Halcón

I want to keep this sunset - Jasir Shahbaz

My friend was telling me that yesterday she felt a strong urge to share an insignificant piece of personal news with someone, and she didn't know, who to message. She said that she misses having a person, who she could turn to share small griefs and joys, which are too small to be brought to notice of anyone. The way when you spot a firefly, you quickly turn to another human being to register its existence, before it disappears into oblivion. The same way small moments if not shared, celebrated- dissolve into nothing. I was replaying her conversation in my mind, you know how words never leave my system, specially the ones laced with sadness. Like my favourite track on repeat her words kept company through out the journey back home. At Garden Town signal, which used to be called season chowk, I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets. Four incomplete clouds were touching the sun, like a family holds the first born- together. The sun was looking like round cotton candy, and my first reflex was to take a photo to send to you. But I restrained myself. Tomorrow, when you will leave, I would need to ask you to return the sunset to me. I don't want to borrow this sunset, like a selfish kid, I want to keep it only to myself. I let my eyes take hold of the sunset until the signal turned green, I'm training my memory to be my companion. I'm preparing myself to be alone, like people prepare themselves for death after becoming aware of terminal illness. But once you accept death or loneliness, or anything, it stops scaring you. It becomes part of you, the way I let this memory of sunset become, me.

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Jasir Shahbaz