.
.
At home, air of festivity.
But you can only be a part of it for a while… before things beyond these four walls start penetrating from their old niches.
Begging children are still being shoved around by irritated BMW owners on these very roads, British soldiers are still kicking Iraqi “insurgents” on Iraqi soils (for defending their own lands?), and heads are still being chopped off in front of rolling cameras, with the kalima printed in the background. I remember what Mama had conditioned us to do with the kalima – every time you are scared, just say the kalima.
It worked.
That’s what the kalima was for. To get rid of shapeless creatures from your dark room, late-night stomach cramps, chronic worries of failing an exam…
To remove fear.
Not to justify chopping off human heads.
What the hell is evil?
.
.
.
Nothing is more painful than listening to people, in their self-imposed wisdom, giving you explanations for why there is so much misery in the world. I would accept fatalism, even resignation more joyfully than the flowery crap sprouting out of so many mouths around… words that make you sick to your stomach, until you just know you are on the verge of screaming, “Please talk to the mirror!”
I would show far more respect to someone who says, “I don’t know why there is so much misery…”
Or, better yet, “I am still trying to find out why there is so much misery…”
Even angels don’t know why men resort to blood and gore for kicks. They knew we would plunder but not why.
Only God knows that…
.
.
.
And I wish the rest of us, including yours sincerely, would stop trying to play God.
We don’t know why there is so much misery.
We never will.
.
.
.
I think I need to sleep.
.
At home, air of festivity.
But you can only be a part of it for a while… before things beyond these four walls start penetrating from their old niches.
Begging children are still being shoved around by irritated BMW owners on these very roads, British soldiers are still kicking Iraqi “insurgents” on Iraqi soils (for defending their own lands?), and heads are still being chopped off in front of rolling cameras, with the kalima printed in the background. I remember what Mama had conditioned us to do with the kalima – every time you are scared, just say the kalima.
It worked.
That’s what the kalima was for. To get rid of shapeless creatures from your dark room, late-night stomach cramps, chronic worries of failing an exam…
To remove fear.
Not to justify chopping off human heads.
What the hell is evil?
.
.
.
Nothing is more painful than listening to people, in their self-imposed wisdom, giving you explanations for why there is so much misery in the world. I would accept fatalism, even resignation more joyfully than the flowery crap sprouting out of so many mouths around… words that make you sick to your stomach, until you just know you are on the verge of screaming, “Please talk to the mirror!”
I would show far more respect to someone who says, “I don’t know why there is so much misery…”
Or, better yet, “I am still trying to find out why there is so much misery…”
Even angels don’t know why men resort to blood and gore for kicks. They knew we would plunder but not why.
Only God knows that…
.
.
.
And I wish the rest of us, including yours sincerely, would stop trying to play God.
We don’t know why there is so much misery.
We never will.
.
.
.
I think I need to sleep.
2 comments:
"Begging children are still being shoved around by irritated BMW owners on these very roads"---
Cmon now, lets not speak ill of BMW owners, ;-P
whats up, I see some active blogging. Nice
:)
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