Inspirations

I've had two inspirations today. Not huge ones...nothing can really be a big inspiration at this age. But relatively quite big ones. Mini-supernovas at least. And on the same day.
That's quite an achievement.
The first one was a book I finished today: the fifth mountain, by Coelho. It reminded me something that I had forgotten for quite some time now. It reminded me that not everything is written in stone...that man has free will. That we can fight our destiny. That Allah likes it when we pick up our arms, and as my friend ooty put it, say "never more." I don't know how on earth I could have lost sight of this - I'd reasoned out an explanation for the apparent paradox between destiny and free will over a year ago.
The second inspiration is my good friend Chinmay Joshi. This is one guy who changed his destiny over a span of a few months. He had a dream - of just wanting to chill with friends, go out, meet more people and basically, live the life, as they say. Well, he's achieved it, ladies and gentlemen. As I said, within months.
So, Coelho and Joshi, I salute both of you.

Seinfeld moment

As usual, the happy bubble of a world I'm living in just has to get popped, doesn't it?


hasnain says:
btw, I happen to have an awesome eye for earrings...I gave somebody two sets as a gift last december
hasnain says:
and she doesn't wanna part with them
maryam says:
oh good boy
maryam says:
i LOVE earrings
hasnain says:
and she also doesn't know they were only 10 bucks each
hasnain says:
BOOYAH !
maryam says:
thats dhs.35
maryam says:
thats expensive
hasnain says:
eh?
hasnain says:
really?
hasnain says:
shit

Random

Through the blinding darkness, I see a faint glow yawning in the horizon.
Twilight.
Oh, sweet twilight.

The Future

Here's an interesting thought: you ever notice that things seldom occur the way you envision them? In fact, twisting words a little, mapping out a future event in your imagination seems to greatly reduce the chances that it will happen in that way, doesn't it? It's happened to me so many times. If there's a future event coming up that gets me tossing and turning at night in dread, conjuring up the worst things that could happen, things seldom go that bad. Unfortunately, it works the other way too; whenever I daydream about just the perfect way I'd like something to happen, the damn thing will never happen that way.

Of course, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for it that lies hidden in dusty tomes of probability, perception and our own expectations. But a) what's the fun in explaining it away? and b) that doesn't change the fact that it still works. I've given some of my best exams and reviews when I'm dreading them, kneading out different things that could go wrong. In fact, maybe this is the reason that unrequited love often remains unrequited, and even if one gets whom one pines for, there is much frustration in life. If you've already spent a lifetime of beautiful moments with your beloved in the fertile lands of your mind, you've eliminated the possibility of ever living that life in the real world.

All this is a play on words, of course, but the great writer Jorge Luis Borges takes it to an extreme in one of his stories. The main character is due to be shot in a few days. In his desperation, he imagines the worst emotions and suffering he could possibly have, thinking that by doing so, he's eliminating the chances of them ever happening! Unfortunately, by doing so, Borges' character falls victim to another demon of the human psyche: paranoia.

Strange Places, Strange Times

I'm at a peculiar place in life right now. Alhamdulillah, everything is good, but it seems I've been in this place for an eternity now. I feel like a traveller who's stayed over at an inn too long...I'm beginning to think it's home. I'm beginning to like spending evenings in the tavern, talking to other wanderers and telling stories over the clinking of mugs. In doing so, I'm starting to forget that there ever was a place called home, where people still wait for me and memories still frolick. Maybe this is something all travellers feel...the sense of being uprooted and tossed about in the wind, not belonging to any one place.

As dusk falls and cloaks everything in darkness, this wanderer sits in a quiet corner and contemplates. Maybe the sun is telling me something. Maybe it's time to pick up my knapsack, throw in a loaf of bread and pound of tea, and start out for home. After a long, long time.

If I can ever find it again.

The Miracle of Islam

It just never ceases to stun me how amazingly tuned Islam is to human nature. Little things in life constantly keep reminding me. The best moments are when by Allah's grace, I observe something and I can correlate it back to the wisdom of His last religion. Those moments leave me filled with happiness and a sense of sublime wonder.

Like the other day, I was discussing religion with a very good Hindu friend of mine. We were talking about the importance of religion in every day life. He was of the opinion that religion has a very limited practical role when it comes to taking your mind off mundane worries. He said something to the tune of: "what's the point, man...even if I do pooja in the morning and I feel at peace then, I wind up forgetting it in the busy routine of the day." And afterwards, when I was mulling over his words, this one question suddenly lit up in my mind like a bulb....

Why does Islam insist upon five prayers a day?

In fact, insist is the wrong word...five prayers a day are part of the fundamental pillars of Islam. They're the barebones you need...other stuff is extra credit - whipped cream on top of your imaan cake, if you like. In a moment of frustration and despair, my friend had given me a morsel that ironically fed my faith and made it stronger. And now I can appreciate one solid reason out of a myriad why praying is so necessary, and why it is interspersed throughout the day.

It's necessary because we keep forgetting.

It's as simple as that. We get dragged down into banal details of every day life. Praying gives us a chance to see the bigger picture, the end goal, the sky for the trees baby. In fact, Allah in his wisdom probably knew that even five prayers throughout the day wouldn't be enough, and that we'd still forget in between prayers (we do though, don't we?) Maybe that's why He had originally prescribed more...much much more. Ultimately, Allah, our Creator, knows what makes our gears tick. Islam as a way of life channels our instincts as opposed to oppressing them.

Of course, only Allah knows his Wisdom. We can only stare in awe at what we'll never even hope to understand.

Stream of Consciousness

Writing styles - there's never a shortage of them, is there? There are dozens of little tricks that writers have up their sleeves, and writers use them with glee, pulling rabbits out of hats and (or so they hope) leaving their readers stunned. But there's one writing style in particular called stream of consciousness that's probably the hardest to read (and must be mighty tough to write too. I know I can't do it for shit).

And it is exactly what it sounds like - it's supposed to be a written account of the stream of your thoughts, images, flashes...basically every little volcano that erupts and bursts in that little brain of yours. So I figured, why not give it a try?

Somebody laughed haha Keep typing keep going somebody's coming I have to go and read lord of the rings at noon and I'm still waiting for the day to get over. space a man standing on a canyon looks at me directly but I'm trying to work right now and work I shall I'm going to the lab to work no write. I'm writing but working and head hurts feels full what's that smell? A tall man in a white t-shirt winks and walks away fists screwed up and I'm thankful I slipped away.

Makes no sense at all, does it? lol. Well, thoughts hardly do though, if you think about it. And these were my thoughts at the time, as weird and random as they may be.

Believe it or not, there are actually whole books written in this style. James Joyce loved stream of consciousness, and one of his books called Finnegan's Wake is virtually unreadable. Seasoned English professors have thrown up their hands in frustration at that book, saying it's an impossible task to decipher.

It is an interesting style though, at least for writing if not for reading. Give it a try sometime. Bring that nib to a piece of paper and let it fly with your thoughts. Bruce Willis said in the sixth sense that if you do this for long enough in one sitting, you'll soon be writing things you never imagined you had within you. Creepy things, I expect...things that flutter in the night...things that awaken from slumber when u're tossing and moaning in the shadows of a nightmare. Muahahaha!

state of mind

Boy, am I in a dreary mood today. I feel as cold as rain (it literally is that cold too...Fall is already on its way out the door). Why is it that whenever you feel low, your blackest memories start peeking out at you from dark corners within your mind? Why do your till-now forgotten insecurities rise like pricking grains of sand and suddenly start blowing around you in a maelstrom? What tails do I tread on, what switch do I accidentally flick to start this chain reaction? Is it just me? Is it just an overactive imagination and a mind speeding on the verge of a crash? Or is this entwined in human nature?

Sorry boys...comes as part of the parcel. Take it or leave it. In fact, take it. Go on, don't be shy...

There are times (such as right here, right now) when I loathe human nature. It disgusts me like a cockroach might. No matter how hard I squint, it still looks as dark and dank to me as the guts of a forgotten cave. The same old cycle, ladies and gentlemen. The same ol' mistakes repeated over and over. The wise learn from their mistakes. Those even wiser learn from others' mistakes. Most people, communities, countries, cultures do neither. Nope, they keep on doing what they're doing, and history keeps on repeating itself like an accursed sine wave. I just wish somebody would pull the plug on the oscillator.

Anyhow, I didn't mean for this to be such a forlorn post (or maybe I did), but it became so of its own volition. And I actually feel lighter now, having gotten this off my chest. I'll IA come out of the dumps in a day or two (that damn sine wave again!) . After all, it's foliage day in New Hampshire! Today, Fall is in its throes over there, and all the trees are blazing with fiery colors. I think I'll call a few friends and head up there, just for the heck of it....