Despite it being the day after, the snow was still white and pure against the path where we went running, glistening against the rays of the sun – and still intact on the branches of the trees beckoning to us. Footsteps marred some parts of the pristine blanket on the ground – at one point, they met to form a heart. Further along the way, couples roamed, hand-in-hand, enjoying the beautiful air, while other runners passed us speedily by. A man stood on the embankment, paintbrush in hand, hunched over his easel, meticulously trying to capture the scene – and colors – in front of him. We paused over the bridge to observe the flow of the river, glazed in some parts, but reflecting life underneath: the beauty of the water as against picturesque buildings made us stare in utter awe. Nature is over-whelming and over-powering, and at points, too much to take in all at once. Subhan’Allah.
My companion heaved a great sigh – and expressed regret. Regret at perhaps only having some months before returning to her city that had no such beauty. A feeling of oppression at not being able to walk on the street without a niqab to cover her face – and that too, in scalding heat. Helplessness at not being able to drive to even reach the pavements that existed in spurts.
I – I wondered at returning to my most recent home-city and even having the luxury to want beauty to reflect on. Of the desire, instead, to just want a breeze in the home after hours of no electricity. Not even having pavements to walk on; desirous instead to be covered even more than normal when walking on the street, to avoid the stares of men. Fearful when driving, and always on the alert that a mugging at gunpoint could happen at any time.
Khalaas. We breathed in the air, grateful. Grateful to be in this city here and now, to have what we have and to be able to enjoy what has been blessed upon us. Alhamdulillah.
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