The stillness
of an old lone tree
by the sea.
On a full moon night.
Writer
The stillness
of an old lone tree
by the sea.
On a full moon night.
At the crack of dawn, far across the river, Ahiya can sense the microphone turning on in a mosque near her village. Within seconds the Azaan will start, the early morning call to prayer.
She lightly rubs her eyes and leaps out of bed. It’s Eid today!
Ahiya goes out of her bedroom cheerfully, half expecting to see her parents in the living area. She gives herself a low-spirited smile when she finds no one in the house. It was her decision to move to a new country, not theirs.
She has set up a cozy home for herself in a faraway Western land. All her life, she was told to educate herself and be successful. Success was to move to a first world country to fulfill your dreams. This was considered to be the ultimate achievement in life. People who get a job and move to the West were revered by families in her home town.
Ahiya grew up with the same dreams and hopes that some day, she will make herself and her family proud by chasing those dreams. Now, her dreams have come true. Then, why is she not happy? Nobody told her that life would never be the same. Nobody told her that the sense of belonging would be lost. Nobody told her how lonely she would feel and that she would be thousands of miles away from her family.
Ahiya shakes her head and dismisses away the thoughts. Today the distance will not come in her way of celebrating one of her most favorite festivals. Eid is the day on which loved ones come together to pray and embrace each other. It is the day of charity, of being grateful, and of forgiveness. Also of course, it is the day of feasting on exquisite, delicious food.
Enthusiastically, Ahiya starts prepping for the day while eating her morning oatmeal. She glides through the kitchen, gathering all the ingredients that she will need for today’s elaborate feast. She turns on the radio, listens to songs and starts chopping vegetables recalling the pleasant childhood memories.
There is always incessant chatter and sound of music in the air during Eid in her hometown. Kids run around the house, grandparents talk loudly on the phones wishing relatives, ma is always busy in the kitchen preparing multiple dishes, and baba does all the other house chores while also entertaining and taking care of the children. In the background, the tape recorder fills the air with music from Sabri Brothers and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.
Ahiya’s fond memory of this day is peeling off mehendi from her palms. The first thing to do on every morning of Eid. A curiosity to find out how dark the color of the mehendi on her palm has turned out to be. Once all the mehendi flakes were off, she rubbed coconut oil on her palms and went up running to her amma and baba to show them her orange-colored palms. More than the color she enjoyed watching their faces light up with pride and joy.
Back in the kitchen, Ahiya hums along with the songs on the radio and marinates the chicken, roasts dry fruits in ghee for the dessert, and grinds spices in a mortal pestle. The rising aromas in the kitchen leave her grinning from ear to ear. Light on her feet, Ahiya is focused on getting all the flavours right.
After spending hours in the kitchen, Ahiya finally steps out feeling like a conqueror and rushes for a quick shower. She offers her Eid ki namaz, filled with gratitude and thanks the Lord for all His blessings.
It is time to set up the dining table with the lavish food, Chicken Dum Biryani, Kheema Kababs, Harira, Sheer Khurma, and Phirni. Ahiya dresses up in a traditional lehenga and kurti and sits down on the dining table to video call her parents.
“Eid Mubarak!” she says and beams happily upon seeing their loving, smiling faces. Excitedly she narrates the stories of her day and patiently listens to theirs. An hour long conversation and greetings leave Ahiya content.
Blissful.
Gazing absently outside the window.
Dreaming of friendly company.
To share this slow day with me.
How wonderful it would be,
To discuss about music, movies, and bumblebees,
While munching away on cookies,
Along with lots of pots of tea.

I stir absently,
My rolling, boiling pot of tea.
A few more minutes of brewing
Will probably,
Give me the flavour that I so desperately need.
A few more minutes of brewing
Will leave behind lingering aromas
That are rich, earthy, and invigorating.
A strong, bitterly-sweet cup of black milky tea.
Is just what I need.

The wooden boat glided silently across the serene lake, passing through the misty air.
Floating plants drifted gently to the side making way for the boat to pass.
Old and mighty mountains stood still in the background reflecting golden morning light, glistening on the peaks.
He hummed softly in the boat so as not to disturb the quietness in the air.

The piano played
a sweet soulful tune.
With the keys,
her feet tip-toed on the floor.
Bending and rising like a ballerina.
She flowed like a river was inside of her,
Gliding and sliding with the notes
The rhythm played
invitingly in the air.
Soon with the mystical melody,
she faded.
When it rains I bake
A sponge cake.
To relish with
A hot cup of tea.

My dear girls, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.
I have been a silent observer of your marvelous life story. How much I adore each one of you, I feel I know you all oh-so immensely. For this, I thank Louisa May Alcott for bestowing upon the world this wonderful, sweet story.
Many moral lessons have been wrapped around each one of my little sisters. How splendidly you’ve all grown to become women of high praise and beauty.
Meg, a girl with many dreams settles with a man who loves her true and deep. You make a wise decision of choosing love over rich fantasies. Regardless, Meg, your two beautiful souls, Daisy and Demi, are worth more than all the riches of the world.
Jo, my love. You are a diamond in the rough. Your strong will, challenging nature, talent, wit, and kindness inspire all the women, one of them being me, to be better than they can ever be. How could you be lonely, when you are surrounded by us who love you so dearly, just the way you are.
Beth, a delicate beauty with a compassionate soul. How the hearts cried to see you in pain and misery. Yet sweet Beth calmed the crumbled hearts like a gentle autumn rain, like a little bird with its many soothing melodies.
Amy, a mischievous little girl grows up to be a charming beauty. How the worldly travels and experiences have turned you into a fine artistic lady. A keeper of Laurie’s heart, you have gotten the best of all, a lifetime of love, happiness, and memories.
Laurie, my sweet lad. You chose Jo for which I will always love you so. It hurt to see your heart break. Guess, it was all for the best. For eventually, you chose happiness and gave me hope that you would not end up being miserable and lonely. You and Amy were meant to be.
No matter the hardships, life has taught the March family, dearest Laurie, and the readers to find happiness in little things and to face difficulties with a smile. This book creates a wonderful imagery by taking you back into the good old world where life was simple and beautiful. The Little Women is about family, love, friendship, and togetherness. This book will always hold a special place in my heart.
Yours Lovingly!

I heard a melodious tune
A passage of notes on the piano
Soft, smooth, and grave
It seemed like a familiar piece of music
Like the one that plays
With the chords of your heart
Like the one that arouses
Many hidden emotions
Which then come flowing out
Like a pouring rain.

‘Twas the wretched dream again.
Reminding me of a glorious day,
A time that my memory refuses to forget.
‘Twas a balmy summery day.
I wandered the streets of Paris again.
Where the trees bloomed decorously
Casting shadows on empty lanes.
There were bustling shops selling
Tiny trinkets and many souvenirs.
Parisian buildings were everywhere.
With the prettiest-looking artistic balconies
I stopped a moment to absorb the view
Then, ended up clicking just a photo of you
– A fallen abandoned leaf by my feet.

Kidding,


