all their pent up frustration of the past two decades had broken loose and they were in reality celebrating their own sense of freedom from the shackles. Sadly the euphoria didn’t last long – As everyone made their way home still happy -still chanting to the beat of the national songs, several police cars followed Shan’s four by four and stopped it at a dark secluded road. They arrested him for breaking the law creating public disorder and inciting the crowds to violence. Shan and his political party people were furious ‘’but we had permission from authorities, none of what you say happened’’ Iman the second man in charge kept insisting. ‘’Sorry sir we have our orders’’ the police chief was straight faced and serious and didn’t want to see the papers Iman was waving at the policeman.
The length and breadth of the prison cell was filled with sad lonely looking poor people who sat against the walls staring out of the small vents near the ceiling. Everything seemed dark and dismal. A few people were talking to each other about the heat and the absence of a proper functioning generator. The only change in their day came when they were served their half plate of dal or vegetable curry with one or two Roti’s. Some days they were allowed out in the scruffy compound of the prison for exercise depending on how generous the prison warden was feeling and how many gifts he had received from visiting relatives. The heat was mind numbing – the cells were smelling of sweat and dry dust coming in through the vents. Everyone looked with anticipation at the door whenever they heard footsteps going down the corridors – but no one stopped at their cell and the prisoners went back to their half awake half asleep reverie. After a while one of the prisoners started singing ‘Heer Waris Shah’ in a deep sad voice. Most inmates sat up to listen and went to their places of freedom for a few moments. Some went to their fields where the grass was green , the white cotton bud was in full bloom , moving back and forth with the wind. Some went to the village well where it was cool under the trees and the sound of the birds came mixed with the rhythmic turning of the wheat grinder. of the A man in the corner started sobbing uncontrollably looking up at the roof complaining to Allah in Sarieki about his plight and why was his life going down such a cycle of misery. Shan had been half lying half sitting on his bed next to the wall. The other prisoners had given him the best spot and the best bed cover in the room knowing that he was some famous celebrity leader and loved by the people of his country. Every now and then one of the prisoners would come up to him trying to touch his feet in respect. He stopped them holding their hand and feeling embarrassed. ‘’Saab Ji we are poor people and have no backing but Saab Ji why are you here ‘’ One of the prisoners asked at last ‘’ What do you think ‘’ Shan asked them with a smile. ‘’Don’t know Saab ji you must have annoyed the rulers’’ they were all looking at him carefully to hear his answer. ‘’I was in a Jalsa (political meeting )asking for equal rights for poor people – and they brought me here ‘’ Shan said in a calm voice. He was angry and annoyed at being jailed over something so small – without breaking any law. But since he had been in Jail the stories of the other men had humbled him and taught him many valuable lessons. Deen Mohammed the tall boy who was barely sixteen had allegedly stolen his boss’s bike. They found no evidence and no bike – but the gate keeper of the small factory where Deen Mohammed worked was sure he was the culprit. Deen’s dad had passed away and his mother didn’t have enough money for bail. The mother collected corn from the fields and roasted it for the children for a meagre amount. Deen was the sole breadwinner of the family. Without him his family was facing starvation. Shan had seen the bent and broken form of the mother whenever she came to see Deen – lines of worry and suffering etched across her sun browned face. Every other man and boy in Shan’s cell had a similar story to tell. One was there for stealing five kilos of his neighbour’s milk that was left unattended. Two brothers were blamed for poisoning the Chawdry’s prize bull. The brothers both in their twenties swore that they had never even seen the prize bull, leave alone poison it. This was a strange new world for Shan – born to money fame and privilege , he had never seen the actual short comings of his country’s criminal justice system at such short range. The one constant in all these stories that Shan picked up was the factor that most of the prisoners were poor and had no back up. The few who left within a few hours of being in Jail were the one’s who had connections with the area Head Policeman or Head Putwari. A gang of rough looking men would greet the freed prisoner and do a victory dance and even aerial firing as soon as they were outside the prison compound. Shan was in deep thought as he was trying to go off to sleep in the hot humid cell. Innocence and criminality had nothing to do with this system as long as people had enough bribery money to cover the truth and bail out relatives. The innocent one’s would stay locked for months and years as they could not afford an expensive solicitor to prove them not guilty. This state of affairs saddened Shan – he had been on the road up and down his country – canvassing for justice and equal rights for the poor and oppressed and an end to this system of injustice. Now he could see that same system in full bloom all around him. A decade and half of his life had gone past without making a single dent. Would he give up now? No he thought I will fight even harder – I have seen first hand proof of everything I was fighting against. Shan’s party people, his best friend Iman and the expensive solicitor finally managed to bail him out and were waiting outside next to his four by four. Shan said a sad goodbye to all his inmate friends and promised to help them as much as he could once he was back home. The clear light of the sun felt strange to Shan’s eyes after the dismal half light of the prison cell. His hooded eyes looked troubled as he got into the jeep – his cousin handed him a water bottle and Shan looked at it and said to his cousin ‘’I never realised that for some people of my country even this clean water is a luxury – they cannot afford’’ Then he noticed his wife in the back seat looking angry and sullen. ‘’ Can we leave this carrying the whole world on your shoulder for a bit’’ she said in an irritated voice ‘’that’s how you got into this trouble to begin with’’ Shan felt embarrassed and a bit defensive and the cousin looked positively uncomfortable. The family knew about their marital problems – but Shan’s wife had never argued in public before. He was quite and said nothing more until they drove into their front yard. An armed guard ran to open the door and saluted Shan as he got out. Many of his party people were waiting with garlands and flowers. There was wild euphoria for a while as the workers chanted loud slogans for their leader. That picked up Shan’s spirit and he forgot all about the angry wife in the back seat. It was nearly two in the morning when he came indoors after all the wild celebrating that went on for several hours.
His wife turned around as he tried to lie down in bed as quietly as possible. ‘’ Do you know what time it is’’ Shan pretended to be asleep and said nothing ‘’ Why do these stinky people have to follow you home when you are spending so much money hiring an office. ‘’ Shan had a slight headache and was hoping she would be quite in a bit – but she was angry and her voice went up and up when she realised she was not getting a response. ‘’Am I talking to the wall’’ now she was shouting – her sons in the next room were startled and one child started crying. She picked up the child and continued with her loud complaining. ‘’Isnt it enough I had to go through the humiliation of having to answer my relatives why my husband was in jail‘’ Shan was disturbed by where the conversation was going – this was all that mattered to Rebecca that she shouldn’t go down in her social scale in comparison to her rich relatives in the states. He decided to let it go , no point in arguing with an angry woman he thought. ‘’I don’t want to see these Yahoos in my home again’’ Rebecca said in her clipped foreign accent. Shan sat up – his anger and his blood stream suddenly going to his head. ‘’ Those yahoos are my country people’’ he said angrily ‘’and this is my home, they will come whenever they want to’’ The child picked up his head from the mother’s shoulder looking all around with tearful eyes. ‘’Then find us another house ‘’ she said getting up and pacing the floor ‘’these people stink and disturb my home I cant stand it .’’ I cant afford to ‘’ he said ‘’ all my money is going into organising the party’’ She made scornful noises, huffed and puffed and sat down on the bed with a loud thud. The child whimpered in his sleep again. ‘’What do you mean by huh Amir asked ‘’I am sorry I don’t run the East India company to buy you another house or stay glued to you 24/7 – Politics demands odd hours that’s all .’’ Then leave the politics’’ she said in an empty voice or leave me‘’ An image of Deen Mohammed and his mother ran through Shan’s head and several other con current images of people in suffering and poverty, People he did not know existed, people who had looked at him with hopeful eyes, not saying a word but the pain in the eyes telling the whole sad story of their life in a few seconds. ‘’I can’t do that ‘’ he said ‘’Are these people more important than your family’’ she said with an angry face blazing with fury’’ she thought her final blackmail card of leaving him would make him crumble – Shan thought for a long moment Would he have to pay such a heavy price to keep his soul alive – ‘’yes they are ‘’ he finally said ‘’the people of my country are more important to me than everything else – You would understand that if you really loved me’’ he wasn’t angry anymore just sad – that the wrong woman was in his life for the wrong reasons – the distance between them felt endless and unsurmountable. He looked at her with sadness in his eyes. This tug of war was wearing him out and he didn’t know how to end it. She just rolled her eyes and went to the other room putting the child down and glaring at the walls and furniture around her ‘’why did I come to this God forsaken place to begin with she thought . ‘’He doesn’t love me he doesn’t want me I am just in the way of something much bigger that I can’t fight. He is in love with the millions of starving rats in his country and thinks he is Jesus and can feed them all – that is my enemy – his insane idealism. My enemy is inside him – how will I fight that thing so much bigger and powerful than me.’’ Both lay awake as night was ending and the first sounds of the day wafted in through the windows. Shan got up to do his wudu for the morning salah – his head heavy and eyes burning with the tension of the night before – still no closer to any solution to the friction between the call of his soul and his wife’s antagonism to that call.
Shan had not been in the habit of leaving conflicts unresolved, talking through them was a good technique and had worked many times in the past. He cancelled all meetings and office activities for the day – he had to sort out the mess in his own life. Shan and his wife had been driving around aimlessly for hours, both silent ,both angry . Shan;s wife was bunched up in the furthest corner of the front seat constantly looking out of the window . It felt like neither had anything to say to the other. At last the wife broke the silence ‘’ Book us a flight home ‘’she said in a final tone‘’ I thought this was home ‘’ Shan quipped ‘’ You know what I mean’’ the wife sounded irritated. There life felt like a perpetual tug of war – with neither winning the battle. The wife was secretly convinced annoying her gave some kind of secret pleasure to Shan. He had found a new passion ‘politics’ and nothing about her attracted him anymore. She had lost the battle to an unseen enemy – Shan was not good at words and even worse at expressing deep feelings and emotions. Sensing her despair he tried to explain to his her – how he felt deeply about his mission and if she really loved him why couldn’t she share his passion and not make it her rival. ‘’Why are you not happy for me’’ That was precisely the point she thought. He is happy and I am not, he has elevated himself to a superior point where she could not reach – the only way to keep him under her control was to bring him down from his elevated plane , this he was resisting knowingly or unknowlingly.
For the first time in his life Shan had felt a sense of wholeness and calmness in his soul that had nothing to do with anyone on the outside. Women girl friends , friends – nothing to do with getting satisfaction from being part of the posh jet set. That life seemed empty and bizarre from where he stood. He had been searching for this moment of truth when his soul would attach to something bigger than himself and give him a sense of direction. Working with the poor people of his country, listening to their problems, trying to give them hope everyday. Trying to forge a new political identity for his movement , that’s what finally felt like home. . He felt like he had started down this road too late and every minute mattered. Most of the time he forgot what time it was until he came home to find her and the children and other family members fast asleep. He was always exhausted but never unhappy. Then they would have the same old argument every morning over breakfast – in her mind all his fantasy was escapism from the real world where he could miraculously cure the ills of his backward country. She was convinced he would invent a mission to run away from real life because real life was boring. Those were harsh words and causing too much pain to Shan for simply trying to be himself. Their journey of becoming strangers to each other had begun Shan did not know what troubles lay ahead if he was to rough it out on his own but he was ready. Rebecca still insisted only way their feud would end was if all of them pack up and go back to the States where their huge mansion several businesses and factories were waiting for them. The thought of going back to that life again gave Shan a choking feeling. He didn’t know how to explain to Rebecca if he was running away from anything at all that was precisely what he was running away from.
The tourist spots around the mountains were busy. The lake was shining in the afternoon sun like a beautiful mirror. Its waters a deep azure , the air was cool and fresh. Shan had been walking up and down the hills for several miles – his two friends Iman and Israr and their wives were a little out of breath. Shan and his two young sons were the only ones still enjoying the hike and wanted to go on. However the wives had discovered a little khoka hotel and refused to go any further and flopped on the chairs unceremoniously panting and out of breath. Shan smiled at how ill equipped city people were to the beautiful outdoors and couldn’t wait to go back to their cooped up closed in spaces. Shan sat on the fresh green grass a few feet away from them and watched the road trailing around the mountains like a giant serpent. The occasional glint of car windscreens catching sunlight. Shan lay down on the soft green grass and watched the clouds floating across the dazzling blue sky. His young son lay down next to him placing his head on his shoulder. Shan felt a deep sense of peace entering his soul as if he had become one with the sky, the clouds the wind blowing softly across the mountains. Nothing mattered anymore nothing was important. The world seemed to dissolve away into nothingness. His soul was at peace and he felt a happiness beyond words. So this is what the infinite feels like he thought. You need nothing you want nothing you are complete on your own. He had been to this mountain trek and this valley many times before. Today it felt different. There was sadness in his heart – sadness of loss – sadness of a broken home. When everyone else was with their family he was here alone with just his sons who would leave in a few short days. But that place where the emptiness was – was also the place where the light of the infinite was entering his heart taking him away and beyond from humdrum mundane ordinary life.
Her story
When you are facing a huge crowd and the lights on the stage are shining in your face it is very hard to see who is in the audience – all you see is a sea of heads all looking more or less the same. This was a strange experience. She had come home to say goodbye to him one last time. Would she be able to do it – will he be able to see me from across all those lights. Had he changed – what did he look like now? Her heart was pounding with anticipation – sweat running down her face in the humid murky evening heat with the crowd chanting his name all around her. Then she saw his tall dark silhouette against the lights – the tanned handsome face still the same , the look of serios concentration still the same ,then everything stopped- the voices around her, the lights the cheering crowds there was nothing left , just him and her – the heartbeat and time standing still in a frozen moment of time. What just happened here she thought? ‘’It is as if I never left ‘’ How can he feel so gutted and full of emotion after years and years standing between us like a wall . Those emotions just hurt and hurt – She was crying all the way home – His pain was swirling all around her through dark memories. He looked so vulnerable and alone behind the façade of an angry strong face. No one could see the lost boy that was hurting but she could – she had known that boy all her life. How was she going to walk away now? All that pain had entered her heart as her own – She looked around at the people of her country – all injured in their souls from a sad serial of tragedies going on and on. What was this strange whirlpool of evil events? How can I walk away from this she thought – even the soft breeze felt mournful ‘’don’t leave me’’ it seemed to be saying . She felt like his arms were still around her and every time that emotion touched her heart the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.
Many strange days passed in this haze – this grey land where she wasn’t alive and she wasn’t dead. Just living on auto mode – one day to the next. Then there was a woman with a high pitched voice and beady eyes on TV saying strange things about him. They said this was his ex wife . She woke out of her lost world with a painful feeling. She did not recognise who the woman with the sharp beady eyes and pinched cruel expression was talking about. Why was she so angry with him – why was she washing dirty laundry in public. Who was she talking about? Someone she did not recognise at all. How will he cope with this cruel woman she thought . I have to be with him, he was already in so much pain – how will more scratching of his wounds help? – this can’t be happening again .
She wanted to tell that strange woman with the beady eyes about the real him but no words came. Someone has to fight back for him she thought – someone has to tell the truth. I can’t sit silent because I am too scared of facing my own pain. Whenever I look at him I see the healer – the helper – the one who had picked up the thousand pieces of my broken soul and put them together again. painstakingly bit by bit – never losing patience – never letting anyone hurt me until I was whole . This man who had half the female population of the country running after him was wasting his time with a broken woman who had nothing to offer him in return. ‘’Why do you bother with a half crazy woman ‘’she used to ask him? ‘’ Do you have nothing better to do?’’ ‘’Look at all those beautiful girls out there – go and find a whole woman – why do you bother with my broken pieces’’ He would be silent and say nothing for a long while – then say in a matter of fact voice ‘’ If I want dead meat , I will go to a butchers shop’’ She had to laugh through her tears at the horrible symillies. Then as suddenly as he came he would be gone. The stars in the sky would twinkle the same but the light felt dim – the wind would be silent – everything would go into slow motion – all the hope life will to fight back he had pumped into her slowly ebbing out with each empty day .and then just when she thought the fight was going out of her again, suddenly the wind would pick up trees swaying with delight the heart playing to a beautiful melody that had no words. She would know from the change in the heartbeat and the whispering of the wind that he was back. She saw him sitting with little children with bald heads holding them in his lap – mothering them as if to heal away the terrible cancer eating up their body. He had heled the scars of her soul with that same healing touch. Then who was his ex – wife talking about? And she had only come to say goodbye – No there was going to be no good bye anymore – she was going to fight back for him and against the people who had given him the scars. Her people had all become pygmies and didn’t seem to remember her anymore . ‘’I will fight back she thought if that is the last thing I do and take off the mud and dead leaves and rotten filth that his ex wife was trying to paint on his beautiful moon like face again. I will fight for my pygmies and pull them up again to full height where they can see the sun and the moon and shine like stars again. ‘’
Her life had taken such a strange twist – Just when she thought she would be in a small cottage in Sussex – living in a leafy lane enjoying doing nothing – just watching the grass grow , watering the daffodils, playing with Mibo the dog , watching her baby grandson drool while tickling him . Instead she was standing at the crossroads of hot smoke filled noisy road, her face covered with a chadar wondering where the last twenty five years had gone? Why did this road feel like a still picture – same heat – same smoke spewing car engines, same people with same sad attires – lines of hard work and worry all across their brown sun drenched faces? She had started fighting for these very people decades ago and here they were decades later exactly the same like a still painting that never changes when the wind blows when the wind stops when it is blistering cold ,when its scalding hot nothing in the painting changes. A deep sadness a feeling of hopelessness a feeling of despair gripped her chest. She fixed her dark glasses and fiddled with the chaddar. Still self conscious – she couldn’t cry in public but the tears wouldn’t stop. The still picture of her people’s misery scratching at her like steel nails inside her system.
Inside Maya’s house nothing had changed either – time had kept the super rich elite like a still picture as well with several added perks like private jets and helicopters several more factories and villas abroad. The life style exactly the same ,same old carpets ,same old mahogany furniture same old expensive chandeliers and cars. Maya still angry with her – still thinking she was a freak and stupid emotional unrealistic woman. Maya didn’t understand things like fighting for the poor and all that. It had taken Maya years to establish the little kingdom based on money around her – she didn’t want anyone rocking her boat. Maya was quite angry that her home that her cost millions to buy and more millions to furnish was being shown so much disrespect by this strange woman from Sussex, not caring about or noticing her expensive surroundings. Maya always believed Zainab talked about class war and bringing Pakistan into the 2i1st century to get attention and feel important. Maya was also angry with him and talked of the ruin he had brought to the country. Zainab sighed and thought Maya sounds like his ex wife – what are we up against? Why are angry woman attacking him for trying to help those people I saw everywhere – the people with empty hollow eyes, hunger starvation and despair on their faces. How could these woman not notice these people, did they live in a different land?
She wondered if it was the closeness to poor people that was disturbing them. Zainab remembered Shah Kamal all those years ago when the first time she saw him and her heart sank. He looked like a mix of a pop / Hollywood star with nearly the same air of arrogance. With her leftist hat on it was decoded as ‘’itna khoobsoorat admi – yeqeenan bheja kahali hai’’(Anyone this handsome has to be dumb) She knew from moving around her society that the rich and the super celebs rarely ever got to use their brain – their money and good looks opened all doors for them. ‘’How will this upper class snob know about the suffering of the poor – how will she explain to him about the killer culture of Pakistan’s political legacy? ‘’ She had thought in despair. How will she ask for help – he seemed so intimidating and angry all the time. She smiled at the memory of the day she had told him that she needed his help for farmers in Sindh as their lands were being eroded by the ‘’seem and thor’’ (salt )coming up. He had listened carefully – there was no snob in evidence and some of her fear left her. Just around then her world had crashed all around her – the memory of the pain and being healed was not clear but the healers face Zainab had never forgotten.
His story again
The night was humid and sultry , the monsoon air was heavy and hard to breath in. Shan had to do the last minute rush of doing seven or eight election meetings before the deadline of midnight and the election next day. He was exhausted and drenched with sweat as his workers rushed him from one meeting to the other. The crowds were out in record numbers the lights all over the city had made it feel like day light. All streets were a blaze of colours of different political parties. Workers were making last minute preparations going from door to door checking voter lists. Shan felt strangely elated and optimistic as he went to his last meeting. The lights on the stage were bright the crowds went wild as he stood there saying what he had to say. Then he saw her in the middle of the crowd – waving a flag – still the same – the same cheerful face with a broad smile – the same eyes sparkling with hope – the emptiness of years and years lifted from his heart – his people were cheering – the lights were blazing – he had done what he had to do – his people had woken up – his soul mate was before him at last. The wind picked up as his wildly cheering motorcade went home. He looked around and smiled at her. ‘’don’t leave me again’’ he said’’ this night without you was long and dark and very hard to live’’ She smiled back and said nothing. It was nearly morning as they drove home. His soul had chosen a sad lonely road full of pain and conflict and he had never turned back. ‘’Hiya alal falah hiya alal salah ‘’ (come towards goodness come towards prayer) the clear crystal voice of the Moazin wafted on the crisp morning air. The pain and conflict in Shan’s heart lifted. He felt light as a feather and knew his soul was taking him in the right direction – he splashed his face with cold water while doing wudu and smiled to himself knowing that he was home at last.
.
Gharib ul watan 