Hijr: Borders

The slow breeze of the night caressed Hoor's hair locks. Clouds whiskered the moonlight away from where she stood, and in the darkness, she saw Taraksh standing at a distance on the terrace. He spotted her at the same time. He seemed to be looking at her with a certain agony. His eyes looked pained. At that moment, an arrow of sorrow seemed to tear apart her heart, and it bled with emotions she never knew she had.

None of them spoke a word under the starry night. Finally, Taraksh turned, and before he disappeared behind the door, he gazed at her with confusion. He couldn't understand what made him so attracted to her, if not attached. That look of stupor took Hoor's breath away at the moment. As Taraksh disappeared, she wondered why her heart ached so much for a man she had known merely for a few days. She sighed.

Questions remained unanswered, and the dawn came quicker than expected, much to their chagrin.

Under the same titian hues of the rising sun, Fate wrote a story. Love transcends time and age; despite bittersweet becoming, the ways of the heart are always met. They were apart mortally but bounded immortally by a thread of something that surpassed human understanding.

Hoor was at the reception, checking out her belongings. Taraksh walked up to her with a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

"I guess it's goodbye then." He sighed.

"I guess. Until we meet again." She smiled. He looked up at her face. She was as sleep-deprived and troubled as he was. He nodded.

Hoor offered her hand for a shake. Something she usually didn't do. Perhaps, because she wanted to know how his touch would feel against her palm. He shook it firmly. The fingers lingered. They stared at their hands together. The touch didn't seem alien. They looked up to understand if they both felt the same. Hoor withdrew her hand from his care.

"I often go to various historical conferences." He spoke. "In Bangladesh." She looked up at his words.

"I never have."

"You should try sometime." He smiled again. She nodded.

"Do you… can you…" he stopped caring. He couldn't ask for a contact number. Not unless she was comfortable with offering it.

"I… am not on any social media." Hoor looked away.

"Ohh." Taraksh didn't hide his disappointment. "I am. If you ever join." Hoor smiled.

"Come on, the buses are here." Someone spoke.

"Allow me." He took her trolley as she nodded.

They walked out of the reception area to see the two identical cruise buses standing side by side. The flags on them, however, are different. Reality suddenly hit hard.

"Isn't it strange?" Then, someone spoke aloud, "How we never felt we were any different up until this moment?"

"Wait till the world cups; you will feel different." Another joked.

"Ah, the thoughts of patriotism and nationalism fed to our minds from a young age."

"Imagine, we all fought together for this?!"

Hoor and Taraksh were silent spectators to these rants. Their heart and soul had travelled miles away from all these. Eyes met again as she took her trolley and murmured a word of thanks. He stood there as she started walking away. Suddenly, he felt like this was not the first time they said goodbye. Not the first time, he was watching her leave. Hoor stopped. She turned to find him standing there, staring right at her. The deja vu of the moment was surreal. His eyes, getting lost in a crowd, and her heart was left somewhere it perhaps didn't belong. She would never see that face again. She kept staring at him.

The buses soon crossed and started in opposite directions as the iron gates closed in. Hoor looked back at the dust. Taraksh looked away, eyes closed. They were not the same anymore.

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You Deserve More

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