An elderly mother wailing over dried up Achbal Spring creates ripples across the vale. Pseudo intellectuals and religious clerics have left no stone unturned to doubt her sincere supplication towards Amighty. Even the common masses has not spared a bit. Social media is on boom to slander her contents of grief. Don’t be flibbergibbets, at least for God’s sake respect her sentiments. Achbal Nag has become tinder box , cauldron of conflict, water and memory.
She is being castigated for committing the offence of Shirk, when her laments are heard directly addressed to Nag . ” Nagay Sharifa Traish Kartha Band” ( Oh Spring of ours , you stopped giving us water). She is psychologically brittle and emotionally sensitive. Her pious feelings are more powerful than her verbatim. She is shorn of artifice , she is bereft of guile, she is panting soul. And we as collectively are cocksure that she is well aware that there is no driven force other than Allah that can ease our sufferings and traumas. Delve deep into her singeing heart, famished belly and parched throat. Su chun vichaan kiles teh kales , su chu vichan dilkis halus . She is definition of sorrow, broken poetry , a gloomy tragedy – The Mother.
What is the point of tittering? Why this consternation? Why are we crinkling our noses at her prayer mistakes ? Why are we grumpy and crib a lot ? Let’s keep school of thought aside and have a peep look , how many ablutions so she has done for Fajr prayers? .How much time she has performed Tilawat Of Quran? How many nights she has done prayers of Tahjud ( midnight prayers). Have we any imagination that her good deeds are far more than our sins . And her daily prayers surpass our casual nimazs. Why this helter-skeltor confusion? What yardstick we proclaim to gauge her sincerity and honesty in her prayers ? Why is she taken as guilty ? She knows well and can compare between Almighty and water. She is not insane, nor is she inebriated. This innocent elderly woman is in proper senses . We should sniff our chests before doling out sermons of blasphemy and Kufr. Our discussions and deliberations have become theatre of absurdity. Sheer ridiculous!
What a travesty over human thinking!. We lack common sense and logic behind intent. Our skulls have become as empty as conch shells. Our brain should have been like garden where facts and reason flowers into meaning. This pious Budmoj (Elderly Mother) deserves applaud and admiration for her true and intense emotions. Her sobs are without doubt henotic potions that eradicate ennui and the montony. She is not dressed up nattily, but wearing traditional and simple green pinafore , wide eyed and inquisitive replete with concern and worries of parched Nag.
Our hearts broke into thousand smithereens for tantrums and reprimands she is facing. We want be immersed into the haze of your tears, Oh Mother even if you are being ostracised as ignorant and dullard. Your hollers and jeremiad towards Almighty fly unencumbered. I want shower you flowers in abundance mother, let you advance your lap mother ( Chekay posh photi photi halam dar moji).
—Views are personal
The writer can be reached hails from Nunner Ganderbal and can be reached at [email protected].
