The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 42: Dancing With Tragedy

SALMAN

  
Ilyas was becoming more joyful. How should Salman feel about it? Being happy for him and sharing in his joy was perhaps the polite thing to do. But for whatever reason, he could not bring himself to do that. He simply stared at him and the other soldiers. But always, always, his head, like a compass, pointed at Ilyas.
  
When would the right time come? When will the stars align in such a way that Salman could finally know that this was the right time? When will the angels march towards him and beg him to speak to Ilyas? None of that would happen. Salman was no prophet, no boy supported by divine intervention like Musa or Isa. If he had a decision to make, he had to make it himself and depend on no one else.
 
‘Tell him that you know, and you will be relieved of your burden,’ he said. ‘But there is another thing that you must keep in your mind. When you say such to him, remember to be considerate. Say to him that it is his responsibility to reveal this secret to the others. It is not your job to tell that to the rest, it is his.’
  
This was that time now, and he was struggling to wait.
  
He was beginning to have the urge to call Ilyas, but Abbas had materialized in front of him.
  
‘Are you doing all right now?’ he asked, a rare worrisome expression etched on his face.
  
‘I think so.’
  
Salman was surprised at his own hoarse voice. He hadn’t spoken in full sentences aloud for a long time, and so had forgotten the way he spoke.
  
‘It does not look or sound like that, but who knows? Maybe I should not judge too soon. What do you wish to talk about?’
  
Salman didn’t reply. He wanted to, but there was something in his throat that didn’t allow him to.
  
‘Hm, not much of a talker recently then? But I suppose I can understand you. We haven’t talked much with each other, right? Allow me to initiate some sort of conversation. How has Baghdad been these days? Well, last you saw it anyways.’
  
Salman so desperately wanted to answer, but he still could not. He just did not seem to have the strength.
  
Abbas sighed, but then Salman noticed his eyes fill with curiosity. He was staring at Salman’s pockets.
  
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
  
Salman looked towards where Abbas was staring and was himself surprised to see a folded piece of paper. Then he remembered. It was the poem he had written.
  
‘It’s just something I wrote.’ Salman replied, suddenly gaining the will to speak.
  
‘Is that so? A message to someone?’
  
‘No; a poem.’
  
‘Ah, interesting. May I take a look at it.’
  
Though hesitant, Salman slowly took out the paper and unfolded it before handing it over to Abbas. Salman watched his eyes hover over every word, understanding every verse. When he was done, he smiled and handed the paper back.
  
‘It is a wonderful poem.’ He said.
  
‘You think so? Was it really good?’
  
‘Hm, admittedly, not the best that I have ever read, but nonetheless, I quite like it. The reason I do is because it praises the dunes.’
  
Salman looked at him, slightly perplexed.
  
‘That is a strange reason.’ He said.
  
‘It indeed is, but I have my reasons, you see. The desert has helped me in many ways. Without it, I wouldn’t have known about ishq.’
  
The word sounded strange coming from Abbas, nearly otherworldly.
  
‘Ishq? What is that?’ Salman asked.
  
‘Salman, ishq is the thing that allows the fire to crack, the waves to move, and the world to continue to give love. Love has made us, it will have us live, and it will be the reason for our deaths. Ishq is that higher level of love, and it is what I want to spread.’
  
Salman was a bit shocked at what Abbas was saying. Since which day had he started speaking like this?
  
‘I believe it is I who should be asking if you are all right, Abbas.’ Salman said.
  
‘You will understand me soon. In the meanwhile, you worry about your dilemma.’
  
Salman sighed.
  
‘That is the problem, I do not want to worry. It is a grave situation that I have put myself in, and I am finding no way to get out of it.’
  
Abbas, with a sympathetic smile, sat right next to him.
  
‘I think it is best to trust your heart and the advice of other people,’ he said. ‘But remember, no one can give you courage. That is entirely up to you. I can do nothing except pray for the success of your plan, in whatever way you wish to achieve it. Really, that is all I can do. The rest is for you to decide.’
  
A peculiarity. Instead of asking what the problem was, Abbas immediately went to giving advice. That was completely unlike him, and different from a normal human reaction.
  
Nonetheless, he watched him get up and leave, but not before he had given an encouraging smile.
  
‘Good luck, my brother, and always remember to love people. But above all, never forget to love yourself and work for yourself.’