"I won't go to sleep until you tell me a story pa", exclaimed young Zafran.
"You are even more adamant than your mother. Come here", replied Kartik. He was a man in his late thirties with a face that suggested he had seen the thick and thin of life. He had tried hard to make young Zafran go to sleep but had eventually realized, after a series of such nights, that even someone as tough as him would have to bow in to this 8 year old's will. His son was his priciest possession and even though he had been feeling uneasy throughout the day he held young Zafran in his lap and started with the story.
Kartik spoke, “Once upon a time, there were two friends, Zain and Razzak. They were the best of friends. Their friendship was so deep, that it defied any limits, they could go any lengths for each other...If one was hungry other would give up his food, if one was weary other would complete his work, if one was in a fight other would gladly confront a punch..."
He went on narrating, racking his brain for the tiniest bit of details which were mere whims of his imagination. The power of articulation came naturally to him and young Zafran was already lost in his second world imagining Zain and Razzak marching hand in hand, completing their adventures.
"..One day when they were out on one of their adventures in the jungle, they confronted a gang of robbers.", continued Kartik,"They knew that if they were caught, they won't go back alive. So they hid behind the bushes and hoped that the robbers won't find them. Suddenly the robbers started approaching the place where Zain stayed hidden. With every passing minute Zain could feel the fear growing. Seeing that the robbers were about to catch hold of Zain, Razzak jumped out of his hiding and ran away into the jungle, daring them to catch him. He knew he had no chance but the thought that his friend will be safe became his strength. By the time Zain could understand what his friend had done for him, Razzak had vanished in the bushes and the Robbers had gone behind him. Zain felt deep within him that his friend would return and so he waited and prayed. After a couple of hours Razzak was back. He had defied all odds and had lost the robbers in the jungle. Seeing his dear friend again Zain's face lit up and as they hugged each other, tears rolled down his cheeks...”. Kartik stopped as he realized Zafran was already in sound sleep. He stared at his son's angelic face, sleeping with contentment. He laid Zafran in his bed and came up on the roof.
It was full moon and the silver strands of moonlight lit brightly on his rugged face. As he had gone on narrating the story to his son his stiff face had softened. The uneasiness which he had been feeling throughout the day now grew with every passing second. In his thoughts, he went 25 years back, same day, 1984 riots when his friend Razzak had faced the blow of the angry mob and let him escape unscathed. "Razzak", literally meaning the Protector, had given his life to live up to his name. He had been Kartik's protector. "It does not always end the way we have in the stories”, he thought.
He dearly wished he could hear Razzak’s voice now, calling him "the gracious", Zain, the name which only Razzak used to call him with, the name which now only existed in young Zafran's fantasy world. "At least they are together there..!!", he thought with a feeling of amelioration.
As he stood on the roof motionless, gazing away in the dark, a tear trickled down his weary face.
