3.11.16

I wake up.
I don't have the strength to drag myself out of bed.
And why should I anyways?
What is the point of this auto-pilot I have myself on?

I stare at the ceiling.
I stare at the poster on the wall facing the bed ; ever since my baby sister mentioned it, it has always seemed to me like there was a rat coming out of Paul McCartney's open mouth.
I want to tear the poster.

I roll over.
There are flowers on my bedside, miniature lilac daffodils, "I wandered lonely as a cloud", I laugh to myself and push them away, out of sight.
There are two tiny scented tealights on the table too.
The candles liquify as they lit, how metaphorical!

With the tealights lie the matchsticks.
Ah! how about setting the room on fire?

I see no point in getting up, in running in this rat race , in living.

But I must.

I get up, I part the curtains to let in the feeble smog-infused sunlight.
Ah, even the sun has decided to desert me today I wonder.
As a person easily amused by self, happy in solitude, I felt perplexed to be standing there, looking out the window, feeling so lonely, so empty.

They are building apartments a few blocks away and I see a man on the rooftop, he looked at the sky and then below.
I wondered if he was planning on jumping.
I almost whispered, "Jump"
You jump and I will set the room on fire, the show will go on.

Turns out he was shouting instructions to someone below.
I turn around to go and brush my teeth too.

But then I hear a chirp.
And then another.
I turn around and I just can't stop the tears.
Warm, happy tears ,making me feel ashamed of my thoughts, of my selfishness!

ALHAMDULILLAH!

Ever looked at the sky and seen that cloud, that giant-gay-turtle-floating-aimlessly-in-the-light-blue-sky-cloud and wondered if it was put there just for you?
For you to see on a lucky Sunday afternoon?
For you , so you could quietly hum Louis Armstrong's "What a wonderful world" to?
For you , so you would just be overcome with joy and exclaim "Subhan Allah"?

This is how I felt, to see these rare birds, showing up to keep me company.
To make me see the point in getting up, in running in this rat race and in living.

From that day on wards, never have I witnessed any sort of animals outside my window again.
Miracles happen people!
Perhaps to remind you that He, as distant as He may seem, is closer to you than your own self.
And at times like these, He will make you shut your eyes and whisper to yourself , "Do not leave me to myself even for the blink of an eye"
Ameen.

Me? Moth!

I have levitated around the candle for a long time, caught in a whirlpool of captivation.
And in this revolution I have collided with others, only to realize what I have been on a quest for, has been on a quest for me.

You and I are nothing, we are but mere moths.
Lets venture towards the Luminescence.

To break free I must surrender, I must transform.
So watch me burn, watch me glow, watch me annihilate!



                     

Recently started reading " The Conference of the Birds" by Farid ud-din Attar.
And the words above hardly seem to be my own, heavily influenced I must admit.
Anyways new goal in life : become the moth who dared.
Read on.

The moths and the flame - by Farid ud-Din Atta
"Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night

To learn the truth about the candle light,

And they decided one of them should go

To gather news of the elusive glow.

One flew till in the distance he discerned

A palace window where a candle burned —

And went no nearer: back again he flew

To tell the others what he thought he knew.

The mentor of the moths dismissed his claim,

Remarking: “He knows nothing of the flame.”

A moth more eager than the one before

Set out and passed beyond the palace door.

He hovered in the aura of the fire,

A trembling blur of timorous desire,

Then headed back to say how far he’d been,

And how much he had undergone and seen.

The mentor said: “You do not bear the signs

Of one who’s fathomed how the candle shines.”

Another moth flew out — his dizzy flight

Turned to an ardent wooing of the light;

He dipped and soared, and in his frenzied trance

Both self and fire were mingled by his dance —

The flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head,

His being glowed a fierce translucent red;

And when the mentor saw that sudden blaze,

The moth’s form lost within the glowing rays,

He said: “He knows, he knows the truth we seek,

That hidden truth of which we cannot speak.”

To go beyond all knowledge is to find

That comprehension which eludes the mind,

And you can never gain the longed-for goal

Until you first outsoar both flesh and soul;

But should one part remain, a single hair

Will drag you back and plunge you in despair —

No creature’s self can be admitted here,

Where all identity must disappear."