Written by Haadia Nouman (granddaughter of Irfan Siddiqui sb).
In the loving memory of my grandfathers who shared a bond like no other. Two souls born from the same essence. A bond based on respect, understanding and quiet grace, carried throughout their lives.
They were first cousins, born a year apart. Helping each other in their time of need, seeing joy in each other’s company. One cared for the other in his quiet way, while the other looked up to him, seeked his guidance.
Fate shaped their lives in a way that both became respected heads of the family. They lived to the same age of 83, leaving the world together, a month apart.
One led, one followed. To the place where rose petals kiss the soul, and a peaceful silence echoes through the stones.
We say it was sudden, but there were signs. There were predictions we assumed was just illness speaking, visions of tombstones we naively mistook as just dreams. But fate’s language is too esoteric for our understanding. We missed the flashing signals, the warning words, the subtle signs.
But looking back at it a month later, I remember thinking: ‘I’ve never seen anything this poetic.’
I’ve never seen anything this poetic, A friendship thicker than blood and genetics, A bond tied in silk ribbons, Soft, secure, smooth, stone-written.
I’ve never seen any scene so aesthetic, A beauty that borders on traumatic, I’ve never been haunted by peace, Grief is the deadliest disease.
I’ve never lost two things without a break, Wanted to believe the news was fake, But it was a foreshadow, He followed the point of the arrow.
I’ve heard so many people say, They’d follow each other to the grave, But this was quite literal, Doom of the dying miracle. Holding hands, walking to the place of no return, Past the sand, past the pouring rain, setting with the sun, Now residing in solitude of stone blocks, Reuniting by the chime of eternal clocks.
We rest in pieces in cold beds, and empty dreams, Blankets torn, pulled by the threads, and restless sleep, And in the silence of the night no thoughts bloom,
Cause without guidance from the wise we’re just mourning fools.
I’ve never seen any scene this melancholic, Fate asking questions all rhetoric, Did it happen for a dramatic effect? What was the cause of the magic’s death?
I’ve never seen anything so symbolic, Seems like everything he said was metaphoric, I’ve never been ghosted in crowds, Death always comes unannounced
I’ve never said goodbye to two at once, Heard all the words, took them for fun, But it was a prediction, Messenger of the future’s vision. I’ve seen many people cross their hearts, ‘Love you till death do us apart.’ But it didn’t part them, Fingers tied together by a gold thread.
Leading each other straight towards the heaven’s glow, Leave us to wonder ‘where do all the lovers go?’
Now abiding in silver lines of pure clouds, Golden timing, all doves rise, breaking the bounds.
We lay our hollow eyes upon the dark skies, The stars stay sorrow, the moon passes broken smiles, And in the violence of the mind, roses decay, Cause without guidance from the wise we walk astray.
I’ve never felt hands of fate so cold, Is that how all stories unfold?
Tears drop on pages, ink bleeds, Between the spaces, words weep.
I used to always get sick, Each time he’d leave for another trip, That morning blue in cold November, Caught fever cause he left forever.
I’ve never hurt the same way twice, Was it the roll of the dice?
They spun together, Coldest day of December.
I’ve never heard the absence of a voice, I’ve never heard screams from a void, But in here it echoes, Falling like the petals of dead rose.
But in their garden, they’ll find daises and white lilies, Writing poetry, reading sonnets under willow trees, Now they’re resting in the grass, tracing the stars, And it’s the best thing one could ask for when life restarts.
We watch this serene scene unfold with idle hands, No one intervenes as our gifts and presents turn to past, And in the quietness of the crime, no witness speaks, Cause without guidance from the wise who are we to seek?
I never decoded the relics, The meaning was something esoteric, Two souls that saw each other’s crypt, Then went on to follow the script.I’ve never seen anything this cinematic, I’ve never seen a white this angelic, To live with peace and leave with grace, In my dreams, we shared our last wave.
