PHOTO // DEEPAK RAMESHA
The only breathing souvenir that survived the ruthless demolition of the sandcastle of my Father’s dreams by the waves of Time are the pigeons he bred, carrying scriptures for a long-forgotten citizen.
He is summoned to surrender this futile migration between ruthless countries that has rendered him exhausted. The kabootar my Father nurtured in his youth have become messengers with the ominous warning that the silver streaks in the abr of his once ravenous tendrils serve witness that if he does not return now, he will become abtar from the roots of his childhood.
PHOTO // DISENOIDEAS
Therein, he almost belongs, is remembered as one of them; his name inscribed into this cruel joke of a poem, whose translation evaporated through the disintegrated ozone— And what does it mean for me, A letter addressed to Fortune as I uselessly try to grasp is the harbinger of tragedy. the grains of sand in the faithful emptiness of Kyun des vides phire maara my resilient hands Kyun haal be’haal thaka haara and overturn the decree O nadaan parindey ghar aaja of the hourglass.
What does it mean for me as I inherit the fate of a man whose faded memory proclaimed me a gift as if I could encompass all of his lost potential and all that I am supposed to be in this half-read and still unfolding legacy.
My innocent, unaware Father is invited home for the last time before the distance effaces the voyage to the marble mansion of his mango-coloured memories. Glossary: Kyun des vides phire maara/ Kyun haal be’haal thaka haara/ O nadaan parindey ghar aaja Why do you traverse these native and foreign countries aimlessly/ why have you been resigned to such a terrible state of destitution/ oh innocent winged-bird, return home kabootar: pigeon abr: cloud abtar: cut off
NOVEMBER 2023 | THE MUSLIM VOICE | 17
