Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal. And let it go – Part ll

رہتے تھے کبھی ان کے دل میں ہم جان سے بھی پیاروں کی ترہا
بیٹھے ہیں ان ہی  کے کوچے میں ہم ان کے گنہگاروں کی ترہا

The English translation of above Urdu verse is: … those moments and days are no more when I was settled in your heart your dearest and closest,

… now, how sad, I am sitting detached from you, almost being a sinner of yours…

20151231_100719

The grace and the man – my cellphone picture.

I’m not giving up, I’m just starting over.

The story of starting conversation that I wrote in one of my previous blog posts was not so impressive that needs to be referred again. That was a conversation between a young man and I, who were travelling in the metro. If you have time and patience, please search my previous stories and find out what happened. Briefly, I was going to Rawalpindi from Islamabad for repairs of my vintage film camera whereas I posed going to sell my digital one. The lie I uttered was to salvage myself esteem before a young fellow passenger.

 

Now that I have acquired or let say borrowed an actual digital camera, I may not be considered as a liar and actually I am also not feeling guilty. The picture posted above is not at all from this mentioned digital camera, in fact, it is from my cell phone. I am not usually inclined taking photos from my cell phone but the instance was so compelling and touching, I made use of this technological marvel. By the way, the epidemic of taking selfies has chronically reached to limits.

 

Unlike the present young generation who act rather careless and irresponsible looking after their gadgets and electronic devices, I tend to preserve and use them with obsessive care. Forgive me using two adverse adjectives above giving opinion about teenagers. For my part, I attach a string from my cell phone fixed into my waste belt and always keep my cell phone into a pouch that is securely hanging through my west belt. The reason for this unusual and odd habit may be lack of funds or it could be categorized as sign of dementia. That is the way I am. I am so fearful of losing my stuff, to a point I am apprehensive taking my electronic devices out of my home.

 

Following my instincts, I decided to repair my used camera bag. I attempted to carry out repairs myself but failed. To accomplish this feat I went to the cobbler who knows the kind of work I am giving to him, for example, last assignment was to reinforce straps to my old chair. Another one, was modifying a used bag into a laptop cover. The cobbler had just arrived from his village, I had confirmed it giving a phone call and he was sitting under a thick shaded tree that has become his permanent location. Although, as most cobblers in this country, do not pay rent for the space they run their business on but their services are pretty useful for the neighbourhood. It is customary for me to order a cup of tea for both of us, I pay the bill and with this gesture I assume he would pay enhanced attention to the projects I bring to him.

His name is Gul. Gul maintains dyed jet black huge moustaches that gives impression him being master of his trade. He is kind enough to attempt fulfil my unusual work. I sit with him on ground and exchange gossip during the time I supervise. This camera cover job was to stitch Velcro on my camera bag. I guided him marking the required measurement on the bag and he did it with excellence. He was so kind he postponed couple of clients and lost some money. I compensated paying him additional fifty rupees keeping my interest ahead of his.

Even after serving him a cup of tea, ordered from nearby tea stall, Gul seemed pulled down and silent, both in his body language and reflexes. I felt a bit embarrassed, if I had interrupted his sales opportunities. Meanwhile, another customer arrived and expressed sorrow and grief while the customer hugged him. Gul got up and returned the gesture thanking him. This was extremely painful disposition for me. That customer informed me Gul’s young son died in a motorcycle accident two weeks ago. Reluctantly inquiring about the sad incident from Gul, I was told his twenty years son suffered minor inquiries and was hospitalised after the accident few streets from his so called shop arranged on ground. Apparently the boy was on the recovery and died later. Boy’s marriage was arranged already and Gul prepared this forthcoming marriage proudly. Controlling his abrupt emotions and tears, he took a length of time showing me a selfie of his deceased son preserved in his cell phone.

 

Gul is back manning his livelihood and planning marriage of his other son. I paid him money and left the place leaving Gul in agony.

Sometimes when things are falling apart, they may actually be joining together.

  Enjoy the joy…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


*