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Something else

No its not writer's block Its something else Just wondering why am I not writing much these days!

Friday, July 19, 2013

Dream ..... Just one dance.

He was in the Flower street. Geranium flowers were hanging through the pots that stuck through the wall of this narrow street. And then at the end, where the street took a blind turn, it widened into a more wider patio.

It was early morning, very early indeed, the sun was still hiding somewhere behind the darkness of night.
He was walking aimlessly, when he saw someone sitting on the top of a flight of stairs. The stairs were enclosed at the extreme top by a black grill. What that person was doing in this very secluded corner at this hour of night-morning junction, was definitely not his concern. He could have easily ignored and passed through but there was something unusual which made him stopped. It was a sob.

And then there were continuous sobs.

He stopped at the bottom of that walled off staircase. and looked up.

It was a lady with her long hair all around her, they almost hid her face. Her head resting on her bent knees. She was wearing a white dress which was concealing her skin too well. All he wanted to extend a helping hand to her. She was weeping surely.

He was thinking of saying something, when suddenly she raised her head.

And he felt his heart missing a beat. Those wet and swollen eyes were so familiar. He had seen those eyes before. But they were speaking a different language today, he could not fathom why he was so blind. or was he blind now?

It did not take much longer when he recognized the face with cheeks streaked with tears. She was Mawra Suhail.

"Mawra, What are you doing here? ", All he could say were these words, though he was not sure what 'here' meant. He was himself unaware of this location, this patio, this flight of stairs.

Suddenly she stood up and then he realized it was a full length white gown with long flowing sleeves, covering her from neck to toes. She was standing  like a marble sculpture, most elegantly carved.

And then she began to descend.gracefully, holding her gown as if a born princess would have done.

And as she was getting closer to where he was , she started taking quickening steps, he kept watching like a statue himself, was it her elegance or her charisma that had made him still?

And then before he could realize, she began running, running away from him. In a frenzy of fear he tried to grasp her hand, but could only touch her fingers.

He was after her with the difference of a few seconds.

But she was too fast to catch, over the turn of this patio into that narrow Flower street, she was lost.

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He was sitting by the pool in his house, it was a midsummer night, with the crescent moon sending its reflection in  the crystal blue water of the pool. Holding his head in both his hands , he was in deep thoughts, he was in misery, he was in pain.

There was no one he could share his agony with, suddenly he felt the urge to drink wine. Alcohol could do something to relax his severing nerves.

But then he realized, he can not drink anymore. While in Madinah, he promised himself that he will not touch alcohol ever.

And then he saw her. As if along with its reflection, the moon has sent her to earth.

She was clad in a full length white gown, with flowing full length sleeves, from neck to her toes covering her skin too well. But her long hair was open, creating a stark contrast to her brilliant white dress. She was standing there like a marble sculpture , most elegantly carved.

And then she began walking towards him, slowly and swiftly, he could not see if she was wearing shoes, but she walked as if she was walking over clouds.

His eyes began to grow painful. He was in agony and could not even tell her. He did not want to tell her anything.  And what she was doing here in this late night hour in his home, he was unable to understand.

She was coming closer and he wanted to run away.

She was at a distance of a few feet from him when he noticed a pair of pearl drops in her ears, she wore no makeup but a thick layer of kohl in her eyes, which was so Mawra. She never wore makeup, She did not need one. She was already perfect.

But there was something so unique in her eyes tonight. These were not the eyes of Mawra , he had known all his life. It was not an innocent, happy go lucky teenager Mawra Suhail. These were the eyes of a woman, a woman in love, emitting love, emitting passion.

She was looking like a passionate woman tonight and this scared him.

Daniel Malik was scared.

He wanted her to get lost. She was the reason of his agony and pain.

"Why are you here, did you want to see me in pain? does that make you happy? If you can not do anything to relieve me of this pain, do not increase it, leave me alone!"  suddenly he shouted at her.

But he missed that one tear at the far corner of her left eye.

"Pain and agony? Do You think You are alone? what you are suffering now Daniel, has drained me out for last two years. And I know I will endure it through all my life",she said with a saddened smile, but when she smiled, a single tear rolled down her left cheek.

Suddenly, Daniel began to perspire.

And then he heard some sound. It was the voice of Azaan.

He opened his eyes to find himself in bed. So it was a dream. But this azaan in Madrid?

It took him few minutes to get up and open his bedroom window, the azaan became more louder, it stirred through his soul. It was an azaan for tahajjud prayers.

Right infront of his window, he could see the graceful green dome of the Prophet's mosque.

He was in Madinah.

And he had been dreaming!










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