Her smile, wide and content spread across her pretty face, enlightening it and enhancing her sincere character. She moved around her forest with an ease today. A ripple of sheer bliss ran through me and I wondered what it was that had made her so happy. A part of me wanted to ask. Wanted to hold out my arms to her and embrace her. I wanted to smell the scent of strong, fresh cardamom in her clothes and the smell of apples in her hair. But she was still some distance from me and I would have to wait. Wait for her to approach me and tell me her news.
Her movement was now slowed, slower than I had ever seen it. But her smile today compensated for that. Her happy tune, as she moved about filling water and bathing her little children, some of whom were now almost her height, made me happier. She was a woman of genuine character. One with the hope to make everyone’s lives better, even if it meant risking her own. I loved her for her selflessness, for her ability to put her own needs after the needs of everyone else.
And I remembered the days she hadn’t visited. Of course, she always had a good reason why she did not visit. She was away in another country, or she had to visit someone further away from home, like her mother. She always told me when she came to bid me farewell. I ached for her on those days, with a pain that felt strong enough to tear my hairs from their roots. And even so, I knew she thought of me, thought of all the loved ones she had left at home.
As soon as she would return from her travels, she would visit us first. And my heart would pound with love and pride, such that I could feel my blood run through my veins faster than water from her waterfall. And she would have tears in her eyes - happy tears, tears that made the joy in the deepest recess of her eyes glow. Yet today, there was an added glow, an exuberant light that shone, from the growing, tender smile on her face.
On those days too I wanted to hold her and wipe her tears away. Tell her that I was happier than she, that we were together again. I wanted to tell her that nobody knew how to take care of me the way she did. No one looked at me with such love as she did. But the unspoken words always remained the way they were in my mind, because the moment she would look at me, I would be dumbstruck, and could not formulate any of the soothing words that lay in waiting for her.
I saw a swift movement suddenly, and knew she was close. I sucked in my breath…she was near, very near. What if she went right past me and forgot to tell me her news. What if she forgot about me as I hid in the shade of the tree. Perhaps I would need to prop myself up a little bit so that I would stand out. So, that she could see how the squirrel had bitten my fruit, and made a nasty mess around my feet. Yes that would definitely attract her attention. I knew she hated it when the squirrel harmed me. I was her precious, her beloved.
Within a moment, she was beside me, and I felt the water splash all over me. I was cleaned and for a split second, I panicked. She had just washed the dirt away around my feet without noticing the mess the squirrel had left behind. She hadn’t seen my fruit.
‘Ma, Ma!’ someone was shouting as they came running out from the kitchen into the garden. ‘They’re here!! Come quick!’ It was her granddaughter. The granddaughter that I liked. The one that looked exactly like my beloved.
She turned and smiled at me, the twinkle in her eye. ‘They’re here…’ she breathed. ‘My little fig tree, I’m going to be so happy insha’Allah!’
And my squirrel-bitten fruit no longer mattered. My smile spread as far as hers, and though my heart had been torn between wanting her attention and seeing her content, I felt settled knowing I was happy as long as she was.
© August 2008 Quratul Ayn
