Searching in vain

Steps towards the mike. 

Looks down at his toes. Blur. 

Looks up, switches the mike on.Closes his eyes. “Like Bilal at the time of Muhammad, for Allah”. 

Opens his eyes. Gulps. Inhales. And then it flows. 

Coarse and low. A voice that shakes at first, then learns to hold firm. Trained to deliver. 

The first four words are uttered without a stretch. Simple, straight-forward and steady. 

Two separate, two combined. (Allahu Akbar x 4).

Looks down again. More blur. Empties his lungs, inhales and announces the testimony. 

(Ashado Alla Ilaha Ilallah x2).

(Ashadoanna Muhammadar Rasul Allah x2).

Looks down, blinded now. 

Exhales, quivers. Inhales, smiles.

The next four words, uttered with urgency. The voice holds firm. Visions of desert sand, of Bilal being dragged down the street yelling “Ahad!” and that of a snow capped mountain, poke me to think: what part of the world did this call not reach?

The next two words. Direct as before. Fact. 

The last statement. It crushes. It melts. It is hot and cold at the same time.

It’s burden on the heart, unsurpassed. 

Looks down again.

Did I say everything correct? Were there any errors? 

Switches the mike off. Turns, smiling and grateful. 

Stares at the empty hall of the mosque, its maghrib, all are busy opening their fast. 

Whispers to himself. 

I’m alone.

Blinks his eyes. There they are.

All whom I’ve known. All of them, beaming at me. 

Not a taunt, nor a sneer. No judging.

Happiness from the purity of heart. Happiness for me. 

By those whom I consistently neglect.

A nod of head to everyone. A signal of gratitude to myself for, they are all in my head.

Whispers to himself. 

There is no one here. 

“Happiness only real when shared”, Chritopher McCandless. 

This is not vanity, nor pride. 

Not an act of self-praise or of arrogance.

But a declaration of one who stood alone.

With the memories of all of you,

You who are my very own.