The Awakening

Oh my beautiful Lord...
What a beautiful world you have created

What beautiful sounds you have created
What beautiful words you have taught us

What beautiful sceneries you have painted
Oh my beautiful shaper,
What beautiful faces you have shaped

What beautiful fragrances you have created
What intense feelings you have blesswd us with

What beautiful skies you have painted
What beautiful phases of life you have gifted
What beautiful relations you have bestowed us with

What beautiful hearts you have created
Oh my beautiful Creator,
What beautiful creation you have created

In the lonliness, in the congregation
What a bond with me, what a bond with us; You have bonded

In the fastness of time, in the slowness of the Hour
You have awaken us, You will awaken us again

Thr awakening to Your presence
The awakening to Your Divinity
The awakening to Your existence
The awakening of Your persistence
The awakening of my existence
The awakening of my submission

Oh my beautiful Allah
Oh the creator of beauty
Oh the One who loves beauty
Oh the One who loves
Oh the One who is love
Oh the One
Oh the One and Only

There is no one but You
There is no god but You
There is only You
And I am here because of You

Sometimes

              'Jeet jeet ke zindagi guzari
                   Hun tu haar faqeera'

Although the streets of Sydney have taught me more about life than any other place, it's the lap of Queensland that makes me unwind. This is my third visit. Everytime, I never planned to come here. So how come every time I end up here? Destiny at its best.

Sitting under the hide and seek game that the clouds are playing with the beautiful moon of Shabaan. The soft sound of the tree branches as they are tenderly touched by the light breeze. I can only imagine how heaven will be like.

I swear to God I never planned this life. He chose it for me. And asked me to act. I act confident and assured,  but no one knows my shortcomings like He does. Although I have travelled a long distance,  I am still a long way to go.

I used to think I deserve all this. But then when I meet people who are way better than me, in one way or the other, it only humbles me and makes me realize that this is His genorisity more than my performance.

Subhan Allah just being alive and witnessing this amazing world is a blessing. It's not easy for me to define myself according to this identity or that category. I've been everybody and I've been nobody. Sometimes I feel like I've seen everything, only to be surprised by what comes next.

Although there are great learnings in gatherings,  there is greater wisdom in the gathering of the self to the soul. The rhythms of this song seem to be perfectly in sync with the flow of blood in my veins. I wonder what You think of me up there sitting on your throne all the way above the seven heavens.

I tried my best to crack the code of life. But honestly you might increase your knowledge but you cannot graduate in it. Different experiences lead to different specialisations. Sometimes I wanna stay on the surface, sometimes I wanna dive deeper. Sometimes I wanna look in the mirror and question, who is this creature.

I wish I could be true to myself. I keep shying away from my reality. Sometimes I'm like water, I blend in. Sometimes, my fire is diverted within. The philosophy of balance is yet to be practiced. I'm waiting for the shining star to finally shine. Sometimes I feel like the grains of time are slipping out of my hands.

I see that after all I've done,  all eyes are on me now. People waiting for my next move. They think that I have the luxury to choose. I raise my hands and ask for assistance. Because only He gives me the power to move.

The Hungry Lion

10 minutes to 7. Hot flat white on the table. Sydney Skyline, reflecting on the glass window. A blank expression on my face. A reluctant pen in my hand.

As time goes by, the fight will get easier. Either because you will start winning or because you`ll get too used to it. A new dawn is a new beginning, its a new chance, its a new realization. Yes, it can happen; slowly but surely. Battles are never easy, especially the ones will self. The troops might not always be ready, sometimes they are caught off guard and thrown in the battlefield. Adapt or die, a necessity in the jungle of life. 

Past achievements don't mean anything. Life is a constant test. Your worth as an individual is assessed on how you handle it. You will be tested in every arena and by every one. God will test you on the basis on temptation, people will test you on the basis on relations and dreams will test you on the basis of existence. 

You face the hungry lion, who sees you nothing more than flesh and bones. But the question is... what do you see? Do you see an intimidating beast through your lens of fear that can rip you to pieces or do you see an animal through your lens of superior intellect that can be tamed. Your outlook determines your destiny.

I remember having this conversation back in '08...
'One should always be ready... for everything in life', to what the reply of Professor Kashif was, 'It's not that easy, Suhail'.

'There are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand'. 

                                                  -Khalil Gibran

Yes, I didn't understand it then. Yes, its not that easy. It takes practice. It takes constant action. It takes stepping out of your comfort zone. 

In this world, we see many angels turn into monsters. They don't even realize when that transformation takes place. There's a monster in all of us. Some stronger then the other. But there's also an angel. The monster is harder to control, and the angel is harder to converse. They both don't necessarily have to be against each other. Maybe, in some cases they find a common ground. Maybe the monster's energies can be diverted towards the betterment of an individual, and maybe the lightness of the angel can improve the view of this dark yet unveiling world. 

You know why they say, 'looks can be deceiving'. Maybe because appearances are not the accurate representations of a person. 

People choose the way they look. 

What is this. Why is human need not satisfied. More and more and more and more... You have any idea how much control and patience one needs in a world full of temptation and vulnerability. 

My whole life has been a constant fight between being happy with becoming what I want to be and despising about the fact regarding who I really am. 

I've seen millions waste this precious thing called life. Some, over surviving. Some, over pleasure. Some, over emotions. Chasing something that's not even worth chasing. Sometimes I see myself going down on that road... and suddenly...I'd question my steps. Life can't be just that. There has to be something much more than all this. 

The Aged Hermit & the Citrus Society

It started with a vague plan on Saturday night. A place that is nearby and is worth going to. Google maps shows me names that are more abstract than the names of Pakistani cities. Taksa-sila. The Buddhists, the Greeks and now under the hand of... the 'Desi's. More specifically, the Pakistani Punjabis. After our 'Buddhist Homage' (such a misleading word), we're suppose to visit Khanpur, for three different reasons, but more on that later.

Zero Seven Hundred Hours. I`m searching for my shoes instead of initiating ignition. No worries, fifteen minutes later I`m on the way. I`ll make it by 8 at AQ's place. Well, Pakistan's winter doesn't seem to agree. Foggy foggy. Emergency lights on. Luckily, the fog is gone by the time I reach the first traffic signal of Islamabad Highway. I reach my destination by 8.15 am. I put on my 'Chitrali' cap, which I bought earlier from a Pathan, who convinced me that even Punjabi's wear it. 'You look funny man', AQ greets me with a grin. 

Just before getting on Kashmir Highway, we are stopped at the G-10 'naka'. The cop asks me what I do while he checks the registration papers. 'Where are you going?' 'Taxila'. 'Oh, to visit sites. But do study as well...'. By 9 am, we arrive. 'Taxila Museum' just opened. 'This is a UNESCO World Heritage Site?' AQ inquires, while I buy a 10 PKR ticket. While AQ reads the information on the board, the guard looks at him in a typical desi way and tells me that he's suspicious that AQ's not a Pakistani. 'Really?'. Foreigner ticket '200 Rs.'. The administration must have sat together one day and must have thought, 'Let's rip these foreigners off, if they can afford to come to Taxila, they can afford to pay 200 PKR, can't they?'

Inside, as a guide shows us different remains, we ponder on how basic ways of living haven't changed in millenniums. They used to use coins, water filters, toys, armor and cooking utensils... so do we. We walk across different sizes of Buddha heads, with their eyes closed perfectly safe behind glass windows. AQ is in a troll-y mood, and while I look at artifacts with awe and seriousness, he makes me notice this small 'Aged Hermit in a Cave', the way he says it adds emphasis of his condescension. I walk a few steps the other way while I break into laughter. The guide takes us in a closed room, where there is a 'sleeping dancing' mannequin. I`m not sure if she was sleeping while dancing or dancing while sleeping. We leave, have breakfast across the parking lot. We talk about religions and the tolerance among them, while the combination of the sunlight and tea wakes me up again. 

We continue straight and see the sign board of 'Mohra Moradu' pointing right. After I take right I see another board on the way, I ask Nadir, a kid on a cycle where MM is. He tells me to go straight. Thank you, Nadir Shah. We get to MM and a very narrow small drive-way leads to the parking, on which I`m about to make the car fall off, before AQ alerts me. We meet a Vietnamese guy who really came to pay his homage, not like me who confuses the word with 'bondage'. 'He's on a spiritual journey', AQ tells me, while the guide there tells me he came on 'Chinkchi'. MM has a very different atmosphere. Its kind of isolated and very quiet. Its covered with a few hills and has a mysterious feel to it. We see the famous Stupa. The guide tells us Buddhists take 7 rounds of it and it is very holy for them. We see the meditation cells of students and their teachers and I wonder to what degree would their meditations differ. The guide goes irrelevant for a while, telling us about how the Hazara region is now a part of KPK, and he doesn't like that. After spending '28 years' telling people about Mohra Muradu, his next mission in life is to 'get Hazara back' with an emphasized 'insha Allah'. As we walk back towards the car, AQ sees a flock of sheep walk down a hill and is enticed by the view. He wants to take a picture, he asks the sheperd, 'they're yours?'. '50 rupees per picture', he replies. While I judge my feelings towards the response, AQ burts into laughter, and I decide to take it lightly too. 




We drive further north. Reach 'Jaulian Remains', which is supposedly similar to 'Julein', a British woman with some relevance to the place. It used to be a university. While we have tea with the suvenier guy before going upstairs, he tells us how things have gone worse. 'There used to be a lot of people who'd visit from abroad during the Musharraf era, since then things have gone worse. Still people come, but not as usual. Even prices were in control back then. The prices have increased, the wages haven't.' 'Hmmm. Yeah. Where does that road lead to?', I inquire. 'Its closed for civilians. Only for the army'. As we walk upstairs, AQ is evidently disturbed. We see a tiny bridge that is made for a water stream. I've never seem a bridge for water before. '200 for the foreigner'. AQ gives the expressions of Jamie Foxx from Django Unchained, and his 'D' isn't going to be silent for long. Jaulian is a worthy sight to see. As we walk back downstairs, a guy is standing in the middle of the stairs. 'Who is this guy now, the river worshipper?'. AQ, doesn't even bother to whisper that as I laugh off at his remarks. The guy's there for a reason, he shows me small Buddha heads, which I sponteneously reply with 'masha Allah pyaray hain'. 

We head north-east. This time I officially enter the jurisdiction of 'KPK'. We pass by several Orange stalls. I stop by a lonely stall for checking 'Google Maps' at AQ's iPhone. I talk to the guy. 'I don't know, brother. I`m from Multan'. As I drive off, I think out-loud, 'hhmmm.. a guy from Multan selling oranges in a lonely stall in Khanpur'. 'Competition, bro', AQ acknowledges. We reach Khanpur Dam. Rent a boat. The sight is beautiful. Seems like a view of Ladakh. I've never seen water so blue in Pakistan, then again I haven't seen Pakistan much. On the walk towards the boat, I see a beautiful Pathan 5-6 year old girl. Shes wearing a pretty dress and two plastic bottles. Her elder sister is selling chips of a brand that is unknown in the mainstream world. The boat ride was relaxing. I look back, and the driver seems to be putting water in the motor. I don't bother asking if it runs on water or what. 

Time to go back. Time to go south. We head back, buy a few oranges from a farm. Two types, 'Blood malta and Shakri malta'. They're half red, we came a week or two early. On the way back, as orange trees move in the b.ackground, AQ declares Khanpur a 'Citrus Society'. A sign board saying, 'Bhir Remains' brings the best out of AQ's humor. 'Remains my arse. They destroy a few things and call them Remains, and make money out of people. There should be a 'Shit Remains'. 

The journey ends in F-10 Markaz. On questions of a life that is nothing more than 50-70 years. After that we`ll be history. So what exactly is what worth?