While cooking, Sabiha's tears bothered me so much that I walked into the room surrounded by strange feelings. In India, too, I could see her tears drifting. I pulled the blanket across my lap and opened Mumtaz Mufti's book while I sat on the bed. The only thing that needed to be accomplished was to stop crying, but it would take a while for this to happen.
The words scattered everywhere as their saturated eyes emerged on the page of the book. The mind was drowning in tears when the book slipped out of the hand and fell to the ground. It made me feel chilly. Set it aside.
The tiredness of the whole day took its toll on the mind, and the goddess of sleep would have been kind at once, for the whole day's busyness with the children was so tiring.
It was only a few days that I taught in the school. It was a difficult and patient task to handle two-two-three-three classes at a time due to the general problems of the government schools. Despite all these problems, the quality of education of this school was very good because of tireless work.
Which would have caused severe exhaustion. As soon as she lay down on the bed, she would fall into the valley of sleep, but today those tears also took the place of sleep. Out in the air.
The whole valley was plunged in darkness, the night traveling alone with the stars was filled with sadness. The mind went back to the incident of the day and the nerve-wracking moments gripped me.
Sometimes an event attracts you with all your senses and then you remain trapped in that moment.
When the third period started, the sun also rose from behind the mountains and showed its appearance. The soft sun of the passing winter was pleasantly warm. I gave the students of Jamaat SWIM the task of writing their homework copies. pick it up
I had just checked three or four copies when the sound of sobs came very close. Time was short and the competition was tough. Even though I was busy, I saw Sabiha sitting right behind the chair. was crying
Always laughing and smiling, the red and white face was full of tears. Shadows of sorrow and fear were clearly visible.
"any problem? Answer please."
Placing the copies on the table, I turned back and tried to lift her face, which she hid in her knees and started crying even faster.
After trying everything I could to find out the reason for the crying, I picked up the copies again and failed.
This untimely ragini made me feel very angry.
Resting his head on the back of the chair, he absorbed this wave of agitation and put his hand on his head lovingly and then asked the reason for his crying. He did not even raise his head to be silent. I asked the girl sitting next to me.
"His book is lost, that's why he's crying. He searched everywhere and couldn't find it." I felt satisfied knowing the reason, so I was also satisfied and focused on my work.
"Which book was it?"
"Urdu's".
"Oh, this is a crying thing. I have an Urdu book, take it and shut up." But the tears started to flow very fast. I looked at Sabiha in surprise. The book was "There is no human being who can't be found if lost." This sentence slipped out of my tongue, which I later regretted.
"Come on, I'll get you a new book. Just shut up."
"Miss is saying that I will take my book"
"Now where can I get my book?"
But due to the intensity of tears, not even a word came out of his mouth. After finishing the work, I handed the copies to the children and saw a book placed on the table.
"This is a book. It is kept. It is not."
"
As soon as she heard this, she raised her head with a shock and flew like an arrow. When the fourth bell rang, all the children picked up their bags and ran out. On reaching a place, she stopped and a calmness spread over her face. The smile spreading on her lips was very charming. She was turning her hand over the page of the book.
I watched this scene with great interest and involuntarily reached out and took the book. In the middle of the pages was a picture of a man in his forties.
"This is my father. This is a picture of Karachi when he used to work there." There was immense love in his voice. "My father came home on vacation and then the earthquake happened and he They also became martyrs. Now I keep their picture with me.
Oh my God, she cried not for the book, but for the picture. She took the book from my hand and put it on her chest like a precious object and went out. Are lifeless pictures a substitute for human beings? My heart is in the depths of sorrow. Drowning went on. And now the tears of Sabiha!
