Anything goes

 

 He scratched the under side of his bulging belly by putting his hand under his shirt which had come loose on the walk home. The unshaved hair there were clumped up by the sweat, moisture and gunk that had accumulated throughout the day. Almost as a reflex, he then sniffed his hand that had just been there and then put it back on his side as if nothing had happened.

Bashir yawned as he took the last steps to his home where his ravishing wife and his two adorable daughters would be waiting for him. The thought of them made him smile and then as an after thought made him nauseous. He looked at his hands before he rang the bell; the calluses were not enough to show the burden of the work he did. But he had to do it. For his family.

He didn’t need to ring the bell because his daughters were already there waiting for him on the other side of the door. Espying some presence outside, they had peaked through the slit in the side of the gate and opened it hurriedly. They hugged their father as he walked in. He pinched their cheeks and kissed them. Then he washed his hands and walked into the kitchen. His wife knew he came home tired from work and always had dinner ready. She saw him enter and meekly smiled. He smiled back and greeted her. He wished he could hold her close and fuck her as he once had when they were newly married; before Alina and Alishba had been born; before the shit had hit the metaphorical fan and before his belly didn’t come in the way of all of his hugs. Now he couldn’t do that, because if he did, he would break down and tell her everything, which would cause ruination.

They lived in a small city where not much happened, and whatever did happen was dissected and talked about for months till the next big thing that happened. His job too was simple albeit a little morbid one. He was responsible for dissecting the bodies in the autopsy room in the local hospital. He wasn’t really a mortician or a forensic scientist. He wasn’t qualified for the job. His only merit was assisting his father when he would go slaughter people’s animals during the Eid-ul-Adha. That had helped him learn how to use the blades deftly and without much fuss. He didn’t know in what capacity he performed the dissection, just that the goody-two-shoes doctors of the hospital didn’t want their abstract white coats sullied by the blood and shit and piss of the dead. Or maybe they just didn’t know how to do it. In any case, he was responsible for doing it, and it was alright. He got paid by the daily work and it was just enough to keep the family fed and his daughters to study in a decent English medium school. He got financial bonuses for every autopsy performed, as his task on other usual days was paperwork and running errands and maintaining the state of things. This bonus is what he looked for and what he also dreaded. Every time he had to lift the shroud from the face of the dead to begin the verification process and set the machinery of autopsy into motion, he felt like he was cheating. Bashir felt like earning money in this way was wrong, as if earning off of the dead was wrong and morally questionable. But then he thought of his wife, and his children, and his much more successful brother, and he knew he had to do whatever he could.

Right on cue, as Alina brought out the clothe they were going to spread and eat their food on, the bell rang. He didn’t pay heed to who it would be at this time. He was too tired and mentally preoccupied. He was taken aback however to see his brother stroll into the room.

He was as usual dressed in a crisp white shalwar kameez that he had changed into after work. His brother worked in the same hospital as him, but in a much better position. He was a clerk of sorts but everybody respected him, and at the end of the day, he didn’t have to scrape out the half digested slog from someone’s intestines out of his nails. His brother was also very generous and loving towards his nieces. It was always harrowing for Bashir to see his brother bring gifts for his daughters. He tried to smile and offer gestures of gratitude with exuberant displays of annoyance on why his brother had bothered again with the gifts. He liked to think that his brother saw through his facade. He did, obviously he did.

“Chachu, chachu what did you bring for us this time?”

A bat. He brought a bat for Bashir’s little girls. He didn’t bring a ball, and didn’t care that his girls had never shown any interest in cricket. He had brought a bat for them, and it looked slightly rugged near the handle, and scratched on the face. But in the dim light of a single energy saver and the droning of the fan on the UPS, the details died down. And at the end of the day, it was a gift. His daughters thanked him and started running around with the bat in the small room, till their mother chided them and told them to play with it tomorrow after school.

Bashir exchanged pleasantries with his brother. Some small talk of here and there. They had started eating dinner, which was as always a little too bland. But Bashir didn’t complain. He couldn’t complain even if he wanted to. He looked at his brother and saw a devilish snarl appear on his face.

“Guriya, where did the necklace go that I gave you a few months ago?”

A few months ago, his brother had brought a real gold necklace for Bashir’s elder daughter, Alishba. Bashir had insisted, nay, demanded that he take it back. He couldn’t bear the burden of gratitude of such an expensive gift. The girl’s mother had half jokingly confessed that they wouldn’t be able to gift Alishba such a gift even on her wedding if they were to start saving now. But his brother had insisted, and at the end of the day, he had left, leaving the necklace on the table. The girls didn’t understand the true value of it but knew it was a great gift. They gave it to their mother who put it in her jewellery box beneath the bed. And that would have been the end of the matter, but Bashir knew his brother better than anyone else.

Now, his wife explained that they had packed it in a sandook with other important stuff, and they would give it to Alishba when the time was right. She kept glancing at Bashir as she said this. So his suspicion was right. She had heard him get up that night, open the jewellery box and take the necklace with him outside the house. Oh well, he hoped she understood, and even if she didn’t, his conscience was clear. It was all for his family’s welfare.

His brother chuckled, licked his finger clean and burped. Suddenly, Bashir was nauseous again. He couldn’t look at the food on his plate. It looked half eaten. Like it had been inside someone’s body. He looked at the bowl of salan and it looked like human offal to him. He pushed the plate aside and got up.

“Alhamdulillah”

Everyone else had finished by now. His wife offered tea to his brother but he refused it on the grounds that he had somewhere else to be. His brother was not married. And perhaps marriage and family were the only exclusive luxuries that Bashir had and his brother didn’t. This sole thought kept greater feelings of jealousy at bay. But then he thought, maybe this is why his brother was so kind to his nieces: they were his sole family. The girls retreated to their combined room; finished their homework and slept. Bashir didn’t have the heart to do anything else but lie down on the bed and wait till his wife was asleep. She told him of the finances of this month and eyes closed he cursed himself for never letting his wife finish her education. He once again lusted for her embrace but knew such ideas were fanciful when he had other more important matters to attend to in the night once she had slept. His wife could only go on for so long talking to a log, and so she too fell asleep.

Bashir kept his eyes closed and waited for some more time.

It wasnt hard to not fall asleep, but it was hard to keep his mind off of things. He kept on imagining his brother’s hands over his daughters. He imagined them feeding their fat uncle the intestines of a goat, except the goat had the head of a human. And the bat was bathed in a coat of blood, and his brother kept on gilding it in gold and handing it to Bashir’s wife. He couldn’t stop thinking about the necklace. Or the clothes he had brought. Or the envelopes of money as gifts. Or the mobile he once brought which they had to sell because they didn’t want their daughter’s minds sullied. Deep down he knew that he was just projecting his own suppressed thoughts in a crooked way and that he should calm down. And yet every time, one shuddering thought brought him thudding back to the same state: they were all indebted to his brother one way or another, and he had a lot of influence and repute in the area. What would happen if one day he came to collect all his debt? And what would the payment be? How long could this possibly go on till people became wiser?

With these thoughts still trailing in his mind, he got up and walked outside the room, into the courtyard. He saw the bat leaning with the wall, and picked it up. He carried it in his hands as he walked out of the door of his house into the grim darkness of the eerie night.

----

He was on time to duty next morning, as always. As he was getting into the rhythm of work, one of his colleagues called him over and told him that they were waiting on him to perform an autopsy. Bashir nodded mechanically and went over to the autopsy suite, where he cleaned himself and got ready to perform the dissection. There were some people watching, and a bunch of doctors saying something but to Bashir’s expert hands and eyes none of that mattered. Not because he was proficient at what he did, that too was true, but it was because the only thing that he could see was the battered face of the victim, as if someone had beaten his head to pulp with a large blunt object. He heard one of the doctors say:

“It’s almost like the trauma to the face is from something like a cricket bat.”

After the autopsy was over and all the conclusions that had to be drawn were drawn, mainly that the body was that of an unknown beggar on the street, Bashir stood outside an office smoking a cigarette. He only smoked after autopsies. It helped calm his nerves. He saw his brother walking by with a file tucked under his armpit. Almost out of revulsion and hatred he called out:

“Razzak!”

The one who provides sustenance, Bashir thought and scoffed.

His brother looked vaguely surprised that someone had called him but the expression of surprise molded into a grin at the sight of his brother as he ambled towards him.

“I heard there was an autopsy today.” He said as he stopped to stand in front of him.

Bashir didn’t reply. He didn’t want to.

“I was thinking you should buy the girl’s some tennis balls to play cricket with.”

“I threw the bat in the landfill outside the airport.”

The look of mirth evaporated from his brother’s face.

“Why do you keep on dispensing away with my gifts like that?”

Bashir could barely keep his eyes open. He wondered if his wife had made qeema today. She might’ve. The food always looks like the bodies. It always does.

“You know, I really have to struggle to get those gifts for you.”

Why does the food look like the bodies? Why was he still fat if the thought of the food at home made him want to throw up?

His brother put a hand on Bashir’s shoulder, sighed and with genuine sincerity and calmness said:

“Come now brother, someone has to help you get those pay bonuses. Someone has to put the food on the family’s platter.”

Right then, Bashir threw up last night’s dinner.

A little bit of everything all of the time

 

Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime

The world is already infested by makoras if you cut through the rind. We need not make it worse.

I met a woman recently who couldn’t get vaccinated because she simply didn’t exist. This woman which I could see and hear, and touch (if she were okay with it of course) was a non-person. Because she didn’t exist in any official database and to the government, she was just another missing data point among countless others. It happened because her parents refused to get her registered into the database, whether because they didn’t want her to have been born in the first place (ah yes infanticide) or because they were simply illiterate or not privileged enough to be on the radar. And so she had lived most of her life as a non-citizen; still living by all definitions of biology, physics and sociology. She couldn’t get her national ID card made though, because when she realised the blurry state of her being, her parents had died. And the assholes at Government registries require parental proof of your existence. Imagine you were a nihilistic edgy teenager with daddy issues. If your parents wanted they could deny your existence. So she couldn’t get vaccinated because she didn’t have a national ID card because she couldn’t get it made because her parents couldn't prove her existence because they had died before they had registered into any government database. Kind of fucked up.

Here’s another depressing anecdote. I was at the local market, I think I was going to get myself something to drink. A kid and his father, holding a couple of shopping bags passed in front of me and I heard the kid say in the annoying squeaky voice that seems to be integral to every child’s life during one point or another in their (I couldn’t really think of a good adjective here, hence proving my inadequacy as a writer) existence. He said:

“Abu saray paisay kharch ho gaye?”
“Jee”
“Agar main apni cheezain na laita tou paisay bach jatay?”

“Did the shopping cost all of what you paid them?”

“Yes”
“If I hadn’t bought my goodies, some money would have still been left, right?”

Curtain falls. Fin. Because then they were out of my earshot. I initially thought it was a clever story; the kid proving how he was aware of the knowledge of economics and how he knew the repercussions of his purchases. Then it hit me like a truck. The depressing aspect. This knowledge of economy and bartering is almost instinctive and reflexive for kids who are always in pursuit of sweets. What made this anecdote remarkable (for me at least) was the kid commenting on how his purchases may have left the household income a little dented and if he hadn’t done it (which he must’ve considered when he said that), then they would’ve more money. I don’t know what their socioeconomic status was, or really how mature kids are these days, or even what the age of the kid was. But I remember this one-off event as a slightly sad side effect of our country’s economic disparity.

Now that we’ve established that the world is utterly fucked eventually. Which I hope is not news to anyone. My climate change anxiety has been acting up lately. If a single cat named Tibbles can ‘accidentally’ wipe out an entire species (the Stephen Island wren), imagine the havoc we’ve wreaked on the ecosystem for all the years we’ve smeared the dirt of this planet. 

If you know me, you know how I once read the "Sixth Extinction" and since then I have not failed to tell anyone I know about how the coral reefs and frogs and insects are going extinct at an alarmingly fast rate. See, you might’ve picked up on the fact that I am occasionally a nihilist. But when I am not a nihilist, I am dabbling in the murky art of existentialism and the chakras align so, and I start on daydreaming about the day I’ll have kids, and then my bubble of pleasant thoughts is broken in a Horrid Henry-esque fashion by the bubbling of the oceans due to acidification, the climate weirding and the fact that the Jaman tree in my garden doesn’t give as much fruit as used to, even though nothing has really changed in its care. I know it’s all memes and fun, but all the world multimillionaires pursuing space travel with such zest and not doing anything about the current state of this world should not give rise to conspiracy theories, but point out a fact to us. No, not that the world is fucked, we already know that. I literally told you that less than 500 words ago. In fact, it tells us about the conquering nature of humankind which prefers to sully new horizons with its benchmark presence and conquistador flag, instead of fixing what it is breaking. Maybe they’re smarter than me and have already embraced the fact that there’s nothing we can do now to reverse the damage that has been inflicted. Maybe this is destiny, and inevitable. Maybe this is death and eventual. Maybe I am still in the first stage of despair; denial. I still think I am processing grief better than the group of scientists who want to bring the woolly mammoths back because they think they’ve the technology to do it, and because they’ve the bones to do it. I hope they realize this can only lead to two possible scenarios. A Jurassic world scenario but with Manny the mammoth who isn’t as congenial as he looks in Ice Age. Or an animism cult. I think the latter is more probable and they would probably give the ancient Egyptians a run for their worship of Bastet.

The other day we had to perform some experiments on a rabbit’s ileum, and we’ve disassociated so much from the subject we are studying that it is easy to not wonder where or how the ileum came to us for use. Well, we saw it all that day. The attendant had forgotten to prepare the sections of ileum before we came and we ended up looking at its dissection. I do not want to go into the details because mainly I am writing this for a small boost of acknowledgement in myself by ticking this entire piece off of my to-do list and any extra detail would be needless and perfunctory in nature. Plus I am lazy, and dare I say not skilled enough to really write a good description. What hurt me the most were a couple of students making videos of the entire process for whatever morbid curiosity. I think the rabbit deserves respect for its sacrifice, not to be ridiculed because you think it’s edgy to have witnessed such an event by incorporating it in your other works…Did I mention I am my own greatest critic? And has the irony yet dawned on you? Anyway, the world is fucked. I think I’ve said it three times now. Yeah well, it’s still not enough.

Maybe the way out of this existential quagmire that I seem to fall into with every step down the stair of melancholy is an interest in trans-humanism. I had read about it in science fiction and articles over the internet but I first started taking it seriously after Dan Brown’s Origin, which is also a science fiction novel at its heart and doesn’t read any different than a cheap, sensational article. Apparently, some people are way ahead of all of us. There’s this person, Neil Harbisson if my memory serves me right enough (and if I choose to not edit this after writing by looking it over the internet// Editor Mehwar here, I ended up looking at his name and correcting it from Borrisson to Harbisson.), he’s got an antenna stuck in his head. It is for more than just cosmetic purposes as it is connected to his brain. I am not sure what it exactly does, but as they say in Germany, I bet it is “cool shit” (cool shit is apparently looking at UV rays, admittedly it is still cool shit).

Now that we’ve got my angst out of the way, let me begin to say what I initially wanted to write it for. Surprising as it may be, it wasn’t to write about how I witness depression on the fly, existential crises, climate change, cat worship, rabbit guts or even cyborgs. Not even how fucked the world is. I wanted to write about what it takes to be enough.

It’s funny how this random guy from a slightly privileged family, who’s won a cricket world cup, and done some charity work can become the prime minister of a nuclear state solely based on his fame, or infamy depending on the group you belong to. What is even funnier is him promising change and failing to bring any sort of really positive change or at least flailing to bring about any appropriate execution of his plans. It gets even more fun. Because the people who voted for him, aren’t exactly satisfied now, and yet the other options are still worse. And here’s the punchline: He’s still enough. Because he could’ve lived abroad with his so-called wealth and ‘Oxfordian’ knowledge, and close to his other kids (though you really have to ask yourself how much of a family man he is when he has married thrice) but he did neither of that. While his competitors choose to phase in and out of the scenario whenever it is convenient for them, or whenever they’re paid enough, one way or another. And so just because he’s done the bare minimum, he’s enough.

I was thinking the other day about how there are a lot of heroes in Pakistan. A day doesn’t go by when we don’t see a local ‘hero’ saving the day by rescuing a kitten or rescuing someone they see drowning in a canal. You’d think with so many heroes, our society wouldn’t be, to put it elegantly, so shit, and yet it is. It is, and there are all these heroes but they’re good for nothing because, in truth, most acts of heroism are people doing their duty as a fellow human or living organism. If you see a man drowning, you have to dive in and help it you can swim and if you can’t then alert the concerned authorities. It is not heroic if you are a policeman and you see a man collapsing in front of a train and protecting him. Colour me strict, but when you dawn that suit and belt and make that oath you forfeit all privileges of calling life sacrifices as heroic. It is simply your duty. Is it courageous? Yes, but it is not something to give a medal for. On the contrary, a student, stopping a suicide bomber and sacrificing his life to protect his classmates or a soldier not yet trained in combat, sacrificing himself to protect state secrets against traitors, is heroic. Doing your basic duty and what you signed up to do, is not heroic. It is barely enough.

The problem with calling all men dogs is that when one behaves like a human being, something they’re genetically coded to do, fortunately (if it weren’t so, would that make any difference?) you start lauding him as astoundingly respectful or decent or just chivalrous. By setting the default state of that social group to a demeaning status, you term even the slightest of improvements and what should be the normal as exaggerated greatness. A man should not be rewarded in any way for respecting a woman. He should be cursed and punished for persecuting women. He should be praised for going out of the way to protect women in ways that he isn’t bound to do. And this goes both ways. By misandry and misogyny, you binarise the morals of an entire gender and risk deifying simple deeds that should not be worth mentioning. A man teaching his wife how to ride a motorcycle should not be the peak of equivalence. Is it a respite in the face of the overwhelming patriarchal monstrosities? Yes. Is it something that should earn him headlines? No. He’s just making sure his wife is well cared for and independent. He’s making sure she’s capable of doing as much as he is. He’s levelling the playing field and practising equality. Colour me stringent yet again, but he’s not the champion of women rights. He’s a man who’s holding his family together as witnessed in a single act without context, and that in my books should be just about enough.

What am I leading up to?

The next time, like me, if you ask yourself the question, am I enough? Am I sleeping too much, and doing too little? Am I doing too much and sleeping too little? What traits do I not have that X, Y or Z do? and what traits could I cultivate more? The next time you feel jealous or in any way that you’re not sufficient for any label or role in society, or the next time you’re filled with regret, tell yourself that you’re enough. Because you’re doing the bare minimum of living, eating and going through your daily routine. No matter how variable and laced with relaxation or ease it is. You’re enough because you exist in this world that should be inherently anti-natalist. You’re enough because that leader, that ‘hero’, that paragon of human rights are enough for the society at large. Heck, you’re more than enough if you can barely eke out your existence.

After all, isn’t this world absolutely fucked?

Lamentations of a dead horse

The sleeping man awoke, massaged his aching thumb and without need for an audience started exclaiming out loud.

My words are moot. I like horses and I am beating a dead horse. I didn’t learn of horses from a farm or carriages. I loved Boxer from Animal Farm and Black Beauty. Maybe because I have known them through books is why I love them. I killed her because she asked me to. A horse with no leg to stand on has no purpose. Why did I kill her? Because she asked me to. They shoot horses, don’t they? A puppet of a horse in a humanoid body appeals more to me than orators of high philosophy. The murder of god did not beguile him. Nietzsche went mad because he saw a horse being whipped to death.

I used to think that the deities and those that live beyond skies were moved by your actions. The flash of lightning was a god’s glare, and the rumbling of clouds their impending footsteps. Every cloud to me heralded to me the news of your latest sin. You could anger gods. Now you’ve fallen into the Devils good graces or the gods have lost their patience. The clouds come too often, full of tears that previously felt like divinity leaking from cracks in the horizon.

The humidity in the air frustrates me. It makes me feel like I am choking on something. It makes me cognizant of the congestion in my life. It cripples my thoughts and curtails every breath short. I am sure Seneca has said something about anger and how it shouldn’t be attributed to any cause. I feel no anger. I used to get easily angry. Now I just get frustrated.

Ammaan almost named me ‘Izzad’ which means God in Iranian. It would’ve done wonders to exacerbate my already crooked sense of narcissism. I would never change a single aspect of the life I have lived. I have regrets and have made mistakes, but I own them, and would not substitute them for a different set of miseries. Yet everyone else’s life is too faulty and there are so many better ways they could have, and still can live their life. I can only offer them divine advice. My son will be named god, if I couldn’t be. It’s funny how Christians call their God, father.

The way Baba ripped the wrapping sheet from his Father’s Day broke my heart. He did it with so much passion and energy. I have never seen that calculating, planning and ‘ever careful not to make a mess’ person do something so contrary to his nature. This wasn’t the first gift he had received. I wonder if the enthusiasm of opening the gift was also as tricky to decipher as the verve behind his voice whenever he acts excited on something that only excites me. Or something I did to try to make him feel better and which he knows should make him feel better, but it doesn’t. Because he is just a human. He isn’t the Father. His true holiness cannot be captured, it’s beyond revealed verses.

I don’t have pictures with the people I love. I want pictures with them where it’s just us in the frame and I am hugging them or doing something obscure that only makes sense to the two of us. A sanctuary of a memory. I don’t have many pictures of just me too. Most of my pictures of me, are pictures of me with a lot of other people. Why do I not let people take pictures of me? Is it out of a fear of a digital immortality? Or am I just afraid someone will see through my poorly fitted shirts and my attempt at being positive about my body? I wish I knew the answer.

Love has been touted to me like a honeyed morphine. I do not care for it’s taste, but for how much of it I can get. I want to give more of it away. What will I do by hoarding it except that it’ll go rancid. I wish I were more vocal about my love with the people I love. I wish the people I love were mature enough to say it back or courageous enough to tell me they cannot say it back. I have lived through the desert of people like a gypsy. I have stayed with no man for long. I have not let anyone affect me for too long. Your touch corrupts. I have much farther to go. To live by me, you must stop living, and pick up the purple crystal ball, the bright tents and become a gypsy like me. I am scared of living

Seeing a teenager wear a tie loosened to absurd proportions makes me teary eyed. It reminds me of simpler times when the tightness of the strap of my backpack was my biggest concern. I am here now. I have tricked myself into believing I have found peace here many times. The sight of blood does not phase me. The responsibility of having a human life under control of my flimsy hands that cannot even pour cereal without spilling it keeps me up at night. Maybe I’ll get more proficient when I grow up. Maybe I’ll just be bitter.

We sat on the bench in the middle of the park. And I saw a ghubaray wala playing with his son with one hand and holding all the balloons with the other hand. I thought how this might interest a certain person. I also thought I’d write a poem about it. But poems are too lyrical and have painstaking patterns which whether you like it or not you end up discovering. And once you’ve discovered them, the poem loses all of its charm, like the internal workings of a clock. Galaxies only feel alluring because we do not know what lies beyond them.

The full moon is behind the clouds; it’s shine gives the clouds a velvety border. The moon is concealed like the face of a dulha hidden by the weirdly lavish headwear the groom’s mother made for his wedding. He doesn’t want to wear it, but he must respect his mother’s wishes. He looks ridiculous. They have an unhealthy relationship. You’re not the sun because the sun can’t see itself rise and fall. It cannot see its beauty and it cannot know himself save for the shadow it casts over others and the way it lights up everyone else. It can’t ever be aware of its splendor. You can’t be the sun because you can do and be all of that and more.

All you have to do is look in the mirror. All I have to do is convert all my experiences into art. All they have to do is understand that it is what it is, but who will tell them this is it. All the slumbering man who woke to give a sermon to no one has to understand that life is not purgatory. And Dante who crossed through the entirety of the rings of hell, didn’t write a tragedy. He left the tragedies to the minor griefs. The highest forms of misery can only be understood in the form of comedy.

The next time you feel your eyes are about to rain; your throat clogged up; like God has deserted you; your mask defiled; your confidence shot; semblances of passion lost; pining for the past; ambivalent about the future; and dazed about who you are, stuck with an existential crisis, punctuated with bouts of gloom. If you find yourself here, do not despair. Chuckle out loud.

You’re not Othello
This is not a tragedy
Your life is a comedy
and you are Candide

Pitchforks

Weird how the pictures on two of my recent posts were from The Bride of Frankenstein

This post is about cats. If you are interested in cats, this post is not for you. If you are not interested in cats, this post is still not for you. If you found this post, this post is definitely not for you to read. I am not saying this to apply some reverse psychology where something you forbid becomes more alluring. Unironically, unless I sent this to you specifically, you aren't allowed to acknowledge that you have read it. Actually that's not exactly true. I don't know.

Put your pitchforks away before you proceed. Make sure there is a healthy distance from coals and sticks before you continue ahead. Ensure that you aren't naïve or gullible as you go ahead. More importantly, when you finish reading it, correct me. Enlighten me. I want to be corrected, schooled and learn. I am willing to learn more and be more clear about things that do not feel clear in this post. Also be warned, this writing is going to feel ambiguous too.

Like all other posts on this blog.

Before I give up the writing bug I have got right now, let me get into the main body of this writing.

Again.

Put your pitchforks kilometers away from here on forwards. I am only being cautious.

I have been having a hard time reading any books this year so far. In a desperate attempt, I have started reading three/four books simultaneously hoping that one of them would stimulate me enough to get more interested in reading them. One of these books was 'Feline philosophy'. I don't know but something about this book made me feel like it was going to be humorous. It was not. It was about philosophy. And I have nothing against that. It looks interesting. But I am just not interested in reading it right now, because I just finished another philosophy book. Nevertheless I ended up reading, one chapter-ish from the book. And I found this interesting line in the book:

"Humans philosophize for the same reason they pray. They know that the meaning they have fashioned in their lives is fragile and live in dread of its breaking down. Death is the ultimate breakdown in meaning, since it marks the end of any story they have told themselves. So they imagine passing on to a life beyond the body in a world out of time, and the human story continuing in this other realm."

Religion=Philosophy, question mark.

Duh. The month of Ramadan just passed, and I figured, I would read the Book. You know what I am talking about: the big Q (or the K, depending on how you want to translate the phonetical sound from arabic). I will not be mentioning the name, because I do not want this writing getting tagged anywhere around on the search engines with those keywords.

That might be a useless strategy though, since the rest of this writing is going to be me just talking about various verses that I highlighted. And just talking about them I guess. The reason I did this is, because I felt it was only fair I read and treat it as I treat other philosophical books, while still being respectful of its sanctity. I am going to try to refrain from any theological debates anyway. Most of the verses are going to be things I found interesting, new or ethically conflictive maybe. I do not intend to give the notion that these are the only verses that are important. Or that I do not need to read it ever again. I am fully aware, like all good books, reading it again would only divulge more meanings to these verses and accentuate bits that I glossed over the last time I read it. Since Arabic isn't my mother tongue and I don't really know it, I am going to be using translations from Sahih International and the explanations from here (This site showed me ads of a travel agency who will take me to Machu Pichu. I am not responsible if it shows you ads that may not be of the same nature, maybe don't be a weirdo while searching, eh?). Welp. The rest of this is going to be pretty boring. So if you stick by, enlighten me and correct me. Tell me how I am wrong. I am not sounding arrogant, am I?

2:14

And when they meet those who believe, they say, "We believe"; but when they are alone with their evil ones, they say, "Indeed, we are with you; we were only mockers.

Hypocrisy is one of the vices that is grimaced on anywhere in the world, regardless of the school of thought. It is disliked. I will go on a limb and say that certain belief systems that work secretly might even consider such acts of hypocrisy, deceit and treason. I am sure we have all heard and seen examples from dystopian plotlines where even stating lack of belief in something like ‘capitalism’ can get you executed. 

2:102

And they followed [instead] what the devils had recited during the reign of Solomon. It was not Solomon who disbelieved, but the devils disbelieved, teaching people magic and that which was revealed to the two angels at Babylon, Hārūt and Mārūt. But they [i.e., the two angels] do not teach anyone unless they say, "We are a trial, so do not disbelieve [by practicing magic]."1 And [yet] they learn from them that by which they cause separation between a man and his wife. But they do not harm anyone through it except by permission of Allah. And they [i.e., people] learn what harms them and does not benefit them. But they [i.e., the Children of Israel] certainly knew that whoever purchased it [i.e., magic] would not have in the Hereafter any share. And wretched is that for which they sold themselves, if they only knew.

This one is kind of cool. It tells about the origins of magic. And how jinns/devils used to eavesdrop on unknown divine information and tell it to soothsayers. After a while when the soothsayers got too trusting, the devils started mixing in lies with the real information. This perverted knowledge apparently got compiled into a book which Prophet Solomon got buried under a throne. It was dug out after his death, conveniently by people led by a devil in the form of a human, who allowed that book of Magic and falsehood to perpetuate. Then it talks about Harut and Marut. There is considerable discourse here on their identity. What is established however is that Prophet Solomon did not teach magic to the people. Instead it was Harut and Marut. Some explainers say they were merely two men in Greece, who taught magic and thus exonerated Solomon from that blame. Others say they were angels. The fact that they were angels and did wrong, is compensated by the fact that they were exonerating Prophet Solomon, and moreover they were teaching people whilst telling them that if they learn it, they are following the evil path and are straying. Thus they too were a sort of test. Quaint.

2: 169

He only orders you to evil and immorality and to say about Allah what you do not know.

This is said of Satan. I feel like this is just a good reference to come back to while discussing other verses. Also, this kind of implies that in themselves humans are good and were it not for the workings of Satan we would all be going to Heaven. Makes you think what Lutheranism and Catholicism have got going, huh?

2: 173

He has only forbidden to you dead animals, blood, the flesh of swine, and that which has been dedicated to other than Allah. But whoever is forced [by necessity], neither desiring [it] nor transgressing [its limit], there is no sin upon him. Indeed, Allah is Forgiving and Merciful.

Does this imply everything else is Halal? Not really, if you read the tafseer and corroborate this verse with others of such nature. But it really puts in perspective how a lot of things we do not even consider food, like seagulls, are actually Halal. My palate yearns for all those exotic tastes. Vegetarians minus one, heedless consumers plus one. No, but also maybe if we expanded our taste horizons we would stop abusing poor chickens by eating them so voraciously. Then again. Look what happened to the Dodo bird.

2:222

And they ask you about menstruation. Say, "It is harm, so keep away from wives during menstruation. And do not approach them until they are pure. And when they have purified themselves, then come to them from where Allah has ordained for you. Indeed, Allah loves those who are constantly repentant and loves those who purify themselves.”

I just don’t like the implication and the words that I have seen in almost all translations, that they are not pure. Why haven’t the translators used the word, clean? Same meaning but it makes the outlook so much better. Maybe I am just being nitpicky. A bleeding Muslim soldier in war would never be categorised as impure. 

2: 235

There is no blame upon you for that to which you [indirectly] allude concerning a proposal to women or for what you conceal within yourselves. Allah knows that you will have them in mind. But do not promise them secretly except for saying a proper saying. And do not determine to undertake a marriage contract until the decreed period1 reaches its end. And know that Allah knows what is within yourselves, so beware of Him. And know that Allah is Forgiving and Forbearing.

This one might be a stretch of an explanation and inference on my part. I know this one is specifically talking about women who are in ‘Iddat’ but, could this verse also be used to enable love? And yearning? Like is it trying to tell me that it is okay if I love a woman and desire her enough to marry her? I feel like this shouldn’t even be up for discussion. Nowhere in the big Q and no reasonable belief system would shun loving. It is only the vices that stem from excess of love like lust and greed or wrath etc that are not liked. Why then the stigma over loving? And why then are we supposed to hide our love for someone like a seed buried deep in our heart, waiting for it to be caressed by the constant ache there and watered by the circulation of our blood only for it to eventually be chopped down ruthlessly.

2:286

Allah does not charge a soul except [with that within] its capacity. It will have [the consequence of] what [good] it has gained, and it will bear [the consequence of] what [evil] it has earned. "Our Lord, do not impose blame upon us if we have forgotten or erred. Our Lord, and lay not upon us a burden like that which You laid upon those before us. Our Lord, and burden us not with that which we have no ability to bear. And pardon us; and forgive us; and have mercy upon us. You are our protector, so give us victory over the disbelieving people."

The ‘dua’ in the quotation marks is so powerful.

3:90

Indeed, those who disbelieve [i.e., reject the message] after their belief and then increase in disbelief - never will their [claimed] repentance be accepted, and they are the ones astray.

This speaks to me about so many people. But the real takeaway and the optimistic approach for me after reading this verse is that as long as you end your life on belief, you should be relatively fine. Take into account then, that no matter what belief system you were born in, you can spend your entire life in hunt for knowledge and trying to find the truth. And if you strive hard enough, the truth will eventually present itself to you. It cannot be the truth if it takes too long and is too hard to be discovered. And if this is the truth, the only condition for not ending up like the state in this verse is, to be in the pursuit of truth forever.

3:154

Then after distress, He sent down upon you security [in the form of] drowsiness, overcoming a faction of you, while another faction worried about themselves, thinking of Allah other than the truth - the thought of ignorance, saying, "Is there anything for us [to have done] in this matter?" Say, "Indeed, the matter belongs completely to Allah." They conceal within themselves what they will not reveal to you. They say, "If there was anything we could have done in the matter, we [i.e., some of us] would not have been killed right here." Say, "Even if you had been inside your houses, those decreed to be killed would have come out to their death beds." [It was] so that Allah might test what is in your breasts and purify what is in your hearts. And Allah is Knowing of that within the breasts.

This presents a classic example of destiny and what not paradox. I am surprised it is not quoted more often. I want to believe that this verse tells me that my fate is sealed. It is however up to me on how I reach that fate, and what kind of moral choices I make to reach it. Which is fine. I think.

Perhaps more on this later.

4:34

Men are in charge of women by [right of] what Allah has given one over the other and what they spend [for maintenance] from their wealth. So righteous women are devoutly obedient, guarding in [the husband's] absence what Allah would have them guard. But those [wives] from whom you fear arrogance - [first] advise them; [then if they persist], forsake them in bed; and [finally], strike them [lightly].4 But if they obey you [once more], seek no means against them. Indeed, Allah is ever Exalted and Grand

Strong oof. This is so blatant. I dont know if there is a way for anyone to finesse their way out of this and justify the slight misogyny here. Regardless, enlighten me if you think there’s more to this verse than meets the eye.

4:147

What would Allah do with [i.e., gain from] your punishment if you are grateful and believe? And ever is Allah Appreciative and Knowing.

This is perhaps one of my favorite verses. There’s no mention of any nuances or forms of worship or anything. It makes everything look so simple. All you need to do is believe and be grateful. That’s it. And if you ask me, gratitude should come automatically with belief. “And ever is Allah Appreciative and Knowing” just makes it so much better.

4:148

Allah does not like the public mention of evil except by one who has been wronged. And ever is Allah Hearing and Knowing.

The idea of reciprocity is very strong in le Book. You are only allowed to say bad things about someone if they have wronged you. You are only allowed to hurt someone back if they have hurt you. And I am sure in both cases, it is even better if you forgive or hold your tongue. This is in strong contrast to Epicureanism, where you are supposed to be indifferent to all abuse.

6:92

Not going to write the verse, but it mentions Mecca as the ‘Mother of Cities’ which is something I had not heard before. So I felt like this was worth mentioning.

7:22

Allah does not like the public mention of evil except by one who has been wronged. And ever is Allah Hearing and Knowing.

Why were there ‘private parts’ hidden by light in the first place? That’s just weird. If you say it is to make sure they don’t engage in lustful activities then may I remind you they were in heaven and they cannot technically sin there, you know, that’s the whole point. And if you say it is because they didn’t really need them. Ok, well, yes, you have a point, but also why are those ‘parts’ associated with pleasure centers in our brain? Were they not allowed to have that pleasure in heaven? Does heaven gate-keep pleasure despite being...heaven? Or was the evolution of ‘private parts’ (This is so childish) linked to pleasure centers somewhere afterwards during evolution when they were sent on Earth? Evolution proved inferentially, question mark.

7:175

And recite to them, [O Muḥammad], the news of him to whom We gave [knowledge of] Our signs, but he detached himself from them; so Satan pursued him, and he became of the deviators.

This is another story that I had never heard before from the Quran. Apparently when Prophet Moses came to Jerusalem, the people there asked a man named Bal’am to pray to Allah to send Prophet Moses away or not let him take over Jerusalem. They knew Bal’am was close to Allah but he told them that if I pray against Moses I would lose my standing with Allah in this Life and Hereafter. But the tyrants of that city kept on luring him till he buckled to their pressure and prayed against Moses, thus dooming himself. 

7:188

Say, "I hold not for myself [the power of] benefit or harm, except what Allah has willed. And if I knew the unseen, I could have acquired much wealth, and no harm would have touched me. I am not except a warner and a bringer of good tidings to a people who believe."

I will come back to the theme in this verse again. But really the important idea that I felt was worth mentioning here and countless times else is that Prophet Muhammad (SAW) was nothing but a warner. A news bearer. That’s it.

Surah 9: Al- Taubah

This surah is often quoted a lot by Non-Muslims because it talks about how Muslims should deal with the Non-Believers. I didn’t highlight any specific verse from this Surah, simply because I didn’t find any worth talking about. It is only when I finished it and started the next one, did I realise that I didn’t read ‘Bismillah’ before the last surah. So does my apathy and disinclination to find it remarkable mean that this is a low-effort writing? Or am I already conditioned in the Jihadist way and you are merely reading my transition into a full-fledged extremist? You pick whatever feels likely.

10:12

And when affliction touches man, he calls upon Us, whether lying on his side or sitting or standing; but when We remove from him his affliction, he continues [in disobedience] as if he had never called upon Us to [remove] an affliction that touched him. Thus is made pleasing to the transgressors that which they have been doing.

This is just Allah saying straight up facts, and calling us all out openly like that. Take this moment to be grateful and thank Him for all the times you got out of a bind. 22:11 does the job too.

10:88

This is Prophet Moses praying against OR cursing the Pharaoh which is interesting, because I didn’t think the Prophets were supposed to do that. Apparently even Propeht Noah does it in 71:26-27. What is even more interesting is their curses getting accepted/okayed by the Higher Power. Really makes you think about all the stuff they could have changed with their words.

11:118

And if your Lord had willed, He could have made mankind one community; but they will not cease to differ,

Why not?

I think there is a verse where there is talk about how even the Muslims will be divided into numerous factions by the Day of Judgement. Why is that? Surely it cannot be because the Guidance you sent is ambiguous. It is not, there is no argument over it’s interpretation (right?). Then is it because of man’s own search for power and the need to form smaller factions to gain power and autonomy over a group of people and fraternise with them? Maybe. I don’t know. You tell me.

12:31

So when she heard of their scheming, she sent for them and prepared for them a banquet and gave each one of them a knife and said [to Joseph], "Come out before them." And when they saw him, they greatly admired him and cut their hands  and said, "Perfect is Allah! This is not a man; this is none but a noble angel."

This verse is so (I used a f-word here in my thoughts but I’ll omit it from here for divinity’s sake) powerful. It is such a strong example/anecdote, or whatever you want to call it. I am definitely going to talk more about this and other such examples later in this writing. If this were not in this Book but in some other less entitled book, it would be such a raw and oft-quoted paragraph. It’s so good. No matter how many times I read this, it won’t lose its power. Imagine being so transfixed by someone’s beauty that you forget you are cutting lemons and accidentally cut your fingers. And imagine coming up with this plan to prove how the person you had fallen for was out-of-this-world beautiful. Couldn’t be me.

15:16

Indeed, We have placed constellations in the sky, and adorned it for all to see.

Nothing to see here, just me thanking God for doing this.

24:31

And tell the believing women to reduce [some] of their vision and guard their private parts and not expose their adornment except that which [necessarily] appears thereof and to wrap [a portion of] their headcovers over their chests and not expose their adornment [i.e., beauty] except to their husbands, their fathers, their husbands' fathers, their sons, their husbands' sons, their brothers, their brothers' sons, their sisters' sons, their women, that which their right hands possess [i.e., slaves], or those male attendants having no physical desire, or children who are not yet aware of the private aspects of women. And let them not stamp their feet to make known what they conceal of their adornment. And turn to Allah in repentance, all of you, O believers, that you might succeed.

Sigh. This ain’t the move. The only logic I can see behind this is, you do not want people to get unnecessarily provocated into lustful actions. Which is kind of dumb, considering we are not apes and monkeys. We are slightly evolved and have slightly more self-control. But I get it. He created us. He knows what is in our hearts. And knows how much self-control we are capable of. But, then could He not also have made us more stoic and less inclined to fall prey to passions? Like, again I don’t see the point in this. If you are going to ask one group to hide themselves but it still does not guarantee their safety, then what’s the point? Would it not have been better to just pump up the self-control in the initial recipe? But what do I know. I am not wise.

24:34

Do you not see that Allah drives clouds? Then He brings them together; then He makes them into a mass, and you see the rain emerge from within it. And He sends down from the sky, mountains [of clouds] within which is hail, and He strikes with it whom He wills and averts it from whom He wills. The flash of its lightning almost takes away the eyesight.

Beautiful imagery and description.

25:53

And it is He who has released [simultaneously] the two seas [i.e., bodies of water], one fresh and sweet and one salty and bitter, and He placed between them a barrier and prohibited partition.

This is going to shatter the world of WhatsApp uncles who share pictures of different colored waters with this verse as the caption. I googled and the first answer said something about a French explorer which sounded like bullshit to me. So I went to the Tafseer, and that makes so much more sense. 

Apparently this verse isn’t about two separate bodies of waters with an invisible barrier between them. Rather is it Allah making us count the blessings by telling us that the sweet water flows and we can drink from it, as it is fresh. While the stationary water bodies like seas are intrinsically stable, and salty. But they may have tides in certain seasons that ebb and flow thus making sure that the air in the world is constantly fresh and doesn’t turn putrid. It also makes sure that the dead of the sea do not float up to the surface and stay there. 

This explanation is a little boring, but it does feel more true.

26:224

And the poets - [only] the deviators follow them;

I am going to use this verse to segway into Imr-ul-Qais: the madlad. He has some really lewd and sexually charged poems. I am not going to talk about them here. I feel like they deserve separate writing some other time. Maybe the whole of Mu’Allaqah does. In any case, Imr-ul-Qais revolutionised the poetry scene in Arabia, so much so that when the big Q was revealed, people thought that such fineness in wording could not have been by anyone but Imr-ul-Qais and they went to falsely allege that certain verses were straight up copies from his works. No proof was found however. If you are interested and shameless enough, hit me up and I’ll tell you about his shameless love story with Unayzah.

27:20

And he took attendance of the birds and said, "Why do I not see the hoopoe - or is he among the absent?

Just taking this opportunity to show you this beautiful bird that was an envoy of Prophet Solomon.

29:2

Do the people think that they will be left to say, "We believe" and they will not be tried?

Also probably one of my favorite verses.

Rookie mistake guys. 

:)

31:27

And if whatever trees upon the earth were pens and the sea [was ink], replenished thereafter by seven [more] seas, the words1 of Allah would not be exhausted. Indeed, Allah is Exalted in Might and Wise.

Stealing this description when I run out of paper the next time in my letters, but not things to say. Cool imagery.

35:42

And they swore by Allah their strongest oaths that if a warner came to them, they would be more guided than [any] one of the [previous] nations. But when a warner came to them, it did not increase them except in aversion

Very true. Probably more on this later. I think. Remind me if you read this and haven’t addressed this elsewhere.

37:62

Is that [i.e., Paradise] a better accommodation or the tree of zaqqūm?

The Zaqqum tree is a tree rooted in Hell and fuelled by Hellfire. It’s just a terrible thing if you really want to imagine it. I couldn’t help but make the association of this tree and it’s description found in the Tafseer with the Yggdrasil from Norse Mythology. But Yggdrasil is the Life Tree. This isnt. 56:52 mentions the tree again.

38:82

[Iblees] said, "By Your might, I will surely mislead them all.

The most irksome part about this verse is: “By Your might”. In some translations the word might is replaced by Glory. Which is even more thought provoking. The Tafseer also did not talk much or clarify this much except mentioning other verses of a similar nature or those where Allah promises to fill Hell with Jinns and mankind till it is full 32:13 & 17:62. I don’t really want that. I want to talk about how it is clearly said here that it is only by His power that Satan will fill Hell with people. That if it weren’t for Him, Hell would be empty. We earlier saw the verse that pointed out humans do not sin except when triggered by Satan. And here we see it being mentioned that Satan does it through His might. This brings about the age old problem about monotheism and omniscience: “If God is All-Powerful, He is not all good. If He is all good, He is not All-Powerful.” This verse negates the second part of that statement. He is All Powerful. Then the question is, why does He allow that to happen. I suppose it is me asking the same question I asked earlier in why mankind had to be divided. Why is it that some of mankind had to go into Hell? One way of answering this is by saying that He is All-Powerful, and our fates are already written. And He knows what we are going to do. And for that purpose to help us reach our fates by the right way He sent warners. If we still mess up, then we go to the bad place. Does the logic hold? I suppose so.

49:17

They consider it a favor to you that they have accepted Islām. Say, "Do not consider your Islām a favor to me. Rather, Allah has conferred favor upon you that He has guided you to the faith, if you should be truthful."

I think that now this verse might be more for the self-righteous mullahs and the people who make the argument that they will do a certain religious act like say worship only because someone asked them to. They are not doing anyone any favors. Not the ones forcing beliefs and not the ones who do it for others. If you do it, you are doing it for yourself. For purely selfish reasons. It should be for yourself. Nobody else needs it, nobody else is actually going to be affected by the strength of your belief. I am not saying you aren’t allowed to preach but to really corner someone into following the same things is no bueno.

53:1-2

By the star when it descends,

Your companion [i.e., Muḥammad] has not strayed, nor has he erred,

The star mentioned here is the Pleiades

57:27

Then We sent following their footsteps [i.e., traditions] Our messengers and followed [them] with Jesus, the son of Mary, and gave him the Gospel. And We placed in the hearts of those who followed him compassion and mercy and monasticism, which they innovated; We did not prescribe it for them except [that they did so] seeking the approval of Allah. But they did not observe it with due observance. So We gave the ones who believed among them their reward, but many of them are defiantly disobedient.

Here the implication that the Christians not only invented stuff in their religion but then themselves did not even follow those properly implies that being morally good in itself has some merits even if the fundamental beliefs like Tauheed are compromised. And although they might not be enough to guarantee passage into heaven but it doesn’t hurt to be generally virtuous. TLDR, be good?

66:1-5

Tells an event from the Prophet’s life. To be honest just mentioning it because it’s an anecdote I had not heard before. Check it out if you want to from any of the tafseers. Nothing too mindblowing.

69:44-46

And if he [i.e., Muḥammad] had made up about Us some [false] sayings,

We would have seized him by the right hand;

Then We would have cut from him the aorta.

Just like the wording, the idea and the tone behind these. The fact that the aorta or ‘al-Watin’ is mentioned and how the Prophet can’t make up stuff because he’s enlightened by Allah himself.

109:6

For you is your religion, and for me is my religion."

I have always liked this verse. Despite its simplicity, it is lyrical. And despite it’s straightforwardness it speaks so much more. I also think it is neat how this is the last verse that I specifically highlighted. There’s definitely something to say on how it is in the last part and then one of the last surah’s of the Quran. This verse just sums it up beautifully. Despite everything, you do not have to force your religion or even your version of beliefs on someone. If you are on the right, and you know it, good for you. You are not bound to carry a stick or a mic and blare out what you think is right. You have no compulsion to rectify someone. At the end of the day, and the end of the world really, everyone will reap what they sow. If someone believes they follow the truth, and their truth is dubious for you, and yet they are not willing to change their mind then you aren’t bound to change them. And it really ties in neatly with a concept of stoicism that I have had a problem thinking about. This is a long stretch regardless but the idea that someone might be beyond help even if you only want the best for them and then giving up on them after recognising that your efforts won't make a difference is an idea that is mentioned multiple times in stoicism.

**

I know I know. You are pining to get your pitchfork back. You are saying Mehwar please I want to hold it again, how much longer is this going to go?

If you just wanted to tell me that you tried being a good Muslim, you didn't really succeed because you are being exhibitionistic about your virtue. And you aren't exactly being pious with your words. Whatever else you tried isn't even evident. Maybe you just wanted to vomit some words, Mehwar. Or perhaps you just wanted to feel entitled by saying you've accrued all of this knowledge when in reality, you've only pasted stuff you've read elsewhere or paraphrased other people's work and literature. It's fine. You've done that too and much. Its time now. Let us go.

Let me reunite with my pitchfork and torches and my very easily bent opinion and inability to question anything or think uncomfortable thoughts. I want to stroke the wooden shaft and feel the icy cold touch of the metal prongs. Can I please bring it closer to me now?

And to that I say,

Just wait a little longer

**

There are a couple things that don't really came to me from specific verses. They were themes or ideas that I found frequently reoccurring or thoughts I had while reading it.

Firstly some of the Surah names, I really liked. The sound of those Arabic words. I don't know why I haven't ever noticed that before. But I found myself trying to figure out why a certain Surah was called that, while reading it. 

I also noticed this pattern that there were Surahs like the Surah of the Poets. And others like 50, 51 were all written in short smoothly flowing phrases. So when you read it whether in Arabic or English, it comes out like a single symphony. These parts specifically made me appreciate the language and the tone of the Book. And how fundamentally each verse is a poetic verse. I think this is perhaps also why Arabic speakers find so much more beauty in it's recitation than others.

I cannot stress this enough but the stories in it are so powerful. They are enough in themselves to convince any man. As someone who has read a lot of books and loves the concept and deifies the power of stories, this is a goldmine. I believe that stories can change our worlds and make our perspectives fresher and change us quite frankly. And where this is a Book of philosophy, it is also a Book of stories, supposedly true stories. I wanted to make an index of all the anecdotes and the people and the places and the terms. But by the point I got that idea, I had already past the half way point of the Book and I might have still pushed through until I got swamped by other work that felt more important at that time and now feels stupid. The story of Prophet Younus; of the Bani Israel; of Prophet Yousuf; Ibrahim; and Isa and Zulqarnain and so many others. Each and every single one of them in itself is a powerful literary device. Maybe sometime in the future I will index them. Someone on the internet has probably already done it.

Now to some gritty connotations. One fundamental problem with theology and specifically Divine Books is that they are always making use of the 'Carrot on a stick' method. If you do the right thing/ walk the right way, you'll get the carrot. If you falter or stray, you will be hit by the stick from which the carrot is dangling. And you are supposedly ravenous for carrots. I have heard it said that the fact that such techniques are applied automatically void any worth these belief systems have because they are playing off of the human concepts of pleasure and reward. They are so to speak hacking the system. What makes them particularly even more fraudulent is the fact that you can't see neither the carrot nor the stick. They count on your belief to not only adhere to the guidelines but also on your imagination to convince you that the consequences are real. This should make religion a hard-sell. However, it is clearly not. Which should tell you that there is really a Greater Power out there, deserving our veneration. Or that the human psychology really needs an anchor to function properly as a society. I have deviated so much from my point. While reading le Book, I felt like there was no carrot. And no stick. There were only options. There was no compulsion on you to pick one, or associate one with good and the other with bad. The Book only tells you about what to do. And what the possible consequences are of your actions. And you might say, but oh, isn't it implied that unless you follow the book, you will reach the bad consequences. Duh! It does. It wouldn't be a manuscript of philosophy if it wasn't trying to sell itself. Every book on philosophy makes you end up believing that unless you follow that school of thought, you are the worst vermin to walk on the surface of earth and you deserve a fate worse than Kafka's Insectoid man in 'Metamorphosis'. To sum up, is there a carrot? Yes. Is there a stick? Yes. Do you have to obligately follow the principles laid down to reach one or the other? No. Do you really have to continue reading this? No.

And this is an amazing transition into what I want to talk about next. Countless times it is mentioned that the Holy Prophet is nothing more than a warner. I mean the word messenger says it in itself. I don't understand why it has to be embellished. It is just a person who gives a message. What makes them stand out is that they were virtuous enough to receive revelations. They didn't create anything. Like us, without His power and will, they could not do anything. It is He who made everything possible. And I think this is something not only the Christians in regards to Jesus but also Muslims should understand better that at the end of the day, he was just the (last) Messenger of Allah. Maybe what makes him better is the fact that unlike the rest of humanity, he didn't just preach, or wasn't all talk and no action. He showed the people through his Sunnah and Hadith how to act on the Divine messages he was receiving and transmitting forward. This shows the potential that the Book has if we are able to implement on it for even a fraction of it's teachings. Nevertheless, it is Allah who sent the Message in the first place which is apparently perfect and all the other adjectives (Please it's late and I am trying to finish it without omitting any crucial thought or point I have jotted down).

And that provides me with another amazing shift into the next and the last (I heard you visibly breath a sigh of relief) thing I have noted down here on my trusty Van Gogh mini diary that is more annoying than useful because its binding is so strong, it keeps on closing in on itself. The aspect I wanted to write about was the Muslim nation. I think we are really lucky and also really unfortunate at the same time. We are lucky because we got all these perfect products, right? There are going to be no more modifications after this. We are not supposed to wait for anyone. We got the final thing directly from the right person. There is technically no combination or permutation here to corrupt things up like other religions ended up doing. All we have to do is follow the guidelines, which is admittedly not that easy. Once we've done that, we are pretty much set for the figurative carrot. Conversely, we are also unlucky because unlike the other nations, there's little margin of error for us. We do not have a second chance. There will be no one coming to revise the core concepts or update us with new information. No one will come to warn us and tell us that you are on the wrong path. There will be no Divine intervention destroying some town which erred too much, but it is a town that you have heard about, and now you have seen His wrath first hand. There will be no such thing for us. Not evidently. We have to keep ourselves updated and apply this Book that is supposed to be complete with all knowledge that humanity will need till the end of time using Qiyas and Ijma on current world and ethical issues. 

You know what, and that is fine. I am going to end here, because really that is the point of this really long poorly written Book review. If you are one of those people that scroll till the end before reading something, STOP AND READ THIS RIGHT NOW: You don't have to read any of that. Just don't stop learning. That's it. That's my TED Talk. I had read the big Q before but never this way, and I learnt something. Did it make me a better Muslim? maybe not. Did it make me a better human? Arguably, yes. For I believe that any gain of knowledge is always going to put you closer to the truth. I sound so sanctimonious and full of bullshit. What the fuck is happening to me? Is this the first F-bomb? Am I going soft in old age? Oh dear God.

You know it's not complete till I have said my absolute favorite line from the Book:

"Get a load of this guy! Making WhatsApp styled quotation pictures and posting them!! He's really gone off the rocker this time"

******

Hey! Did you guys get your pitchforks back?

And did you figure out yet that the devil is characteristically shown to be holding a pitchfork?

Oops