the dying mammon of fears

 
Written by zerva sipra |
Published on:

                                THE DYING MAMMON OF FEARS

 

The day was coming to an end. the sun almost beneath a distance horizon, flicked the tops of the tallest trees in promise of a new a day tomorrow. The road had come to a kind of  wide saddle among the hills, and on either side of it a patch of sparse grass separated it from trees. I was wondered to see this mesmerizing panorama that was captured in my eyes. A mellifluous of banjo from far away was enough for being stunned us. The night start falling with its loyalty and dignity. It was difficult to drive on this hilly way. So, we moved on through a long walk. A tough and hectic routine was in my soul, fear of wars, being loss in race, struggle to stuck at the tip of the branches of the life tree and all of these scares were adhere with my shadow. a proud of power was clear running inside my veins, cooled blood.  At a long distance i could saw marvelous mammon focused on me. It had a scoffing smile. once i loved this mammon and solemnized it. It was not more than a God for me. But now it was scaring me. I did not know why i want to get rid of it. But it was my intense ambition. In a awful haze, I gasped a deep breathe to refresh my body and my mind but a sweet fragrance of meal from a small distance blown my mind. 

It was the darkest site. Oil lamps in front of every door were glittering like noctiluca on sky. A cool breeze blew and touch the toes caught in lather shoes. this was a sweet touch, eh!... yeah! it rattled my teeth.  Now I was at actual place, in Brririr. It was a special session for the dwellers in between the town.  

Suddenly bonfires belched, with beat of drums. as the dusk touch lit processions are led from all the nearby villages accumulating " charsue " which was the main custom dancing place. A group of tribal women and girls start dancing at the beat of drums. As the dance gathers momentum carries out around the one of the large bonfire so local wine were handed to us, the viewers. 

  The kalash women were dressed in black and colorful chogas and carrying flares. Most of their women wore long black robes, embroidered with cowrie shells. shells. for this known as " black kafirs ". beautiful beads in hair and an embroidered caps on head were increasing charm.

 With the beats of drums, they bowed their heads and then after a clap they start circular motion around bonfire. Bilili ( walnut bread)  one of the most popular traditional Kalash staples, made from batter mixed with nut meats and fried on a pan; present in front of us. The aroma was mind blowing and when i tasted it... ah!  it was so delicious that I have ever eaten. As there was darkness around so, the dancing shadows were on the huge mountains

 d

ue to lit of bonfires. Giggle of women attracted me. I startled and glared at them. i remembered the grandma's fairy tales in my childhood. "  fairies comedown when the moon lit. They are of snowy skin, black long hair like wool, broad shiny eyes like glitters and giggle like a melodious". " how it is possible?" i thought ghat fairy on land from dream lands.  

Petal like lips, straight nose they had Their songs they singing was melodic in their voice. i felt i am in other world in fairy land, in heaven; where is no worriment just peace, happiness, harmony and solace. 

Pareek

 Pareek

O may ruruk parik e may ruruk 
Aze tu parik e durikal o ik ey 
Durikaw pe ne o maskor aw o ik ey 
Tay hata a som sazem e sohorum sohorum khursi ey 
Tay tara nisay o ao dang jagem 
Tay tara nisay o ao dang jagem

Pareek Pareek 
Pareek Pareek 
O may ruruk parik e may ruruk 
Shawara parik e durikal o ik ey 
Durikaw pe ne o maskor aw o ik ey 
Tay hata a som sazem e sohorum sohorum khursi ey 

A throne of gold, we’ll ornate for you 
Tay tara nisay o ao dang jagem 
Tay tara nisay o ao dang jagem

 


A girl come and poured some wine in my glass. Broad billowy and dark honey colored eyes, having witchery that made me mythical. she was flimsy  in appearance carrying a heavy choga. She was a crystal doll in real meanings. I did not want to come from this charisma, I just wanted to go down in it. Slow drum beatings with the beats of foot and claps of hands, dancing shadows, giggles of fairies and most cozy thing was that  glass of mauve wine, mesmerized me. I could saw all that tiredness and fears burning in fire. as I had a long journey so, I

 stayed in restroom while the tribal elders sat on hilltops at down to watch the rising of sun and declaring the new year. It was a small door but a huge room. There was enough room with useful things. Kerosene lamp hanged at one corner of the room, a wooden charpai (cart) under the lamp. A table and two chairs near the furnace. Velvety and mushy bed was calling towards herself... yeah! it looked like a lassie. A deep soft  wool blanket took me in its lap, warm and solace was there that was I experienced after a long journey of my age. Anger, worry, tensions, aggression, ego, and proud all where stood outside me abandoned. I had a scoffing smile. but the mammon was still watching me but now my scare was less. I blew the lamp because i did not want to see them all. 

The morning was bright and cheerful. A bit of light from the upper hole came down to my eyes. At one side of my charpai there was a wooden window that opened in to a wide paddock. A very mesmerizing aroma of fruits arouse my sleeping mind. When i stepped in to the veranda, lush green with chilled water streams, valleys were full of apples and apricots trees. Their main crop is maze. I could saw the women harvesting the crop with local songs from far away, a slight music could also be heard.  Th

e wheat bread with a cup of cawah (tea) was given to me in breakfast. I was hearing the whispering of the sparrows to each other because I was strange for them. The wind murmured in the trees. I smiled to saw the children going to grazed their cattle ( little shepherd).  The night festival was not ended yet their boys of certain age around 8 and 9 went through a rite of passage and spend three days in a Jestakhan (temple) where they their first goat being slaughtered and where they drink their first wine. Drinking wine as not allowed openly but there I was astonished the boys of this age were drinking and it was the part of their culture. Young men were dressed in clothes f their ancient elders. They are considered unique among the peoples of Pakistan. They are also considered to be Pakistan's smallest ethnoreligious (nonreligious) community, practicing a religion which some scholars characterize as a form of animism and other academics as "a form of ancient Hinduism". this was making me surprised at every moment. 

The new year was really surprising for me. 
  The family members were going to the funeral of the known person of the valley. Khan sahib was the renowned person between them. Dead body was on " rest on" a cart for dead bodies. His face could be seen while his body was covered with red shawl. The cart was encircled by men and women from three valleys of the kalash community Rumbur, Birir and Bumburet. The close female relatives of the deceased had not covered their heads. They were all listening to cleric who was speaking about khan's services to the tribe. The people attending the funeral payed tribute to khan and sang his praises. They were beating drums, blowing whistles, singing and dancing around the body. According to kalash folk tales, the grandest feast ever in the last six to seven generations was arranged at the funeral of Jawasi kalash, a renowned tribal elder. It continued for seven days. drum beating and dancing were a part of it and guest consumed a lot of liquor. Moreover, numerous cattle and tons of ghee and cheese were presented to funeral attendants. Today they offered grape water to people attending the funeral. His
 death is a sorrowful occasion but for them its full of enjoyment it looked but its the type of condoling for them. I was not expecting this from them although any other thing I could. They have their own way of life and their own religion. I entered in my guestroom and the lamp was flickering here. I closed the windows because I was writing my diary where I had wrote about my fears and tensions. But in veranda mammon was glaring at me. I wanted to stop all this and to fight for myself. I run towards veranda and there mammon was waiting for me.I just wanted to get rid from it. "Once I was a God for you and you worshiped me. But now it seemed you forgot everything, what you were and what you are now." The mammon was trying to depressed me but  I don't know why but I was comfortable heartily. " Listen mammon you are a demon. You ruined me in my own mania. You are a liar. You gave me pain. You took away my little happiness that made me smile ever. I lost everything to gain... to gain heights. I lost my soul mate. I lost my family, my peace, my comfort  and my laughs." After a very long time I was fighting for myself. My body was shivering and sweating badly.   He left from my sight. My voice was echoing in the woods far away and in mountains and I could heard my last words " I am my own and and have my own rules."  
"I 

gave you peaks, I gave you heights, I gave you piece, I gave you harmony, I gave you enthusiasm, I gave you courage, and every thing that make you a perfect man in yourself". Mammon was stuck on his own. " You gave me just tiredness, jealousy, selfishness. I said leave and go away from there."  After saying I loss my strength and fell down on my knees. I was shivering and had sweat in this cold. But I was heartily comfortable. The snow start falling. The small cotton like buds was touching my body. I opened my eyes and mammon was not there. He was broken and gradually covered by the falling snow. I took a deep breathe and thanks to God. I was hoping that my this year was beautiful like these days spend here. Darkness was not scaring me now. Lit of lamp was every where on the huge mountains and air was silent. Everything was alright and according to my desires. But the days i spend gave me many lessons of love, cares and humanity. I was succeeded to overcome the mammon of  scares. Now my heart was in peace and I was in peace. 

 

Copyright © SodaCoffee.com

Author: zerva sipra
wanted to be a passionate writer on my own skills. Live in Pakistan and a caring friendly one. Studying in university

Comments

Please Login to Comment
No comments have been posted. Be the first.



Hire a Writer