Standing on the Tulsiganga bridge, Mizan gazed up at the sky. He saw the darkness beginning to dissipate. The Tulsiganga river flowed below the bridge. On one side of the riverbank, there were green fields, and on the other, sand dunes ended at a green meadow. The vast expanse of sand and green fields, with the Tulsiganga flowing through them, even during the dry season, was a beautiful sight. This was the first time Mizan had seen the surroundings of the bridge so serene and lovely just before sunrise. He could never wake up so early. He had often heard from many people that going to bed early at night and waking up early in the morning is good for health, but he had never taken it seriously. Today was an exception.
Mizan had been struggling with insomnia for the past week. A deep-seated heartache had taken root within him, and the quiet of the night amplified these feelings. Consequently, he found it difficult to get out of bed before 9:30 AM, often feeling exhausted from the sleepless nights. However, today was different. He woke up abruptly with the sound of the Fajr (dawn) prayer call. This was unusual for him.
The night before, he had made a mental note to hang a lock on the bridge’s railing. He had also mentally prepared himself to wake up early in the morning. He set his alarm clock for 5:30 AM. As a backup, he set another alarm on his phone, fearing that he might miss the first one. Without these preparations, he probably wouldn’t have woken up. He was not accustomed to going to bed at around 2:30 or 3 AM and waking up so early.
Mizan never offered the Fajr prayer. He occasionally attended the Friday congregational prayer but always entered and left the mosque last. Despite claiming to be a Muslim and believing in Allah and His Messenger, he was somehow reluctant to pray. He would often postpone his prayers, promising himself to do it later, but he never followed through. Since he didn’t pray, he had no reason to wake up early. The deep, satisfying sleep that one enjoys in the late hours of the night is something that night owls often miss. People say that the devil runs his hand over the face of those who sleep during the Fajr prayer, causing them to lose their beauty.
Mizan looked up at the eastern sky. The sun would probably start to spread its light in fifteen to twenty minutes. The sky was quite clear. A few people had come walking this way after finishing Fajr prayer. Two of them were standing at the western end of the bridge, talking in low voices about people’s faith and deeds. Mizan looked at the river water. What was this! The water was so low! He was surprised. In his childhood, the river used to be full to the brim at this time. Now the water had receded to the bottom. He had heard in the speeches at the ‘Save the River’ rally that India had withdrawn water from upstream. Now he was seeing it with his own eyes; the information in the speech was indeed true. He hadn’t paid any attention to this matter until now! Mizan felt a little hurt inside. Standing in the middle of the bridge, he noticed the gentle breeze blowing. He couldn’t tell exactly if it was from the east or the south, but the cool, thin, swaying breeze touched his body and made his mind calm. The scent of jasmine flowers mixed in the air created a strange shiver in Mizan’s mind. In all these years of his life, Mizan had never realized the gentle breeze of nature and its vitality. Today, he stood for a moment in contact with this invaluable asset. He realized that there was indeed a blessing in waking up early in the morning.
Because of the natural beauty of the river, Mizan no longer felt the fatigue of several days of continuous sleepless nights. Coming to the riverbank at dawn, his mind danced; he wanted to call Julia right now and tell her that he had woken up very early this morning, gone for a walk, and was standing on the bridge enjoying the pure air of nature. He fiddled with his mobile phone. But he didn’t have the courage to call. Almost a week has passed since he has had any contact with Julia. Yet, how strange! The fact that he wanted to call Julia while standing on the bridge this morning proved to Mizan once again that he loved Julia. Mizan became lost in thought. The decision to lock the door was not his mistake.
Mijan stood at the center of the arched bridge, just like an arrow. This was where he wanted to hang the lock. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was a massive lock, the biggest and most expensive he had found in the market yesterday. He had also bought a black marker to write on the brass lock, ensuring the writing would be clear. He took out the marker as well. The river flowed from north to south. He faced north. By writing their names on the lock while facing north, he believed their relationship would flow like the river. This was the reason he had come here. How Mijan had developed this belief in a lock’s ability to safeguard their relationship, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure if he truly believed it. Belief, to him, was like that.
Mijan had learned about this tradition from European couples who would write their names on a lock, attach it to a bridge railing, and toss the key into the river. They believed their love would be as enduring as the lock. The railings of the Seine Bridge in Paris were adorned with hundreds of such locks. Some railings had even collapsed under the weight. Mijan had got this idea from Europe. He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but since it was unique, he decided to give it a try. It was merely an imitation. Mijan had never thought that Europe, the birthplace of this lock tradition to symbolize eternal love, was also a place where countless marriages fell apart every day. Their marriages often ended quickly, and new ones formed just as easily. Love, too, was as fragile as a sandcastle. They were incredibly liberal in matters of love and marriage, disregarding caste, creed, and time. They treated relationships as mere games. That’s why they were filled with so much despair and fear of loss. They couldn’t find a way out of this despair. Out of desperation, they had adopted this absurd tradition.
Mizan began writing at the top of the padlock. First, he wrote Julia’s name. He thought since he loved Julia, her name should be written at the top. Below Julia’s name, he wrote his own. Then he held the padlock with both hands and kissed the marked spot on the padlock for a long time. At this moment, Mizan felt a little depressed. As his lips touched the writing on the padlock, a sense of melancholy overwhelmed him. Julia’s silence was unbearable; it was painful. Did Julia not understand the bleeding of his heart?
Mizan now felt that love was a farce. Self-interest was the biggest thing in the world. If one person’s pain is not understood by another, then what is love? It’s all a lie. What had happened that Julia had stopped contacting him? In a relationship, there would be some ups and downs; but would she stop communicating for a whole week? This love stuff meant nothing but increasing one’s own inner restlessness. What would happen if he married Julia? Perhaps for the rest of her life, she would cling to him and make her own existence meaningful. Even if she worked herself, wouldn’t women still stir up trouble in the household with the pride of that work? He had noticed such a thing in Julia as well. Then why was he missing Julia? Mizan thought, perhaps it was just the fault of his age. At this age, men enjoy the company of any girl. Perhaps that was the case with Julia too. All girls depend on men for food and clothing. Love is just an act for girls. If they are not assured of food and clothing, girls will look elsewhere. Girls will run where there is assurance of food and clothing. Julia would too. The fact that he had come to the bridge to hang a padlock to keep Julia at this early hour, he might one day dismiss it as madness. Mizan’s right ear felt hot. No one waits for anyone in this world. This realization now made Mizan depressed. He quickly hung the padlock on the railing and took the key in his fist. Whatever will be, will be! He had hung the padlock. Remembering Julia’s name, he threw the key into the river.
