'The right path'

They say God said, “In your journey of life, there will be a right path and a wrong path. Make sure you choose the right one.”

But sometimes it just so happens that no path is right and no path is wrong. And right beside them is a lush green meadow where you can always sit, relax and have fun. The lushness of it hypnotizes your mind enough to keep you captivated in it. But deep in your mind, you know that you can’t stay where you are. Life does not wait for you to go to sleep in the middle of it. To reach the end of the journey, you cannot be like the rabbit, who took a nap and lost to the turtle. You cannot slack off just because you are happy now or maybe because you cannot see beyond the next bend. The next bend may be strewn with spikes or loaded with flowers. And once you choose your path, there is no reverse gear. You have to go ahead and lose yourself in the wilderness.

If only God had put up pole signs saying, “The right path.” How much easier would it have been!

What is love?

Some say it is the heavenly feeling that makes you want to smile all the time.
How true! They could not have been more wrong.
YES! It makes you want to cry all the time. Love makes you miserable.
Misery of not being loved back.
Misery of not getting the person you love.
Misery of seeing him sad.
Misery of seeing him happy without you.
Misery of seeing him give someone else the attention.

Misery. Misery. Misery
Love is misery’s substitute or why else would the greatest lovers, Romeo commit suicide and Scarlett be so immensely unhappy. Don’t challenge me with all the magical fairy tales, Cinderella and Snow White. They were just that; fairy tales. There is no Prince Charming. Even if there is, he is someone like the magic of the Illusionist. Not really there.
But still love is what makes us go forward, it takes us on a roller coaster ride. A ride that we so want to enjoy but once we are really there, fear and anxiety grips us. We want it to end but once it ends, we cannot wait to get on the next one.

And they blame Islam

Is the US FBI Islamic? Then how come it is degrading a female* to such level and terrorizing millions of Muslims throughout the world? Only Muslims are supposed to be such villains. We Muslims are convicted with the charges of such brutality. Then happened to the FBI? I wonder; did they just accept Islam?
Should we start treating every American (or British for that matter) with suspicion and blame every one of them for raping Aafia Siddiqui? If every Muslim can be a terrorist then every American is a rapist. But since I am not a terrorist, every American is not a rapist. I cannot blame every American for the crimes of just one organization.
Where is Jean Sasson now? Is she going to write about the plight of this lady? Will she write the story of an oppressed Islamic woman or she only writes about women oppressed through Islam?
And this is just one person we know of. Are there more? Maybe and Maybe not.
I am but just one female muslim who cannot help but wonder. I am scared of being raped. For us, our respect comes from this
This is what I want to say to the FBI: When you do not let Muslims live peacefully, then maybe terrorist are left with no option. As a muslim, I can say that my religion advocates peace. Even during Jihad, it is forbidden to harm women, children and anyone who is not a party to the war. This rule always prevented me from accepting the views of the fundamentalists. But after the episode of Afia Siddiqui, I am forced to wonder if we have been pushed beyond our limits.
I plead with the Americans not to label every Muslim as a terrorist. Give us a chance to show that we are also peace loving creatures. Even if we are criminals then please let us be judged by a judge. Give us one chance to defend ourselves and save us from the fate of Aafia Siddiqui. Even if she was a criminal, worse crimes have been committed and the criminals still stand in the court. Then was her crime worse than a serial killer’s?
I know Muslims will have no effect of this because they have been rendered numb. We cannot feel for anyone because we are forced to think about our fate. But maybe others can make their government understand. Even if you don’t anything, I will understand that even you have loved ones to worry about.

*This refers to the case of Aafia Siddiqui, if you know her.

Spider's web

Caught in a web, have you ever felt like this fly who could not move foward. It could not stay where it is. The spider, like a god controls its fate. It fears the spider, yet curosity of wanting to see its God from up close brings its closer to the end. Will the spider leave or will it devour it? Is it better to know the end or wait agnozing moments to feel what is going to be painful in the end? Will the pain be any lesser knowing from the start or whether knowing it all the time is more painful?

Miracles do happen, right? The spider may have a heart attack. Do spiders have heart attacks? If they do, the fly will not be able to see its god from up close. Will that be tragedy or a happy ending?

Are you the killer or the thief?

You see a shiny white car. You love it. You want to have it. But you have no money.

Now you want to steal it!

But stealing is prohibited by law. It is wrong.

You murder your urge to steal. Now you are a murderer.


So what was better: the murderer or the thief in you?

We grow up when we dont want to...

When I was a little girl singing 'humpty dumpty sat on...', i couldnot wait to grow up, have long hair, wear gawdy jewelry but now that I have, I want to shrink right back to the old size.

When I was younger, I hated it when people asked others for advice. I later learned misery loves company.

When I was younger, I wanted to go to office and work. Now I know what it feels like, just like an office.

When I was younger, I wanted so much that now even if I got it, it won't matter like it used to because now it is not the same.

Terror visits the heart of a Muslim

Meet me... a terrorized Muslim girl. I get up very day, pray five times to my Allah and look up to my favorite people, Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and the great sahabas. And when I turn on the TV, my Allah and these favorite people are ridiculed in almost every channel. I feel sad. They charge them with great crimes, the greatest being insensitivity. I feel hurt. Every day a new terrorist emerges in the scene. I feel anger. And anger is the most dominant of the feeling. I don’t care how many non-Muslims condemn Islam. But I care when my fellow Muslims abuse my religion. They, the terrorists, make me feel cheated; cheated of the real spirit of Islam. Pardon me if I am not an Islamic scholar. Pardon me if I don’t speak Arabic. Pardon me if I can not quote from the Quran. Pardon me if I can not recite more than 20 ayats. But the small knowledge that I have of my Islam, condemns these terrorists. Even as a child studying my religion at school, we knew Jihad was compulsory but maybe the texts that I read outlined the wrong concepts of Jihad/ Holy war. The concepts I read of the war said:

1. Muslims will not be the first ones to attack
2. No innocent or someone who is not a party to the war should be harmed
3. Women and children are to be protected and not killed or used.

But still daily millions of innocents, women and children die under the cover of Islam. I cry. I plead. I yell. Stop sacrificing my religion for your sake. Sacrifice yourself for my religion’s sake. Accept peace or fight like a true Muslim.
Maybe they taught a different Islam at that time but I know that Islam is universal. It never contradicts itself. It loves peaces, protects its women and preaches honesty to its followers. This is the Islam I know, and I love it!

Is your glass half full or half empty

Half full or half empty, the glass still contains water is the way I see it. There are still chances of you being an optimistic or pessimist; if there is water in the glass. The water is like the hope that never dies; it is eternal like water is eternal. They say water is never eternal, it will dry out soon with the rate we are abusing it. And then will so shall the hope. The hope to buy a shiny new red Mercedes, the hope to get salvation, the hope of endless happiness, the hope to meet George Clooney, the hope to get married to the perfect spouse dries out when all the water in the oceans dry out. Use water, do not abuse it. Make the glass half full and not half empty.

The sign in the cross.

I think of what to do with it. I turn it over. I fold it. I make a cross on it. Finally, I crumple it and throw it in the bin. Another one wasted. Another one taken out. But ideas do not float freely today. I try. I cry. I demand. I juggle with the left half and the right half of the brain but nothing falls on the paper. The paper remains blank. Thoughts race with each other inside the brain but none reach the finish line. They either fall off, simple disappear or are still racing. Meanwhile, the paper remains blank. My fingers itch to write something on it but my brains forbids it. I write my name on it and the paper itches. I cross my t’s and make a cross over the ‘I’. A cross? Why did I make a cross and not a dot? The cross means this is not right. Is this a sign? A premonition? An omen that this is not the right time for the right idea? I stop to wonder about it. The ideas stop racing. The pencil stopped in mid air, I make up my mind. Now is not the time; maybe some other time. Crumpling the paper, I throw another one in the bin.