A Moment in the Courthouse of Time

CHAPTER 2: A Song of Benediction

1984 - The year when Sadaf felt like the happiest and luckiest person alive on the planet as she caressed the mushy cheeks of her baby girl in her willowy arms, lying in white, unbleached sheets of Sir Ganga Ram Hospital. The feeling was surreal. Completely surreal. An ironically funny yet pitiful incident related to Sir Ganga Ram occurred during the religious riots of 1947. His devoted statue, which once stood on the Mall Road of Lahore, was vandalized by a mob because the fanaticism existed on both sides of the border... and is persisting to date. The stunning slice of the story is that one of the vandals, who were smearing the effigy, was injured by a bullet when the police intervened. Can you take a guess where the wounded was taken to save his life? To the very same hospital of whose benefactor's image he was trying to obliterate. Your life is like an unexpected swindler that knocks at your door like an uninvited guest.

Long gone were those days, and now the only thing that mattered at that moment was Sadaf, who bore her first and sole child. Sadaf was married to a very good-looking, enigmatic man, whom she met four years ago. In the matter of these unfelt years, the couple happily welcomed Sarah into this unintelligible world. Time is a funny thing and how strangely it works. "What is time, hon'? We consider each passing moment a second and sixty of those moments are called a minute. How the very first person was authorized to call each still moment a passing second?

"For me, you are these passing yet still moments, and this girl is going to tick in our lives to remind us of how time can never be measured yet keep us intrigued till the end," expressed Faizan while his eyes brimmed with tears.

These passing yet still moments brought a basket of happiness to Sadaf's small and contended family, who resided in their acutely peaked wooden gable for 19 years now. A brunette with skittish, hazy eyes and a mesmerizing gait had the lore of arts, unlike her father, who was more into science. She was in her last year of graduation and aspired to become the best artist in the world; to be recognized among the likes of Rembrandt, Sadequain and Tagore. Sarah had everything she could envision of; a supporting family, a successful student life, her beau, and most importantly, her optimistic slant on everything. She was regarded as one of the most mentally strong and constructive personalities in her school, but much to her dismay, a challenge was waiting for her at the end of the road to happiness.

***

One evening, Sadaf was sitting in her patio, reading Interaction of Color - a book that is considered a masterwork in the field of arts. A cold and windy weather was the last thing to be expected at this time of the year, but you cannot grasp destiny when it is determined to arrive at your doorstep. The sunny, cheerful sky turned reddish-orange as if a crate of tangerines has been knocked over, while a gust started sweeping the entire zone. The weeping willows were flailing as the groans of agony could be heard amid the tanned-dusty climate. The storm brewed inconspicuousness in the neighborhood. Sadaf erratically hurried out to bring Sarah inside when a broken wood piece flew right towards her and knocked her out unconscious at their doorstep. The taupe interlacing roof of their residence also caved in and all the rubble kicked up a cloud of pinkish-gray dust, filling the catastrophe with an undying gale on Heaven Street. It was entirely impossible to spot any individual even at a distance of mere 3 meters. The calamity prevailed for a couple of hours before the rescue teams showed up at the spot and cordoned off the area. The wretched neighborhood slowly came alive with the abatement of this adversity. This storm was entirely different and had never been experienced before, especially with such intense wrath. Many sustained injuries and were evacuated to the hospital.

On the other hand, at his work, Faizan was unable to contact his family as all the connections were sliced up and it was impossible to reach anyone in the berth of hopelessness. After an hour of only tension, he, luckily, received a call from the hospital that his daughter is admitted there. Faizan, in a matter of seconds, rushed there and found Sarah fortunately with just minor injuries around her peaches-and-cream complexioned, gracile elbow. The torrential rain of kisses unraveled on Sarah's head for the next few minutes; however, there was no sign of Sadaf.

Faizan kept searching through the hospital records and yelled unruly at few administrators for hours but all went in vain. The authorities also apprised him that they did not find anyone under the debris as well. Faizan sat numbly in confusion and lamented the loss of another beloved. This one struck harder than before as he knew Sadaf. He had lived the best moments of his life with her, and most importantly, she blessed him with Sarah. His sunken pain once again lingered over the uncertainty of whereabouts of Sadaf, creating a chaos of unbearable and unforeseen agitation in the labyrinth of malarkey. Faizan longed for a final goodbye. His tears froze over the surface of loss. He yearned for a last glimpse of his dreamlike wife. The unreal pain of not being able to hold her for one last time softly sifted through each vein in his body. He foolishly desired for just one still yet passing moment with her. This moment, this very moment plundered him of his warmth. Tears kept streaming out on his angular cheekbones as he cradled Sarah's benumbed head in his chest, where his wailing accompanied grievance as the lines deepened on his face. That insufferable hour turned into a day, and many days like that collectively turned into months and years.