The Fragmented Leaf: A Short Story

I am in my youth. I am walking in the woods, up the hill, along the path. I pass the woodpecker. I pass the hornet's nest. I pass the painted turtle missing a hind leg.The leaves have begun to change colors. The thorny branches reach out across the path. I quickly push them aside as I proceed. The fallen tree blocks my way. I leap onto it with one foot and propel myself beyond the obstruction without slowing down. I'm 21. I'm not tired. I'm not afraid. I have hope.Finally I make my way up onto the place, the stage, the small, angular plateau opposite the rock face. The trees along this ledge are black, dead. They have lost all of their branches; have lost all of their limbs. Like spikes they jut straight up from the ground. Sabeeh sits against the tree furthest from me. He's wearing his pale yellow sweater. For a moment I'm apprehensive, and I approach slowly. Everything seems fine. He is graceful, fair, classically beautiful, and always contemplating on the nature. He’s Sabeeh who marveled about the essence of evil, who yearned for a good cause. He's Sabeeh as he was. Sabeeh at 21.

I sat beside him. He did not look at me. For a while both of us remained silent then it was he who broke the silence first. He said, “I’ve come to a conclusion.” I looked at him and said, “What is that?”

“There are two types of people in this world: good and evil. I think that to the core of my heart I’m good and I promise myself that I’ll always remain the same.” He said while tearing the leaf in his hand into pieces. “What type of person you think you are?” He flung the fragments on the stony ground.

“I belong to the third type if there are any two that you’ve mentioned.” I drove my eyes off his eyes. “What is it?” He didn’t argue.

“I am essentially both good and bad.” I said while feeling that somebody is persistently watching me. “How can you say that?” He was always humble.

I looked at the fragmented leaf and said, “Humans are fragmented leaves. Some of the fragments’ essence is good while the others have an evil nature. Nothing is good or bad in absolute terms”

“There is one thing that can never be evil. It’s the heavens looking after us.” He said very boldly.

“How can you say that?” he asked while looking deep into my eyes. It is always said that eyes provide an insight to the soul but I can not find it there. The windows of eyes do not take me to the abyss of the soul but offer a glimpse into brief vignettes of life, often reflecting or revealing things which actually make us human.

I paused for a moment and said “Sometimes the evil gets the hold of the world and sometimes it is given into the hands of the good. I will not say good or evil people because it is there actions which are good or evil; not the people. Heavens are sometimes with the evil and sometimes with the good. Heaven do not see whether something is good or bad but whether it is supported by honesty. Yes honesty. There is honesty in everything, even in the evil deeds.”

“I do believe in a God and divine justice.” He took some of the fragments of the leaf back in his hand. “I do believe in the same thing but my divine justice is different from that of yours. You say that ultimately the good will win and the evil would be defeated but I think that ultimate winner will be the one with utmost possible honesty with his cause. Who works hard enough to achieve his goal is the person deserving everything. There would be divine justice but the God is not like us favoring the people he thinks are good or evil. The power is bestowed to the person who deserves it, who is honest with his cause.”

“I would not let evil ruin our lives. I’m on the good side and will always be.” His humbleness was vanished.

“Who decides what is good and what is evil? Everybody wants to remove the evil by fight, by war. Do you really think that we can right this world by waging wars? A human can never kill another human. It’s just a Jew killing a Muslim, an Indian killing a Kashmiri, a German hating English, an American executing an Iraqi, an Afghani fighting a Russian. Everybody thinks that he is doing good while the other one is evil. None of these actions are good. All of them are evil. Everything which is against humanity is evil. Goodness comes to us from the human side and evil from the brutal one. We are neither a perfect human being nor a perfect brute. That’s why I say that we are both good and evil.” I said with the feeling of being watched growing with every passing moment.

“But yet I will say that I will spend my life while fighting for the good.” He was about to leave.

The feeling of being watched grew very strong and a strange force compelled me to look upwards. Yes it was there, the sky—Ever lasting, never ending, offering not a heavenly feeling but a contrast between the humans and the nature.

I turned to him and said, “Look at this sky. It’s Endless unlike us but it’s both good and evil just like us.”

The fragments of the leaf were falling.
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I am old. I am walking through the swarming streets, on the road, along the path. I pass the police vans. I pass the ambulances. I pass the fire brigade.

The ground has changed its color. The blood is scattered on the road. People are running everywhere. I quickly push them aside as I proceed. The strewn remains of the dead block my way. I leap onto them with one foot and propel myself beyond the obstruction without slowing down. I'm 41. I'm tired. I'm afraid. I have no hope.
There are variant voices and among those voices I am standing still. The ground is covered with the remains of people, blood, and ashes, people are running in all directions. I look at the remains of the dead. I find him there. He is not graceful. His fairness has turned dark. His classical beauty is hidden in blood. Yet he is Sabeeh. But he is Sabeeh as he has never been. He is Sabeeh with no age.

The remaining fragments of the dead remind me of the fragmented leaf. Sabeeh has killed many of the good fragments while trying to kill some evil. People say it is a suicide bomb attack in US embassy. They say a lot many people have died. They don’t know that the dead have turned into eyes. In these eyes I see the faces of Iraqi civilians shot by coalition forces. I remember that an American academic has claimed that the number of Afghan civilians killed by US bombs has surpassed the death toll of the 11 September attacks. The faces of the dead Afghan and Iraqi civilians are intermingling with the ashes of the dead US embassy people and forming a painting of humanity which is dark and soaked with blood.

“It was a suicide bomb attack.”
“A suicide bomber blew himself up in front of the US embassy.”
“He has died for a good reason.”
“O what an evil thing to be done by humans!”
A lot of voices are echoing.

Just at that moment I feel somebody persistently watching me and a strange force compels me to look upwards. Yes it is there, the sky—Ever lasting, never ending, offering not a heavenly feeling but a contrast between the humans and the nature.

I look back at the blood-drenched ground and whisper to myself, “Look at this sky. It’s Endless unlike us but it’s both good and evil just like us.”

The fragments of the leaf have fallen….


--Written By: Ammara Khan