{"id":1366,"date":"2013-06-10T23:15:13","date_gmt":"2013-06-11T05:15:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/amroha.co.in\/blog\/?p=1366"},"modified":"2013-06-11T07:16:18","modified_gmt":"2013-06-11T13:16:18","slug":"as-the-candle-burns","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.amroha.co.in\/blog\/as-the-candle-burns\/","title":{"rendered":"As the Candle Burns"},"content":{"rendered":"

Part – 1<\/strong><\/p>\n

Our’s was not such an advance society but we were a mixed gathering usually consisted juniors and seniors of all ages of our mohalla and used to sit together and enjoy under the shadows of Neem and Pilkhan trees that had survived the edge of blade. While senior ladies were there as guardians, our old men avoided such flirtations of joviality and preferred to inhabit the \u2018Dewankhanas\u2019 with hubble bubble in their free time. All used to enjoy the ropes and swings in spring as the pleasant breeze blew and forced the branches of Pilkhan and Neem trees to dance in all gyrations.<\/p>\n


\n<\/a>It was pleasant day of a festival and we were enjoying our own chorus of folk songs meant for the occasion. Good singer among us were valued but quality of singing was not the strict standard.\u00a0 Fruit buds of Pilkhan, known as \u2018Tushtis\u2019 were dropping from the tree as the wind blew. Some of these tushtis made a wafting fall from the tree and landed at the tress of Zahabiya\u2019s head and got entangled in the cascade of her auburn hair. Standing a short distance, a handsome boy Yavar gathered the instant courage and showed the audacity to brush them off from her hair before the full view with his shivering hand. Zahabiya didn\u2019t take umbrage against this acts of valor and the first arrow of Cupid struck the right place. For months Yavar was finding himself innocently and emotionally attracted toward the girl as she rolled the Bidis from the bamboo platter known as Soof. Yavar considered it was the most beautiful frame of ‘beauty in action’ that he could ever capture upon earth. Liberty had its limits and it was not expected or accepted to express the feeling in a romantic prelude. All nuptial matters were the sole prerogatives of elders.<\/p>\n

Zahabiya hated the smell of smoke and abhorred the smokers style also. She often looked up at the sky with hope and prayer that one day Allah would ask someone to remove this platter from her lap, full of scorching tobacco and green leaves which would pile up before her everyday to make a living.<\/p>\n

Part – 2<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>The Clock Tower is one that doesn\u2019t sleep. Three bells rang and echoed about in the overwhelming solitude of darkness. For Yavar sleep was a commodity snatched away from him for weeks. The marriage celebration in the \u2018Upper Hill\u2019 was slowly acquiring low decibels and tired participants were also falling sleep. Few stray shouts, low tide laughs and falling of some utensils could only be heard.<\/p>\n

He got up from his bed and set down on a wooden platform, his elbows resting at his knees and his lopping head tumbled on the parallel palms, his fingers wide splayed and inserted into the strings of his disheveled hair. His eyes were shut and he was looking at the floor in the dark.<\/p>\n

Someone placed a hand with a soft touch. Mom was standing before him. \u201cYaver try to sleep and let others also sleep. More than half of the night is already passed.\u201d Request, concern and command of a mother all rolled into an appeal of love. She gave a glass of water and asked him to drink. Yavar took the water and poured into his mouth, half falling on his shirt and rest spilling over his mouth and some of it going into his throat straight. He begged mother to sit down.<\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yavar\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cHave I ever been disrespectful to you ?\u201d
\n\u201cWho said that ? No.\u201d
\n\u201cHave I ever been hard upon you ? Have I ever been unkind with you ?”
\n\u201cNever.\u201d
\n\u201cWere you not the one who loved me the most after my God. Were you not the one who had sacrificed her youth to bring us up after father\u2019s death ?\u201d
\n\u201cIt was my duty.\u201d
\n\u201cWere you not the kindest of mother upon earth ?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cI know it mother. Then why did you inflict the sharpest of the cut upon the sapling you had planted ?\u201d
\nShe pulled his head to her bosom and kissed his cheek.
\n\u201cYavar..\u201d
\n\u201cYes mom\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cDo you believe in religion?
\n\u201cYes mom\u2026.but not much as you do. Of course I\u2019m a believer.\u201d
\n\u201cThe Holy Book says you must obey your parents\u2019 the holy traditions say that marriage is always suitable in the families of HUM KUFF.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does Hum Kuff mean mom ?\u201d
\n\u201cIt means equality in status of both the families who are joining in marriage. I know more of this world than you know. I know what is good for you and what is bad. My hair has not turned grey in the sun. I can\u2019t allow my son to marry a girl which would be a stigma for the grace for a family I\u2019d sacrificed my everything.\u201d
\n\u201cBut Zahabiya is one of us mom. Her family is related to us. Zahabiya is not a loose character mom.\u201d
\n\u201cDid I say that? I know his father was a senior officer when he prematurely died of heart attack. Her mom messed up everything including the name and left-over fortunes. Now she is not respected in the company of Bidi winders of Bidi rollers. I didn\u2019t compromise with the family honor when your father died. I went door to door and asked if someone wanted the kids to learn Quran. I maintained my dignity and brought up you all in toughest times.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMom\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yaver\u2026\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cBut is was none of Zahabiya\u2019s fault.\u201d
\n\u201cIn our society faults percolated down the generations and I\u2019d not designed this society.\u201d
\n\u201cMom, you knew I loved Zahabiya. I promised you that I shall help their whole family to rise up. Mom\u2026a rising tide raises all boats. I\u2019d promised you that I would be that rising tide.\u201d
\n\u201cYaver, a rising tide brings back a lot of silt and garbage also. You are still immature, inexperienced and innocent. In your age love is a passing emotion of the weak, a misguided spell, an ephemeral idea. And now what is left to discuss ? She is going to Pakistan on Thursday. Today MEHNDI and RATJAGA (celebration before the wedding night) both are over.\u201d
\n\u2018Mom\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yaver\u2026\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cI still love Zahabiya\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYour love would be a sin from tomorrow once she is tied in religion with her husband.\u201d
\n\u201cMom\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yave\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cPious love could never be a sin mom.\u201d
\n\u201cThere is no any such thing as pious love between the man and women if they are not related by blood and still\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut mom, once you also liked Zahabiya\u201d
\n\u201cLiking doesn\u2019t mean that I would invite her to be my daughter- in- law. I like Taj Mahal but it doesn\u2019t mean that I want my grave to be there in it.\u201d
\nShe wiped the tears from Yavar\u2019s eye with her dopatta and kissed again the face of her son.
\n\u201cMom\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yavar\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cZahabiya is poor but she is elegant, she is different, she is respected by everyone.\u201d
\n\u201cIt is a clich\u00e9 now. Now she is getting married to a very good boy from our own relations. The boy is a good employee in a big company in Karachi. Oh God I\u2019m so thankful to you as you have managed the situation for everyone\u2019s satisfaction. Not for nothing the seniors of the family are loved and respected for their sagacity and wisdom, their powers of command and their farsightedness. Now you have not to worry about her future. She would have all the comforts. Happy Life & Safe Distance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMom\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes yaver\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were never that cruel.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m still unknown to the word \u2018cruelty.\u2019
\n\u201cThan what its mom ?\u201d
\n\u201cDiscretion\u2026which is always the better part of valour.\u201d
\n\u201cMom it was my life and I were to live with her.\u201d
\n\u2018But it was your life, with God\u2019s grace, I\u2019d given to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The sound of Express Train passing over the River Soat bombed the discussion. It trundled past over the bridge and Yavar recalled the night when in his childhood the same sound had disturbed him and asked his father as to why the sound becomes so intense when the trains passes over the bridge. It was silence after the noise now receded and gone. But now there was again a emotional atom bomb that exploded between mother and son.<\/p>\n

Someone in the neighborhood was begging to join for the last GHAZAL of the night.
\n\u201cGet up babies, just one last song and then there would be the Azan (Morning Prayer) time\u2026.I\u2019m making the nice tea with cardamom and mint.\u201d
\nThe host organizer was no other than Zahabiya\u2019s mother. Yaver and mother were silent and now they could listen the chorus.<\/p>\n

\u201cJo dil ke pas hote hain woh kaheen jaya naheen karte,
\nMohabbat karne wale ghum se ghabraya naheen karte\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Those who are near to heart they never disappear, those who love, sorrows make them never fear. Each and every line of Ghazal was repeated again. It was the third time that the rendition of the same ghazal was done in the wedding house.
\n\u2018Yaver\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Mom\u2026\u2026\u201d
\n\u2018It is time to pray. Go to mosque.\u201d
\n\u2018Yes Mom\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

Everyone in the house was sleeping when he returned from the prayers. This morning he just recited the Arabic in silence. He didn\u2019t ask God for anything. He went to his room and after some time the sleep visited him.<\/p>\n

Part – 3<\/strong><\/p>\n

Around 10 A.M. Abiha, his cousin sister and friend stepped into his room. She was 5 autmuns senior to him. She sat down on the chair lying next to his bed. She put her hand at his forehead. It was wet with sweat. The warmth of fingers were known to Yaver. He put hands over her ringed fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cBaji\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yaver\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019d never bargained for it.\u201d
\n\u201cAll that happens, happens for the best Yavar.\u201d
\n\u201cNo baji, is there still a way to invent and apply the time machine ?\u201d
\n\u201cNo Yavar. Our society is too powerful, our parents are too strong and our guardians are too strict.\u201d
\n\u201cBaji\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yavar\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cZahabiya will go Pakistan on Thursday ?\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yavar.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat is the day today ?\u201d
\n\u201cTuesday\u2026\u201d
\n“Baji..”
\n“She has never read Urdu. She speaks Urdu but she writes Hindi.”
\n“She is not going to write you a letter Yavar…”
\n“Yes Baji…..’
\n\u201cTempus fugit\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cTime flows Yavar. Did you listen the last song of the night ?\u201d
\n\u201cYes baji. It was a message for you that Zahabiya had requested her mother to convey through ghazal. Life is the precious gift of God. You are not allowed to destroy it for the sake of one girl.<\/p>\n

Meanwhile, Yaver\u2019s mother entered in a delicate gait. She took another chair and sat down.
\nBoth the children got up in respect and sat down after salams.
\n\u201cyavar\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes mom\u2026.\u201d
\n\u2018I\u2019ve sent a telegram to your uncle that you are coming to Bombay.\u201d
\n\u201cYes mom\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cYou go by the earliest train from here for Delhi and from Delhi you can a catch an early flight. The ticket is only Rs 440 \/-.\u201d
\n\u201cYes Mom.\u201d
\n\u201cAll the items and clothes you need are packed. I\u2019ve talked your boss. He has asked you to report after a fortnight.\u201d
\n\u2018Yes mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>When the breakfast was over, one could hear the trot of a horse. A tonga reported at the door for station. Someone put his bag and suitcase in the carriage. He looked around his house. He felt he was deserting a poor old friend. Here, when the going was good, Zahabiya used to visit often; here just under the Jamun tree she had looked into her eyes and felt their transparence; here when the going was good between the two families, Zahabiya’s father was still alive they had taken dinners together. Here just next to rose bushes he remembered Zahabia curled up in her father\u2019s arm when she was a kid. Here her mother had once given the sprinkler in Zahabiya’s delicate small hands to water the plants. But it was when Zahabiya\u2019s family was HUM KUFF, equal in status.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yavar\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cMay I go\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cWe have to tie the IMAM ZAMIN round your arm.\u201d
\n\u201cYes Mom.\u201d Mom tied the the cloth ribbon that had prayers for safety with some currency.
\n\u201cMom\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cYes Yaver\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYou have crossed the threshold Mom !\u201d
\n\u201cNo Yaver..\u201d
\n\u201cYes Mom\u2026.\u201d
\nKhuda Hafiz !\u201d
\n\u2018Khuda Hafiz !!\u201d<\/p>\n

Part – 4<\/strong><\/p>\n

He stepped into the tonga. Modest preparations for Zahabiya\u2019s Nikah were in full swing. Some kids came near the horse and one or two elderly wished him Good Bye from distance. Abiah kissed his fore head ! He embarked upon a new journey, an escape invented for him \u2013 this time the itenerary was open-ended.<\/p>\n

It is story with vintage tag.
\nThe End<\/p>\n

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