‘Tis thy Love-The Purest of all!
The easiest way to die, I’ve heard, is through poison. So, poison is what I had asked for that day. Chacha Ghulam Deen, the 60 years old high-spirited owner of the general store, was busy chatting with one of his customers. That was good, for the hardest job in this world might be to attain some rat poison from Chacha without telling him the species, colour, size, and maybe some evidence about the presence of rats in our house. So, I asked Jamal, the junior, to give me some. But maybe, the day was entirely unlucky for me, as Jamal, on hearing my request, immediately went to Chacha to ask where he kept the rat poison. Chacha, with a quick glance at me, gave Jamal one of the jars from the side cabinets. “Perhaps my day is not that wretched! At least my last wish of obtaining this poison was fulfilled,” I thought grimly.
I took the small packet of rat poison from Jamal and made my way to the mustard fields I was so fond of. I had always loved the sunny yellow flowers with the green leaves dancing gleefully whenever they felt the wind. Those charming flowers had been a part of my life. I loved them more than roses and daisies. I had dreamt of forever living among them with Shamsa- oh Shamsa! Why did she do that to me! It was she who had approached me last year. She was the first and the only girl who seemed to be interested in me. She made me smile when I was sad and made me laugh when I was broken. She made me see new colours and new horizons from my restricted life. She made me happy. But just when I was about to confess my love to her, a series of unfortunate events took place. Closing my eyes, I watched the whole day’s movie being replayed in my mind.
I heard Sir Imtiaz, my teacher, say,
“You have disappointed me Shakib! You were one of my best students! But your performance this year has forced me to rethink. You have failed! Don’t sweat to come back to college from now on!”
And then my mother’s voice echoed in my mind:
“How Shakib, how could you! I sold my jewellery to get you educated, to see you stand out! And this is what I hear! A love affair in the mustard fields and complete failure in the finals! You don’t deserve living a nice life in the house your father made through his tireless efforts! Get out! I’d rather be alone than have an insubordinate and lazy son like you! Get out I said!”
Horrified and down, I had gone to the mustard fields. I hoped to see Shamsa there, and I did see her- watching the merry mustard flowers dance. I rushed to see her but my steps my jammed by a sight. She was with my classmate Amin! They had seen me. Shamsa had tried to ignore me but Amin called me. This is what I heard him say:
“Shakib! Look at my shield! I finally got the 1st position! And with that, I have fulfilled Shamsa’s conditions for marrying her! We are finally going to marry- a year after I had proposed her! A long, long year!”
So, this was it. To stand out, he had sent Shamsa to distract me. What I thought was true love was not even affection. “True love was, is and always will be a bookish thing!” I thought. I heard myself congratulate them. And I heard my heavy footsteps move out of the fields towards Chacha’s shop. I heard myself ask for poison. And I heard myself walking towards the other side of the fields, where only I used to come. Thinking of all the tragedies I had experienced today, I opened the packet, closed my eyes and swallowed.
I expected the funny feeling that you’re supposed to experience when you ingest poison. I expected blood to come out of my nose and mouth. I stared at my hands and feet, expecting them to go blue. Nothing happened! I took out the packet and tasted the remaining “poison” left in it. It was salt! Common salt! And realizing that I had been conned into eating “salt” for poison, I felt a sudden jolt of anger inside me. I had come here with slow, heavy footsteps but to Chacha’s shop, I ran like a hurricane that would destroy anything that came in its way. I wanted Chacha to be there. I wanted to shout at him for making a fool out of me. And he was there, with a smile indicating that he knew I would come back, that he knew I would come back instantly.
“Why did you give me salt instead of rat poison?” I shouted.
“How do you reckon it was salt? Did you taste it?” he asked in a calm tone.
“No, but I can tell by looking,” a quick lie slipped through my mouth.
“Some species of rats,” he said, “don’t get killed by poison. We have to kill them ourselves. Let’s see what species have invaded your house.” Saying this, he took his walking stick and came out of the shop, signalling me to take him to my house.
“You’re too old and too weak! Don’t waste your time and energy in concerning about rats living in others’ houses.” I said, trying my level best to stop his intentions. I had a feeling that Chacha was not referring to real rats. I had a feeling that Chacha was aware of my intention and my tragedies.
“These old bones still have the strength of a wrestler! Let’s reach your house before it’s afternoon,” he said. Seeing him so ready to go with me, I realized the mess I was in. I couldn’t go back to home. And I never wanted to let go of my composure and start crying like a baby. I was a man. Discussing, crying and fussing over their tragedies is what women do. I started walking with him to my house. In the whirlpool of thoughts, I didn’t notice the tears that silently stained my cheeks. Chacha had noticed. He stopped but said nothing. I could tell that he wanted me to speak out myself. And then, I broke down. Sobbing, I told Chacha Ghulam Deen everything that had happened within a day. Chacha listened calmly.
“Nobody loves me! Neither Shamsa, nor my teacher, nor my mother! Even God does not love me. The truth is, true love doesn’t exist at all!” I wailed.
When I stopped, he asked a silly question:
“Have you ever seen the city, young lad?”
“Of course! My college is in the city,” I said, annoyed by him.
“You didn’t hear me right. Have you ever seen the city?” he inquired.
I realized he was asking whether I had observed the city. I had not. To me, the city was no more but the college I went to. I didn’t even know my class fellows. I never made friends nor was I eager to communicate with my fellows. I was always too absorbed in studying, until Shamsa had intervened, destroying the rhythm of my life and with that, my only dream of making my mother and teachers proud.
I shook my head.
“Let’s go and see it then!” Chacha said, like a child excited to visit a new park. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Feeling too weak to think, I submitted.
The city was not too far away from our village. It was only an hour long walk and we villagers were used to walking long distances. This was the first time I was going to the city just for sightseeing. As we entered the city, on every road, we saw beggars who apparently had no debilities.
“Look at these people! They have no disability. Yet they are out there, begging for food and alms. Why do you think they do it?” Chacha inquired.
“It’s obvious. They are uneducated. So, nobody gives them a job. This leaves them no choice but to kill their self-respect and beg,” I said.
Without answering, he called a sturdy looking beggar.
“I need someone to move my furniture from the ground floor to the first floor. Will you do it for me? I’ll pay you nicely,” he said.
Hearing that, at first, the beggar thought a little, then shook his head and went back to begging. I was bewildered.
“Do you know what he thought? He thought that it would be easier to do nothing and get these alms instead of doing hard labour to earn them. People look for shortcuts. They look for easier ways.” The way he said easier reminded me of my suicide attempt.
“And by doing so,” he continued, “they show their ungratefulness to the one who so lovingly granted them this energy and strength. Do you think anything should be wasted in such a way?”
“No…” I said in a low tone.
“And what about life? You have been given this life as a gift, as a blessing and yet as an exam from the One who loves you more than seventy mothers. You denied the existence of true love, right? Let me show you how truly He has loved you by giving you everything you needed! And how much you treasured it today!”
And there we were, in the hospital. I had never been to a hospital. Whenever we were ill in the village, we went to our Hakeem and his medicines always cured the minor ailment. But in the hospital, I saw dying deteriorating and yet hopeful people- people struggling at their most to hold on to their most treasured blessing- life! Life- that I had tried to finish! Life- that I was the most thankless about! Life- That was the biggest evidence of Allah’s love for me: True Love!
We were in the paediatrics ward when we witnessed a commotion. A woman was crying and wailing on top of her voice:
“Please don’t take him! He’s my dear son! Why are you wrapping him up? He’s not dead! Give him back to me! I won’t hurt him! I won’t even touch him or rebuke him! Just don’t take him away from me!”
Her two other children and her husband were trying to console her.
“This woman reminds me of poor Rasheeda Aapa! She had just one relative- her son, Shakib. What if she gets to know that he was buying rat poison from Chacha’s shop?” Chacha said. I was horrified. It was possible! Jamal could’ve told her!
“I’ve learnt my lesson Chacha!” I said, “Please take me back! My mother would be worried sick!”
He nodded and we began making our return journey. On the way, Chacha explained how everything in nature including the sunset, the trees, the sky and the clouds and of course, our senses were a blessing and a depiction of how much Allah loves us.
“And if someone were a personification of true love in humans, it would be parents,” he said, “for only their love is selfless and noble. Cherish your mother Shakib! Not everyone has this blessing!”
I knew he was right and he knew that I had learnt. There was no need for a verbal expression.
“Chacha! You’ve taught me enough for a lifetime. But what about Shamsa? What about the way my love was betrayed? Am I not right in feeling depressed about that?” I asked.
“You were a big fool at that time. Do you really think it was true love? What Shamsa did, was just a means of distraction. Women of ill repute do it all the time, in every way possible. What you called your ‘true love’ were just consequences of watching too many movies aided by hormones. There’s a reason your mother calls the T.V a devil’s box!”
“And next time…” he continued, “Whenever you feel this ‘love’, don’t let it overcome the truer forms of love around you. The truest form of love is the love of Allah, and if you do want to acknowledge it, stop disobeying Him!”
His advice and admonitions sounded sweet to my ears since they were a depiction of his fatherly love for me. Listening to them, we reached my street. The sun had set and it was night already. I saw Mother out in the street, standing with swollen eyes. Her face looked as if she had spent the whole day weeping. The expression in her eyes was the same as that of the dead child’s mother.
“Stay here,” Chacha ordered and made me hide behind a bush.
“Assalam o Alaikum Rasheeda Aapa! Are you alright?” Chacha asked.
“Please find my son Bhai! He is nowhere to be seen! I did rebuke him and throw him out but I did not want to lose him! I love him! I won’t say anything to him now! Just bring him to me, please! Jamal said he bought… he bought… rat poison from him!” And with that, she started weeping so badly.
I couldn’t bear it. How could I have overlooked my mother when I decided to take my life? In a burst of emotions, I jumped out of the bush and rushed with open arms to my mother. I would never ever want to see her weep again.
And mother, on seeing me, bombarded with all kinds of “motherly curses” and “motherly slipper hits”. But I loved them now and had missed them now. Such was, I thought, the case with mother too. At night, she came to my room. I acted as if I were sleeping. She was murmuring prayers while caressing my head. “Don’t ever leave me again!” She whispered in a tearful tone, kissing my forehead. And at that time, I needed no one to tell me the meaning of love- True Love!
I heard Sir Imtiaz, my teacher, say,
“You have disappointed me Shakib! You were one of my best students! But your performance this year has forced me to rethink. You have failed! Don’t sweat to come back to college from now on!”
And then my mother’s voice echoed in my mind:
“How Shakib, how could you! I sold my jewellery to get you educated, to see you stand out! And this is what I hear! A love affair in the mustard fields and complete failure in the finals! You don’t deserve living a nice life in the house your father made through his tireless efforts! Get out! I’d rather be alone than have an insubordinate and lazy son like you! Get out I said!”
Horrified and down, I had gone to the mustard fields. I hoped to see Shamsa there, and I did see her- watching the merry mustard flowers dance. I rushed to see her but my steps my jammed by a sight. She was with my classmate Amin! They had seen me. Shamsa had tried to ignore me but Amin called me. This is what I heard him say:
“Shakib! Look at my shield! I finally got the 1st position! And with that, I have fulfilled Shamsa’s conditions for marrying her! We are finally going to marry- a year after I had proposed her! A long, long year!”
So, this was it. To stand out, he had sent Shamsa to distract me. What I thought was true love was not even affection. “True love was, is and always will be a bookish thing!” I thought. I heard myself congratulate them. And I heard my heavy footsteps move out of the fields towards Chacha’s shop. I heard myself ask for poison. And I heard myself walking towards the other side of the fields, where only I used to come. Thinking of all the tragedies I had experienced today, I opened the packet, closed my eyes and swallowed.
I expected the funny feeling that you’re supposed to experience when you ingest poison. I expected blood to come out of my nose and mouth. I stared at my hands and feet, expecting them to go blue. Nothing happened! I took out the packet and tasted the remaining “poison” left in it. It was salt! Common salt! And realizing that I had been conned into eating “salt” for poison, I felt a sudden jolt of anger inside me. I had come here with slow, heavy footsteps but to Chacha’s shop, I ran like a hurricane that would destroy anything that came in its way. I wanted Chacha to be there. I wanted to shout at him for making a fool out of me. And he was there, with a smile indicating that he knew I would come back, that he knew I would come back instantly.
“Why did you give me salt instead of rat poison?” I shouted.
“How do you reckon it was salt? Did you taste it?” he asked in a calm tone.
“No, but I can tell by looking,” a quick lie slipped through my mouth.
“Some species of rats,” he said, “don’t get killed by poison. We have to kill them ourselves. Let’s see what species have invaded your house.” Saying this, he took his walking stick and came out of the shop, signalling me to take him to my house.
“You’re too old and too weak! Don’t waste your time and energy in concerning about rats living in others’ houses.” I said, trying my level best to stop his intentions. I had a feeling that Chacha was not referring to real rats. I had a feeling that Chacha was aware of my intention and my tragedies.
“These old bones still have the strength of a wrestler! Let’s reach your house before it’s afternoon,” he said. Seeing him so ready to go with me, I realized the mess I was in. I couldn’t go back to home. And I never wanted to let go of my composure and start crying like a baby. I was a man. Discussing, crying and fussing over their tragedies is what women do. I started walking with him to my house. In the whirlpool of thoughts, I didn’t notice the tears that silently stained my cheeks. Chacha had noticed. He stopped but said nothing. I could tell that he wanted me to speak out myself. And then, I broke down. Sobbing, I told Chacha Ghulam Deen everything that had happened within a day. Chacha listened calmly.
“Nobody loves me! Neither Shamsa, nor my teacher, nor my mother! Even God does not love me. The truth is, true love doesn’t exist at all!” I wailed.
When I stopped, he asked a silly question:
“Have you ever seen the city, young lad?”
“Of course! My college is in the city,” I said, annoyed by him.
“You didn’t hear me right. Have you ever seen the city?” he inquired.
I realized he was asking whether I had observed the city. I had not. To me, the city was no more but the college I went to. I didn’t even know my class fellows. I never made friends nor was I eager to communicate with my fellows. I was always too absorbed in studying, until Shamsa had intervened, destroying the rhythm of my life and with that, my only dream of making my mother and teachers proud.
I shook my head.
“Let’s go and see it then!” Chacha said, like a child excited to visit a new park. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Feeling too weak to think, I submitted.
The city was not too far away from our village. It was only an hour long walk and we villagers were used to walking long distances. This was the first time I was going to the city just for sightseeing. As we entered the city, on every road, we saw beggars who apparently had no debilities.
“Look at these people! They have no disability. Yet they are out there, begging for food and alms. Why do you think they do it?” Chacha inquired.
“It’s obvious. They are uneducated. So, nobody gives them a job. This leaves them no choice but to kill their self-respect and beg,” I said.
Without answering, he called a sturdy looking beggar.
“I need someone to move my furniture from the ground floor to the first floor. Will you do it for me? I’ll pay you nicely,” he said.
Hearing that, at first, the beggar thought a little, then shook his head and went back to begging. I was bewildered.
“Do you know what he thought? He thought that it would be easier to do nothing and get these alms instead of doing hard labour to earn them. People look for shortcuts. They look for easier ways.” The way he said easier reminded me of my suicide attempt.
“And by doing so,” he continued, “they show their ungratefulness to the one who so lovingly granted them this energy and strength. Do you think anything should be wasted in such a way?”
“No…” I said in a low tone.
“And what about life? You have been given this life as a gift, as a blessing and yet as an exam from the One who loves you more than seventy mothers. You denied the existence of true love, right? Let me show you how truly He has loved you by giving you everything you needed! And how much you treasured it today!”
And there we were, in the hospital. I had never been to a hospital. Whenever we were ill in the village, we went to our Hakeem and his medicines always cured the minor ailment. But in the hospital, I saw dying deteriorating and yet hopeful people- people struggling at their most to hold on to their most treasured blessing- life! Life- that I had tried to finish! Life- that I was the most thankless about! Life- That was the biggest evidence of Allah’s love for me: True Love!
We were in the paediatrics ward when we witnessed a commotion. A woman was crying and wailing on top of her voice:
“Please don’t take him! He’s my dear son! Why are you wrapping him up? He’s not dead! Give him back to me! I won’t hurt him! I won’t even touch him or rebuke him! Just don’t take him away from me!”
Her two other children and her husband were trying to console her.
“This woman reminds me of poor Rasheeda Aapa! She had just one relative- her son, Shakib. What if she gets to know that he was buying rat poison from Chacha’s shop?” Chacha said. I was horrified. It was possible! Jamal could’ve told her!
“I’ve learnt my lesson Chacha!” I said, “Please take me back! My mother would be worried sick!”
He nodded and we began making our return journey. On the way, Chacha explained how everything in nature including the sunset, the trees, the sky and the clouds and of course, our senses were a blessing and a depiction of how much Allah loves us.
“And if someone were a personification of true love in humans, it would be parents,” he said, “for only their love is selfless and noble. Cherish your mother Shakib! Not everyone has this blessing!”
I knew he was right and he knew that I had learnt. There was no need for a verbal expression.
“Chacha! You’ve taught me enough for a lifetime. But what about Shamsa? What about the way my love was betrayed? Am I not right in feeling depressed about that?” I asked.
“You were a big fool at that time. Do you really think it was true love? What Shamsa did, was just a means of distraction. Women of ill repute do it all the time, in every way possible. What you called your ‘true love’ were just consequences of watching too many movies aided by hormones. There’s a reason your mother calls the T.V a devil’s box!”
“And next time…” he continued, “Whenever you feel this ‘love’, don’t let it overcome the truer forms of love around you. The truest form of love is the love of Allah, and if you do want to acknowledge it, stop disobeying Him!”
His advice and admonitions sounded sweet to my ears since they were a depiction of his fatherly love for me. Listening to them, we reached my street. The sun had set and it was night already. I saw Mother out in the street, standing with swollen eyes. Her face looked as if she had spent the whole day weeping. The expression in her eyes was the same as that of the dead child’s mother.
“Stay here,” Chacha ordered and made me hide behind a bush.
“Assalam o Alaikum Rasheeda Aapa! Are you alright?” Chacha asked.
“Please find my son Bhai! He is nowhere to be seen! I did rebuke him and throw him out but I did not want to lose him! I love him! I won’t say anything to him now! Just bring him to me, please! Jamal said he bought… he bought… rat poison from him!” And with that, she started weeping so badly.
I couldn’t bear it. How could I have overlooked my mother when I decided to take my life? In a burst of emotions, I jumped out of the bush and rushed with open arms to my mother. I would never ever want to see her weep again.
And mother, on seeing me, bombarded with all kinds of “motherly curses” and “motherly slipper hits”. But I loved them now and had missed them now. Such was, I thought, the case with mother too. At night, she came to my room. I acted as if I were sleeping. She was murmuring prayers while caressing my head. “Don’t ever leave me again!” She whispered in a tearful tone, kissing my forehead. And at that time, I needed no one to tell me the meaning of love- True Love!
Defining it by roses,
Fairness and lust,
They give this gem value
Of litter and dust!
They ask you to find it
In irreligious affairs
But I found it here
In my mother's prayers!
Insects, Birds and Animals,
Down below, high above;
In every mother had I seen
What is called true love!
‘Tis thy love, Mother!
A mighty waterfall
Full of life, it’s water pure,
The Purest of them all!
Fairness and lust,
They give this gem value
Of litter and dust!
They ask you to find it
In irreligious affairs
But I found it here
In my mother's prayers!
Insects, Birds and Animals,
Down below, high above;
In every mother had I seen
What is called true love!
‘Tis thy love, Mother!
A mighty waterfall
Full of life, it’s water pure,
The Purest of them all!
- Maryam Ejaz (Class of 2020)
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