Once In A Blue Moon

29 Genuine

In nostalgia, there's no difference between a day, a year, a decade, or a lifetime, because the amount of longing is beyond the idea of time.

— Khalil Gibran

☾

"You once told me that when you love people, you don't love them half-- you love them whole. Do you remember?"

He smiles at her weakly in acknowledgment, the brilliance of his eyes having now dulled to that of a foggy night. She reaches forward to graze his hollow cheekbones with her fingertips.

"Back then, I didn't know what you meant," she tells him. "I asked you how could anyone be loved wholly when everyone is flawed, and that we're always loving people half, or a little more or a little less than that, but never whole. Do you recall?"

He only stares at her and she smiles brokenly, achingly, fighting the raw urge within her from falling apart. She wants to cage him within her ribcage, nestle him within her heart, and never let him go. She wants to save him somehow.

"I now understand what you meant. I love you whole, and not in bits. But is it too late now?" Her fingers hover over his pale skin. "Tell me, jaan, will God give me just one more chance?"

Zoraiz closes his eyes, then forces them open again, a simple movement making him appear exhausted and out of life. He lies on the bed unmoving, not speaking-- not being able too-- the tubes through his nose additionally making it difficult for him to say anything besides the agony of his terminal illness. He has been put on morphine to help with his pain. Seven months. Time has been cut short too soon. And every next day brings the fear of impending doom. She's not ready to let him go-- she never will be.

Only last month, Mikael had visited them. Back then, her brother was still better. But he's deteriorating fast, his muscles decaying and his body declining. It is as if she's losing him little by little every minute. She's dying every day with him.

Zoraiz closes his eyes back, and Banafsha keeps sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him until he falls asleep. She eventually gets up and quietly leaves his room.

A nurse has been hired to take care of him at home. She spends most of her time with him, taking care of him herself, or it's someone else from the family with him. Nonetheless, his illness has effected everyone badly even though they pretend to be fine in front of him.

Banafsha makes her way to the garden on the back of her house and finds her mother on the patio, sitting lost in a swinging chair, emptily staring into space.

"Mama?"

Zuleikha looks up at her silently and Banafsha drags a chair to sit beside her.

"What are you thinking?" she asks her and Zuleikha nods towards the gestures in the garden.

"Wishing if I were one of those, oblivious to the suffering I'm going through."

"We're all tested in our own ways. Every creature with a heart hurts. But the best we can do is to be patient."

"How does a mother be patient when her young son is dying?" she complains. "What do I do to save him? If God asks me for my own life to save his, I'd happily die in his place. But not him, Banafsha. Not my child."

She looks away to the peacocks, roaming around everywhere and spreading their intricately made feathers. For a second, she wishes to be a bird too-- anything but human.

"Baba is ready to give up all his wealth for Zoraiz," Banafsha speaks absently. "But no amount of wealth matters against the will of God. Is it retribution for all our deeds?"