I am trapped inside a crowd,
Of faceless people, crying out loud.
The receding waters of the shore,
Washing away with it, horrors and gore
The crowd moves, at a steady pace,
Chased by cats, a rat race.
Each don't look hither or thither,
The path treaded, of no concern either
I watch the crowd, with doubt and dispair,
Forward or bacward, I do not dare,
For the road forward is progress,
The road behind me, should I not address?
The crowd stares at me and my like,
Our confusion fetches dislike.
For we are scared of the sunset,
As it unleashes the demons, we bet!
Whom do I blame for my fear?
Why is it that I cannot see it clear!
May I accuse the sunset bringing the night,
Or is it my own lack of sight?
The night blinds the likes of me,
The beauty of the night we do not see.
For we are afraid of those who go ahead,
Will leave us powerless and dead
The roses shed their petals and grow horns,
So that the beholder lies on a bed of thorns!
And hence in the name of the faultless Sun,
We choose to take the gun!
"It is prescribed!" We claim,
And our claim spreads with fame,
And more disillusioned like me unite,
Like an army of ants marching to bite
Neither Bush, Prescott, nor Sarkozy,
Can stop me, and never will!
For I am a true Mozy,
And I have the license to KILL!
In this urban concrete jungle of wildlife,
I give my body, soul and life!
I will stab in the name of a meaningless strife,
For, verily, I am the DARK KNIFE!
PS: This piece of work was written after the Delhi blasts. This is neither to encourage nor to support the idea depicted. If one reads with utmost care in comprehension one would realise it merely ridicules. Hence kindly do not jump into any negative conclusions.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
A Bitter Sweet Farewell
I stood there, on the shore,
Watching the sky, I adore...
And then the wind blew,
And with the wind my woes flew.
A strange liking, a strange fondness,
An inexplicable kindness,
Oh lord, why oh why am I on this bay,
When I know time will take wind n sky away?
And thus, it happened, the inevitable,
To fight destiny, it is impossible.
What comes to one has to go away,
A strange law, we call the life's way!
So long oh my dear sky,
The distance brings a tear in my eye,
And how could I stop you oh wind, my my,
Pray! Do not say to me bye bye
6th September, 2008, Manasa and Pavan bid farewell to Abu Dhabi... Wrote this on my way to the airport, as I myself was leaving for Doha. We had a splendid time for 2 days in a row, that parting was difficult.
Wishing them all the best in the life ahead.
Watching the sky, I adore...
And then the wind blew,
And with the wind my woes flew.
A strange liking, a strange fondness,
An inexplicable kindness,
Oh lord, why oh why am I on this bay,
When I know time will take wind n sky away?
And thus, it happened, the inevitable,
To fight destiny, it is impossible.
What comes to one has to go away,
A strange law, we call the life's way!
So long oh my dear sky,
The distance brings a tear in my eye,
And how could I stop you oh wind, my my,
Pray! Do not say to me bye bye
6th September, 2008, Manasa and Pavan bid farewell to Abu Dhabi... Wrote this on my way to the airport, as I myself was leaving for Doha. We had a splendid time for 2 days in a row, that parting was difficult.
Wishing them all the best in the life ahead.
Friday, September 05, 2008
My Best Friend's Hyderabadi Wedding
Path carpetted with petals of rose,
Scent of love in the air, it grows.
The moment, much awaited, arrives,
When the cosmos will join them, their lives.
"Make Merry" they said, joy was the mood,
And amidst the celebration I stood,
Witnessing the greatest union,
"Made for each other" we cried in unison.
He came like the wind, slow but soon,
Swept her off her feet, like a devine boon.
She was his sky, infinite expanse of love,
Their love on earth, destined by the High Above!
As I stood in my space, looking,
To Welcome her man like a King!
I knew I had waited for this day in keen,
When he would make her, his queen!
In her eyes I saw a plethora,
Of emotions, of the compassing aura.
In his eyes I saw his heart,
Thanking the devine for this life, this start.
For all those who believed there was nothing,
Nothing called Perfect, oh lord!
Verily, they are not here, seeing everything,
For she and he are more perfect than the perfect god!
Why take things any further,
She completes him, he completes her!
Marriages are made in Heaven,
But the wedding was held in Hyderabad!
On 20th August, two of my greatest friends, my family, Manasa and Pavan were joined in the bond of matrimony. I was lucky to be there, to bear witness to this wonderful day. This is my tribute to the lovely couple..... An Ode to celebrate their wedding
Scent of love in the air, it grows.
The moment, much awaited, arrives,
When the cosmos will join them, their lives.
"Make Merry" they said, joy was the mood,
And amidst the celebration I stood,
Witnessing the greatest union,
"Made for each other" we cried in unison.
He came like the wind, slow but soon,
Swept her off her feet, like a devine boon.
She was his sky, infinite expanse of love,
Their love on earth, destined by the High Above!
As I stood in my space, looking,
To Welcome her man like a King!
I knew I had waited for this day in keen,
When he would make her, his queen!
In her eyes I saw a plethora,
Of emotions, of the compassing aura.
In his eyes I saw his heart,
Thanking the devine for this life, this start.
For all those who believed there was nothing,
Nothing called Perfect, oh lord!
Verily, they are not here, seeing everything,
For she and he are more perfect than the perfect god!
Why take things any further,
She completes him, he completes her!
Marriages are made in Heaven,
But the wedding was held in Hyderabad!
On 20th August, two of my greatest friends, my family, Manasa and Pavan were joined in the bond of matrimony. I was lucky to be there, to bear witness to this wonderful day. This is my tribute to the lovely couple..... An Ode to celebrate their wedding
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Blackberry Flavoured Lime Tea
"Unsweetened black tea with two lemons squeezed into them..... Basically, lemon tea." I replied when Jabin, my cousin asked me what I'd like to have. A not-so-fine tummy cried out for some relief and the concoction was the perfect solution.
I was visiting Jabin, one of my usual Doha trips. Jabin's family membered by her husband Namrus, kids Raza and Anjal is the perfect example of a quintessential Mallu family in Doha. Doha is a city infested by citizens of Kerala, a southern state of India, who speak the revered language of Malayalam, and hence the baptized term, Mallu. For Doha Mallus, Doha is God's gift to earth. They believe that the Garden of Eden was in fact in Doha and that anything in the Middle East has to come first to Doha, and then only to others. God Bless Doha! I do not claim all Mallus in Doha are alike, but yes, more than one are. If one believes on the contrary, then I take my words back and request to treat this piece as one of my personal experience.
A boring, cold, uninteresting evening in the Middle East's greatest gift to urbanology, Doha. And what adds to this amazing evening that promised nothing short of, well..... um.... nothing, was the fact that it fell on a weekend. One can, hence, understand the predicament of a soul handicapped by lethargy and inactivity, at such a greatly blessed moment. Well, why not pay Jabin a visit, I pondered over. After all, its been almost a week, and a visit was inevitably due, otherwise, the consequences of being labeled haughty, arrogant and boisterous were imminent. Lets go, I decided.
I got comfortable in the living room. Namrus was lazily laid back on the chair, browsing through the a la carte menu of countless varieties of Mallu news channels with his remote, an idea which I have always failed to understand. My contention is not with the channels being Mallu, but how can one stand switching one news channel to the other? It is going to be the same news in all the channels, the same report of corruption of bureaucrats and ministers, the same reports of bomb blowing up places, the same speculation of the government's next move on some not-so-important matter. I fail to understand repeated hearing of the same matter can give an in depth analysis of ground realities.
Just when I could not stand the TV anymore, jabin entered the room with my lemon tea, as a blessing. Jabin a naive lady with fascination for pomp and luxury. Items of vanity excited her, her latest taste being mobile phones. Well, not, exactly the latest, at least since the last couple of years, and she is the proud housewife who owns a Nokia N95 that screams out deperately, "PLEASE USE ME!". As she gave me my tray, she started a rather interesting and amusing conversation.
Jabin (ever excited, ever bubbly): Alfi, do you know that a new phone service has been introduced by QTel (the telecom provider of Doha, Qatar). Its called Blackberry. It seems one can check emails and all in it. Do you know anything about it?
Me (calm, composed and in control): Hmmm... Yes, I did see it in the papers and a few ads on the street. Pretty good service.
Jabin (apparently amused by my disinterest): It seems it is amazing. Does your Dubai have Blackberry? It seems Blackberry is being introduced for the first in the Gellf (aka Gulf or Arabian Gulf) in Doha.
Me (pitying the ignorance of my dear cousin): I don't think so Jabin. If my memory serves me right, Blackberry has been in the UAE (of which Dubai is a part of) since 2000. Hence it is not the first time in the Gulf.
At this point, Jabin's face changes a little and with much effort, the mouth that has been working overtime for the last few minutes reluctantly forces a much dejected "oho" out. While this small talk was in session, Namrus, a die hard Qatar (of which Doha is the capital city) patriot, was listening to everything. And then, what I dreaded the most happens.... He breaks his silence.
Namrus (with much command and a patronizing tone): How much does it cost? Do you know?
Me (again, calm and a matter-of-fact tone): About QR 2500.00 (=US$680.00). And service fee of QR 300.00 (=US$80.00) per month for international roaming facility for the service.
Jabin (further dejected at the high cost): Oh.... Then he (Namrus) will not buy. Too expensive.
Namrus (a man whose aspirations have been demolished): Hmmm... What all technology has to offer today. But it is of no use to the common man. It is only an article to show off.
Me (this time pitying the trauma of the man): Well, it is not meant for the common man, in the first place. It is meant for people who travel a lot and whose office travels with them. It is a powerful tool to keep executives on the toe and constantly updated on matters. Not everyone holds such positions of criticality, and hence not everyone is expected to own a Blackberry.
I guess, they did not expect such a reply from moi. An awkward silence followed. I was not bothered and unaffected. I sipped my tea and enjoyed the flavor of freshly squeezed lemon, whose vapors created an intoxicating effect. I was relishing the tea, and so was my tummy.
Jabin (breaking the deadlock, trying to pick on me): Alfi, you had that lousy Nokia 6210, right? Haven't you changed it still? Which one do you have now?
A question that I least expected. I placed my tea cup on the table in front of me. I put my hands into my pocket and took out my phone to show her.
Action spoke louder than words, I guess.
I was visiting Jabin, one of my usual Doha trips. Jabin's family membered by her husband Namrus, kids Raza and Anjal is the perfect example of a quintessential Mallu family in Doha. Doha is a city infested by citizens of Kerala, a southern state of India, who speak the revered language of Malayalam, and hence the baptized term, Mallu. For Doha Mallus, Doha is God's gift to earth. They believe that the Garden of Eden was in fact in Doha and that anything in the Middle East has to come first to Doha, and then only to others. God Bless Doha! I do not claim all Mallus in Doha are alike, but yes, more than one are. If one believes on the contrary, then I take my words back and request to treat this piece as one of my personal experience.
A boring, cold, uninteresting evening in the Middle East's greatest gift to urbanology, Doha. And what adds to this amazing evening that promised nothing short of, well..... um.... nothing, was the fact that it fell on a weekend. One can, hence, understand the predicament of a soul handicapped by lethargy and inactivity, at such a greatly blessed moment. Well, why not pay Jabin a visit, I pondered over. After all, its been almost a week, and a visit was inevitably due, otherwise, the consequences of being labeled haughty, arrogant and boisterous were imminent. Lets go, I decided.
I got comfortable in the living room. Namrus was lazily laid back on the chair, browsing through the a la carte menu of countless varieties of Mallu news channels with his remote, an idea which I have always failed to understand. My contention is not with the channels being Mallu, but how can one stand switching one news channel to the other? It is going to be the same news in all the channels, the same report of corruption of bureaucrats and ministers, the same reports of bomb blowing up places, the same speculation of the government's next move on some not-so-important matter. I fail to understand repeated hearing of the same matter can give an in depth analysis of ground realities.
Just when I could not stand the TV anymore, jabin entered the room with my lemon tea, as a blessing. Jabin a naive lady with fascination for pomp and luxury. Items of vanity excited her, her latest taste being mobile phones. Well, not, exactly the latest, at least since the last couple of years, and she is the proud housewife who owns a Nokia N95 that screams out deperately, "PLEASE USE ME!". As she gave me my tray, she started a rather interesting and amusing conversation.
Jabin (ever excited, ever bubbly): Alfi, do you know that a new phone service has been introduced by QTel (the telecom provider of Doha, Qatar). Its called Blackberry. It seems one can check emails and all in it. Do you know anything about it?
Me (calm, composed and in control): Hmmm... Yes, I did see it in the papers and a few ads on the street. Pretty good service.
Jabin (apparently amused by my disinterest): It seems it is amazing. Does your Dubai have Blackberry? It seems Blackberry is being introduced for the first in the Gellf (aka Gulf or Arabian Gulf) in Doha.
Me (pitying the ignorance of my dear cousin): I don't think so Jabin. If my memory serves me right, Blackberry has been in the UAE (of which Dubai is a part of) since 2000. Hence it is not the first time in the Gulf.
At this point, Jabin's face changes a little and with much effort, the mouth that has been working overtime for the last few minutes reluctantly forces a much dejected "oho" out. While this small talk was in session, Namrus, a die hard Qatar (of which Doha is the capital city) patriot, was listening to everything. And then, what I dreaded the most happens.... He breaks his silence.
Namrus (with much command and a patronizing tone): How much does it cost? Do you know?
Me (again, calm and a matter-of-fact tone): About QR 2500.00 (=US$680.00). And service fee of QR 300.00 (=US$80.00) per month for international roaming facility for the service.
Jabin (further dejected at the high cost): Oh.... Then he (Namrus) will not buy. Too expensive.
Namrus (a man whose aspirations have been demolished): Hmmm... What all technology has to offer today. But it is of no use to the common man. It is only an article to show off.
Me (this time pitying the trauma of the man): Well, it is not meant for the common man, in the first place. It is meant for people who travel a lot and whose office travels with them. It is a powerful tool to keep executives on the toe and constantly updated on matters. Not everyone holds such positions of criticality, and hence not everyone is expected to own a Blackberry.
I guess, they did not expect such a reply from moi. An awkward silence followed. I was not bothered and unaffected. I sipped my tea and enjoyed the flavor of freshly squeezed lemon, whose vapors created an intoxicating effect. I was relishing the tea, and so was my tummy.
Jabin (breaking the deadlock, trying to pick on me): Alfi, you had that lousy Nokia 6210, right? Haven't you changed it still? Which one do you have now?
A question that I least expected. I placed my tea cup on the table in front of me. I put my hands into my pocket and took out my phone to show her.
Action spoke louder than words, I guess.
Monday, December 17, 2007
KnocK KnocK!!
In front of me stands a door,
Gateway to The Peninsula, I adore.
Speaking to a dead soul did I stand,
"Whats Happening?" she could not understand!
"Alfi Ashraf is my name,
"Friend of Fijula, the dame.
"I am here coz I was invited,
"A challenge for which I was excited"
"Thatha, someone for you at the door!"
Cried a pretty princess alore!
With caution, doubt did she come,
A sight, was a shock welcome?
"YOU???" did she cry,
"Dinn think you would try.
"Weren't you supposed to be in Abu Dhabi?
"Pray! Come in, don't stand in the lobby"
"Isn't she awake, your mother?
"Thought I'd greet thy father.
"If it isn't a moment of obstruction,
"May I make my introduction?"
"Just come in you stupid fool!
"And place your bottoms on the stool!"
What a greeting, I thought,
Was this a meeting for which I fought?
As I seated on a chair in the hall,
From the interiors came a lady of tall.
Along with her another princess,
And of course, a tired soul, awaken in distress.
Smiles did we exchange,
Comfortable, for a change.
The mother asked, "Something cold or hot?"
I said, "Nothing in a long shot"
Yet she sent some water for the thirst,
And a juice of mango to be had first!
Flattered by the hospitality and easia,
I forgot to drink the juice, my amnesia!
"Jump!" I told the stubborn one,
"To hell with you! You mandan!"
And thus she broke the pact,
She did not expect a defeat, thats the fact!
And just when I thought I was having fun,
I ended up scaring a little one!
For the bubbly little fairy wouldn't speak,
Humor in my presence she did not seek!
All good things have to come to an end,
And to this moment, the rule would not bend!
Hence the time came to say bye bye,
"Next time, do again stop by"
Gateway to The Peninsula, I adore.
Speaking to a dead soul did I stand,
"Whats Happening?" she could not understand!
"Alfi Ashraf is my name,
"Friend of Fijula, the dame.
"I am here coz I was invited,
"A challenge for which I was excited"
"Thatha, someone for you at the door!"
Cried a pretty princess alore!
With caution, doubt did she come,
A sight, was a shock welcome?
"YOU???" did she cry,
"Dinn think you would try.
"Weren't you supposed to be in Abu Dhabi?
"Pray! Come in, don't stand in the lobby"
"Isn't she awake, your mother?
"Thought I'd greet thy father.
"If it isn't a moment of obstruction,
"May I make my introduction?"
"Just come in you stupid fool!
"And place your bottoms on the stool!"
What a greeting, I thought,
Was this a meeting for which I fought?
As I seated on a chair in the hall,
From the interiors came a lady of tall.
Along with her another princess,
And of course, a tired soul, awaken in distress.
Smiles did we exchange,
Comfortable, for a change.
The mother asked, "Something cold or hot?"
I said, "Nothing in a long shot"
Yet she sent some water for the thirst,
And a juice of mango to be had first!
Flattered by the hospitality and easia,
I forgot to drink the juice, my amnesia!
"Jump!" I told the stubborn one,
"To hell with you! You mandan!"
And thus she broke the pact,
She did not expect a defeat, thats the fact!
And just when I thought I was having fun,
I ended up scaring a little one!
For the bubbly little fairy wouldn't speak,
Humor in my presence she did not seek!
All good things have to come to an end,
And to this moment, the rule would not bend!
Hence the time came to say bye bye,
"Next time, do again stop by"
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The End
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.
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.
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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