Scattered Aurora

The clock struck the hour and the dreaded load-shedding struck our cool heaven. I dragged myself off to my own room still half-asleep and sprawled on the middle of the bed in front of the window to make the most of whatever little breeze might be gracing the skies today. Still in the realms of dreamland, I went back in time to last summer as the breeze filtered through the window and caressed my over-heated skin.

Once again I was lying on a charpai in my nano'z porch, on a sunny summers day in Abbotabad. It was the middle of the afternoon and both nana and nano were indulging in their daily siesta. Bored of twiddling my thumbs and with nothing to do except for gorging my self on mangoes and peaches, I pasted a note on the door, enveloped myself in a chaddar and took myself off for a walk in the surrounding fields of the banda. Half an hour later, I made my way back thirsting for a cool glass of water. Not so much fun as walking in the early evenings, I discovered. I was sitting on the baramda when I spied the charpai peeking out at me from behind the washing machine. I dragged it out, got myself a pillow and a fat, new paperback I'd been meaning to read for a long time but its size intimidated me. I adjusted my self on the ropey charpai and opened the first page. A summer breeze, warm yet not hot and not cold either, just perfect for the day swept over my body cooling it. A few lines of progress and a bird chirping on the tree in front of me caught my interest. Five minutes later and I tried to drag my attention back to the book, but in the end gave up and tried to enact a movie-star pose. You know the one where they place the book on their chest and go to sleep; mine kept on falling and finally after several uncomfortable tries I put it aside and gave my full attention to nature. There were a couple of young Afghani kids trying to fly kites on a nearby roof and after watching them for several unsuccessful minutes, I started shouting some advice which easily led to some good-natured bantering between us. A few minutes later both of them vanished and I was alone with nature all around me again. I noticed the breeze then, that it wasn't continuous, yet I never felt too hot before it blew its cooling fingers over me again; and I somehow knew that I would always associate that sort of breeze with that day. It was nothing special but yet it was special in its own simplistic way. A common day in Abbotabad but I knew how much, in those long hours in the charpai with the wind breezing over me, I unwinded and got a fresh perspective on my life.

A knocking on a door disturbed my calm dreams of a long gone time and a far-away place. I opened my eyes and opened them a bit wider when I saw I was not out in the open, as I had imagined, but enclosed in a closed room; and wider still when the door opened and mom walked in. Then my common sense caught up with me and reacquainted me with my still being in Lahore and in my own room, even as a breeze blew over me from the window again. Standing by the window later, I realized ke aj Lahore wich Hazare wala mausam ae.