As
the caravan moved along, Ahmed was at peace. The sun beat down mercilessly and
yet they trudged on. The desert around him seemed like a doomed lover’s call;
alluring and deadly yet beautiful. The undulating sand dunes reminded him of
contours of a different kind. His heart ached and his soul longed for her
touch. The journey had been tough on him; on everyone. With water being scarce
and the ration of food almost finished, the people were joyous and merry. It
seemed that they had returned from a feast and were heading to another. Ahmed
smiled and thought to himself, “Does hope really give us the will to live? Do
we not lament our state when faced with less trying times than what we are facing
currently?” He knew the answer well. With death looming, the people had accepted
the inevitable and perhaps wanted to meet their end with a sense of dignity and
revelry; as if to mock and laugh at the angel of death saying triumphantly, “I
knew what lay ahead of me, so your arrival does not surprise at all.” Ahmed,
confused and yet bemused took pride in that foolish belief; that we, after all
may choose our place and time of departing. Man’s ego would not let him live in
harmony; maybe it will let him die together. As memories faded and time merged one thing
to another, erasing a sense of any past there was or any present he was living,
there was a triumphant shout ahead. “It is a miracle. We have been salvaged by
the unseen hand.” Ahmed walked briskly and a few paces ahead looked upon an
oasis. The sight of it filled his heart with gratitude and relief. People
rushed by and found new life in legs that just minutes ago seemed that they had
walked their last miles. The sight of men, women and children hugging and
greeting was reminiscent of the Eid celebrations and yet this celebration was
more true in its show of affection than its namesake. And then, as if time
itself had frozen, he saw her face and heard her. He never could forget what
she had said to him,” Let your heart be an oasis, always willing to give; not
recognizing any tribe, caste or colour. Give and be not afraid of being
emptied; like the oasis, your heart too shall draw from your soul the love you
have given freely.” He had asked her then, with a furrowed brow,” What about
the desert?” She had smiled and replied,” That, my love is your Nafs.” He was jolted back into the present with
Ameer exclaiming how he would get to Cairo and fix that cheat, Akbar, who still
owed him two sheep. Ahmed laughed.
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