Nazia, MY ANGEL … !!

He could say nothing. He just stood and watched, as she walked by him, taking all form of light with her. He heard her voice calling his name in a very awe-inspiring tone, “Saif”. It seemed surreal to him. She knew his name.

He saw her walk out of sight and shivered. It had gotten cold in an instant. She seemed to be his only warmth. Without her, the world was cold. He gently put his hand on his head. It was cold and wet. He thought of her. Wherever she was, he was sure it was sunny.

He looked in front of him. It was pitch black. He took his glasses off, wiped them clean and put them back on, but still, it was dark. He could see less now than if he shut his eyes. He squinted. No use.

In the five seconds she walked by him, he had seen everything. As soon as she left, though, God turned off all the lights in his life.

But what he saw still lingered in his memory. He saw an angel float by, an angel with rosy cheeks and a beautifully crooked smile; an angel with shining chestnut eyes, and skin smoother than the definition of the very word. He wondered how it would feel to stroke his palm on her face. It would feel like heaven.

But now that she was gone, he was again by himself.

God had turned off hearing too. When she was there, he heard everything around him. He realized, he was in a classroom. He could hear the laughter of his fellow classmates. But their sounds were not what he focused on. They were merely background music. What he really listened to were her footsteps; the gentle pitter-patter of her feet, blessing the floor with their touch. He was suddenly jealous of the ground. Also plainly audible was the swinging of her long, black hair. Whoosh. Her hair commandingly swept from side to side as she walked, never giving him a sight not beautiful. He also heard her humming. The sweet humming of a sparrow in spring. It mesmerized him.

But he could not hear anymore, because that sense was deprived too when she left. He was now, as alone as he was before he saw her. Now that she was gone, he stared ahead into the pitch black. He prepared for the long and boring journey ahead; one more day of complete isolation and darkness, one more day until she again lit up his life. One day that would consist of no food, no water; just thought.

And it is not surprising that he spent this time of thought to think about her. She was all that occupied his senses. He saw only her, heard only her, thought of only her. And so now, he thought.

Her name was “Nazia”, and he had started seeing her a few months ago. Before that, his whole existence had been in darkness. He remembered nothing from that time. But starting from a few months ago, two months and seventeen days to be exact, he had started to see the world clearly, five seconds at a time; every time she walked by.

He only knew her name because a couple of weeks ago, during one of his short-lived glimpses of the world, he heard someone yelling her name. It was an angelic name, perfectly fitting her. He decided that whoever called her was not worthy, but she still responded. And what a beautiful voice did respond! Her harmonic tone and sweet-chorus voice. He had been taught about how angels existed in the world, but he never knew he would get to meet one himself. He just knew that he was already dead and that she had come to take him to Paradise. But she did not take him. She just walked by. And he looked on, until the lights went out again.

Sitting there in the dark, he wondered if she could see the world all the time, or like him, if she only saw it in glimpses too. No, she is an angel, she must see all the time. But what about everybody else? Did they only see when she walked by them? It must be.

Every time she walked by, he saw himself in a classroom of sorts. There was a large green board in front of the room, and a balding man in glasses with a piece of chalk in hand stood shakily in front of it, obviously the teacher. He wondered if the teacher ever taught anything, or was he also too busy looking at Nazia.

He wondered of his own life. He wondered if he had a home or family, or if he just sat in this classroom all day and night, looking forward to only five seconds every day. He did not remember parents or a home. He never felt himself move, nor did he ever hear anybody talking to him. All he remembered was darkness. Only darkness and her. Only her and the darkness.

And now, still deep in thought, sitting in solitude, he smiled as he thought of her, while he subconsciously counted down to his next enchanting meeting.

41097…41096…41095…

– Once written by special someone.

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