If you get the nerve of the universe, the way it operates and functions, you will know that Walli wasn’t insane. He was a bit odd at times – fine, all the time – but not insane.
He was there, passing through the Mall Road in 1866 when the foundation was being laid – just after a year of the Museum. He doesn’t remember what he was doing in that life. Maybe he was going to the court. He was a judge, yes – he was a judge. A lord. Or maybe he was fighting a case which ultimately led to the formulation of the Guardians and Wards Act of 1890.
You don’t know Walli at all.
Time was at his disposal throughout the times. You may not get it till you get the bending curve of the gravity that spreads through out the space making it stronger around the denser beings; but then everything adopts new rules just outside the giant black hole. For you. These are all just objects to mess your cleanest measurement tools, for example time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Simple. 60 seconds a minute. 60 minutes an hour. 24 hours a day. Simple. Clean and straight. But no.
Forget 1800s.
All of you cannot see 1990s again. Saddening, isn’t it? Some of you may not even had seen it at all. It was the last decade of evolution. A halt in 2000s. Devolution since 2010s.
You cannot imagine the beauty of 1980s.
You cannot ever witness what it was like in 1960s.
You cannot smell the flowers of 1910s.
You cannot understand the glimpse of her mole on her neck when she’d be angry, and her neck stretched a little upward… that was 1822. You cannot see that. Yet, Walli had the courtesy to travel through all these times and moments to be trapped in a single action that he didn’t commit but to become a slave of his own self for the generations to come. For another glimpse.
For a glimpse of a newborn girl, a decade back.
For a glimpse of the crawling baby, a year later.
For a hug, a year later.
For a long uninterrupted chat, a year later.
For a long stare, a year later.
For another crusade, a year later.
For the 3rd temple of Jerusalem, a year later.
For the demolition of all the holy places all over the world, a year later.
For the first conquest of the one who was awaited by the massive crowds, a year later.
For the final revelation that it was a very harmful and bloody joke on you, a year later.
10 years it is. It is not. The time doesn’t run as linear as you think. It bends around the denser objects… like Walli. I wish I could explain but you got only five senses. Or six as you claim at times of being a complete waste of DNA.
What would be the 7th sense? Or 8th? Imagine. You cannot. Because you have only 5 senses and they will never let you think beyond them. Hence, you will never ever understand anything, except the joke that’s on all of you. Glamorous one.
Anyway, he saw that white structure coming out of the garden like trees making their own way. Upwards. It’s always upwards. Against gravity. Pillars were raised. Like nails on the land. The ceilings and the two halls were designed in the Victorian style with chandeliers in the halls. The Raj looked into the work, and they did their Victorian jobs really well.
Have you seen Bahawalpur Library? Nothing. Mentioned it for no reason.
Later in years, Walli saw that structure turning into nothing. Renamed. After Jinnah. And nothing more. Became a library of random books. Not a place worthy enough to be called a library.
But then this structure is too precious for Walli. He saw that from the womb. To this. From 1886 to 2024. The first draft of the law of the guardians and ward act was written around this structure, not inside. And just like knowing it for over a century, he couldn’t own it. Couldn’t give it a name. Orphan. Orphaned.
Ignore those irrelevant details.
Have you held a hand between the aisles of books? The hand, that must not be left ever again. I know you cannot relate to this part of human behavior – hint: devolution – when only one hand was supposed to be held forever. Walli’s case is different though. He had to live a number of times to hold different hands, but in the end, it was also for one hand that he wanted to hold one time before ending his journeys through irrelevant and parallel times.
You can also debate that there was never a time of holding one hand ever. Irrelevant debate.
Have you ever heard how wasteful time is in itself? Of all the creations, the most wasteful is this: time. A ridiculous concept that does not even exist. Anyway.
Let’s cut the story to today. Imagine, Walli sitting in Jinnah Library’s main hall in the year 2024 to write a brief history of M. It was all about M. Not the library, not the Victorian style, not the Raj, not the gravity, not the denser objects, not time travel, not even time… but M. Maryam.
In the name of M. You have been bestowed with fortune and the favor of the Lord. Yes, the Lord. Who gives. And takes. Makes you happy. And sad. Gives you reasons to be blasphemous. And then sends unreasonable crowd to burn you. Infidelity.
“I object.”
“Drag him back to his cell where his years will repeat in days.”
“I detest.”
“Send him to the infinite frames of time where the loops will punish him without killing him.”
“10 years, Lord.”
“Your Lord is not done yet.”
“A thousand crimes are forgiven after 10 years, Lord.”
“Your Lord shall not forgive. Not yet.”
“I object.”
“Your Lord doesn’t care.”
“That’s why you are not my Lord. Not today.”
Wait for another year. Because another year, is just a joke in the Divine Comedy of thy Lord.
