I found myself perched upon a rock at the edge of the Sindh tributary, a part of the Jehlum river. Though these waves may have been small in size, they possessed a quiet yet powerful ferocity. In their own microcosm, they were the masters, unaware of the existence of tsunamis. In the distance, the soothing melody of "haa sher sawaaro" accompanied by the swift winds drifted past me. As I sat there, a part of me marveled at the waves' relentless determination, while another part of my mind wandered hundreds of miles away, sifting through the sands of the past in search of answers. The waves, traversing the boundaries of my existence, were formidable in their own right. However, I couldn't help but be conscious of the existence of the greater tsunami beyond, and this awareness diminished my own significance. It made me realize that knowledge could sometimes feel like a curse, whereas ignorance might have been a blessing.
© Shafat_Ibne_Ali