A LETTER TO GOD
“Mommy! Mommy!” said a little meek voice of a five year old from the bedroom door “what is it Aliyan” asked his mother looking up and putting her pen down. She had been busy writing letters of thanks to every one of the relatives who had sent a birthday card to Aliyan.
Mrs. John, Aliyan’s mother was a widow; her husband had died when Aliyan’s was two months old. Now that Aliyan’s was five he was a miniature version of his father, a painful reminder to Mrs. John who had been deprived of three of her sons at birth and then when finally a baby boy had lived long enough to see the face of her mother and father Mr. John went to meet his destiny leaving behind a tear stained widow and an orphaned child.
Mrs. John worked part time in Aliyan’s school to make both ends meet. She had been so depressed during the first few months of the up bringing of Aliyan that she preferred a quiet place to set up a new residence. Now! Aliyan, his mother and a house maid Rachael lived in wind ward town near Lahore. It was a small town with few cottages, a school, park and a post office; lined with many shops.
Aliyan had been playing in the garden when he ran in disturbing his mother. “Mother are you still writing letters” he asked “Yes dear” “mother have you ever written a letter to my father” asked Aliyan. “Yes dear” she replied tight lipped. Somehow she felt helpless again as if deprived of life it was unbearable, she would not think about it, she could not stand it, there was terrible hollow inside her that she did not want to feel, a dark hole where her husband had been; where he had vanished; she did not want to be alone with that great silent space she could not stand but she had to for Aliyan’s sake, tears touched her cheek like warm water over ice. “Mother why are you crying?” asked Aliyan alarmed, “did some thing I said hurt you mother” he asked rubbing his black curls against his mothers chest.
Mrs. John quickly wiped her tears away “No; dear it’s ….. nothing” “So; when will you write a letter to father” he inquired. “I always write to him dear” “how come I never come to know about it” he asked his brown eyes searching her mother’s face “next time I post him a letter. I’ll let you know” replied his mother kindly.
Suddenly Aliyan spotted a post stamp on the work table and a question probed his mind which he asked allowed. “Mother can you send me to father by post?” he asked suddenly getting up. Mrs John grew rigid but quickly recollected her self “why do you want to go to father” she asked her son as she engulfed him in a tight hug. “I want to ask him a lot of questions what’s his address mother” he asked. “Well! All you’ve got to do is ask the post man to deliver you to God’s house once there the letter itself will find its way to your father” replied Mrs. John joining in Aliyan’s fantasy. “Well! Then it’s decided post me mother please” he begged, her mother suddenly felt like falling into an endless pit of despair but looking at those sherry brown eyes she was forced to climb out of the chasm inside her and just for Aliyan’s sake she licked the stamp and fondly pasted it on Aliyan’s forehead. Aliyan gave a shout of joy “Mommy look I’m a letter; can I go to the post office now” he asked without being able to hide his excitement. “Let Rachael come Aliyan; she’ll take you to the post office, for now go out in the park and play with your friend Hamza. Stay away from the road.” Said Mrs. John as Aliyan happily ran out of the room. Mrs. John shook her head then went on working.
Aliyan and Hamza were neighbors and best friends. “Look Hamza I’m a letter now and I’m going to meet my father” said Aliyan bouncing up and down pointing at the stamp on his forehead. “Have you lost your marbles; how can a child go up so high in the sky to meet his father who is with God” asked a short plum boy called Hamza. “Silly; I know children cannot go up there to pay a visit to God. But a letter can you just see” said Aliyan. Hamza soon went home after playing leaving Aliyan alone in the park.
A thought struck Aliyan “why don’t I go the post office alone; it’s just across the road” he thought. “Mum would be angry though” replied his conscience “but it’s worth the risk. I’m meeting my father after five years” he argued his conscience and won his case.
He looked carefully left and right and across the road saliently wishing the cars and Tongas (wheel carts) to disappear. Finding a chance he ran across the road and breathed a sigh of relief as he collided with the post office door. “Aliyan! what are you doing here alone” asked the post man opening the post office door, only to find a breathless boy on the threshold.
“Good morning sir! My mother has something to post” words tumbled out of Aliyan’s mouth “well what is it?” asked the postman. Aliyan proudly pointed on his forehead. “It’s me. I’m a letter to be posted to my dad” exclaimed Aliyan.
The post man knew Aliyan and his family very well. He was also aware of silly fantasies a five year old could have and so he joined in the fun and replied; “what’s his address” ‘Mother says that a letter sent to God will reach my father” replied Aliyan his sherry brown eyes twinkling “Oh” the post man gasped and his heart too bled for the little child who didn’t even knew what he was asking for.
“Very well’ but you’ll have to come some other day. Letters to God are sent on Friday only and its Wednesday.” He replied, “You just sit here and wait I’ll put these letters in the bag and drop you at your house.” Said the post man deep in thought then shaking his head he went out of the room.
Disappointment engulfed Aliyan as he sat on the stool. He had been so excited to meet his father after five years that he was not prepared for a “No”, some how he felt so lonely and empty that he longed for his mothers hug.
Tears over whelmed him and Aliyan whimpering silently went out of the post office, with a blinded vision he ran towards his house across the road. Another figure coming across the road holding bags of grocery shouted “Aliyan! No!!!!” and before the post man or Rachael could reach the distressed boy. Death reached him first as the little boy collided with a fast speeding vehicle.
A crowd formed at the accident scene only two figures cut through the crowd. The post man lifted the blood-stained body and with Rachaels supports reached the house.
Just as every mother knows his child’s intentions and feelings Mrs. John some how knew that Aliyan was in trouble. Just as Rachael entered the house Mrs. John asked. ‘Wh… Wh… where is Aliyan?” “Please sit down miss” replied Rachael as she tried to hide her tears but failed to hide the blood on her clothes. A minute later the postman entered carrying the life less body of Aliyan and laid it on the couch.
“My….. My…. baby” Mrs. John managed to say between sobs. “I’m very sorry for you miss but the car………” Mrs. John cut off the post man’s words. “My dear darling” she said ignoring everyone as she planted a kiss on Aliyan cheek. Then she pushed back a lock of hair from his forehead to reveal the post stamp. “My Beloved letter has reached its destination” saying this Mrs. John by the help of Rachael went in her room with tears of sadness in her eyes.
