Tell them that I remembered.


Byline: Aakif Azeem

Its been 5 long years, that I have tried to pretend, living as if nothing ever went wrong. But no matter how fast or how far you run, things have a way of always finding you back.

Memories are like these musical symphonies that you cannot get out of your head. The interpretation of those memories of course is different, varying from person to person following a perspective. But to the master readers,

the notes are always consistent and constant, such is the case with memories.

They can be glorified, personified, intensified, but they would always remain a broken piece of glass stuck under someone's foot hurting them as they walk along their lives.

5 years ago, two roads diverged in a school building, one walked the way of life, and the other, straight into the abyss of death. On these two roads, walked two young kids, who were gearing up to live an adult life. Excited at the prospect of getting older, much wiser, finding independence and joy as they came of age. I don't know what made me happier, the fact that we were 18, or the idea that we were now old enough to be called wiser than our siblings. And just like every 18 year old, we saw our dreams, and strung every piece of them together, weaving a multi coloured cloth that now represented our dreams and put them forward infront of the world.

Dreams somehow are at the very center of our existence, as they can either allow you to become better or when left unfulfilled they become the very reason of your undoing. We both dared to dream, not knowing that we lived in a time where dreams are the very reason people get caught, murdered, or even have disappeared. We dreamed to be good humans, one wanted to be a good doctor, who would work for the poor of my beloved country, while the other wanted to become an astrophysicist and restore the cosmic dominance we once possessed over the world. Silly dreams these, serving humanity, and exploring the reason of our very being. Not knowing, the same cause we both wanted to work for, would somehow be responsible for the creation of a storm in our lives.

Our last words to one another were: 'I hope you can pass this exam, for its not looking too good for you', he said

'Im sure I can pull off a miracle to save myself, then again, you need a miracle to save yourself from Mam Qazi, and since Im not doing good, she has her sights on me. I hope I can do it', I replied.

'Wait up for me in the parking lot', he said.

'Sure brother', I replied.


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