Art & Literature

Fire: Balochi By :Mulla Murad/ Translated By: Altaf Muneer

Don´t judge the man with white beard. He still brings off the childhood spirit.
Hahaha !
You opine as well …!
Come ! Ignore the old man.
Do you recognize the man?
No,…I don’t remmember that I have seen the man.

He inclined his head downward and then sat about lighting up the fire. The smoke got to scattering hither and thither. Someone came and grabbed his hand; hauled him backward and uttered, “Won’t you be contented to let us sleep for a while here tonight?
You know well that the people of this hamlet expel us from here meanwhile after seeing the fire. Then they don’t let us lodge here at this canton, he said.

Well, don’t the people of this hamlet light up fire?
I see the fire is ceaselessly blazing till I reminisce about it. Be it the day or night, the fire is not off.

Being in this habitual state, I cannot sleep unless I see a fire blazing at night…
Again he asked not to light up the fire. Likewise we would spend the night in darkness. Tommorrow we will surely depart from here.

Don’t put us in hot water in the midnight…
One of the cobbers dared and asked to light up the fire…the chief of this hamlet is assuredly moribund wherefore let this hamlet get burnt…

The fire of my innermost was blazing me.
Getting stood up, he asked to light up the fire whatsoever would befall. For others getting burnt, we cannot blaze ourselves. Forsooth, this hamlet will get burnt if not today, tommorrow someone will come momentously and will light up the fire.
He lit up the fire.

The fire got dispersed till the entire hamlet came under fire.
The chief of the hamlet had died and no one was there to get him burried. Nothing could be seen rather than burnt ashes in the hamlet. The old man was sitting at the shade of the black ashes’ airflow. The air was blowing.

His white beard and hair got overlayed and turned black. A woman was having a kid in her lap and was sitting beside him and was cleaning the dust of his head.
We were about to leave and the air had dust and smoke.

At the time of decampment I looked that a woman had gathered some trash and had sit to light up the fire. The fire had got off. She was blowing the ash. The fire was not getting lit up in the hamlet.

The pitch-black and chunky dust was getting floated. Our hamlet was of a half an hour distance. The paths and ingresses were getting closed. All of our cobbers were yelling and irritated at each other and my tale was getting remained out of sight.

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