Lost within me The scorching heat of sun was showing its full strength. It was mid June, the extreme summer season of Pakistan. I saw her entering through the passage of our main door. Her sweaty skin was shining under her white scarf and she was trying to wipe the wet face of her with it. She smiled at me and hugged me, the fragrance of her skin that was the first mixture of dust and sweat seemed more than an alluring perfume to me, filled of love and care for me. I hugged her tightly as to me she was the only real #life angel, my fairy godmother. She was none other then my grandmother whom I called (Nani ama) in Urdu language. My grandmother was a teacher by profession at the time when only few women were allowed to work outside their home boundaries. My grandfather was in armed forces and together they bear 8 children out of which one passed away in her full adolescence by severe burning. My grandfather couldn't bear the loss of his daughter whom he loved a lot and passed away after two years of her death. Nani ama brought up rest of her kids all by herself, by educating and protecting them from all the evils of the outer world. She was the fighter in her youth and in her old age too. Out of all of her grandchildren she used to love me a lot. I remember Spending my weekends and school holidays at her house, waking up with the pleasant aroma of flat bread (paratha) and tea. I love drinking my tea in the cream ceramic bowl that has a floral pattern on its sides. Every time I took a sip the drops of tea makes little flowers alongside the pattern that amuse me. I spent my day finding old photos of my mother and her other siblings and then laugh and joke about them. Rest of the day passed playing games with my uncle and reading books. I never get bored at her house it seemed so magical and never ending adventure for me. I can lost in my own world of imaginations for hours and hours. At night Nani used to tell me stories about her childhood, her husband, and #life experiences which I loved to listen again and again. Time has its own quality, it went pass along with good and bad experiences. I finish school, went to college and going to nani's house became less. I don't stay overnight as I got stuck with my own hobbies, friends and the world of computers. One day on a family gathering I notice she is getting forgetful. She must be old , I thought to myself like others. As time passed her condition got worse. She gets more forgetful and had a vivid memory left of her present. She barely recognise any of her children. That was the time when my parents decide to bring her to our house as it's not safe to left her alone. She stayed with us clay bowl 1
