👈 Window __!!

When I came from school, the door would open as soon as I knocked.

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When I came from college, as soon as I approached the door, I would see my mother's face beaming with joy. She would welcome me with a loving smile, offer prayers, and then I would sit near the brick stove in the courtyard. Mother would make hot bread and I would eat it with pleasure.

When my favorite food was cooked, mother would say, "Let's compete." This competition was very interesting.

Mother would put the bread in the oven and say, "Now let's see whether I cook the second bread first or you finish it." Mother would cook the bread like this... Here the last morsel would go into my mouth, and here the fresh and hot bread would come off the frying pan and land on my plate. In this way, I would eat three or four loaves.

But I never understood who won!

We had some rules in our house. Everyone followed them. We were not allowed to leave the house after sunset.

But after completing my education, I got a job in a madrasa in my area where I used to come home late at night. That was my mother's habit. Even if I came home at dawn, I never needed to open the door myself.

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When I got up late, I would try to open the door quietly so that my mother's sleep would not be disturbed, but I would take the key out of my pocket and the door would open.

I would ask my mother.... How do you know that I have come?

She would laugh and say, "I can smell your scent."

Then one day my mother passed away!

After my mother, I once came home late, stood at the door for a long time, then mustered up the courage and knocked on the door gently. I waited for a while and knocked again when there was no answer. Then I sat down on the brick threshold near the door in the street.

Lost in thought, I sat leaning against the door for how long and I don't know when my eyes opened. All I remember is that the call to prayer was heard from the mosque, after some time, my mother's friend opened the door from the house opposite. She came out anxiously.

She placed her hand on my head and said, "Son! Your mother used to look out of the window of your room that opened onto the street for hours. Here and there, you would step into the street and here and there, she would run downstairs."

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She said, "Son, your sister-in-law used to complain a lot because of your late arrival, the sounds and noise of the dishes in the kitchen late at night because her sleep was disturbed."

Then she looked at the window with tearful eyes and said, "Son, why didn't you open the window?"

That window in my room is still there. But I have never seen that smiling face of my mother.

I salute your greatness.

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