Why Not?

Is it alright if I take pride in my creative thought? My existence? My superiority over other species?

Is it okay to stand up tall, with one’s head high and a stiff collar? Is it okay to step into the mosque in such a posture?

Why not?

Am I not proud of my faith? Can I not stand tall in front of Allah and claim in praise that: “Look God. You made me and here I am, in gratitude.”

I don’t yet know what exactly the term used to representing such a statement is, but I’m sure someone from among you will.

And I’m sure that there is such a state, a state that is the result of pride and gratitude experienced at the same time.

If not however, then I have severely wronged myself.     

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.

Like fumes of caffeine enlighten the olfactory, 
call me o muazzan, to His mosque.

Have you ever stared at another person’s face? Be it someone you spot on the bus, at the bank or maybe a relative of yours. Have you ever thought of what’s behind that face? That face which, in your eyes; lacks symmetry, seems funny and maybe a little weird? Have you ever considered that there exists a constant stream of consciousness behind that face of funny expressions? Behind every face that lives to breathe? Ever thought of that maybe, just maybe, we humans are identical at, if I may say, the spiritual level?

Thought so. Your ignorance towards man blinds your perception of what man is. You see them as friends, strangers, family, relatives, commoners, presidents, soldiers, mullahs, clients, opportunity.. You think of them as anything but a mere human being, identical to your own inner face.

Man is proud. Control your pride, and step-up to dance with the divine. 

Have you ever had that moment when you’re looking at a simple tree leaf with all its complex array of processing systems or rays of sunlight when they stream out of the clouds in perfect symmetry and all you can do is stare and smile, not even trying to comprehend?

Did your eyes ever tear up at the thought of why such detailed systems are all around us?

A question you already know the answer to… Have your lips ever, on their own, curved to spell Alhamdolilah on such a thought?

I bet you have. No soul is untouched by this intricate beauty around us. No one ever lives without noticing the clouds playing with light or the sun diving into the serene horizon at dusk.

It is in this moment, that we truly believe in God. 

The Melodious Bang

A burden. Certain Guilt.
And your hands are chained.
You take in, slowly.
Smiling. Laughing.
Yet, you keep taking it all in.
Watching it all balloon inside you.
Watching it stretch its very limits.
Yet you keep on taking in.
You keep on taking in.
Waiting, for the bang,
And the end of it all.
That's when you truly smile and mouth "Fuck You all !".
And leave.

Invisible

One man. Just one among such socially active people at this dhaba, sits in deep thought. He stares straight to the road, scratching his white beard every now and then. His eyes., focused on something absent from the scene. Silent, alone and messed up. Perhaps a laborer, a common worker thinking about how he'll get through the day.
Would the opinion of such a man matter to me?
No.
Why?
He doesn't count. He doesn't matter.

I now understand why corporate fucks and our leaders don't care about the nation or its people. Why they are so inconsiderate. If I, nothing as I am, would regard this commoner as lame, incapable of intellectual thought and unworthy of my attention, Why would they then care about me? After all, I am to them, as this man is to me. Non-existent. 
Our whole nation doesn't count, doesn't matter.