A Song of Memories
There comes a time in your life when pain breaks all illusions and suffering teaches you the value of honest relations, as mine revealed to me the purity of my mother’s love for me.
Seventeen years ago my eyes were closed to the colors of this world but my heart was opened to the brightness of another; to a world where every sound taught me to see the soul of this universe and to hear the music of its ancient songs. Melodies, which sung to me the truth of many relations, the sincerity of my connection with my Lord the most merciful, and the depth of intimacy I have with my family and friends. They taught me how to breathe in the affections of my loved ones as a part of my own soul, making them an inseparable part of my own being. They infused in me the significance of my mother’s love for me as the core of my existence. Even as I write these words, I can hear their heavenly voices singing softly with in my very soul, urging me to add some notes of my own to their eternal symphony. So joining my voice to theirs, I pen these following thoughts as a tribute to my mother.
To say that I can ever truly understand the extent of love that you feel for me would indeed be a lie. For no one but the all-knowing has the knowledge of that sacred mystery. However, to teach us the value of such heavenly blessings, He has gifted us the wisdom to seek within our own hearts the truth we all desire but for which few are able to find the courage to make that deep a journey.
Daring to look deep within my soul, I find myself walking across the bridge of time to a strange land of immense beauty, a land of memories. A place where the black blanket of my blindness is lifted, and I behold once again the enchanting smiles of all those I love and remember. Their affectionate faces make me relive all those joys and achievements, healing my unconsciously weary heart and filling it with an inexpressible gratitude towards my most benevolent Master. And Maa; among all these faces yours shine the brightest, like the dawning sun who’s blazing majesty dominates all the shining stars, the twinkling guardians of the night sky.
Radiant with pride at my achievements, your smile is the widest and most beautiful of them all. For it not only heals my heart but has become the warmth of its life. If I ever lost the sight of your innocent face, I would indeed lose my way in the harshness of my reality. For though your face is as angelic as I remember it to be, your eyes are full of an unearthly wisdom that silently shows me the story of your motherhood. Teaching me the virtues of an honest soul.
Standing here, looking into your eyes, I see myself as an infant in your arms and feel your unrestrained happiness at holding your first born. The scene shifts and I see myself a crawling baby, having cut my finger by sticking it between a closing door and a toy I was playing with. The cut was deep and I bled so terribly that abu’s shirt was soaked red and once again I feel the pain you felt at that time, as if it would tear apart your heart. In another image I see myself sitting on a tricycle trying to paddle it over a stepping stone in our garden and falling Face first on the stone, cutting open my chin. I feel your frantic confusion and see you carrying me to the neighbours, asking them through your uncontrolled sobs to take me to the hospital.
The story continues and I am four years old. You are scolding me for not doing my homework. when I cry, you feel guilty and hold me to your chest and ask me, “Do you really want Ahmed and Fahad to get a head of you and leave you behind?” Your challenge still spurs me on, Maa! More images follow these and I see you walking to and fro in our driveway; Wrapped around you, is your grayish black cloak and you hold a rosary in your hands, praying for me. I see you standing in the window, waving goodbye to me when I used to leave for the school in the mornings and in the evenings, standing in the same spot, I see you, just watching, made me feel protected and apprehensive of your watchful eyes. Another image shows me laughing, in an army uniform, with yourself glowing with affection and amusement on seeing me, playing the soldier.
The images that follow are the most vivid and are richest in detail. Perhaps because they concern a part of your story that you abhor but which I believe makes you one of the greatest mothers in our Lord’s eyes. For now I see myself an eight years old boy, bathed in my own blood. Screaming for you. Trying to fathom the thunderous explosion, the sudden darkness, the fear of death that filled my soul. Maa, had the world been able to reflect the agony and the turmoil of my childish heart, mountains would have crumbled to dust, oceans would have risen to a hundred tsunamis, and the very earth would have cried out in agony “Oh Lord have mercy on us”. Such was the pain that you took within your own heart with a single caress of your loving hand. I can see your kind face covered with your tears, as if you were trying to wash away all my hurt and confusion by letting your tears lose their anguished love into the blood of my agony.
For these last seventeen years you have lived a life of two souls. Your tireless devotion became the vessel for my education. No matter how many times you had to read a text, you would do it, even for hours on end. Your love cradled even the most churlish of my childish fancies. When I wanted to watch cartoons, you would become my eyes and tell me every little scene. When I wanted to play a game, and I would not play owing to my unseeing eye and disfigured hands s, you would hold my hands and run with me in races, hold up the remote for me to press its buttons, move about its joystick, to let me play like others on PlayStation.
Indeed my words are fading into the unfathomable depths of your love for me. Life goes on and so does the song of your affections. Your tenderness has taught me the value of honest emotions and sincere relations. Not to judge their devotions nor to question their sincerity, not to expect a return, just acknowledge their affections as you acknowledge mine. For the fact is that we humans have no capacity of returning the unconditional love of a mother.