An Excerpt from an Unfinished Novel by “A Prose Fragment

Exploring Khawaja Babli’s Journey: A Blend of Nature and Emotion in an Unfinished Narrative

The weather in the foothills had begun to turn mild; the snow was slowly melting and cascading down from the peaks like the draped veil of a mythical beauty, revealing the features of the statue beneath as the silk fabric slid gradually, slipping and falling at its feet.

As the silver blankets of snow were descending from the mountains, the dark stones were emerging from beneath, perhaps all the beauty was due to the snowy garment because the bare mountains were fearsome.

After the completion of Khawaja Babli’s training, his first assignment was at the farthest peak linked to the border, and he had received orders to embark on his journey in two days.

The Colonel called Khawaja Babli to congratulate him on completing his training and reassured him about going to the next fronts. He said that this was the best way to utilize young blood, standing guard at the border with pride, with his chest always serving as a shield against enemies. The Colonel promised him that, God willing, as soon as he returned from the next fronts, he would personally take him to the state of Aden for a two-month leave.

Two days can feel like an eternity. The vehicles ready to take them across the snow were lined up, with each soldier’s personal and military equipment being loaded. As Khawaja Babli loaded his trunk, he felt a pang in his heart wishing that he could meet Shahrbano once before this journey to catch a full glimpse of her face. After his marriage, he had never spoken to Shahrbano about their offspring, nor had he ever brought up the topic of names for a daughter or a son. However, since he had learned that Shahrbano was expecting, he thought of hundreds of names every day, only to reject them all himself. None of the names seemed to please Shahrbano, and within a few months of their marriage, he had realized that she was a bit stubborn, and no one could sway her once she had made up her mind.

Khawaja Makduni was tangled in a web of thoughts when the vehicles were heading towards the front lines; he felt as if a bride had been placed in a palanquin against her will.

Evening was approaching, and free-spirited birds were chirping and swirling in a circular dance as they returned to their nests. The evening, though brief, descended with a myriad of colors and great ceremony, and such an evening spreading across the snowy expanses was intoxicating. As soon as the sun withdrew its rays from the earth, the golden-tinged snow would suddenly appear white, and the shadows of evening would begin to rush into the valleys. The horizon would contract and descend into one’s eyes, with the pink and yellowish streaks on the edges of the twilight resembling the bloodied sword of a victor, fluttering with red banners.