Life Abounds – FazalKarim, Delhi

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“Leaves flow where the wind directs them; and me floweth where my senses directed me. Eyes, ears approach things as they are; seldom go to the scene where they are truly born. A date with life gave me an opportunity to realize this.” Ismail’s heavy voice was gradually quiet as if everyone in the room has seen his body melting under his own heat. The window was open. He could see the immense land covered with greenery and sky, blue, with unshaped white cloud touching the earth somewhere. This arose no feeling upon him. “A bitter experience of life resulting out of bad judgment.” he lowers his head and proceeds to the window to take some lesson from the flowers that smile always and even if faded away leaves fragrance behind. “Tea is ready.” calls up the voice.

Hardly was anything that could be heard. Aziz can perceive the silence. Ismail was still there letting down himself at the window that opens to a field of tender flowers struggling themselves with the blow of wind. He was attracted to the flowers that want to communicate something to him. He was seized with the view how flowers do not give themselves up to the force of wind. They stoop, their sepals drop, and they bruise but spring up again to face the mighty nature of wind. He was hearing as if they are saying to the wind,“ Do not think us weak, although we are small and tender. We will defy you to the moment we can. Each one of us will not let you overcome us. No doubt our roots are untied to each of us, we are one as our leaves feel each other. Even if, you crush over us we’ll allow the mother Earth to hide our painful effort that will sprout one day to challenge your might again.” Ismail was silent. Aziz was silent. Even the wind and flowers have agreed to be mute. Ismail leaves the window. With his first sip he again goes to the window, says to him, “How transient their life is? Thousands of flowers drop down daily and at the same time thousands are ready to bloom to entertain us. They never question why they have so short life. Their body dies, yet their fragrance endures.” A wave of light strikes him. He strips to soul. “Flowers die, fragrance remains behind; human dies, soul goes up, leaves behind body to smell.” echoes in his ears. He was captivated. Human is no more of use unless he realizes for what use he has been invented: to lament, to grieve, to complain for the loss or to perform some noble job God has discovered for him? Aziz holds him; his eyes beckon him to be at calm. Ismail meets his eyes that were glowing with love. Learning comes in different forms. Some result in bitter, some come out fruitful. Ismail bends upon himself like a child bends upon his mother’s lap slowly stretches him and walks out of door…

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