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ch 2 SOUL VOYAGE continued
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. She held my hand and looked at the palm.
“Thank you for last night. It was really nice of you to understand.” She said slowly moving her finger on the cut in my palm, “I will bring you breakfast. Go freshen up, we have a lot to do.”
She took the bed sheet and walked downstairs. I drew a dry gasp and laid back on the bed. Then, alarm rang on the phone on table beside bed. I opened my sleepy eyes and looked at the phone screen. All was okay; 5:30 in the morning and no one was nagging me to wake up. Until, I looked at the date. 8 May 2021.
It never happened to me before. I was never gone for so long. I knew nothing about this place except Marzia whom I only knew by face just because I had seen her on Instagram. But you could never know about a person through social media, or you could know very well if you are cleaver. People shows their hidden emotions on internet that even themselves don’t know.
I once again looked at the phone screen. My ghost in the wallpaper along with Marzia gawked at me. I tried to open the phone with my fingerprint; amusingly, the middle finger worked. Network was weak to stream anything but google worked charmingly. I searched everything I could on internet about Marzia. From Instagram I got her Facebook ID and following that the email address.
A lot was there to see and understand for a guy like me. She didn’t seem a very bad idea, both physically and mentally. Marzia was sixteen or maybe seventeen but she looked around early twenty in her bridal makeup. I could probably start a new life with her considering there was nothing left for me in the past life. Surfing though her Instagram posts, I landed on a photo of her imposing as portrait of afghan girl named Sharbat Gula in red scarf by Steve McCurry.
Beginning a fresh start with her as her husband, I had grown into a man completely different from my past life. In midst of a landscape of terrors and risk of life, our relationship thrived. Her and Mary’s father had grown into a wise old man who told me stories when we would work on the saffron field together. Workers did the most of the work but I liked being out in the field surrounded by mountain, far much beautiful then Manali and watched Marzia when walked through the saffron flowers.
Her magnificent greyish eyes with blue circle around her iris enchanted the heavenly beauty of leepa valley, the only place I would ever wanna visit before I die. She looked like European women but her accent was Iranian. Her accent toxified me in good way when she talked in her mother tongue with others and then she turned to me explaining what she said in fluent Urdu.
It was not like I had forgotten about Aarifa or my urges to play with her body were gone, but looking at Marzia, I felt different, a chance to correct all my wrong doing and fall in love with a woman who loved me back wholeheartedly. It was all a lie to be honest but I loved playing a nice guy after what I went through in Manali.
Even midst of heavenly beauty of Herat and company of a girl soaked in irresistible pulchritude, I couldn’t get past the feelings and nightmares that haunted me ever since that night in Manali when I harmed my own sister. No matter how far I had got and how much I had changed myself for the world, the past still chased to me to the happiest and the safest of the moments. I was afraid one day it would catch up with me and it would be all over for me.
Lost in the thought of home, I looked at the Herat city from cliff. Like always, I watched the sun set behind the mountains. Ready for walking back home and eat the delicious dinner Marzia had made for me, I stood up and looked at the boy across the rocky plain in middle of nowhere. He had been following me for around a month, and by each passing day he got closer and closer to me. Today he was just less than a hundred metres away from me. The past was already catching up with me.
I couldn’t live in fear like this, so today I walked to that boy. He dropped a piece of paper and ran away. Confused I picked the paper and read.
If you want to be safe from any threats regarding your past, come to the mountains alone, this full moon at the night. Make sure no one follows you.
The full moon was tomorrow. I looked around to see where the boy headed. I saw him running to hills. I crumbled the paper out of anger. I had started a new life and I wasn’t ready to give it away. I crawled back to Marzia, hoping it would go away when I see her and dive into her eyes. Someone was just fucking around with me and I was probably safe. Alas! I never was.
© the forbidden child
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. She held my hand and looked at the palm.
“Thank you for last night. It was really nice of you to understand.” She said slowly moving her finger on the cut in my palm, “I will bring you breakfast. Go freshen up, we have a lot to do.”
She took the bed sheet and walked downstairs. I drew a dry gasp and laid back on the bed. Then, alarm rang on the phone on table beside bed. I opened my sleepy eyes and looked at the phone screen. All was okay; 5:30 in the morning and no one was nagging me to wake up. Until, I looked at the date. 8 May 2021.
It never happened to me before. I was never gone for so long. I knew nothing about this place except Marzia whom I only knew by face just because I had seen her on Instagram. But you could never know about a person through social media, or you could know very well if you are cleaver. People shows their hidden emotions on internet that even themselves don’t know.
I once again looked at the phone screen. My ghost in the wallpaper along with Marzia gawked at me. I tried to open the phone with my fingerprint; amusingly, the middle finger worked. Network was weak to stream anything but google worked charmingly. I searched everything I could on internet about Marzia. From Instagram I got her Facebook ID and following that the email address.
A lot was there to see and understand for a guy like me. She didn’t seem a very bad idea, both physically and mentally. Marzia was sixteen or maybe seventeen but she looked around early twenty in her bridal makeup. I could probably start a new life with her considering there was nothing left for me in the past life. Surfing though her Instagram posts, I landed on a photo of her imposing as portrait of afghan girl named Sharbat Gula in red scarf by Steve McCurry.
Beginning a fresh start with her as her husband, I had grown into a man completely different from my past life. In midst of a landscape of terrors and risk of life, our relationship thrived. Her and Mary’s father had grown into a wise old man who told me stories when we would work on the saffron field together. Workers did the most of the work but I liked being out in the field surrounded by mountain, far much beautiful then Manali and watched Marzia when walked through the saffron flowers.
Her magnificent greyish eyes with blue circle around her iris enchanted the heavenly beauty of leepa valley, the only place I would ever wanna visit before I die. She looked like European women but her accent was Iranian. Her accent toxified me in good way when she talked in her mother tongue with others and then she turned to me explaining what she said in fluent Urdu.
It was not like I had forgotten about Aarifa or my urges to play with her body were gone, but looking at Marzia, I felt different, a chance to correct all my wrong doing and fall in love with a woman who loved me back wholeheartedly. It was all a lie to be honest but I loved playing a nice guy after what I went through in Manali.
Even midst of heavenly beauty of Herat and company of a girl soaked in irresistible pulchritude, I couldn’t get past the feelings and nightmares that haunted me ever since that night in Manali when I harmed my own sister. No matter how far I had got and how much I had changed myself for the world, the past still chased to me to the happiest and the safest of the moments. I was afraid one day it would catch up with me and it would be all over for me.
Lost in the thought of home, I looked at the Herat city from cliff. Like always, I watched the sun set behind the mountains. Ready for walking back home and eat the delicious dinner Marzia had made for me, I stood up and looked at the boy across the rocky plain in middle of nowhere. He had been following me for around a month, and by each passing day he got closer and closer to me. Today he was just less than a hundred metres away from me. The past was already catching up with me.
I couldn’t live in fear like this, so today I walked to that boy. He dropped a piece of paper and ran away. Confused I picked the paper and read.
If you want to be safe from any threats regarding your past, come to the mountains alone, this full moon at the night. Make sure no one follows you.
The full moon was tomorrow. I looked around to see where the boy headed. I saw him running to hills. I crumbled the paper out of anger. I had started a new life and I wasn’t ready to give it away. I crawled back to Marzia, hoping it would go away when I see her and dive into her eyes. Someone was just fucking around with me and I was probably safe. Alas! I never was.
© the forbidden child
