moonlight and madness

Your eyes pour the twilight on my way as I turn my back to you. In the dead of the evening, I stroll with my family, away from my home, my road, my town, and what was till yesterday-my country. There are different families with us. Winding their direction to Lahore rail route station. In dread, agony, and assurance that their lives are not theirs any longer. It tends to be cut, transformed, or cleared out inside merely seconds. Regardless of whether they get on that train to Amritsar and show up there in one piece, they would simply be a wisp of what they used to be. I walk. With a well of lava in my chest where my heart used to be. My heart is left crying on that porch. The patio where we used to meet under the twilight. At the point when it was as yet the moon that illuminated the evening. At the point when your head canvassed in hijab was still in my compass. Furthermore, the moon in my measured hands was still in your compass. I convey a little burden on my back as others. It will help us in getting to another country that is going to be my country. What's more, form another life. From the remains of a day to day existence that has been evacuated. The air is still. An uncommon whirlwind brings the harsh smoke. Also, moans. From individuals obscure. From the most distant finish of the town that I can never again call mine. I question assuming it could at any point be yours all things considered. You might be excessively numb to its hug. My family moves in a group. Alone, among an ocean of individuals. Gripping each other's hands. As though we could be more lost than we as of now are. My dad, mother, siblings, and sisters are careful, thinking back occasionally half expecting the earth they are strolling on to swallow them. We cross the stopping point, the edge of the town, and the line of the wild past. In any case, I realize you are as yet watching me. With your eyes as dry as mine, your soul as broken as mine, and your heart attempting to support itself on that porch. The porch I can never return to. What's more, you might in all likelihood never return to. All on the grounds that a man defined a boundary. Suppress the hearts to pick a side; pulling the strings it had shaped till they snapped, breaking it. Hiding the pieces away from view of obscurity. I have strolled really close to what kept us intact. After this turn, you can not see the spot that I have become now. The spot that has entered the vortex made by time. Once more, will we at any point meet? I don't have the foggiest idea. Yet, know this, till there is skin on my back and breath in my lungs, the air around me will murmur just a single name - Yas… min. *** At the point when the fresh insight about your family leaving town made no waves in my family, I realized we were never intended to live respectively. I jumped up the flight of stairs to the porch, to meet you for one final time. You were there. Miserable. The full moon burdened us. You wouldn't even come close to measuring him to give me. You just articulated three words-"Jasmine, excuse me". It caused my reality to disintegrate around me, gradually, each block in turn. I didn't say a thing. All in all nothing remained to be said. You left. With your loved ones. Alongside numerous others. Turning your back to me. Leaving another country that had betrayed you. You didn't think back. Till you came to the actual edge of the drop from where you would never move back. Not in not so distant future. I trusted you will remain safe. At the point when you strolled through the rubble and evaded the dangerous crowds baying for blood. At the point when you fit into the train. Till you arrived at Amritsar. I realize it will be a hard life for you. You should track down another spot to call your home. New position to support your loved ones. What's more, another heart to begin making strings. Binds you to new soil, individuals and life. I wish you track down somebody to give the moon to. While possibly not on a patio, perhaps by the pit fire; to chuckle with and share your accounts before segment. What's more, never stagger at my name while doing as such. I figured I could never return to the patio. Yet that is the thing about individuals who get abandoned. They need to return to the patios, houses, and roads that prompted their hearts breaking into 1,000,000 shards. Furthermore, grin, even as the shards penetrate their spirit. Time will stream. Upstream. For me. Yet, it will stream by and by. A young lady can't live alone. Not around here. There will be discusses my nikah. It will be to a decent man. There is no getting away from it. I want to believe that I would have grown another heart by then, at that point. One that wouldn't beat the syllables of your name-Ra-aj. For the wellbeing of he. Seasons will change and I will be a mother to the offspring of a not-really new country. They will be shown about how frightful the segment was and the way that the other local area transformed into tricksters and must be driven away. They will develop with toxin in their souls for the effects you had behind. On the off chance that I grow a voice back, I will tell them-no house is more destroyed than the one where siblings go into foes. I will in any case have trust in my heart. Actually no, not about truly meeting you once more. However, the line that tore us separated will become obscured and the irate little men will be hushed in the vortex of time. Perhaps not in the course of our life, but rather sometime in the future. Till then, at that point, know this. I never accepted the moon could be mine, yet I never questioned you needing to cull it for me. A few things are past the span of lines drawn by the man-evening glow and frenzy