The Power of Emojis

At midnight in the UK, I receive a message from my mother.

Between a thought of an image or a video, I wait for the morning.

Captured not in an image or a video. It is a compilation of emojis.

Dotted, and aligned, in one straight line, she has inserted three

Emojis, 😊❤️🦋—equally translated as I love Parwana (means butterfly).

Feared that she was feeling down again. I call her.

Grandfather Chaman did not do justice. He did not allow his daughters to

Have an education. They were brought up only as good housewives.

It is only now that my mother wishes to know more, to be educated. Last

July I visited her. She has just started her English classes in California.

Kabul was never a place of education for her.

Love of words and learning new language fill her soul each day.

Moments later, she answers my call. I love you too, Boboy jan,

No matter how hard I try to tell her that it is okay not to feel great. She

Opens up. I can hear her tears, falling. She misses her sister the most.

Pakistan is the only place they should go if they fear the Taliban. She says.

Quite the opposite, I tell her. She should remain in Kabul or go to Herat.

Risking her life and her children is not worth it. How are you doing?

Sediqa is my sister, my mother keeps saying.

Twenty minutes into our conversation, she says she might have depression.

Unknown in a new land, she is once again a wanderer but to seek what.

Vision and vanity, vow and values are all questionable here.

Whether to believe in this new land or to leave it all behind is not a choice.

Xorshid is a Zoroastrian word for the sun. I tell her, in each upcoming

Year, your pain will dissolve. I know, she replies, all pain in its

Zenith is nothing but an experience, host them gently, Rumi said last.