Another Pair of Eyes

ANOTHER PAIR OF EYES
The pair of eyes were a bit different from any other pair I had witnessed in the past. They were sunk inside cups of joy; I was not sure whether the cups had experienced sorrow or happiness in the near past, they had certainly been witness to a lot of years, I didn’t doubt it, they had certainly seen the past in a terrible form, the future was in the making, and the eyes smiled in pleasure. They symbolised the heart’s wishes to be happy and content.


The eyes wanted to be happy, the part could not have made a stronger plea on behalf of the whole. The eyes had prostrated before Their Creator only a few minutes ago, they had shed tears of joy and pain, I wished I could have wiped the tears off. The essence of the situation combined with the fragrance of the time to give a steady shape to the shift of my thoughts from her face to the purpose of my being there. For a second, I began to doubt the purpose of my being in Medina, I began to doubt the very purpose of my existence. I wanted to live for the eyes. I wanted to make the eyes the purpose of my survival and existence. I wanted the eyes to live for me, I wanted them to blink for me. Things could be different if the eyes blinked only for me. All my wishes could come true if only the eyes blinked in my favour.


I now wonder if it had been immoral on my part for making such wishes because the eyes were supposed to blink for someone else. They wept tears for someone else, they lived for someone else, they existed for someone else. The twinkle in the eyes belonged to someone else. I am conscious of pangs of jealousy entering my soul as I become conscious of the realisation. The owner of the eyes seemed to possess all the luck and charm the eyes promised. I wanted a lot of good luck and some amount of relief the eyes promised. I began to wonder if the eyes had witnessed as much apathy and pathos as I had. I could appreciate all the blessings of Allah only because I had been through all the miseries of the world. The eyes provided contrast and relief from the mess I had found myself in.


There were insurmountable differences of language between us that I could not overcome, it was a miracle how the eyes seemed to be different from other miracles I had witnessed in the past. My life had been through several episodes of infatuation and unrequited love that I wanted to forget, and here was an excuse for me to wrap the past in the shrouds of time, and soar to the future.


My future was as dark as the veil that covered the face. It provided a deep contrast to the fair complexion, although only a part of the face could be seen. The veil made the eyes a deeper mystery. They symbolised the mysteries of the universe that have baffled philosophers and scientists since the universe was created. The vastness of the universe symbolised the vast gulf that separated us. Here was a distance that the fastest rockets might be unable to cover even if they traveled with all the fuel in the world.


There was a huge difference between the world around me and the world in which she lived. There could never be anything in common between our worlds. But the eyes could bridge the broadest rivers in the world. Rivers have always carried a sense of freshness despite the innumerable effluents that find their way into them. I wanted to experience the freshness of the eyes again, I wanted to know more about the whole that the part stood for. I wanted to see the world the part had beheld, I wanted to feel the world as the whole had sensed.


Either there was something potent about my wish, or there was something special in the place and occasion. My silent wishes were deemed to be granted, or at least a part of them. I wish I had made a lot of silent wishes, but I didn’t believe in wishes coming true. I was destined to witness the whole that bore the part the very next day.


I could have recognised the eyes even in a crowd. I had no doubts of the origin of the beacons of light. She had removed her veil to reveal her face, so I could now appreciate the beauty of the whole which was unfurled before me. The years she had been through had left an impression on her face, but the impressions of time on her face only added to the beauty. Time had flowed in her favour, it was clearly written all over her face.


I had not seen the face the first time because it was behind a veil. As I witnessed the face, I realised that the beauty of the part was a mere sign of the beauty of the whole. The face was even more beautiful. It made me pause and reflect on my past.


I could not pause at this juncture for a long time, there was something in the splendour of the place that made me want to embrace the beauty of the occasion more than that of the passing moments. She got on a bus and was away before I could collect myself.
To this day, I miss the mesmerising experience in Medina, but I am glad I have preserved her eyes in my mind, and they shall be there for a long time to come.

ANOTHER FACE

ANOTHER FACE

The softness of her Face contrasted with the sharp image of the pa in my mind she had a fair complexion that seemed to begin from one ear and end in the other she was not exactly beautiful, but I wanted to find beauty in homely face at that moment. I could almost see my future when one of a couple of homely faces would propose to hold the beacon of my future. The face before me was, relatively speaking, original. The other faces seemed to be a product of a process of automatic duplication. Hen I looked closely at them, these faces belonged to types already in my mind. But my mind presented no class offering a natural place to her face---- she was a specimen apart. These were some truths that were falling into order before me.

Several truths of life began falling into place as I became conscious of the contrast between her face and other faces. The contrast symbolized the yawning gap between two consecutive stages of my life. She seemed to represent the bridge between joy and sorrow in my life, between all the evil in the world and all the good. Her face represented a timeless entity that offered relief from the glowing heat o the world. I found myself peering closely into the mystery of life as I looked into her face. It was as vivacious and naughty s a baby and as fresh as the drops of water trickling down my neck after a shower.

Her facer reminded me of the hundreds of dreams that could not materialize. It is strange how quickly these images of energy had faded into the background of my life. It reminded me that there is only one dream that could ever be a reality. The dream has served as the sparks that ignite a bonfire: the dream has given way to a flood of emotions within me. The dream could be the solvent that could mitigate the darkness of the night that has been hovering over me for a long time. It has been a dark, long and cold night: I have dreamt the same dream throughout the night. The night would certainly dissolve into the day, the dream would initiate the dawn of a fresh day, the dream would face into the reality. I look forward to the dawn in my life, I look forward to touching the dream turned into a reality.

The reality presents things to feel, it provides comfort as well as discomfort. I began to feel uncomfortable looking into her face. I began to analyze the situation. The idea of a diminished liberty that the entire process would involve did seem a bit indigestible to me. There was a glowing fallacy in the logic of the proposition. All of a sudden, I didn’t want the dream to be a reality. I brought the roller-coaster of my emotions to a halt: I felt better to pause at the edge of the larger adventure.

A jolt reminded me of the adventure I had really bargained for---- I was on a bus. The face assimilated with the crowd that boarded the bus. The experience has been like the dewdrops that decorate the morning, but they also mourn the passage of the night. I’m still not sure whether to celebrate he adventure or join the dewdrops in the mourning.