The sun had set. Darkness had fallen over the mountains of Yada. Musa stood on the balcony. Saeed and Husain were beside him. Zakia had fallen asleep inside.
Saeed stayed silent for a while. Then he said, "Musa, you left Uncle Yusuf and went out. What happened after that?"
Musa kept looking out the window. That calm fire still burned in his eyes. Then slowly he said, "After that? After that, everything ended again. That old man was gone too."
Husain asked, "What happened?"
Musa took a deep breath and began—
Ikrak, City of Zarina
1986 – The Second Death
I had left Uncle Yusuf early in the morning. I walked along the roads with no destination. I just kept moving. By evening, I reached a small village. I was very tired. My feet were swollen. My stomach burned with hunger.
A woman saw me and came closer. She said, "Son, where are you going alone?"
I stayed silent.
She said, "Will you stay tonight? At my house."
I nodded in agreement. That night I ate and slept at her house. In the morning, I saw the person was gone. Someone came and said, "He died. Last night. Old age."
I could say nothing. I just left.
For the next few days, I stayed on the road. Sometimes I stopped a truck, sometimes I walked. One day, a truck driver said, "Get in. I'll take you outside Zarina."
I rode far in the truck. The driver said, "My name is Jabir. Where will you go?"
I said, "Nowhere. Just moving."
He laughed. "Crazy boy."
I stayed silent.
Jabir dropped me at the edge of a city. The city's name was Mirajpur. A small city. Fields all around, mountains in the distance.
Entering the city, I saw signs of destruction. Some houses were ruined, some being rebuilt. People were walking around. Next to a large field, I saw an ashram.
The ashram's name was Shanti Niketan. A white building, red tin roof. A large gate at the front. Sitting by the gate was an old man, white beard, wearing a cap.
Seeing me, he called, "Where are you going, son?"
I stopped. Said nothing.
He said, "Come. Do you want to stay at the ashram? Here there is food, a bed."
I nodded.
Inside the ashram, I saw many people. Small children, old men, girls who had lost their parents. Everyone sat quietly. A woman came and said, "Are you new? My name is Ayesha. I look after this place."
She showed me a room. A small room. A bed, a table, a window. Through the window, I could see the field.
Ayesha said, "You can stay here as long as you want. You will get three meals a day. But there is one rule—everyone must work together. Understand?"
I nodded.
The first few days, I did nothing. Just sat. The other children played, I watched from a distance. When someone called, I did not respond. Ayesha said, "Nothing is wrong with him. He will take time."
One evening, the old man from the ashram sat beside me. I asked his name. He said, "My name is Bashar. Everyone calls me Uncle Bashar."
I said, "Musa."
He said, "Musa, very beautiful name. Like Prophet Musa (Moses, peace be upon him). Do you know, Prophet Musa also suffered a lot?"
I shook my head, "No."
He began to tell stories. The story of Prophet Musa. How he escaped Pharaoh. How Allah helped him.
As I listened, tears filled my eyes. For the first time in a long while, I cried.
Uncle Bashar placed his hand on my head and said, "Cry. Crying is good. It clears the inside."
That night I cried a lot. Slowly, I began to speak. I began to play with the children at the ashram. I began to work.
Our work was in the fields. Growing vegetables. Tomatoes, eggplants, cucumbers. Digging soil, watering, weeding. Hard work, but I liked it.
One day, while working, a child asked, "Musa, why do you stay so quiet?"
I said, "I don't feel like speaking."
He said, "But if you don't speak, you won't have friends."
I stayed silent.
In the evening, Uncle Bashar called. He asked, "Musa, do you know why people speak?"
I said, "I don't know what to say."
He said, "People speak because they are not alone. A lonely person does not speak. Do you still think you are alone?"
I said nothing.
He said, "Your family is gone. But you are not alone. Here in this ashram, everyone is your family. Ayesha, the other children, me. Everyone is with you."
That night, I thought. Am I really alone? Or are they right? Slowly, I realized Uncle Bashar was right.
From then on, I started speaking more. I made friends. I worked. I began studying. Uncle Bashar taught us the Quran, told stories, made us laugh.
The happy days returned.
But happiness does not last long.
One morning, suddenly chaos broke out at the ashram. A few armed men arrived. From their uniforms, I recognized them—soldiers of United. They looked around. Searching for something.
Uncle Bashar stepped forward. "What do you want?"
The soldiers said, "We are searching for terrorists hiding in this ashram."
Uncle Bashar said, "There are only orphaned children and old people here. No terrorists."
The soldiers would not listen. They entered and turned everything upside down. Threw food, destroyed rooms. The children cried, Uncle Bashar protected them.
Suddenly, a soldier pushed Uncle Bashar. He fell to the ground. I ran, but a soldier grabbed me.
The soldier said, "This old man does not listen. Teach him a lesson."
I screamed, "Don't touch him! He did nothing!"
But no one listened. One soldier struck Uncle Bashar on the head with his rifle butt. Once, twice, three times.
Uncle Bashar fell to the ground. His eyes open. His body did not move.
I ran to him, shouting, "Uncle! Uncle! Get up! Please get up!"
But he did not rise. He would never rise again.
The soldiers left. Everyone in the ashram was crying. I sat beside Uncle Bashar all night. The next morning, they took his body away. I saw. I said nothing more.
That night, I ran away from the ashram. I don't know why. I just felt that if I stayed, I would see more death. It was as if I carried death with me. Whoever came near me, died.
I walked all night. No truck stopped. No one saw me. Only darkness and me.
Then dawn came. In the distance, I saw a city. I don't know its name. But it looked like a place to stay. Another ashram? Or something else? I don't know.
I just started walking. My feet hurt, but I could not stop. If I stopped, everything would end.
In the light of that dawn, I walked toward another city. Toward another life.
Musa stopped. His eyes were wet.
Saeed whispered, "Uncle Bashar is gone too?"
Musa said, "Yes. Everyone is gone. Only I remain. As if I am a curse. Whoever comes close to me, dies."
Husain said, "It's not your fault, Commander."
Musa looked out the window. "I know. But at that age, I could not understand. I just ran. Running, I eventually reached a place where my other life began."
Saeed asked, "Where?"
Musa looked at the sky. "That is a story for another day. That's all for today."
Outside, the night was deep. The mountains of Yada were silent. In Musa's eyes still floated the last image of Uncle Bashar—an old man lying on the ground, who had once taught him to live.
And that dawn path, which had carried him toward an unknown city.