Monday, February 24, 2014

Everything is where it was, but you…

Everything is where it was, but you…
Author: Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Village Akil
Larkana, Sindh, Pakistan
January 30, 2014

Dear Alan,

After four years of my university, I’ve returned to my homeland, and I see everything is where it was when I had left. The flowers are in the fields, the waves are in the river, the trees still sway in the wind, and the birds sing. The one thing that has gone is you. 

I was expecting that you would be at the station to receive me. I always thought that you missed me, my friendship, and my company. Where have you gone, Alan? I looked for you on the levees, on the streets, and on the banks of the river where we often sat and you made me laugh with your jokes. 

Villagers say you have changed. I tell them that Alan might have changed to you, but he would always be the same to me. Isn’t that true, Alan? Come back, my friend. I want to see you. Guess what? I have become a writer! I write stories, essays, biographies and poems. I want you to read me my poems. Oh, I want to hear your jokes, go for walks, and walk on the sand on the bank of the river. 

I have often written about our friendship in my writings; this way you were always with me. Now that I am here in my own village, why is there so much distance, dear? I remember you could never spend a day without meeting me. What has happened to you, Alan? I just want to know everything is all right. My friend, wouldn’t you congratulate me on my graduation? I would like to show you the pictures of my university life. When I was far away from my homeland, I missed every tree of my village, every field, every levee, the river, the streets, the singing birds, the herds of cows and bedfellows. I am happy to be back; this is where I belong, but your long absence makes me sad. 

Oh, Alan, February has come. The trees have turned yellow, the leaves have started falling. Oh, the salubrious wind has started blowing. Let’s be together in this spring, on the open grounds where the villagers play cricket and the boys fly kites. Oh, my friend, let’s walk on the bank of the river, which looks like a desert when the water has dried because of the wind. Come back, Alan, before the month of February ends. Now that the winter is about to end, the woodcutters have started going to the forest, the birds have come out of the forest, and they sit on the bank of the river and near the pond in the fields to catch the fish. I look forward to your arrival, dear friend. Let us spend our lives together forever.

Yours friend,

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