by Isabel Ann
“I know you are going to get hurt and I know I cannot prevent it but listen… I am always with you.” I smiled… I knew.
“Wali what is the name of your mother?” I asked him the next night. “I call her mam, or madam or miss. It’s funny you know.” Yeah… I knew. “Well what do her colleagues or other people call her?” I desperately needed an identity. A feeling of knowing something about him, a connection, something I can hold on to “Oh … um… I guess madam brisky”
“You guess?” I was shocked and angry…why was he not answering me correctly? “I never take interest in their conversations.” He was a clever child. He definitely was. His answers were innocent and witty at the same time. He was not ready to give away his identity and I never got any more of his personal information ever.
It was one of those nights when James had night shift and I was alone with Wali at my house. I was preparing dinner when Wali asked my with a sober face. “Do you believe in karma?” I was stunned, my moving hands stopped. It was not his age to think or ask about such things. “I cannot decide about certain things sometimes and it all stops at believing in karma.” He further elaborated, this time he appeared a little careless. “Things like what?” I asked him being casual and resumed the activity of blending the eggs.
“I want to know who decides the punishments. And how do they decide it?”
“Who is it you want to punish?” I asked him once more instead of giving an answer and he noticed it. “You did not answer any of my questions.” He said and I got a hint of annoyance in his tone.
“Yes Wali I do believe in karma… good always brings back good and the punishment… well sometimes we should leave it to the fate.” I told him. He did not ask any more question, even at the dining table he did not tell me about the taste of anything. He was quiet, unusually quiet and I understood his silence very late, too late. That was the last night I saw him. I never met him again. He disappeared like a ghost. Sometimes I think if I could get that moment back and tell him that forgiving is better than believing in any karma or any punishment. If only I could tell him that life is much more precious than wasting it for somebody else’s deeds or for some revenge. If only l could hold him tight and never let go of him.
After two evenings when he did not show up , with James I went to search for him. That house where he used to disappear belonged to nobody. It was vacant for years. In that moment I felt like somebody had cut my heart. “Wali was real.” I had dropped him outside that house for so long, he had to be real. And James believed that as well. So he kept searching... but it was all vain, His searches were never successful. He never found any comfort for my restlessness and time passed very slowly. Those two weeks felt like two decades and after two weeks when we were hopeless and heartbroken, out of the blue a man came with a letter. It addressed to us. “Mr. and Mr.’s James” and our address was written under it. The man had come from a trust formed to locate and replace children brought illegally from underdeveloped countries. That man told me Wali was from Afghanistan.
“Back home”
“And where is your back home?”
“You do not want to know” someone whispered in my ear. “Where did he go?” We asked the man. ”we do not know yet, the trust has been searching for him. We found this letter under his pillow, He simply disappeared and frankly we do not have any leads. We were hoping if you could help us?” He asked. “Sure” James told that man everything we knew about Wali, and the outcome was that we knew nothing. “His laugh is beautiful, his eyes sparkle with hints of cleverness, he likes big swings, he is well behaved and innocent, he knows how to not answer unwanted questions, and he is special…” and everything we knew about him fell into the category of “we knew nothing” “Please inform us as well if you find him or any clue about him” James said to that man finally and saved his cell phone number .”Sure and inform me ASAP if you find anything useful in the letter.” That man smiled sadly and I wondered that sadness was for us or for Wali?
After that man was gone, we came back into the house. And as I sat with the unopened letter in my hands taking support against James’s shoulder, he told me to open it. “Open it Elise, we have to know”. He said.
“I am afraid.” I murmured without knowing that what was frightening me? It felt like that by opening that letter, Andrew will die all over again. Somehow James took the letter from my hands and with his shaking hands opened it in front of my eyes and held it there for me to read it. In that moment looking at his shaking hands I realized he was also in love with that boy with deep dark blue eyes and their mystery.
I read the letter. It just started. “Those rabbits I told you about? My father gave me on my 6th birthday. We had mud walls so it was pretty easy for them to bring down those walls. And after one year it was my sister’s wedding and my 7th birthday. You know my father was a simple farmer but that day our whole village was wiped out. They say there were terrorists. But I never got my family back”
I read it again and again… “Oh Wali” a sob escaped from my lips. That pain in my heart? It silently increased many folds and with that increased pain years passed. I started spending my afternoons and evenings in that park staring at young faces increasing little maturity and height every year but he never showed up. After a few years James also joined me in those settings. Sitting on the same blue and black chairs looking at the faces and holding each other we never felt the need to make conversations. We knew that we both wanted the same things. “Wali” We never left that house. Not even when James got promoted to NY. Not even when my parents passed away and I inherited family home back in Miami. We never left that place. I kept waiting and kept waiting. “He has to come back.” He was real. But he never came instead after a few years we received another letter. I recognized the sender instantly. It was addressed in same way.
“Mr. and Mr.’s James” and our address was written under it. I had held his previous letter almost daily so it did not take me even a second to recognize it. The only difference was that his hand writing appeared a little bit bold. We found it on our door steps. It was plain envelope with address and names, without any postage stamps. James went around the house instantly so he could find the deliverer but there was no body. And yes this one also just… started.
“Remember our last conversation when I asked you about karma and you said Good always brings back good.” I remembered that conversation very well. I had repeated that conversation with him several times in my head after that day. I read further
“But what you never said was that bad always brings back bad. I have tried really hard to not to be the opposite matching bad but I feel like I am losing it. So I wanted to write you before I will lose it completely. I wrote this piece. Just because…
They said war is over: Peace has been established
“They are saying war is over’ peace has been established.”
“And how do they know ‘war is over?”
“Look around you, there are no more signs of war”
“But there is dark smoke on the sky”
“Yes, but the fire has been ended”
“Then where are survivors?”
“There are casualties, no survivors.”
“Then peace for whom?”
“For those who have won the war”
And then there is deep silence. No more questions, no more answers. The both voices passed quickly flying over the town. But in the middle of town, under the shed of a burned house, a little soul was listening to them. She kept it save in her heart for years and years. Time passed slowly and many years later in another town of the planet they call earth, Smoke began rising up, guns started firing bullets, and drones began attacking people and The Soul with the strongest gun and safest place was saying.
“They Said War Is Over, Peace Has Been Established…”
And so the letter ended. I was dread. “Oh Wali, O
h dear Wali with innocent blue eyes and their mystery.” I cried. I cried hysterically. I cried all those tears which I had shed when we first lost Andrew in afghan war. Yes….I cried all those tears again and James held me tightly. Like he promised he would.
I love them both…I don’t know how can I love them both? He said bad and opposite matching bad. Andrew was not bad… he died for country and yet Wali lost his family. He would die for his family. I listen to all the news about killings and bomb blast. I read every article about those bad guys who are young and have lost their origins. And with every unidentified suspect, every unidentified killer or murderer or suicide attacker I lose Andrew again... and I cry again.
“Oh wali, with blue eyes and their mystery, where have you left me?”
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