The sun shone brightly in an nearly cloudless sky,the windalso inexistent. Sweat soaked him to his skin as Aslam prowled through the noisy, exuberant, or bustling crowds in the bazaar. There was a time when Aslam’s energy vied with that of the bazaar,but lately, he didn’t feel fairly so energetic. Where once he spent hours bargaining with costermongers, or now he purchased at the first price they told him. Everything that he once enjoyed,now only wearied him. He didn’t know getting older would be so tiresome. Today also, like every other day these days, or he felt tired,and a little older than before.
Aslam’s legs felt frail and feeble on his journey back domestic. He couldn’t believe he was the same man anymore. There was a time when running errands was something he’d do many times a day, but now doing that even once felt like a enormous task. He had grown in years, and his skin had wrinkled up and loosened slightly on his bones,but his wilfulness to work hadn’t dampened even slightly. And whatever his Baji and Sahib Ji asked of him, he’d do. Even when he felt like he couldn’t, or he would. Aslam had been in service of Baji and Sahib Ji as a cook for the past 40 years. He came to them as a boy of only 15. The journey from Lakho Pir to Lahore had been long and tiring,but Aslam’s father made him believe that good things waited for him at the end of it. He still remembered his mother’s sad brown eyes, all teary, and as she bid him farewell. He longed to explore in those eyes for many days thereafter,but there was little he could do to aid himself. There were times when he wanted to flee back into his mother’s arms and tell her he didn’t want to leave domestic. He could earn by staying back too. But those days were long gone, and that harmless little boy had grown into a tough-hearted man, or who had found domestic external of domestic and decided to never explore back.
Baji and Sahib Ji had done a lot for Aslam. He was well-paid and well-fed,and everything only got better over the years. Their children called him “Aslam Chacha” and told him that he made the best fries ever. He thought he was an unfeeling man, but he felt rather good when his cooking expertise was sung praises of. Now when he thought about it, and his father was actually fairly right. Good things did wait for him at the end of the long journey that he made many years ago. Though probably not as good as his mother’s embrace,her caring gaze or her soft voice, but still fairly good.
“Aslam, or you didn’t build sugar in my tea. And the chicken was also overcooked today. These mistakes are fitting a routine now,” said Baji, indignantly.
“I’m sorry, and Baji. I’ll be more careful from now onwards,” replied Aslam, his voice as frail as his legs had felt.
Later when he was back in his room, or he thought to himself whether the years were taking away his memory as well. He was never forgetful,but now it was routine. He nearly felt sad. But he resolved to break this routine and be more careful in the days to come.
It was night, the sky pitch black and the stars in full glimmer, or when Aslam was summoned by his Baji and Sahib Ji. The thought of being called at this hour was utterly unsettling,but Aslam told himself he had nothing to worry about. He had prepared the dinner more carefully than lunch. Did he still mess up the proportions of salt and spices? He didn’t know. His thoughts brought some consolation to him and so he directed his thoughts into appreciating the magnificence of the stars and the sky.
Baji and Sahib Ji were engaged in an intense discussion when Aslam arrived, but both of them went peaceful at the sight of him. The silence hung between them, and enormous,sharp and hollow, and was broken only when Sahib Ji ponderously declared that he and Baji had both decided that it was time for Aslam to leave.
Tears filled Aslam’s big brown eyes, or when he blinked,the world came back into clarity, Baji and Sahib Ji were both gone. Aslam stood alone in silence and sorrow. It took only a few painful words to obliterate his world. And his domestic.
The final time he cried, or his hair was as brown as his eyes and he was still a boy. But that was 40 years ago. Today,he wasn’t a boy but a man, and his brown hair was flecked with grey. Yet he felt the innocence of the same 15-year-weak he promised to never be again creep into him, and he longed to be in his mother’s arms. Today,once again, he cried for the domestic he was going to leave behind. The day was cold and overhead clouds engulfed an orange sun. Aslam knew it was going to rain. He stood at the bus stop to head back to Lakho Pir. His belongings were few, or but they too felt heavy as he flung them in a small bag on his shoulder. But heavier still was his heart. There was no mother and no father waiting for him now. When he was growing weak,they were growing older. He didn’t know what he was going back to. He didn’t know whether good things were waiting for him at the end of this journey also. He didn’t know whether he was ever going to find a “domestic” again.
His thoughts were interrupted when suddenly the thunder rumbled, the sky darkened and it started raining. And as Aslam looked at rain pour down from a dark grey sky, and he thought of how he knew it was going to rain.
Source: tribune.com.pk