Kitti Marshal-4

When Thomas Elva Edition was in primary school, he came home, gave a piece of paper to his mother, and told his mother that his teacher had told him to go home and share this piece of paper with his mother.

They both turned left from Sindhi Coffee House. Mai Kesaro lived here under the sky, be homeless, and walk around here and there. Mentally retarded Kesaro was constantly walking back and forth in front of Amrik's uncle's sweet shop. Amrik's uncle's shop in the corner had now been turned into a three-story hotel, but the sound of his uncle waving in the air still echoed in Iqbal's ears. "O Iqbal, take your cream."

Amrik was the friend of Iqbal's father and always gave something to Iqbal.

Iqbal remembered his childhood friends and Rano, a lovely young girl who called all kids to her house and played with them. Iqbal was her favorite. Her brother Bansa was drug-addicted. Before he started his work, he made marijuana liquid and drink. Iqbal smiled; Surjit saw at him and asked, "what happened?"

Iqbal said nothing but his eyes filled with tears, and he was smiling with tears.

"Why, what's the matter?" Surjit said.

"Surjit, I told you further, where there is a bajaj shop now, it is on your left side, there used to be a comb, shop." Shop in front and house in the back. My friend Rano lived there. I am nine to ten years old, and Rano is about twenty years old. Her brother Bansa loved the kids who came to see Rano. Then got married and died after one year of marriage. I missed her in my life."

I came to Rano for, first time with Saroopa.

Once I insisted that I should go too, Saropa's reply was, "Don't you know Rano's brother Bansa?" Who did not know Bansa? He was known all over the market for smoking marijuana and beating anyone. Any problem, trifles to a big fight in the bazaar would look at Bansa. Sitting in a cannabis lodge, he would carve combs with sand and sing loudly a folk song of Heer, a traditional girl who loved her friend, Ranja.

There was intoxication in his voice too. Hair is always kept open and with a bandage on the forehead. The scars on the face were enough to scare the babies. His singing voice was ugly as if there was something filter in his throat. The singer turned in a low tone, and sometimes his voice would turn into screams with high tension, but despite that, there was a pain in her words as if he wanted to tell someone something. He did not care about his voice.

He would not be telling anyone. He did not care for people and their comments.

He liked to sing and tell what he had to say. While Bansa's singing, Iqbal saw Rano'tears.Iqbal never inderstand.He only knew that Rano was his sister.

Iqbal and Surjit went a little further, then came the path which leads to `Ghanta Ghar'which now become the other main entrance for Golden Temple. Some houses were demolished in the past to make the way. Iqbal lived in one of those levels housed in childhood. Iqbal's family lived on the third floor of the building. The main floor was the Giani Printing press, on the second floor was also occupied by the printing press and on the third floor was Iqbal's house.

The building was just beside the Golden Temple. Even the family could listen to every word of Religious recitation from Golden Temple.

"Iqbal, why do you stop here?" Surjit asked even he knew everything.

"I don't know why every time I come to this place; I remember the house that resides in my consciousness. It collapsed and became a road. Crowds of people pass by. Millions of people have crossed this path. By crossing this path, people must have bowed down.

Heart's wishes may have been sought, but what happened to my roots? I resent this life of mine. I have done many wrong things that I should not have done."

"Homes are in the heart," Surjit said.

"But why does my house keep changing? Never stay in one place?

Living in this house, Saroop, Mahi, Rano, and other boys had been making flags all night and welcoming the religious precession,` Nagar` Kirtan walking on the road.

We cut the thin colored papers into triangle shapes.

. Rano made the glue, then we glued the pieces to threads and hung them across the road all the way. We thought that all arrangements belonged to us. Iqbal laughed and said, "Yes, Surjit, we were kids, the people acknowledged us, but When It was needed, our houses were demolished and made the way.

Didn't anyone regret it with me? `No`, I came to understand this much later. Sometimes I remembered Rano. She died after she married within a year. Why?

it seems to me that the whole world wants something from me. Everyone is walking with their feet on me. Remarkably, I never remember Sarupa and Mahi, only Rano. What did she look like to me? Someone said she was your sister. Bansa would say, "Go and tell your sister to wash my dishes." Rano says, "I am your friend." She kept us with her on the day of her wedding. She would not let go of my hand. At the time of departure, she embraced Bansa and cried. I always wanted to be with her.

We were a group of kids, and Rano was our leader. Rano played a game of marriage.

She knit Boy and Girl doll. She arranged their marriage. Rano did all marriage rituals and sang songs; we all listen to Rano and do what Rano told us. We celebrated the Doll's marriage, ate sweets and had lunch. Bansa gave money to Rano what she needed."

"You still remember these childhood plays."

"Yes, Surjit, I still remembered my childhood, but I am sorry I could not play like it with my kids."

"Why not?"

"Because I am not innocent like Rano. I want to be, but I can't, and I don't know why."

"hmm."

"You know, Surjit if sometimes I tried to think like Rano, but my heart said, don't imitate. God doesn't like it."

In those days, Rano was our mother, sister, and friend. She gave us the same color shirts at her wedding.

Rano came back the first time after marriage. She sent messages to all his kid friends. When we all reached her house, We went to a restaurant. Everybody was happy. Her husband paid the bill, and we returned Rano's home.

"Then, a year later, the news came that Rano had died. I still remember her pink shocks and green suits." Iqbal's mind became heavy. "And Surjit, I have never told anyone that I am looking for Rano in Raji. Sometimes Raji looks like Rano, but sometimes Rano came into my dreams and complained about Raji."

"Iqbal, we are childhood friends; I know everything about you, but you never told me about Rano before. Is it true or your imagination?"

Iqbal smiled and said, "I never thought to share it; I think it is not happening; it is my mindset. You are right, but one thing is also strange. Rano was my friend, sister, whatever you call. I never ask her about her mother. I know only that Rano and her family came from Pakistan after partition."

"Maybe or maybe not," Surjit said.

"Yes, Surjit, I recalled one incident; Rano embraced me and said,

" Come on, my son, and with that, Rano took me in her arms and realized her mistake quickly. I smelled warm from her embrace. A different kind of taste that I still remember. Sometimes I go beyond healing because of that; that taste of Rano makes me crawl towards Raji. To this day, I do not understand this. I illusioned Raji is going to die one day too."