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Urdu Afsana Bargad

Walking cautiously through the crumbling walls of mud houses, the author reached the place where the old banyan tree was waiting for him with outstretched arms. The two stared at each other for a while and then he hugged the old banyan tree. After lightening the burden of his heart for a while, he sat down in his special seat in the arms of the banyan tree, where he used to sit and write.

It wasn’t long before the bird of life flew so fast that the inhabitants had no choice but to run at full speed. The author takes a look at the desert. In the 1970s, a tribe from Jalandhar encamped near the Lindu Mosque on the outskirts of Burewala. As soon as we saw it, life began its journey in many houses made of mud bricks. Between the houses built on all sides was a chopal in which a banyan tree was planted for shade. Thus this banyan tree was born with the arrival of this tribe. The author’s pen began to crawl on the lines of the paper.
The first memory of his childhood was like a moment in a paradise from which Adam and Eve were taken out. Sometimes at night, holding a jagnu and hiding it in the palm of one’s hand and enlightening the soul with its light, sometimes in the rain of summer winds, slipping on the mud and playing games, asking Allah Mian for more rain.
Black and white roads
It rained heavily
It was in the language of every child of the tribe. After that, to collect money, according to tradition, a child would be given lime on his face and a call would be made from house to house.
Doi Doi gave seeds
Today’s face is black
Black Toda Rain Mangda
Ask for money
But dozens of games were played by the children of the tribe including Mati, Chor Sepahi, Ada Khada, Gali Danda, Bander Kala, Kokla Chhapaki, Yesu Panjo, Chari Uri Kaan Ura. A short distance away was a government primary school, which every child of the tribe had traveled to. The author put his hand on his forehead and looked away. The school was still in place.
There was no electricity in the tribe. Occasionally, on the enthusiastic request of the children, TVs would be rented on Thursdays and a power line would be laid from a nearby tribe to watch a movie. Muhammad Ali, Nadeem, and Shabnam would have a film that would be shown on PTV. However, one thing that the children had in common was that while watching the film, they sincerely prayed for the success of the hero.
Bargad also smiled after reading the author’s candid analysis. He was also the same age as the author at that time. But he had to provide shade for the tribe. He soon spread his branches and in a short time spread like a deity and cast a shadow over the tribe. The bed of the chief of the tribe was in the middle of the shadow of the banyan tree in the last days. A pipe full of burning embers was the most beloved item for the khangarte sardar which kept the atmosphere of the party warm.
Life went on at its full speed and then one day the chief of the tribe died. In his grief, one by one all his brothers left for the Hereafter. Thus the burden of life fell on the shoulders of the head of every household. The author’s family first migrated to the city. After that, other families of the tribe also became dear to the city for a better future.
Bargad wanted the author to record his feelings as well. He was now suffering from loneliness in this old Gulshan. He could see the school from his high branches but he could not see any familiar face there. There was nothing left in this desolation but crumbling walls and roofs. Some distance away, in the city of Khumshan, the chiefs of the tribe were fast asleep.
The sun was setting in the far horizon, the red rays of which were reaching the banyan tree through the minarets of a mosque built along the canal. Left Before he could get out of sight at the end of the trail, he glanced at the banyan tree and left, capturing the gloomy scene in his imagination.
This was not the first time that a lost son had come on this desolate journey but today the anxiety of the banyan tree was touching the extremes. Soon the goddess of the night spread her wings. Jagnu was still swaying in the wilderness. The stars in the sky were still the same as they were forty years ago. Shabnam purified everything by giving a heavenly bath. Bargad fell asleep with a heavy heart.
The next morning, when the banyan tree opened its eyes, some people were measuring the desolation with a ribbon. A heavy loaded man came and told the workers.
“For the better cutting of the colony, it is necessary to cut down this ugly banyan tree.”

About Abdul Ahad

Abdul Ahad
Abdulahad is a writer and part-time blogger who is "writing her way out of debt". He is an economics graduate and understands world politics, current affairs and latest developments۔ He writes about politics and sports with a hint of entertainment. He is a part-time writer and freelances for other publications. Contact: admin@sahiwalnewslive.com

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