continued...
My eyes opened in a bed I wasn’t familiar with, without any clue about where and when. The room decorated in very familiar and yet strange way, red curtains hanged around the bed and petals of saffron flower spread over the bed along with a homemade white bedsheet that had blood stains on it; all these gave me a very frightening chill. I had worn very light grey thobe up to my ankles and a strange girl was putting on her red and green afghani traditional wedding dress.
I jumped out of the bed and looked outside the window. I was in a small building in middle of saffron field that seemed to spread up to the surrounding mountains. Azan from far pleased my ears. It was hard to believe and I constantly denied it. I looked at my foot where I had a wound but surprising it seemed long gone leaving a nice sexy scar. I knew saffron doesn’t grow in winter, so it all must be a dream. Still, I asked to be sure.
“What day is it?”
“You know days are same in India and Afghanistan.” She replied, chuckling and blushing at the same time, a strange combination. She walked closer to me and looked at the mountains, she added, “Growing here in this valley, I thanked Allah for this heavenly beautiful place he lent us but I never believed in destiny until I married you. Amir weds Marzia; it chills me. Who knew that a handsome Indian boy would land in my arms?”
“All is Allah’s act.” I replied. One thing that I learned about managing split personality was going with flow so other won’t doubt you....