Hafiz Taib
May God Bring Peace
Since a while have I been daily seeing an old man, he sells corn on this street.
Today I saw his bloodshot eyes filled with tears, they seemed like the tears of deep melancholy.
I looked at him with astonishment and thought to myself: what tribulation had coerced this old man into selling corn?
This feeling of curiosity broke the strength of my patience, and compelled me to get closer to him.
While I stood by spectating, the old man was busy in giving corn to children.
The hardships of life had made his body leaner, despite his age induced frailty-he was not dependant on charity.
He was not hopeless instead he was striving to make a living.
I sat down with him, curiously staring at his dusty face as he was freeing himself of the children.
With courtesy I asked: "Pardon me, can I ask a question?"
Wiping the sweat of his brow, the old man answered:"sure son, by all means."
Continuing the conversation, I asked: "Don't you have any other breadwinner in the family? What circumstances forced you to sell corn on this street?"
The old man sighed and replied:"Oh, you simpleton, no one sells corn for pleasure."
And then he started narrating his story.
"God had blessed me with two sons, elder one was earning and the younger was a student, everything was going well without hardship.
One tragic day, the villagers brought the bloodied body of my son. God knows what heartless creatures killed my son for money. I could do nothing about it except staring blankly at his dead body.
With my own hands I buried my beautiful son.
I resolved to start earning to complete the education of my younger son, but he stopped me, saying that he could earn a living while studying."
The old man further said: "Even though, I had lost a part of me, still my income was adequate. The fire in my hearth had stayed warm. My son was employed as well as educating himself.
One day, his university was attacked by some unknown people they had maimed and killed so many students.
I hadn't even gotten over the grief of my elder son when the younger one too was killed.
The world had turned upside down for me I could not comprehend what had happened.
My son was already buried when I had regained my senses after three days grief stricken delusions.
His mother was numbed from grief; his sisters had cried their eyes dry.
I had not even seen his face after he died, like the spring blossomed rose he had shed his petals.
I persevered but his mother failed to handle this tragedy, she spiraled into hysteria.
I spent my last penny on her treatment, even today she had one of episodes but I had no money to treat her.
My heavenly home has become akin to a hell and this is why I am selling corn."
Alas! The old man had a sad tale. Other than selling corn, he has no other option. Who is there to help him? Who is there to emphasize with him? Who is there to wipe away his tears?
Oh God! I ask thee to spite those who have given us pain.
Oh God! I pray thee for peace and prosperity in my country.
So that sorrowful eyes become those of joy.
May God Bring Peace
Since a while have I been daily seeing an old man, he sells corn on this street.
Today I saw his bloodshot eyes filled with tears, they seemed like the tears of deep melancholy.
I looked at him with astonishment and thought to myself: what tribulation had coerced this old man into selling corn?
This feeling of curiosity broke the strength of my patience, and compelled me to get closer to him.
While I stood by spectating, the old man was busy in giving corn to children.
The hardships of life had made his body leaner, despite his age induced frailty-he was not dependant on charity.
He was not hopeless instead he was striving to make a living.
I sat down with him, curiously staring at his dusty face as he was freeing himself of the children.
With courtesy I asked: "Pardon me, can I ask a question?"
Wiping the sweat of his brow, the old man answered:"sure son, by all means."
Continuing the conversation, I asked: "Don't you have any other breadwinner in the family? What circumstances forced you to sell corn on this street?"
The old man sighed and replied:"Oh, you simpleton, no one sells corn for pleasure."
And then he started narrating his story.
"God had blessed me with two sons, elder one was earning and the younger was a student, everything was going well without hardship.
One tragic day, the villagers brought the bloodied body of my son. God knows what heartless creatures killed my son for money. I could do nothing about it except staring blankly at his dead body.
With my own hands I buried my beautiful son.
I resolved to start earning to complete the education of my younger son, but he stopped me, saying that he could earn a living while studying."
The old man further said: "Even though, I had lost a part of me, still my income was adequate. The fire in my hearth had stayed warm. My son was employed as well as educating himself.
One day, his university was attacked by some unknown people they had maimed and killed so many students.
I hadn't even gotten over the grief of my elder son when the younger one too was killed.
The world had turned upside down for me I could not comprehend what had happened.
My son was already buried when I had regained my senses after three days grief stricken delusions.
His mother was numbed from grief; his sisters had cried their eyes dry.
I had not even seen his face after he died, like the spring blossomed rose he had shed his petals.
I persevered but his mother failed to handle this tragedy, she spiraled into hysteria.
I spent my last penny on her treatment, even today she had one of episodes but I had no money to treat her.
My heavenly home has become akin to a hell and this is why I am selling corn."
Alas! The old man had a sad tale. Other than selling corn, he has no other option. Who is there to help him? Who is there to emphasize with him? Who is there to wipe away his tears?
Oh God! I ask thee to spite those who have given us pain.
Oh God! I pray thee for peace and prosperity in my country.
So that sorrowful eyes become those of joy.
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