By Mir Umar
As winter has descended, my chatter with the outside world has remained isolated. Struck between the four walls of my room, I usually keep myself away from the gaggle of town. I wander in my room with enviable silence. This silence sometimes accords peace but mainly elicits a vague yell of fear in me like the fear of death or getting killed and everything that marks this piece of land. It happens every time that this fear keeps me on toes. Inhibited by fear, a crouch of oldness carried by paleness invites death on the doors. When I was enveloped by fear, I sighted hope in the window.
In my home, a small, silent one with dark brown colored window is a new tool to get away from the wings of fear. It is held between the apertures of the wall. Specks of rust on its pointed ends are swallowing it. It has a perfect texture of art which makes me desirous to look beyond its rough surface. Sometimes, it also shows human behavior, maybe to tell an expensive zenith tale. Whether others are able to recognize this human but inhumane behavior, I continue to witness the whispers of it- that too in silence. It sometimes speaks to me on daily issues, which it senses when someone throws words invariably in pro or against someone. The window never talks loudly but it whispers. It has told me the stories of humans with inhumane taste who befool themselves for some local desires. Human nature is in its priority list because it witnesses the hypocrisy of different people from its invisible but sensible eyes.
Once, it also told me t how two friends cheated themselves on their back but when they meet, they never show off their hypocrisy to each other. They smile so that it can cover their inner masked devil. They go on with every possible way to hide their inner artificial feelings but the window is there for them- to sense everything. It has told me the tales of the lovers who were separated at the end due to idleness of society and then their love carried their departed souls so as to extrude them in a more lovable place. They used to share every lament of fear with each other; every tear would evoke a new seed of love inside them and each whisper counted thousands of their acoustic feelings. They also parted off. Then what remained of them was only a vivid cascade of their love.
“Is it some kind of magic?” I asked myself tenderly when window’s behavior began to trouble me. Or, “Magic is in human nature which I sighted?”. It usually fluctuates with time. Humans have a magic of convergence, as they continue to cheat among themselves using human love”, it said with small fading eyes appearing on it. The window, therefore, has remained a bitter victim of human nature. It has witnessed and will continue witnessing the bitter behavior of humans. It has witnessed the sorrowful tears which it laments to me. It has also experienced the pain of mothers and sisters grieving for their loved ones. “I sometimes feel why I exist because I have faced the brunt of everything. I receive tears rather blood drops of mothers which keep me on standstill”, said the window. I had no answers for all its queries. Sometimes in the darkness of night, the window recites the tales tormented with sorrows. Some tales have the unheard truths and some heartbroken tears. The window also whispers the tears that human eyes drain when pain directs them to leave. Sometimes I think why this window ever existed in my room. But from the sorrows and pain, it has also brought a spring in my life.
It always provides a safe passage to sunlight to visit and brighten my room. In this way, it acts as a natural alarm for waking me up from sleep. It also helps me in overcoming my drowsiness and lethargy when I see little children playing in the nearby park. Their shouts on each other evoke a new life in me and their smiles in winter also lit a warm inside. Sometimes the window also narrates the funny stories and untold secrets which abate my belly to push over the secrets to other people. It is the only augment which connects me with the beloved nature. I have witnessed so many changes in nature through the window. Sometimes a particular season forces its little creatures to leave the aura and sometimes a season flourishes a new life in nature. And, the window has remained a witness to all these changes. I cannot resist the ‘magic’ of the window.
“Is it really some kind of magic?, “my inner voice evoked with a lament on the gracious behavior of the window. “You need to understand the somberness of things. People have a magic to change, Nature has a magic to witness and I have the magic to sense”, answered the window deceitfully.
—The author is a student of Literature. He can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org