Friday, December 25, 2015

Muslikem couldn’t contain his happiness; after all he could now flaunt his vibrancy and glow publicly. The imagination, beauty and freshness of conception never appealed to him.

He painted his existence with a riot of colours and carved minute details of reality and character on his body with vividness that pointed towards his elevated morality.

Morality?

Yes, he was a fine gentleman, always spending his nights in the lord’s house; away from the sins that engulfed his mortal associates. He never raised his head during those blessed nights when he would only weep and seek forgiveness.

For what?

Muslikem always began his prayer by putting all his strength into his soul, body and mind to focus on the great Lord…. He made sure nothing distracted him, not even the scent of that beautiful Hijaban who swept the courtyard daily after men were done worshipping and connecting to the lord. Her concealed reality angered him. He wanted to see more; but she was there to make the lord happy and not men. She shrieked when they made contact with her, barked when she saw them peeling down their threads.

She never ran away…. Never…. Her job was to clean once they finished….

Muslikem would stand up, stretch, prostrate, sit and do everything he could to please the holy Lord. He would wrap his mounds of flesh into layers of chadors and never raised his head. He saw the Hijaban do that when her friends would come to visit her every few months. She fascinated him; aroused his curiosity but his duty towards the great Lord compelled him to never leave his prayer mat. His mortal associates laughed at his helplessness but he knew this was temporary. Permanent was what he was yet to experience…

It was a new dawn, or was it just another day when sky was a bit clear and things didn’t seem that blurred? He blamed it on stints involving extreme pleasures of the carnal nature. On one holy occasion he ended up indulging in a notorious debauchery and had to face the wrath of his Lord. It was a night of all vices, flattery, avarice, arrogance, deceit, gluttony and treachery. He wasn’t happy with himself but he knew holy spirits are kind. Hijaban told him they are…

It was his last day there and he wanted to make contact with her but she couldn’t be seen anywhere. The courtyard was empty and there were no other worshippers praying or devotees swaying and tripping. The courtyard was covered in a thick layer of dust and someone had to sweep it before all those pious people started thronging the lord’s house for the sunset service.

He ran away… eloped with his malignant spirit.

Play with the fire, it transforms

I sat there, laughing at her misery and suffering. She was sprinting back and forth to ease her discomfort but I refused to help her. She looked at me helplessly but I decline to acknowledge her presence. My haughty and disdainful attitude failed to bring any succour to her impotent and bewildered existence.

She was hanging on by a thread, trying hard to seek some kind of assistance and help. She repented and tried to slough off her vile alter ego but it was futile…. Too late I must say. She had sinned, she had tempted fate by indulging into sacrilegious destruction of her holy carcass. She was fragile and would always descend from her citadel, slowly in a whirling mist of slush that hypnotized the human eye. But today she regrets and mourns the death of her prestige and oddity; after all she was special and distinctive.

She commemorated the sacred festival by embarking on a holy journey, thinking it might wash off her sins, but the journey would be her last and she would be immortalized as someone who tried. She did dhikr, a devotional act of showing loyalty to her supreme being. It was surreal; people were fascinated by her devotion and zeal. Nobody knew that she would never be seen again. Her prime aim in life was to chase any thing that remotely hinted of divinity. She left behind this mortal world and the schism that divided the divine world from the physical one. People saw her crying, herd her chanting hymns but she was inconsolable.

She walked for days, hoping to make in time for the big day when everyone will rise and stand together, hand in hand. She was wrong… such sacred journeys take years and great deal of commitment. She had grossly romanticized her devotion. She was nothing compared to other people standing with her. I felt sorry for her but I had promised myself that I would sit and watch her demise. I felt horrible but I had to stay committed. It was all about loyalty and allegiance.

I never saw her again as her wrongdoing consumed her reality. A traveller saw her body wrapped in a shroud being whisked away from the gathering. There were speculations that she died without a veil. Nobody could confirm it as her end came in solitary confinement. She was put there because her wailing and shrieking frightened the masses. I regret not being there to witness her demise. What a captivating sight it would have been.

I was told that a few days before her passing, she would move in repetitive circles. That was her way of reaching the state of excellence. She would cry and whirl, hoping to ascend to the celestial bodies like a ship sunken ages ago is brought up to the surface and to a state of wakefulness. Did she really rise…did she really ascend?

Her absence haunts me. Did I court danger by not helping her; did I venture out into a territory where savages and sadistic creatures rummage though abandoned premises looking for their next victim? But I am content, as I didn’t see her in her last days. My absence ensured I had nothing to do with her demise.

I can now go and sleep…

Disclaimer
 Dear Reader/Visitor

This piece is meant to be consumed as fiction and entertainment.

No one’s child

And I laughed at her for telling me she is now two, one part her and the other you
A weasel has no place and he is what? A Christian Muslim or a Jew?
She blamed me for her own weakness, coward she was not me, an unwed mother she going to be
I broke the shackles and ran away, eloped with my shame, a person she never knew.

Go away and be on the streets, sell your body, stand in the queue
Your existence is no more, an entity of desire you were…. You always knew
Now go away, don’t look at me, those teary eyes and blank stares
A desire you fulfilled, a dream you must forget, my love for you? Was it really true?

Your existence ceased, but your face enchanted my heart, the sky never so bright, never so blue
But, but you failed me, the color drained, the companionship gone, reality we must dip into
The threshold of morality society dictated, we rejected, took the blame
But now I see you crumbling down, falling apart, I am a man, and and what are you?

Hide your shame, fear the world and face the wrath, I forced you out when the cold wind blew
Abandoned you were, weak and exposed, vulnerable, walking on the grass wet with dew.
But you are no more! Reeked of dirt and revenge, filth and lust, disgrace and humiliation.
Your mistake? Unlawful, the verdict? Guilty as charged. You looked powerless and we all rejected you