Migration began from our society. All residents packed their belongings and got ready for moving towards the east. We were also in the same parade going towards the east along with the rest. We got into the river which was surrounded by trees. Birds were chirping above. A fellow traveller informed that these were not birds but ghosts. This was the river of ghosts. These ghosts will not let anyone pass from here during the daytime but at night they were powerless. After a while, I felt that I was standing nearby a sea but alone. The seawater has turned yellow and I am looking at it in astonishment. Suddenly, a huge wave of sea crashed over me, leaving behind two cats. One of the cats said to the other, “Fear is not a disease; it begets when you don’t know where you belong. Where there is no knowledge, there exists fear.”
In that particular moment when I was lost in thought, something stuck my feet. It was a yellow scarf.
This is a translated version of a Balochi short story written by Chandan Sach. The translator can be reached at [email protected]
Published in Daily Times, January 28th 2019.