MADONA OF MILAN:
EPIFANI
Ishte vjeshtë e hershme dhe një nga ato mbrëmjet me shi në Milano. Isha në tramvajin numër 23 duke u kthyer nga Duomo për në hotelin tim. N çdo stacion të ardhshëm tramvaji mbushej me udhëtarë. Prej që ishte përplot, udhëtarët qëndronin në kembë. Unë kisha ulur kokën dhe numëroja ditët e mbetura në këtë qytet mahnitës. Në një çast e ngrita shikimin lartë. Një nënë e re, me një çupë të vogël qëndronin përpara meje, kthyer me shpinë. Ajo me një dorë e mbante vajzën dhe me dorën tjetër mbahej vetë. E kishte të veshur një nga ato palltot me kapelë, nga këndet e së cilës binin pikat e shiut. Një pamje si e murgeshave, e çuditshme dhe anakronike për një nënë të re. Brenda, filloi të bëhej zapullimë. Në një nga ndaljet e tramvajit ajo u kthye dhe e hapi pallton. Unë u befasova nga pamja. Përfundi palltos, në gjirin e nënës ishte duke fjetur një foshnjë. Nga drita e dobët mezi dukej vetëm gjysma e fytyrës së foshnjes. Nuk i besoja dot syve. I ngrirë me pamjen dhe me njëmijë pyetje të heshtura: “Ç’është kjo? Çfarë po ndodh? Nëna me foshnjen e vogël, tramvaj, natë, shi, veshja, pamja, qetësia e saj…!
Where did they come from?!
Where are they going?!
The mother with the infant! An iconic, biblical, and utterly divine image, just as it was thousands of years ago.
I had no answer! I was mesmerized by the scene! After a moment, I began to think, I must capture this moment. My camera was in my pocket.
But how could I do it? Panic overtook me. How could I do it? As if I were photographing for the first time in my life! In the middle of this dilemma, the tram stopped; they got off and vanished into the crowd in the darkness. I was still stunned and couldn’t believe it. That sight could not be described in words. After a few minutes, I also got off to wait for the next tram to continue my journey. The rain had stopped. Tram number 9 arrived late. It was one of those old ones still in circulation. I jumped inside and sat down. The lighting was very dim. Leaning on my knees, lost in thought, and blaming myself for not capturing that moment, I lifted my head, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. The mother with her baby and little daughter were sitting right across from me! Impossible! Unbelievable! It can’t be! I was so agitated that I started trembling! Yet, I felt a kind of joy too. I couldn’t wait any longer! In a low and respectful voice, I said, “Excuse me, ma’am! You… the baby… your little daughter… your family… it’s a miracle… um… I’m a photographer, and if you allow me, may I take your picture?” She simply nodded in approval, as if she had been prepared for this moment! Within seconds, I took several photos, and, thanking her with my palms pressed together in the Eastern manner, I got off. I walked toward the hotel, my mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions! Thousands of Madonnas from books, galleries, and museums passed through my thoughts.
Madona? Madona! How is this possible?! How could this happen to someone as little religious as I am?
“Deja Vu”, sikurse edhe mijëra vite më parë, “Madona”,
…këtë herë në tramvaj!
Milano, ITALY
Burim Myftiu
