Sandcastles and Souvenirs

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.

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— A letter addressed to Fortune is the harbinger of tragedy.

Kyun des vides phire maara

Kyun haal be’haal thaka haara

O nadaan parindey ghar aaja

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.

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.

And what does it mean for me, as I uselessly try to grasp the grains of sand in the faithful emptiness of my resilient hands and overturn the decree 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.

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