The Lamp of Two Hearts

The Last Lantern

The village of Noorabad was hidden between mountains that touched the sky. Life there was simple mud houses, flowing streams, children running barefoot, and elders who carried wisdom in their eyes.

Among them was an old man named Rahim Baba. He lived alone in a small clay house at the edge of the village. His wife had passed away years ago, and his children had gone to the city, seeking brighter futures. Yet, Rahim Baba never complained of loneliness.

Every evening, after the call of Maghrib prayer, he would take a lantern, light it carefully, and hang it on a tall wooden pole outside his home. The flame flickered gently in the mountain breeze, glowing like a star fallen to earth.

The children of the village often asked him,

“Baba, why do you light this lantern every night when no one comes to visit you?”

Rahim Baba would smile, his wrinkled face softening.

“Because someone, somewhere, may need the light. We never know when a lost soul is searching for a way.”

The children would giggle and run away, but in their hearts, they loved his strange habit. To them, Rahim Baba was not just an elder; he was the keeper of a mystery.

🌧️ The Night of the Storm

One winter evening, the sky grew restless. Dark clouds gathered, and the wind howled as if the mountains themselves were shivering. By the time night fell, rain was pouring in heavy sheets, and thunder echoed through the valleys.

Rahim Baba, weak and coughing, still lit his lantern. His hands trembled, but he whispered as always,

“O Allah, let this light reach the one who needs it most tonight.”

Meanwhile, far beyond the village paths, a young woman named Imaan was struggling. She had been traveling for days, carrying only a small bundle of clothes and a heart full of grief.

Her father had died suddenly, and her relatives had turned cold, leaving her without shelter. With no place to belong, she wandered, praying for direction. That night, drenched in rain, her shoes torn and her body aching, she collapsed by a tree.

Her voice broke into a whisper,

“Ya Allah… if there is still mercy left for me in this world, show me a sign. Just one sign.”

As she raised her head, through the sheets of rain, she noticed a faint glow. A light, tiny but steady, flickering in the distance. Her heart leaped. Was it real? Or a trick of her weary eyes?

She forced herself to stand and stumbled toward it. Each step was heavy, but the glow grew brighter, like a hand pulling her forward. Finally, she reached the edge of the village and saw it clearly: a lantern swinging outside a small house.

🏠 A Shelter of Warmth

Rahim Baba opened the door when she knocked weakly. Seeing her drenched state, he quickly wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and guided her inside. The warmth of the fire, the smell of burning wood, and the old man’s kindness made her tears flow freely.

She whispered,

“Your lantern saved me.”

Rahim Baba smiled, handing her a bowl of hot soup.

“No, my child. It was your prayer that reached before my flame. My lantern is only a servant of His light.”

For the first time in months, Imaan felt peace. She stayed with Rahim Baba for several days, helping him with small chores, listening to his stories, and learning from his wisdom.

He taught her,

“We are all lanterns, Imaan. Some of us forget to shine, but those who keep their flame alive become guidance for others.”

His words sank deep into her soul.

🌸 The Bond of Two Souls

Days turned into weeks. Imaan found in Rahim Baba the fatherly love she had lost, while he found in her the daughter he had long missed. They prayed together, cooked together, and sometimes just sat in silence, listening to the wind outside.

One evening, as they sat watching the lantern’s glow, Imaan asked,

“Baba, don’t you feel lonely living here all alone?”

He replied softly,

“Lonely? No, my child. The One who created me never leaves me. And when He sends travelers like you to my door, how can I ever say I am alone?”

Her heart melted. For the first time, she realized that love is not only between blood relations; it is in kindness, in prayers, and in the light one carries for others.

🌙 The Eternal Light

Months later, Rahim Baba’s health began to fade. One winter night, after leading Imaan in prayer, he lay down and whispered,

“When I am gone, promise me you will keep the lantern lit.”

Tears blurred her eyes,

“Baba, don’t say that. I cannot do this without you.”

He smiled faintly,

“You don’t need me, child. You need only the Light that never dies.”

That night, Rahim Baba returned to his Lord. The villagers mourned, but they also noticed something strange: every evening, without fail, a soft golden light still appeared outside his home, even though the lantern was never touched.

People called it a miracle. Imaan called it a promise kept. She stayed in Noorabad, lighting the lantern every night, continuing Rahim Baba’s tradition. And many travelers, just like her, found their way by its glow. 

                                                                                                                      Kanza mughal