Short story: A Memory on the Sand

Originally written in Balochi by: Chandan Sach

 In English translated by: Uzair Mehr

 Father and I were reposing on lofty sand. He was holding a bag that had four pomegranates and some grapes, which we purchased from the city. Father and I would always go and sit on the sand during sunset time.

 We saw the sight of the sea, before us. As always, my father and I went on top of the sand and sat there. It was a day of cloudy weather, and the wind was blowing gently. Father opened the bag; I took a pomegranate and started eating it away. There was vagueness toward the sea. I told my Dad that,

 “Father, The Sea is not being seen well, today."

 Father said, “Yes, the vagueness mantles the things.”

Then, I turned the face toward the other side and there was a graveyard where there wasn’t any vestige of vagueness. I asked Dad again,

 “Dad, then why isn’t there vagueness toward the graveyard?”

 Father replied, “The vagueness is within the sea. There isn’t vagueness outside. This vagueness arises from the sea and becomes clouds, after which the clouds shower.”

 I had finished eating my pomegranate and was absorbed munching grapes now. Father was saying,

 “It has its own distinguished gaiety of Setting on this sand and looking at the sceneries during rain time.”

 I uttered, “Yes Dad, but in rain time, the face shouldn’t be toward the sea, because the sea would be vague, and the vagueness obscures the views. If the face direction would be toward the graveyard, so the sights become spellbinding.”

 We then left our sitting place and headed home. Today, after a long time, I came to sit on that sand, again. However, I am alone today, remembering my father. It is also a cloudy day as it was before and the haze rested upon the sea. Still I can’t bear to look toward the graveyard.

 My eyes are tearful, and with tearful eyes, the graveyard also appears to be enfolded in haze and mist. I don’t want to see my father in a hazy view.