.....And I began to
fold our clothes
Any morning begins when the alarm rings,I wait another 5 to
10 minutes trying to recollect and complete what i was dreaming of....to
complete the story in half consciousness, to make it a Happy ending at least an
acceptable one and then leave my bed of possible futures behind me.
This morning I deeply prayed again for a miracle to happen
before I entered my setting of the day. the one i had very proudly set as the
best way to do more than 15 years back. The familiarity of finding salt where I
had meticulously left it last, the 'azaadiyan' playing into and out of the
speakers, the tea coming to a boil and I waiting to turn the gas off just
before it spills. The clothes thrown in together and then sorted to be washed
by me or my machine. The 11 pm bath, at leisure....yet the exact same way as i
have been last 15 years. Getting ready, placing my hair where it
belongs...pinning it up....and sitting to read the paper. The sections I have
chosen to read as always. And then having my lunch in the sweet company of the
television.At 3 pm I begin to pick up the dried clothes from the sunny side and
to fold them so they neatly go back where they belong till they will be pulled
out tomorrow morning at 7 am. Again.
But this morning...this morning a miracle took place......
Amir from Sillicon Valley replied to my 'Hi' with a 'Hello'. I looked up all of
the continents ( not my home) a real map...the world map...where Amir was
making his morning coffee.... right from Asia to South Africa, to Australia, to
North America to South America. That is how long the 'Hello' had travelled to
light up my day. I asked him what he did...and he said " I make
robots". Was i in the transformers
for real???? Skeptical about what can we talk about then...I plodded some more
and asked him which languages he spoke. And he said he was learning
persian....wowow...a planet was born in that moment.
I began to write in
Persian script and mailing it to him and he began to translate the exact words
of what i had written, I felt like I was writing gold...rather simply copying
gold like a 3 year old writing an A…without knowing it.
Every morning I would wake up to listen to the meanings of
the Persian I wrote…to bubble out a whole new world, they began to suck me
in…my day would pass in the glory of the words flowing in his melodious voice,
bringing peace to a wish gone silent. A wish to be alive. I was beginning to come alive. To be excited
and loved, to be heard and to hear something….anything….and I came alive.
I could not find the salt in its place and people of my life
wondered why my hair was not pinned. They thought I wasn’t well…. Shaking me
up, again and again waking me up to my reality…..where even the language of
touch wasn’t spoken. This could not go on….I was tearing to be in the Sillicon
world and to give up my reality for it. But reality was tearing to keep me on
the hard wooden table that the boiled tea had to be set on. I could not take
the pain no more and so …….began to pick up the dried clothes from the sunny
side and to fold them so they could neatly go back where they belong till they
will be pulled out tomorrow morning at 7 am. Again.
This was my only route back into my reality…..i began to fold
our clothes.
Written as an excerpt from the movie ‘ The bridges of Madison
County’.
