They call me babu (Stories collection)

We haven't parted, but we'll never meet (short story)

turn:

It really was or was about to be a dangerous turning point in her life, but she realized the matter in time. (Nawal) did not want one day to be like the rest of her peers or peers... She always liked to tweet outside the flock and think outside the box... She admitted (Nawal) to herself over and over again that in this way she probably lost and will lose a lot of girlfriends and friends.

But something bad inside her was growing and growing with time, warning her, warning her... terrifying her and desiring her, lighting up a path for her that she felt scattered before, but without caution or even the slightest caution, and why not and she who always saw them around her falling leaf after leaf from the notebook of her age as leaves Autumn tree, and all thoughts fall with them, but say all the nonsense and all the absurdities and false superstitions that she has always believed and believed in.

And I say you believe, because faith is submission without evidence, without logic, without anything, just submitting to an idea and submitting to it like this for just a feeling or feeling that at first glance seems strong and certain, but it quickly collapses into an ocean of illusion, swallowed by whales of deception and holding on to it until it drowns suffocating between its tentacles. Evil breathed its last, for there is no evidence to lead it to the full truth. How can she accept it when it does not exist, how can it be!!!?

Thus, it is like one who sees the sun in the night of a beast, or as one who waits for a child from a sterile womb, and because she did not want to be this and that.

She sat on a cold winter’s night, and the sound of raindrops was like a postman knocking on her room window, so she sat in wet awe and reverence and reverence, a night in which reverence reigned in a corner of her room and silence pleaded in his silence, begging her pen to utter what was in her heart and what was going on in her mind.

The stars twinkle with what is in them and not with what we give them... and you are the star that not all stars look like.. That's how she began the first line of her message...

You didn't know how to start? How do you write? How do you explain? ...or what do you say? And if you find what you will say..how and when to say it?? Now it starts.. No, no.. It's still early.. Not yet... Then suddenly and insistently... No... But now... Now I start..

Then hold the pen in her hand! The letters flowed, followed by the words, and slipped on her thirsty lips for everything in it... and everything in it... The sweetness of transparent words quenched the dryness of her heart and watered it, so that a green plant of tenderness, tranquility and happiness sprouted... You are yes you, you are the one I'm looking for... You see why you are late all these years, where did you come from? Why are you coming now?! She wondered with sadness that drips from the pen and runs on the face of the letter, drowning her in a moan of tears...

Were we on time? And if we are? Is it fair to come now? Abir inhaled the words whose perfume filled the parts of the paper, more than half of which was still like snow white waiting for the heat of her words and the warmth of her expressions to melt from the eagerness of meeting.! And the words embraced her! And in embracing the letter with the letter, she said to him: I am running from myself to you. So contain me.. take me in your arms and hold me to you... and let me contemplate your eyes...

But what do I see? We found her spectral from above the lines, whispering in her ear, What do you see? She approached for a while.. then took two steps away while still contemplating his eyes in the reverence of a submissive trembling! Then she answered him, muttering with trembling, pained lips: I see treachery in your eyes... I see that they are waving to me from afar, as if they are bidding farewell to me or you will do that after a while.

Then I strayed far away! And she whispers to herself in trembling pain: So, tomorrow soon he may leave me, or he will, surely he will.. He will not continue his love for me..

Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow he will let me down... He will kill me with his coldness... He will bore me... Yes, his eyes told me that, and the words of the eyes are always true... I smelled in their eyes the smell of coldness waving to me from afar with a snowy hand hiding behind a curtain of warm passion...

And then I won't I find him and then wept and sobbed for a long time... She snatched her hand from his hand harshly and with nervous speed and she says to him firmly: No, I won't wait for you to do it, let me leave you... I won't let you break me down. She was torn by the cold knife of sadness and she says, "I will not let you fail me... I will not believe you... I want the tender lover... Understand?" Affectionate! I want him, he is the owner of the big heart, the owner of the tender hand that does not

You come close to me not to stroke my hair like I used to stroke my kitten's hair so tenderly...

A hand that extends only for tenderness... for tenderness... only to pat it on my shoulder and on my back with tender fingers... Fingers feel the tufts of my long hair falling on my shoulders and move it with the air right and left...

A hand wraps my heart in its warmth and always feels it to reassure him... To nurture him ... To nourish him with love and longing like a little child ... I want this one who takes care of my heart ... Warms him ... He takes care of him ... He embraces him ... And then ...

Then I fell silent ... So he grabbed her hand to bring her back to his chest again. He whispered in her little ear and felt her fingers with long, slow, tender touches: And who told you I wasn't, who told you I wasn't that you're looking for... She looked at him with reverence and in a trembling voice, saying in a skeptical tone: I need someone to hold my hand and hold me to him, and tell me stop your sadness ...

Your sadness wears me down ... Ah, she said while groaning from the pain of her soul torn as a piece of cloth that has worn out over time ...

Ah then ah, the pain in my heart crossed all limits... He drew nearer to her, until his breath became mixed with hers, and until she heard the whistling of his breath piercing her ear and penetrating into her heart...

But she looked as she stared for a long time in his eyes and said as if she was telling him what he didn't He expects from her: But treachery is male... Lying is male... Stupidity is male... He said while smiling arrogantly: But deception is female... Ugly is female... And foolishness is female... So she exchanged his look with stubbornness, steadfastness, determination and acknowledgment. She said: And I realized that ugliness is male... He replied, trying to calm her down, and with tenderness mixed with a sump, he said: But I see that nature is female...

Happiness is a female... So she strayed her imagination away and the pen fell in her hand gradually as raindrops falling shyly from the sky and she made slow steps as she wandered around her room and hovered around the paper, looking at the pen with apprehension mixed with stubbornness, and then the words of one of them rang in her ear as she said to her one evening And with laughter bearing mockery the most that bears confidence and certainty: Do you think that you will find the happiness that you dream of with a man... you are delusional... that you are searching in illusion and searching in mirage... that these men, my dear, have closed boxes... Only they open it whenever they want...

Then she approached her and whispered like the hissing of a snake, saying: They alone are the only ones who open their hearts and secrets whenever they want and hang them however and whenever they want... Then she straightened up in her seat on the sofa and carelessly... That's how they always are. ..

The woman has nothing but endurance and patience… Her husband may return to her one day intoxicated with the wine of new love, or immersed in erotic desires… Or immersed in a new pleasure… She looked at her as if she was comforting herself more than she was, and leaned her head back while sighing: Ah, But the female must endure...

Yes, she bears carrying him in her arms like a baby... And to be patient with the kicks of his feet in the face... Or punches he distributes left and right with his raging hands, demanding his food, or when it's time to nurse him... It's okay, no It's okay. This is how a young child always does when he complains or gets angry... The mother has nothing but to fulfill her child's desires...

Even if she pampers him... She stifles her anger and stifles her as she exchanged looks, saying: Where is she in his life? I don't want a like, like... This pretentious man... I want... Before she could continue I silenced her and interrupted her with insistence and a defiantly defiant tone, saying: You won't find him, my dear!

You won't find him... He's only the one who wants... He achieves what he wants... If not by encouragement, then by intimidation...

With a stinging murmur and with a tone dripping with heartbreak, bitterness and despair: She said to her: The battle always ends in his favour, or rather, I would say in his favour. ...and his personal interest...So she stood up and strongly objected while repeating her words that poured bittersweet taste into her mouth and the bitterness of aloe vera while she was still repeating...(His interest...His

goodness...intimidation)...And he screamed inside her with a suspicious panic. ...then she hurried back to the paper and grabbed the pen and shots fired from the flashes of thunder, which appeared in the sky of her anger, and her pen poured out in a torrent of grumpy rain, and the letters tumbled out of her pen: It would never be...

It wouldn't... Whatever it was... It wouldn't I despair that it exists... it exists... it exists... it dwells inside my soul I see it and I breathe it... I feel its presence, the warmth of its breath stings me...

He may not be like you... He may hide among you... He may appear in your good intentions, and then return to disappear among your evil intentions! You may see it as the bright morning dawn when your secrets open, and it comes out ugliness to illuminate your souls with purity...

and light and purity... It may disappear when it hits the rock of your greed and drowns the sea of ​​matter that you fell into, and then it comes back again to be resurrected when a cry of truth cries inside your chest To forbid you from greed, then the tears of conscience saturated with the pain of sins and the heartbreak of remorse will appear, and a bright morning will emerge from it that will heal your pain and pat a hand of tenderness on the chests to heal what is in them and calm them down, so the seeds of hope sprout with it again...

Then the pen fell from her hand to repeat the ball Despair herself again, and she put on her dark dress, and a cloud of pallor, tension and sadness clouded her face,

and she remembered the words of that man of forty who lived behind them in the building that adjoins their building and said while sighing in a shaky voice grieved with muffled pain and leaning her back on the chair back saying: What a dry man ...

Arrogant... cold-tempered... I've never seen such a mean nature in my life... And with a painful sigh, she said (I thought he was different from what I met him?! He deliberately hurt my feelings whenever he saw me smiling with arrogance, arrogance, stupid and impudent confidence, approaching me to give me his hateful greetings ... Ah ... I used to feel that the poison was running through my veins every time I saw him ... What a careless man, a celibate loafer in this life who only cares about sitting with women and playing with their hearts ...

With bitterness she said: Then what? ... He comes to propose to me!!! to announce his repentance on my hands...? Then she rang her hand on the table in front of her as if she was sounding the alarm while saying (Liar...Liar...I'm not him...

You're not him...Then she laughs with mixed sarcasm Bitterly, saying: And they all believed his alleged repentance.. They believed that he wanted to be cleansed of his sins before me.. and that he confessed them on the confessional to take the indulgence deed from me! What fools!

And with a question saturated with certainty, she said to herself: Or are they liars like him? Yes, yes they are like him... They live on deception... They respect and sanctify lies without realizing it, even without their awareness... Hehehe and she smiled in exasperation as she remembered that he wanted to get her when she rejected him... He couldn't... I wish they knew. ...that they would understand ...

He approached her one morning as she crossed the street and turned right and left to avoid the evil of the cars, and if a heavy wind blew from her side, and behold, he cast his faint shadow full of wrinkles that his sins and mistakes dug into the face of his hateful shadow as he saluted her, then He approaches like a speeding truck that wants to crush her before redeeming her soul and soul, surprising her by asking (Have you found him?), so she turned to him, looking for the meaning of his words between his eyes, and she found nothing but smoke from schadenfreude and curiosity emanating from his looks... Then I asked him for clarity...

Found what? He answered her in a tone that was not devoid of sarcasm and sarcasm mixed with humor and disdain, saying: (Al-Muntazar), has he not yet come to take your hand to where you want... and to the place where you dream? She said with high intermittent laughter, Ola

It sounded in her ear like thunderbolts on a snowy winter's night, saying: But how long you wait! Then he approached her, whispering a question dripping lightly (Do you really see him coming)? She did not turn to him, but did not even hear him... She left him and went...

She passed while she was immersed in this spectrum that owned and owned her... until she could see no one else... until she fell in love with that spectrum that she started seeing wherever she went and directed. Imagination became an undeniable reality?! And the imagination became immersed swimming in reality, an inevitably reality...

She did not realize which one to believe, which one to befriend... Both of them grab her to sink into the ball of her thoughts and dreams, and even her certainty between the two of them is hardly captured by the hand of either of them until she flies away in the sky of the other hand... She did not Come back you know! Does she look at the moment in which she will be tortured like others, or will she keep looking and waiting.. she is apprehensive and dreading the occurrence of that moment without it happening and before it happens...!

The torment of waiting is a thousand times more horrific than the torment itself... Will the genie of this spectrum emerge from the sea of ​​passion to conquer it with his love, kindness, tender strength and strong tenderness... to rest in his arms and for her soul to rest on the shores of his hands that surround her with the fence of his manhood, so that she drinks from the cup of his sweetness, willingly satisfied .

She sat and her hands were trembling, then the words ran from her pen and she drew her panting breath as if she was in a long race against time... Time... The hour... The days, months and years... Everyone says to her: Come on, don't hesitate, hurry to make your decisions.. ...and do not delay or postpone your steps...Come on decide your destiny now...Now specifically...Stop waiting...Either your destiny will be to an angel or to perdition...

She never wanted to go down to the maids market... She never wanted to sell her dream to someone who paid the most... She would not give this spectrum to someone who wears a fake mask and then turns into a foolish being... A stranger to her... Close to it but far from it!! The page of the paper was folded like a log... Its leaves jumped at the speed of a wild hare that the hunter feared to see or turn to, and disappeared between the folds of the envelope, which despite its small size appeared before her eyes like a vast and majestic world!

It is full of everything that the soul can bear and what it cannot bear... and what all hearts can accommodate and what cannot be accommodated! Suddenly she found herself in front of the mailbox... She didn't know how she jumped all the steps of the building stairs..

Although the building's elevator was out of order, it descended to the street at a lightning speed that precedes all elevators! How did that happen, you don't know?! Rather, she thinks or hears something possible going on around her... and she saw nothing but the flicker of that small message that shines with the glint of the new sword's edge that thirsts for amputations and pieces! Yes, cut off all the lies... and cut off the doubt with certainty... a decisive moment... in the midst of a dark truth in a cloudy sky...

A moment that breaks the dust of every silence and hears every sound... Her message will arrive... She will definitely arrive... And whoever has more right to her will receive it... He knows that she will reach it one day! He is waiting for it and he must have received it... You will not believe their depressing words... You will not sell the truth with lies... You will rise no matter how low it falls, and it will be announced no matter how low it goes... They lie the truth when everyone believes the lie, but she is not... Every wound has its medicine and every bird has its air. . It is the bend, the circular road and the labyrinth that is impossible to disappear and dissolve like a piece of sugar and a glass of water in its folds, it must be something that does not yet exist.