The Window
The Window Posted: 28 Apr 2009 09:01 PM PDT Muslim Rizvi
I hate to be whining about the weather. When I moved to Canada from Pakistan, somebody told me
I have dealt with cold winter days, shoveling snow, sprinkling salt without a whimper. However, a cold April was dampening the spirits a bit. I was going through the regular bed time rituals with my two and half year old son. Watched ‘wiggles and learn', took a bath, read a story, read a dua and was now cuddling with him in his bed. The room was dark with a dim night light and a lullaby CD playing in the background. Suddenly, there was a loud thunder and my son jumped up in the bed. "Go to sleep, Jibran", I said.
he said. I slowly followed him to the window as well. I use to love the rain too. I pulled up the blind. It was pretty dark outside and there wasn't much that you could see except for the rain falling on the window. For some reason I have never liked window glass with rain drops on it, it always look like crying eyes to me. The clouds exploded with a thunder again. Jibran stepped back from the window almost as if in a reverse gear and eased himself into my lap. A feeling of warmth and love just overwhelmed me. My heart melted …melted like a piece of Cadbury's chocolate in a hot cup of milk. I wrapped my hands around him and kissed him on the cheek. We were both sitting in front of the windows staring into the wet darkness. The clouds thundered again and then there was lightning. The whole world outside our window lit up. I expected this light for a moment or two but it stayed, like someone has switched on a tube light. I couldn't believe my eyes. There was so much hustle bustle on the street. People were walking here and there, children laughing and playing. They were all familiar faces. I could see a string of little green and white flags from last year's independence day celebrations hanging on the electric pole standing right in front of our window. The flags were all wet and I felt like reaching out and securing the flags so that they can be used next year. I would hate to see the flags fall down on the street. We should have taken them off after 14th August. I will definitely remember this next year. There was an amrood wala (guava vendor) and a sabzi wala (vegetable vendor) parked underneath the mango tree in front of our house, waiting for the rain to stop. All this rain had not dampened the amrood wala's (guava vendor) business, as there were a bunch of children surrounding him. The sabzi wala (vegetable vendor) however, sat underneath the tree with gray chaddar (sheet) on his head and a grim expression on his face. He was lost in his thoughts, perhaps wondering if his jhuggi (straw house) would survive the rain storm. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted. Faisal and Kashif bhondu just sped away on their rented bicycles and splashed the poor sabzi wala (vegetable vendor) with water. The sabzie wala (vegetable vendor) yelled at them and pretended to run after them. He sat down again after a few moments. He probably knew kids will be kids. I am sure they wouldn't have gotten away with this if it wasn't raining today. I felt bad for him because I am guilty of this too. We rent bicycles when it rains and speed away on the streets, splashing water all over the place. We can rough up these rented bikes in rain. Although, we all have our own bikes, yet they don't come out in rain. You wouldn't want your dear bike and it's chain to get rust with all this water, would you? Renting bikes is the way to go.
I could see Kashif sir knocking on Arshad's door. Knocking was a wise move because ringing the bell in the rain could be disastrous. I am not a mean person, but I hated the fact that he was knocking the door. I am in no mood to do Maths homework right now. Kashif sir was our tutor. He taught Arshad and his sister, then Faisal and his sister upstairs and then came to our house to tutor me and my sister. I was so hoping that he wouldn't show up in the rain but there he was. I could see there was some conversation going on and Arshad had a very serious look on his face. After a long conversation, Kashif sir turned around, looked at me and smiled. I tried my best not make any eye contact but he somehow manages a conversation without talking. He was going back. Chutti ( Holiday ) !! Arshad yelled and I sighed with relief.
As I looked on my left, I could see a cricket match going on. Shanoo, Sarfraz and others from our galee (lane), were having a cricket match with the boys from Samir, Bobby's galee (lane). It was always an exciting affair. The Englishmen who fathered the game would not have imagined a cricket match, in the middle of the street , in heavy rain , with a ganjee (bald) tennis ball. Prior to the advent of taped tennis ball, this was the fastest form of cricket known to man…. and the Australians still thought they had fast and bouncy wickets. After all Wasim's and Waqar's don't fall off the trees. The rain had subsided a bit and as I looked down, I saw my father coming out from the house. He was holding a child's hand as he stepped out. I think the child looked like me. Both my father and the child started digging in the front yard. I think they were looking for earth worms. They must be going fishing! A feeling of warmth and love just overwhelmed me. My heart melted …melted like a piece of Cadbury's chocolate in a hot cup of milk. Suddenly, it was dark again outside the window. I heard my son,
He was looking at me with drowsy eyes. I hugged him as hard as I could, kissed him on the cheek and carried him to his bed. |
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