Madness and Moonlight

Madness and Moonlight

Madness And Moonlight is a Romance, fictive, history Short Story

As I turn my back on you, the moonlight reflects in your eyes onto my path. I walk with my family away from my house, street, town, and what was once my country in the dead of night.

We are accompanied by other families. squeezing their way to the train station in Lahore. in the knowledge that their lives are no longer theirs, despite suffering and fear. Within seconds, it can be cut, morphed, or smoked out. They would only remain a speck of their former selves, even if they board that train to Amritsar and make it there in one piece.

I walk. with a volcano in my chest at the site of my heart. On that terrace, my heart still aches. the terrace where we used to get together at night under the moonlight. The moon lit up the night while it was still dark. When I could still reach your hijab-covered head. Additionally, you still had access to the moon in my cupped hands.

Like others, I carry a light load on my back. It will assist us in reaching a new nation, which is soon to be mine. likewise begin a new life. from a life that has been ripped apart.

The air has not moved. The noxious smoke is brought in by a rare wind gust. and moans. from an unknown source. From the other side of the town, which no longer belongs to me. It would hardly ever be yours, either. You might be too numb to its embrace.

My family moves together. alone in the midst of a crowd. clapping their hands together. as though we might be even more lost than we are. My mother, father, brothers, and sisters keep a close eye on them and occasionally glance back, half anticipating that the ground they are walking on will swallow them up.

We reach the end of the road, the town's edge, and the wilderness's edge beyond. But I'm aware that you're still watching me. On that terrace, your heart is attempting to console itself, your spirit is as broken as mine, and your eyes are as dry as mine.

I will never be able to leave the terrace. You may never return to.

All because of a man's line drawing. stifling the desire to pick a side; pulling the threads it had made until they broke and broke. concealing the fragments from view in the shadows.

I've come close to losing what kept us together. You won't be able to see the speck I've become after this turn. The time-created speck that has entered the vortex.

When will we meet again? I'm not sure. But keep in mind that the air around me will only whisper one name—Yas...min—until I have skin on my back and breath in my lungs.

*** I knew we were never meant to live together as soon as I heard that your family was moving out of the area.

To meet you one last time, I jumped the staircase to the terrace. There you were. Forlorn. We were weighed down by the full moon. You wouldn't have dared to cup him for me.

You just said, "Jasmine, forgive me," three times. My world began to crumble around me slowly, brick by brick. I said nothing at all. There were no more words.

You exited. with your loved ones. alongside numerous others. averting your gaze from me. Leaving a new country that had turned its back on you.

You didn't turn around. Until you got to the very edge of the drop, where you couldn't go back. Not anytime soon.

I wished for your safety. When you walked through the rubble and avoided the hordes of mutilated people lusting after blood. as soon as you crammed into the train. until you arrive in Amritsar.

I am aware that your life will be difficult. You will need to look for a new place to call home. New employment to support your family. And a brand-new heart to begin weaving. affixing you to new people, life, and soil.

I hope you find a recipient for the moon. Alternatively, perhaps around the campfire; to laugh with and tell stories with before the separation. and never misspell my name in the process.

I swore I would never return to the terrace again. However, that is the problem with those who are left behind, as you can see. They must return to the terraces, houses, and streets that caused their hearts to break in half. even as the fragments pierce their soul, and smile.

Time will pass by. Upstream. For me. However, it will continue to flow.

A young woman can't survive on her own. In this town, no. There will be discusses my nikah. It will be given to a decent man. There is no way to avoid it. By then, I hope I would have developed a new heart. one that would not surpass the Ra-aj syllables in your name. for his benefit.

I'll be a mother to the children of a not-so-new nation as the seasons change. They will learn about the horrifying partition and how the other community became traitors and had to be driven out. The traces you left behind will poison their hearts as they grow.

I'll tell them, if I can get my voice back, that no home is worse than one where brothers become enemies.

Hope will remain in my heart. No, I'm not talking about meeting you again. However, the line that divided us will blur, and the enraged young men will be lulled by the vortex of time. Perhaps not now, but in the future.

Know this until then. I never doubted your desire to extract the moon for me, but I never denied that the moon could be mine. Moonlight and madness are two examples of things that are beyond the reach of man-made boundaries.