Sunday, 10 August 2008

lemme see if it works

Allah hafiz

My Dining Table

This was for the college wall magazine…
Before you start reading this, let me tell you one thing very earnestly- what you are about to read is not an interesting article; neither is it a gripping story, nor an essay. What it is.. God knows best….I’d call it my nostalgia put into words! So, now, it’s entirely up to you to continue ahead or just cut it out here and go about doing whatever you were up to; saving yourself quite an ordeal.
Having stated this disclaimer clearly enough, I begin…..My dining table is quite close to my heart. It’s not just something upon which I lay my plates, but something much more….in fact; my whole life revolves round it. It’s quite large and of an antique look (though not an antique really), was built in the ‘6os, modified in the early 90’s (not much, mica was added, that’s all, and can hold the whole house (metaphorically speaking dear)
It’s a place which keeps my family together- as early as I can let my memory go, I recall my abbu, mumma, aapa and me sitting round this very much rectangle table, for all the talks we have had…all our dreams, hopes, sorrow were shared across it. The home budget planned here and even the shopping bags we brought were kept right on it!
We fought round this table, joked round it, studied on it, our birthday cakes cut on it and after every Fajr, ammi and I read Qur’an Paak on it. If there is any place I remember where we got together regularly- it’s our dining table.
There are two more of the like at home- one is even bigger and probably as ancient as my house (my house being built in 1902, this 2nd table was built sometime round then.) The third is a small round one, but, we never use it (guess we are so used to sit round rectangle tables, that round ones just don’t please).Anyways, in spite of these two, the King (Queen, if you like it better) is still my darling old “Bada Maiz” (Big Table)as my mumma has named it!
I am sure we all have at least one place in all our homes which keeps the golden strings attached- a place where we have been together- laughing or crying, happy or sad... Where if we look back to… we would see the family we have left behind… A place, which, acting like a magnet, will always pull us back, back to where we belong... Where our hearts are… whether we agree or not... That place for me is my dining table and I’m sure if Allah Paak ever gave life to my house, ever embodied it; the exalted rank of the heart would go to my lovely old “Bada Maiz”!

Allah hafiz


Now reading ... "Crime and Punishment" by 'Fyodor Dostoyevsky'.



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