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The Pain of Love

Author: Rizwan Ahmed Memon

It was August 16, 2014. I woke up early in the morning and decided to go to the grave of my father to pray for him. As I was praying before the graves of my loved ones, I saw that a very old man with the support of a stick was walking. He was going to the grave of his wife Sophiya, who had died just two days ago. As he approached the grave, he burst into tears and cried out loud saying, “Why did you leave me? Take me there immediately.” His love for his wife was so obvious from his pain.

I had seen them together since my childhood. They often went to city on a donkey cart. Their house was by the graveyard, and Sophiya often brought her buffaloes in the graveyard to graze. My mother had told me that my father had called her his sister. Her village was near our town. My father used to sell clothes in different villages, and that is how he met Sophiya. She was a poor, but brave woman. She was born in a family that was not Muslim. Sophiya had fallen in love with a Muslim man named Raheem Bukhsh.

Sophiya did everything for her love. She left her home, parents, and her religion. She became Muslim and married Raheem Bukhsh. After becoming Muslim, her name was changed. She was named Islaam. They were very poor, but their happiness was not dependent on wealth. Their love was pure and without reserve. Raheem Bukhsh didn’t do much work. It was Islaam who managed to run the house by selling milk. They had five children, three sons and two daughters.

I still remember she often complained about her daughters-in-law and said they didn’t treat her well. One of her sons died in a road accident. Her son’s sudden death upset Islaam and Raheem bukhsh so much. After many years, they recovered from the pain of the death of their young son. Islaam and his husband decided to sell their buffaloes and make a pilgrimage to Mecca.

When they arrived back to Pakistan, Islaam had come to our house and had told us about the pilgrimage. Islaam and her husband they had become very old, and they could not make both ends meet properly. Islaam took food from other people to fulfill the hunger of their stomachs.

For years they survived this way. On Eids, Islaam used to come to us and said Happy Eid. In 2014, on Eid-u-Fiter, the Eid which comes after Ramadan, she came to us. I had met her. I didn’t know it was her last Eid. That day she fell ill and became very serious. She was taken to the hospital. Three days she was in the hospital, but her health didn’t improve. The doctors told them she would not survive. Her husband took her home in the hope that she would survive no matter what the doctors say, but she could not survive any more.

The love and life of Islaam have always inspired me. She sacrificed everything for her husband and always remained by his side through thick and thin. Old Raheem Bukhsh is also ill, and he is suffering from the pain of separation of her beloved wife. I often find Raheem Bukhsh weeping on the grave of his wife. Everything that we have in this world will not be with us forever. We, too, will leave this world. Sometimes the pain of love makes life, and sometimes it takes one’s life. In life, having someone who loves us truly, is a gift from God. Man is mortal. One day everybody has to leave this world. The only way we can be in someone’s heart is by love. Islaam’s and Raheem Bukhsh’s life story will always be in my mind and heart, too.