Short story: The Quiescent Afternoon

Originally written in Balochi by: AR Dad

Translated to English by: Uzair Mehr

I was thinking that if there will be a troop of basils in my porch, then I can wallow in company of my book for a few more days. The sun descended and night befell. A troop of basils stood before me. I was searching for the cobra amidst of the basils which I encountered in the forest two years ago. The very moment when I had touched the first page of the book written with the blue ink, the troop of basils dawdlingly moved and went away from my balcony. 

On the second page of the book a ramshackle boat appeared on the lips of a deceased person. The troop of basils had concealed itself in the very boat. I stretched my hand to touch the basils, the night fell right away. I stayed in waiting for these basils till the morning. As the rays of sunlight dispersed on the page, then only the cobra could be seen which I encountered in the forest two years ago.

I got goosebumps due to excessive fear. I turned the third page. The windows and door of an old house, which were dust-covered by the blown wind thousands of years ago and the lock of the door was eroded by the rust and moisture, looked faded. As I was looking the leftover colors of the very door, a man with old countenance called me. I wanted to move ahead but he told me to stop. I kept watching the old man till I saw the troop of basils in his ice-covered beards. I moved forward and clasped the lock but as I saw the inhabitant old man through the breach of the door, so my consciousness collapsed then I forgot where I was. When I got my consciousness, a sea was surging on my bosom and my fingers were touching the fourth page.

At twilight, a flock of birds was whistling and moving off the sky afar. The bird from the frontline was holding the troop of basils in its beak and moving far away. The melodious waves of the sea were billowing from far off.

The fifth page was whole blank except the two drops of tears laid on it as if a dew drizzled on leaves. I wished to plant those drops all of a sudden, a black windstorm started out and turned the sixth page.

It was a populous bazar of a big city. In search of the troop of basil, I visited every nook and corner of it but all in vain. I got fatigued and reposed under my own shade. I heard the tuneful sound of a flute far away but it seemed as if a troop of basils following the cobra which I encountered in the forest, were permeated through that melody. I pursued the melody of the flute. When I reached there, he was an ugly boy fluting and sitting in the garments and cover shop. Seeing me, he threw away the flute on a highway. Before I turned my face, the flute was trampled by the rapidly moving cars, and the troop of basils was also crushed. 

I only saw that the cobra kept itself and snaked toward the forest where I encountered it two years ago.