Keep The Flames Burning

It was a small day actually, burdened with heavy tears, some candle flames that refused to burn out and a girl made of fire. In my mind, the moon was sewn across the sky that night. Stars were sprinkled around it.

I saw her very clearly as she tiptoed out with her pockets bulging, leaving the wailing and crying women behind. Nobody noticed. Blinded as they were by a thick veil of sorrow and anguish, how could they notice the small girl as she stole into the night. Silently, almost like deaths shadow, she crept up the stairs, two at a time, heading purposefully towards the rooftop.

The night was so silent and still, it could almost be considered peaceful. Almost. The bitter cold drenched her and soaked into her skin, bathing her completely in the pain it carried. Shivering, she rubbed her arms. Suddenly, despair overwhelmed her and she felt frightened and extinguished. She tried to remember the peace and warmth of her mother's embrace, the fire dancing merrily in her eyes but she could only she blue tears and pale sighs, frosted around the edges.

The girl's pocket felt heavier. Her eyes blurred. No! No, she must not lose heart; she must keep the flames burning. The girl sat down on the cold stone floor and crossed her legs. She pulled out two small candlesticks and a box of matches and placed them carefully on the floor. A slight wind trembled it away towards her as if the Earth was quivering in curiosity. The moon watched with bated breath and the stars stopped blinking.

The girl took out a matchstick and struck the matchbox clumsily. Nothing happened. She rubbed her hands and tried again. A flash of light, a small spark, then nothing. The pain in her chest lit up and she ferociously struck again. This time the matchstick ignited with brilliance delightful to be hold. She lit the candles. The yellow flame flickered drinking in the air around it. Suddenly, everything was on fire. The matchstick, the candle, her heart. Waves of warmth washed over her and the memories flooded back. She remembered the candles, rows and rows of them, lit up when the night fell to cast the shadows back; her mother's bright smile which ignited the love in her heart and perhaps most vividly her voice echoing back and forth again and again,

"Never let your dreams dampen Eemaan, keep the flames burning."

After all these years, I still remember that night. How could I forget? That girl's small fire had fueled hearts and changed the world.