FLASH FICTION 𝒃𝒚 Dua Azeemi

Chasing butterflies steeped in color and words, we ventured far where dreams and reality lose their meaning.

Glistening pearls danced on the greenery, while red brick paths exuded the fragrance of roses. She was my dream companion, my journey mate.

Clouds, heavy with joy, ran in search of parched land. We were enchanted by the surroundings.

She said, “Life is a dreadful dream, and you are the reality of my soul.”

“Can I touch you?” she asked with trembling voice.

Before I could respond, she timidly touched the back of my hand.

The feel of her soft fingers was like sea foam, making my blood freeze. Clouds covered the sun, and under the gray evening, we walked through the splashes of colors. A dream found its reality — the dream of walking with my soul-mate, who had guarded the secret doors of my heart.

Caravans of dreams, rich in colors and scents, descended from the sky to the earth like divine messages, like orange hues from evening windows, like mist rising from rain drops.

She whispered as we walked, casting flower words onto the waters. Circles formed, some complete, some broken. Clouds frolicked on the wind, their playfulness riding the breeze until all the words washed away. The water changed its color for a moment, and so did her face. I thought everything had drowned like my heart.

What drowned, what survived, what was incomplete, what was whole — the cuckoo’s call seemed to ask. Questions rose like reeds along the riverbank. The wind played with them — the reeds swayed. We looked at each other — now we were reading the silence. We began to learn the language of the universe, picking the flowers of silence. It felt like the language of the universe was the most powerful of all. Her hand was in mine.

The spell of words was broken — speech departed. Love now sought new horizons, flying with the clouds, finding its bivouac in the blue skies. The quest continued silently.

“Can birds fly with broken wings?”

The question shattered the silent Taj Mahal. How long can a living person remain locked in silence?

She suddenly asked, and I did not want to disappoint her.

There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. I needed light too. Safety was in silence.

The night spread its wings, ready to embrace every living being. It was best to surrender, laying down all our weapons, and we discarded all the lessons learned over the years. We threw away all rational defenses and admitted defeat.

How long can one fight the winds blowing against them? How long can one rebel against nature? Rivers find ease in flowing along natural paths. Why do we offer impediments against nature? Who cages the birds ready to take flight, and why?

Two bodies lay side by side, oblivious to everything else, like time seeping into the mounds of earth in a distant graveyard, with wildflowers eager to bloom at the headstones. The chill in the air increased. A group of girls silently entered the graveyard, their colorful anklets jingling, and a blessed tree awoke, becoming greener. The barefooted girl poured oil into a burning lamp at a grave-head. Diamonds like tears fell from her eyes, cooling the fresh earth of the grave. She clung to me as she slept, while I inhaled the scent rising from the soil.

What is the resemblance between the flickering flame of the lamps burning in semi-darkness, the girls, and their desires?

Her body bore the fatigue of centuries. The wrinkles of thought increased as the symphony of life continued to bloom wildflowers in the graveyard.

….

(Translated from Urdu by Prof. Salman Basit)

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