They call me babu (Stories collection)

They Call Me Babu (short story)

Mama (Excuse me and forgive me for not writing to you for this long, but that, as you know, was against my will and against my will and I did not want to do it. You put him off or ignore him for a while. Thinking that you wouldn't get angry,

but you understand me, and you know that I'm stubborn always and forever, maybe he's bothering you with my stubbornness for a long time, but it was a principle and not stubbornness just for stubbornness, it's me and it's my life, my life that I lived and I ask myself the same question that is still knocking My ears are always and forever

I have the same question, and even repeats itself in me, and with urgency, asking for charity, the most urgent needs! Then torrents of confusion and questions overwhelm me, eagerly and thirsty, and I wonder: Which is better? A banal happiness or a noble sadness that is above pleasure and pleasure? And from all cheapness or baseness, even if they are the only way to happiness or ecstasy?

But I know for sure that it remains a false pleasure, a temporary pleasure that will always remain in the gutter, because it is very expensive and we should not lose more for it than it deserves..

It is cheap no matter how much you pay for it and no matter how much effort you make for it.

It always goes unheeded..and disappears like a mirage..it catches the wind in every direction and anyway or anyway...but there and on the other side of the shore of life I see you, noble sadness, lofty and steadfast, even when you are alone..

and with the courage of a valiant fighter stands He is steadfast in the face of this cheapness and that deceptive happiness... Tears will fall from you with a giving that deserves a lot of effort and more than sacrifices, and tears that are pure as snow white.. Transparent as raindrops. Or guilt, that pain is inevitable.

But suffering is optional, and there are those who resort to it and have it, thinking that by doing so he will gain everyone’s sympathy and attention, and there are, in turn, those who enjoy their pain ... and even rejoice in it!!!!

And willingly. For a reason that is simple and difficult at the same time! ..it is easy to abstain! He is the one who wants to purify himself from the inside.. He wants to buy his next happiness with the most precious thing possible. His happiness is postponed..

but it is too big to be described,,, and he must make a lot of effort to get it..it is purer than distorting or disturbing any guilt or Even a suspicion of sin... It is purer than cotton in its whiteness and purer than a newborn in its innocence..

But I see that the path to this happiness is paved with thorns that bleed the feet..but in the end it is true happiness, knowing how to heal wounds and heal all ills and diseases even as if nothing had happened.

Mama (I could not easily forget my torments and surgeries, and I would not forget my permanent absence of you, my constant search for your tenderness and the warmth of your fingers that are bent on me, as if I am looking for you in every face I met and with every smile I saw shining on the lips of a small child, you left me and left me alone in Life, mother what can I do now,

I have grown up a lot now, mother, and I work in a hospital to relieve pain and heal wounds, but who will heal my wounds, mother?

I am very attached to your picture, mother, but it is attachment, then attachment ... then attachment, then parting ... On many nights, the spring of my sweet tears always erupts, the pain of which I tormented so much! Those tears that flood the desert of my pillow at night and burst forth in green meadows of patience and perseverance that my heart always contains.

It is my consolation in my loss and my missing you, mother, so my patience opens a safety valve from crying, so that all the pressures come out inside me in peace and quiet, and here I have found what I want in work Another, it's a job that makes me very happy, Mom.

I read in the newspaper about an advertisement for a family asking for a nanny for a sick child to take care of and nurse him, it is a Dutch family and I will live with them in their big house. The head of this family works as a big employee in the government departments in Amsterdam and in return I get a good monthly salary, but that is not the important thing, mother Rather, the important thing is (Jack) this wonderful, beautiful child. He brings happiness a lot in my heart, mother.

I see him a lot and sleeps with him in his room. He loves me very much and cries if I am late. When Jack's two little hands glide softly over my hair and my body, as if his hands were caressing the sound of his little hums and laughter pouring the sweetest melodies into my ears and my heart together, I felt as if new blood was running through my veins and pumping life into my body. They love me very much at home and call me Babu. Little Jack's voice comes into my ears and he smiles at me, saying, "Babu."

And happily spreading her rays on her swollen cheeks as she points to him (Baaaabo) I never understood the meaning of this word, but I later learned that (Ba) means (Lady) and (Bo) means (Mother) it is the dialect or language (Dutch), I don't know what it means I do not understand it from them, because I am not from their country, I am a stranger to their homeland, but I have been attached to this word a lot, mother, and I feel that it is a word that brings you back to me. My unit were immigrants to (Netherlands) like me, and some of them are from my country, but they were also joking and smiling saying to me (Babu) (Babu), I was smiling quietly when I heard this word, it is the magic key, I feel as if it opens the doors of happiness for me, but my happiness did not It would not have been completed, mother, for the war invaded my country and spread with it the cholera epidemic, and the rest of my family and my family were captured by the soldiers. Dutch) is far away as they had to dispense with his services. So she left the house and left

And I left (Jack) this little one who cried for my parting, I still remember the last touches of his little fingertips as he cried crying as I bid him farewell (Babu Babu, don't leave me (Babu), I felt the tips of his fingertips clinging to my clothes as if they were clinging to my eyelids.

Fiery drops that made my guts sore with grief over his separation, but then I decided to bury myself between my sorrows and with my hands I will bandage all my wounds, but whatever I can from the wounds of everyone I see who needs help, and someone may say: (It is I who really need help), but what is not to share with me

Who need it like me, they share my sorrows, forget the helping hand for each other, so that our wounds heal and heal each other from the exchange of our pains, hopes and dreams, I am smiling where I want to cry!

Despite his wealth, there was not one friend around him, but the enemies were the most, and he had no family and he did not have children in his life, of course, he did not marry, he was sick with a good heart, he needed someone to take care of him and he was looking for someone to make him sick and I was the first to suffer I applied for the job and he accepted me immediately and I worked for him.

He always reminded me of my grandfather who used to tell us stories in the village when we were young and he was very kind to me. He gave me a room in his big house. Oh mother, from that harsh life, she was so hard on him despite his many money, but I was the one who colored it for him with his feathers of happiness, hope and tenderness! I knew that he would not live long, an obligation that was an incurable disease that could not be cured, so the doctor who was supervising his treatment told me.

Including only loneliness, cruelty, greed of the greedy and the treachery of the treacherous. I wanted him to taste the taste of comfort and sip from the fountain of faith even for once or for a short period before his departure, and is it reasonable or acceptable for him to leave that life without receiving anything from it except its slaps and words?! ...

Is it not possible for him to obtain from her even a drop of tenderness or a touch of safety or even a few moments of happiness! Could this life not draw even one smile on his lips, on which grief applied to them forever?

But I was the one who gave him that opportunity, I was the one who changed his barren desert into a mellow green orchard, it is really amazing, amazing that smiles and laughter come out of the tears!!! It is astonishing that it gives life to those who struggle with slow death!!!! It is strange that a ray of hope and its light shines through the darkness of despair! It is amazing to extend a helping hand to someone who is in dire need of it

!!!! It is life born from the womb of death!!!! But I (Babu) as my old master used to call me, was able to bring a glimmer of the light of happiness into his life whose color had faded and the warmth of its sun had disappeared. And now, mother,

I finish my letter while I hide what remains of my dreams and hopes in the treasury of time, keeping the hand of oblivion away from it!! And here I am putting my pen aside, the pen may be tired and exhausted by suffering!!! Perhaps he was stopped by the severity of the pain, or perhaps the bitterness of days exhausted him..

But the nobility of giving and his generosity was always filling him with ink if he was about to run out or his ink was about to run out! It is an inexhaustible ink!!! As long as you remain and continue in my life, mother, and always remember, mother, that this life is a play that the curtain has not yet come down on, but it is an ongoing play, whether we like it or not, we have paid the ticket price. I remembered and before I concluded my letter to you, they always say (that the one who loses something does not give him) and I am more than the one who lost love and lost your tenderness his mother, and despite that, the one who gave love most and gives it to those orphans that you take care of in the orphanage that my rich old master wrote in my name before his death.

He had just bought it and found nothing but supervising it and these innocent children who had lost the mother's tenderness, just like me, mother, that it is (Abu's orphanage). Mama, I have always seen you as a beautiful image in my imagination. I always dreamed of you next to me, and the touch of your hands that I missed was always on my pillow, and I always imagined the features of your tender face drawn on my pillow. Do you know why?

Because I have not seen you one day in my life, mother! I did not know what you looked like and I did not have a picture of you. Since my birth, I have not known you and I have not known who you are or where you have been.

I have never even seen you for a single day in my life! You have always been and will forever be a dream in my imagination.

That's how they told me about you and said that you were missing, only and nothing else, and I didn't even know then where you went? And now I am writing my usual letter to you, knowing that I have not written to you for a long time, and since the last time I wrote to you my letters that I have always written, but which have always been in the drawers, I love my mother, my mother passed away a long time ago.

.Note (Please, mother, excuse me for not sending you this letter by post, as I do not know your new address Signature (Babu).