Indeed, death does not come when we plan for it. It's an uninvited guest, and when ever it comes we have no control over it. It takes anyone it wants, especially the good ones.
When thing goes the same way forever, it's not life. Different things must happen, the good, and the bad. We have no choice than to accept our fate. If Lucky was enough.
Dying has nothing to do with ageing, good wealth or ill health.
Dying is a process called Death thus; it's just like every-other Debt. It comes without knocking, and does not deserves mocking.
From the day you arrived this world, Death has prepared your Debt Sword.
Jafar Muhammad Danmande has paid his own debt, and gone to rest. Indeed, it's a long journey, lemme hold my crashing tears, till we meet in the nearest years. Though, the tears never dry from the wet heart.
If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you back home.
Jafar was the only kid brother I had, and I lost him to the cruel hands of death on Tuesday morning 09/10/2018, which I call the 'tears day'. It's true we don't know what we've got until its gone.
While we're mourning the loss of our brother, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil.
I have lived long to outgrown clothes, in the constant image of my own face, I have witnessed rays of newborn sun, in the grave attention of my own eyes.
I have seen the demise of my own soul, seemingly panting, like the heart of a virgin bride, but on the tip of my parched tongue, I have commanded my pen to ask, how easy is it to die?
If dying is to cease living, a hungry man might have no code, but surely he's got only one hope, the hope of death, to sweep his debt.
like the hunter that passed on, he left his poverty to his own gun.
what about my little brother? the poor boy who died over a day sick,
he left his unforgettable memories to the home and the family.
Jafar, simple sweet he is. He was a good boy, smart and intelligent. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. Sometimes stubborn for my likings. The one l liked the most, but death do us apart. The one I bullied under any circumstances, the one I beat for no reason.
A dark gloom days has passed, the butterflies of sadness Hoover in millions, and the pond of tears never dry. The sweet memories are still fresh, and they will always be. Though, everything remains joyless.
Jafar, was used to knocked on my door every morning for school rid. That was what I hated the most. We had to fight everyday before I drove him to school. Now, he has gone. I wish he'll come back someday just to knock on my door, if it's necessitate let him break down the door. I wouldn't mind.
I remembered, the last time I drove him to school, I bullied him well, he was just laughing at me with enthusiasm. I can see the smiling face which had never fade. This little boy has touched our heart, mind and soul. We'll always count you in our daily prayers.
The days and years to come will not be the same without my brother, but they will be good days, filled with life and love, because of the example he lived for us.
Dear death, if you want to take someone's soul from my family, please take mine first. Thanks.
“Death comes, and makes a man his prey,
A man whose powers are yet unspent;
Like one on gathering flowers intent,
Whose thoughts are turned another way.
Begin betimes to practise good,
Lest fate surprise thee
unawares
Amid thy round of schemes and cares;
To-morrow’s task to-day conclude.*
Mahābhārata.”
Excerpt From: William Alexander Clouston. “Book of Wise Sayings.”
Oh Allah!
Make Jafar's death better than his live,
Make his grave better than his house,
And make jannatul Firdausi his final destination. Ameen Ya Rabbi.
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