When the blinds open
My fears only deepen
For I am not in a heaven,
But in a dark raven.
Why o why do I feel,
With every step I deal,
As my fate would unveil,
My wounds are never to heal?
Is this something I have to pay?
Why don't someone just say!!
Where do my answeres lay?
Oh Please! Before I go far... Far away....
Tell me, whom did I wrong?
Around me, why do sorrows throng?
A hand, a hug, a word I long...
Or... Is this where I really belong?
Ah I forget, who wants to hear,
The cribbing of just a man, mere
And there is nobody near.
Ah! This life is nothing but a failure.
Allow me to go back in time
To heal the wounds I burnt with lime,
Ring the bells and chyme,
As penance for sins and my crime.
Life has taken me to this road,
Neither a hut nor an abode,
No longer, these can I afford,
Its too late to turn back the mode....
Why should I whine or weep?
So what if I am atop a steep?
Now, ha! No promise to keep,
All I have is just a leap!
With a smile I hug what I get,
Everything is so very set,
I'm sure there'll be a fete,
To celebrate my end, the ultimate.
Aah! I am free finally
No worry, no pain, falling freely
As I go down this deep valley,
Can't wait... For the end re-ally....
PS: I don't know why I wrote this.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Sunday, August 27, 2006
The Battle Within
Forgive me O blogging world for my unreasonably long break. A natural question that would arise would be, "WHY?" Well, read on for the answer to that very question.
As you must have seen in my blog page, there was a post that said, "En Autobus- Coming shortly". Yes it was supposed to have come long ago. But I kind of took a vacation from the blogging zone for reasons that were disturbing and hurting. Initially it started with the usual lethargy. But later, the happenings around took lethargy to a level that was, for once I thought, point of no return.
It all started with the reports of abuse coming from the Guantanamo Bay prison. Two inmates had committed suicide and the apparent ill treatment of the inmates were flowing out in the media. Obviously, my sentiments were with the inmates. Their crime, by no means pardonable, but definitely deserves a trial and fairplay. So much has been kept away from the world regarding the fate of these people. The photos and videos really painted a ghastly picture of the situation. My attitude? It was just the beginning.
I was at my home in Calicut, Kerala, enjoying the rains on an amazing monsoon evening. Sipping my hot coffee and talking with Trisha on the phone. Its been a long time since I got her on the line. So we were engaged in a long conversation from topics varying from what's-happening to my feelings on the present day situation of the world. Trisha is one of those people with whom I could engage myself in a good and mature talk, and usually, we don't have an idea how time flies once we start. Amidst her busy Mumbai life, I finally got her on the phone, on her walk from the office to catch her evening train.
"Hey Alf! I gotto catch my train now! I'll give you a call once I reach home?"
"Cool! No issues. Have fun! And yeah, take care!"
"You take care! I'm fine. He he he"
"Yeah right!!" and both of us burst into a laughter. And then suddenly, it happened!
The earpiece jarred by a loud sound. And the line got cut. It was weird. Something told me that something was going wrong. I thought it was something else and hushed up my invalidated apprehension. It is an act of instinct that I call back the person when the phone gets cut abruptly, even if it is to say just a "bye!". Strange, as it may seem, I didn't do it at that moment. Instead, I got back to crafting my so called magnum opus titled 12 May 2006: A Day In My Life, which was to feature on The Melting Pot of ICE . However I tried concentrating, the reason for that abrupt end was still lingering in my mind. It got me so much that I decided to give in and try calling Trisha. I tried her number, but the phone was engaged. I tried her again. Same response. I tried a third time. This time the operator lady with an awful voice said that the mobile phone I was trying was either switched off or out of range. Hmmm... Out of range. Strange, Borivali was out of range for mobile networks.
Some TV was the answer for a good distraction. When switched on, fate had entertainment planned out for me with the NDTV 24x7 coming on screen reporting the breaking news which broke the peace of many a minds. All the while, I prayed for only one thing, please don't say Borivali. But who listens to me? Pictures from Borivali station flashed on the screen. I felt numb, choked, emotionless. I had no idea what I was feeling. But I did know one thing, this was going to stab my mind for a long time to come.
My name is Alfi. That's all you know. But my full name is Alfi Ashraf. Yes, I am a Muslim. I was born as a Muslim, I live as a Muslim and I will die as a Muslim. But perhaps not the Muslim that the world perceives to be. I don't have a long beard and a head gear or a skull cap. I'm clean shaven but I do sport a stubble sometimes because of my lethargy to shave. I don't spend hours in the mosque. My friends, barring a few, are all non Muslims. Of course, I do not consume alcohol or eat pork, but that's because of my own reasons and I use religion as a guide that advises not to. I listen to rock and heavy metal just like all of you. And yes, I do love my religion, but not the way these guys do. I have read the Qur'an and learnt its meanings too, though not by heart, but yes, I do have a fair knowledge and I'm still learning.
My name is Alfi. Alfi Ashraf. Born in Kerala and brought up in Abu Dhabi, the United Arab Emirates, which despite being an Islamic country, is very liberal. I am an Indian and I love India. In an India Pakistan match, I support India. I believe India is very much my country, my motherland just any other non Muslim Indian. My mother tongue is Malayalam and not Urdu or Arabic. I have no problems in singing Vande Mataram or even shouting it aloud, because its hardly blasphemous if your belief in Allah is strong and your intention is unharmed. Thanks to AR Rahman, a pious Muslim himself, and a celebrated music composer, who made Vande Mataram what it is today for me.
My name is Alfi Ashraf. A helpless 20 something individual in this world, trying to make an identity for himself as ALFI ASHRAF first, then a Muslim or an Indian or whatever. But his identity is hurt because he is scared whether he'll ever achieve it. Thanks to suggestions on passenger profiling, which by the way, he believes, is only a beginning to what might be an open discrimination against the Muslims. He blames the Muslims for this and not the Americans or the British. He looks around and sees only destruction wherever Muslims are there. He sees suspicion wherever Muslims are there. At the end of the day, he asks, "Is there anything for me to be proud of?"
He thinks that its time we wake up and stop this bloodshed and apocalypse. When the world is leaping to greater heights of development, we cannot afford to have an Afghanistan and Iraq. True, there are evils on this earth. But we must understand, we do not have enough sympathies with us. There is injustice, no doubt, but we have nothing to validate them because, we are committing greater horrors. If the world has gone paranoid, it is because we have given them a good reason to. If we can threaten to blow up anything and everything, then what's the harm in them blowing us up?
Its time! Its time..............
PS1: Trisha was outside the Borivali station when the Mumbai blasts of 7/11 took place. Borivali was also one of the blast sites. Trisha escaped without any injuries as she was outside the station on the phone when it happened.
PS2: This is not meant for generating controversy or bad talk. This was just a compilation of my feelings and the mental unrest I was going through, being a citizen of this world, a concerned Muslim. I request you to please respect my sentiments and if you have any reservations, please express them in a humane manner. Remember, the Qur'an says, Innallaha Ma'a as-Sabireen (God is with those who have patience).
As you must have seen in my blog page, there was a post that said, "En Autobus- Coming shortly". Yes it was supposed to have come long ago. But I kind of took a vacation from the blogging zone for reasons that were disturbing and hurting. Initially it started with the usual lethargy. But later, the happenings around took lethargy to a level that was, for once I thought, point of no return.
It all started with the reports of abuse coming from the Guantanamo Bay prison. Two inmates had committed suicide and the apparent ill treatment of the inmates were flowing out in the media. Obviously, my sentiments were with the inmates. Their crime, by no means pardonable, but definitely deserves a trial and fairplay. So much has been kept away from the world regarding the fate of these people. The photos and videos really painted a ghastly picture of the situation. My attitude? It was just the beginning.
I was at my home in Calicut, Kerala, enjoying the rains on an amazing monsoon evening. Sipping my hot coffee and talking with Trisha on the phone. Its been a long time since I got her on the line. So we were engaged in a long conversation from topics varying from what's-happening to my feelings on the present day situation of the world. Trisha is one of those people with whom I could engage myself in a good and mature talk, and usually, we don't have an idea how time flies once we start. Amidst her busy Mumbai life, I finally got her on the phone, on her walk from the office to catch her evening train.
"Hey Alf! I gotto catch my train now! I'll give you a call once I reach home?"
"Cool! No issues. Have fun! And yeah, take care!"
"You take care! I'm fine. He he he"
"Yeah right!!" and both of us burst into a laughter. And then suddenly, it happened!
The earpiece jarred by a loud sound. And the line got cut. It was weird. Something told me that something was going wrong. I thought it was something else and hushed up my invalidated apprehension. It is an act of instinct that I call back the person when the phone gets cut abruptly, even if it is to say just a "bye!". Strange, as it may seem, I didn't do it at that moment. Instead, I got back to crafting my so called magnum opus titled 12 May 2006: A Day In My Life, which was to feature on The Melting Pot of ICE . However I tried concentrating, the reason for that abrupt end was still lingering in my mind. It got me so much that I decided to give in and try calling Trisha. I tried her number, but the phone was engaged. I tried her again. Same response. I tried a third time. This time the operator lady with an awful voice said that the mobile phone I was trying was either switched off or out of range. Hmmm... Out of range. Strange, Borivali was out of range for mobile networks.
Some TV was the answer for a good distraction. When switched on, fate had entertainment planned out for me with the NDTV 24x7 coming on screen reporting the breaking news which broke the peace of many a minds. All the while, I prayed for only one thing, please don't say Borivali. But who listens to me? Pictures from Borivali station flashed on the screen. I felt numb, choked, emotionless. I had no idea what I was feeling. But I did know one thing, this was going to stab my mind for a long time to come.
My name is Alfi. That's all you know. But my full name is Alfi Ashraf. Yes, I am a Muslim. I was born as a Muslim, I live as a Muslim and I will die as a Muslim. But perhaps not the Muslim that the world perceives to be. I don't have a long beard and a head gear or a skull cap. I'm clean shaven but I do sport a stubble sometimes because of my lethargy to shave. I don't spend hours in the mosque. My friends, barring a few, are all non Muslims. Of course, I do not consume alcohol or eat pork, but that's because of my own reasons and I use religion as a guide that advises not to. I listen to rock and heavy metal just like all of you. And yes, I do love my religion, but not the way these guys do. I have read the Qur'an and learnt its meanings too, though not by heart, but yes, I do have a fair knowledge and I'm still learning.
My name is Alfi. Alfi Ashraf. Born in Kerala and brought up in Abu Dhabi, the United Arab Emirates, which despite being an Islamic country, is very liberal. I am an Indian and I love India. In an India Pakistan match, I support India. I believe India is very much my country, my motherland just any other non Muslim Indian. My mother tongue is Malayalam and not Urdu or Arabic. I have no problems in singing Vande Mataram or even shouting it aloud, because its hardly blasphemous if your belief in Allah is strong and your intention is unharmed. Thanks to AR Rahman, a pious Muslim himself, and a celebrated music composer, who made Vande Mataram what it is today for me.
My name is Alfi Ashraf. A helpless 20 something individual in this world, trying to make an identity for himself as ALFI ASHRAF first, then a Muslim or an Indian or whatever. But his identity is hurt because he is scared whether he'll ever achieve it. Thanks to suggestions on passenger profiling, which by the way, he believes, is only a beginning to what might be an open discrimination against the Muslims. He blames the Muslims for this and not the Americans or the British. He looks around and sees only destruction wherever Muslims are there. He sees suspicion wherever Muslims are there. At the end of the day, he asks, "Is there anything for me to be proud of?"
He thinks that its time we wake up and stop this bloodshed and apocalypse. When the world is leaping to greater heights of development, we cannot afford to have an Afghanistan and Iraq. True, there are evils on this earth. But we must understand, we do not have enough sympathies with us. There is injustice, no doubt, but we have nothing to validate them because, we are committing greater horrors. If the world has gone paranoid, it is because we have given them a good reason to. If we can threaten to blow up anything and everything, then what's the harm in them blowing us up?
Its time! Its time..............
PS1: Trisha was outside the Borivali station when the Mumbai blasts of 7/11 took place. Borivali was also one of the blast sites. Trisha escaped without any injuries as she was outside the station on the phone when it happened.
PS2: This is not meant for generating controversy or bad talk. This was just a compilation of my feelings and the mental unrest I was going through, being a citizen of this world, a concerned Muslim. I request you to please respect my sentiments and if you have any reservations, please express them in a humane manner. Remember, the Qur'an says, Innallaha Ma'a as-Sabireen (God is with those who have patience).
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