On lost places

 Tw: mentions of death

Last Ramadan she called my mother and asked her to hand over the phone to me. I (the not-busy -yet busy teen) brought  the phone to my ear and replied with phrases like "hmm", "haan"," ji","acha", to the cosmos blowing wise advices like "Do not ever fear loneliness beta,  Allah is always with you"; "Start eating, Ifrah, only you can take care of your body and soul"; "Never stop remembering Him, keep praying". 

This Ramadan, her chair was vacant. Not exactly empty, but filled with unfathomable pain and longing ;filled with a void of two chapped lips uttering the verses of the Qur'an as if it is the only language they had ever known apart from the language of selflessness and love; filled with a void of two wrinkled hands, hands that were quite fragile, yet strong enough to hug you when your walls came crashing down; filled with a void of a pair of sore eyes, eyes that were familiar with the world and beyond; 

Filled, with a void. 

As I pen this little contemplation down, I hope I learn to live a life filled with nothing but good Akhlaq (character/behaviour). The life of love, the life of lending a listening ear to someone, the life of kindness,  the life of hearing the wordless words. The life of humanity. 

"To put to rout all, that's not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived."