Syed Majid Gilani
It was the stillness of the night, a time when the world lay in deep sleep, but Junaid’s heart remained awake. Suddenly, he woke up, tears streaming down his face. He had seen a dream, a dream so painful that it broke the fragile peace of his heart.
In that dream, he saw his three kids, his life, his happiness, his reason for breathing. They came running to him, arms wide open, calling out, “Papa! Papa!” He held them tightly, kissed their little faces, and felt their tiny hands holding his. But before he could say a word, a dark shadow appeared and dragged them away. He cried out, begged them not to go. Their innocent eyes filled with tears, their mouths opened to call him again…but no voice came out.
Junaid woke up, his face wet with tears. The pain of their absence felt like a sharp wound to his heart. This wasn’t an ordinary separation, it was cruel and planned. His wife, Falak, had created a wall between him and his children.
Sleep left him. He sat on the bed, holding their pictures close, remembering every word they had spoken, every hug, every laugh. In that silent moment of grief, he made a decision. He had to see them. Even if only from a distance.
In the morning, without telling anyone, Junaid left his home. His heart was set on one thing, he would go and wait outside their school.
The rain was falling softly when he reached the school. He stood alone as vans arrived and children got down. He didn’t know which van would bring his kids, but he refused to take shelter. He stood there, drenched in rain, unwilling to miss even a second.
Some teachers came and asked him to come inside, but he didn’t move. His eyes stayed fixed on the school gate.
Then, the Director of the school, a kind and understanding man who knew him, saw him standing there. He walked over, carrying an umbrella, and softly said, “After you meet the kids, come to my office for tea.” Junaid nodded quietly, too lost in his emotions to properly hear the words.
And then it happened. A van stopped. His heart skipped a beat. There they were, his three kids. The very reason for his existence, standing in front of him.
But as soon as their eyes met, something inside him shattered. The children quickly looked away, pretending not to see him. The pain in Junaid’s heart was unbearable. He rushed to them, called their names, and pulled them close in his arms. He kissed their faces, but they stood still, cold and silent.
But their eyes, their innocent eyes, told him everything. Those eyes spoke of the pain they carried, of hearts wounded by lies. Their mouths remained closed, but their eyes narrated every tale of their forced separation and suffering. Their love for their Papa was clear in the way they looked at him, but their voices were gagged by the influence of Falak.
The eldest child’s eyes silently pleaded for understanding. The middle one’s eyes showed both love and fear, fear of the punishment that might come if they showed their love. The youngest one looked up at him, as if asking for permission to cry, to call him “Papa” again. But invisible chains held their voices down.
The meeting lasted only two minutes. Then, without a word, they turned and walked towards their classrooms, never looking back.
Junaid stood in the rain, motionless, a father who had sacrificed everything for his children. Now, he was left standing alone, heartbroken, feeling betrayed by the very hands that once embraced him with love. His children hadn’t betrayed him, it was their mother’s calculated scheme that had torn them apart. This was no coincidence. It was a cruel, deliberate act by Falak, aplan to erase a father’s love from his children’s hearts.
The rain kept falling, and so did Junaid’s tears. After some time, the Director came back, gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and led him inside. Junaid’s eyes were still moist, his heart heavy. The Director offered him tea. He took the cup, but couldn’t even taste it. He sat there in silence, carrying the weight of a thousand emotions inside him.
That day, Junaid made a promise to himself. No matter how many lies Falak spread, no matter how much she poisoned their innocent minds, no matter how long the silence lasted, he would live on only for his children. Like before, he would continue to perform every duty, fulfill every responsibility, and keep loving them, quietly, faithfully, and without caring for the hatred their mother had planted in their tender hearts. He would wait for the day they would return, when their hearts would find their way back to him. And until that day, every beat of his heart would call their names, every breath would carry a prayer, and every tear would hold a silent hope.
In orchestrating such deceitful games, perhaps Falak had forgotten the most important principle of nature, that what one sows, one will inevitably reap. And above all, there is an ultimate overseer, Allah, who watches over all, ensuring that justice will always prevail in the end.
(The author writes about human emotions, family bonds, personal struggles, moral values, and deep, heartfelt experiences drawn from real life. He can be reached at [email protected])
