Another Lonely Day

by Aanya F Niaz

There’s no bond, no intimacy and no sacred sincerity but with your brothers and sisters; your blood and flesh. Conquering the world, every Pakistani walks upon foreign soil with this reality in mind: the intricately glued-together familial friendships. It’s what I kept in my pocket when I saw Virginia’s first sunrise. Ingrained into a soluble mind was my mother’s blessed quote “they are your ready-made best friends, your brother and sister – break their hearts and you break yours”.

Rolling my eyes at the redundant approach my mum opted for, I swung past the childhood saga of playful memories and animated realities, assured by my conscience.

But the world waited for no one, not me any way. People walked everywhere, sharing love, life and stories alike of their Thanksgivings and Christmas breaks. Sparkling faced with glistening eyes, gurgling anecdotes of sibling rivalry and such, I often reminisced quietly. Silence became my friend, you see.

My brother and sister both made their ways, with ardent vigor in one hand, and hopeful aspirations in the other. Upon venturing into the academic addictive American worlds, their lives have lead them to places unforeseen and experiences unimaginable. Relishing in their glorious achievements, I convinced myself the lack of their physical appearance was of no consequence, not really any way. As long as their voices over the telephone were joyful, their lives were blazing with delectation. Who was I to intrude and beg their faces across from mine.

Now when I see siblings laughing at their private jokes, I smile a sheepish smile. I remember my bachpan and quiet the overflowing thoughts of being in their every day lives. What happened to my ready-made bestfriends? Why did the world steal them from my homely desires? When I see them, I am shy. I am not afraid to expose the sins of my mind to them, but I am shy because I know I only have them in my pocket for a day or two. I suppose this is life? I crave my eastern Empire to beckon the frightfully noisy life of my childhood home. There, you see, you were never alone.

 

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