Return.

On the Spectrum of Light.
There is a Cause. An origin.
It causes an effect.
An effect turns into a smaller cause.
Leading to another effect.
Cause effect cause effect.
Copy of a copy of a copy of Original.
Somewhere on the spectrum, the subsequent effects move away from the Ultimate Source Cause, and in their moving away, they keep veiling in colors. From Light to Darkness.

Amid the spectrum; stands a dervish. Whirling to the rhythm of the Cause. Yearning to defy the effects and meet the Original Cause. His struggle however is not linear on the spectrum. In his yearning, lies the circular struggle. He travels between Light to dark to dark to Light.

A figment of Light enlightens his moment, just as he loses himself in the shackles and confines of obsessions and worldly effects. He then again struggles and yearns to meet the Cause. The struggle continues.

All on the Spectrum of Light. Spectrum of Spirituality.
Origin and the Return.

Inspired thought: Mulla Sadra/Khalil Jaffer.

Closest that I could ever be

I dont know what I've been blessed with.

Juggling with her in my arms on the right while struggling to type from my left as she dictates.

From thoughts to blog running every feed session, I feel my only blog has become this little one in my arms.

Despite wanting one, despite praying for one, despite expecting one and despite delivering one last month; despite all these despites, I actually dont know what I've been blessed with.

Staring into these eyes and realizing how a human rejecting all arms and efforts of others is crying her lungs out only to cling to you is a very very intense and deep realisation to conquer. Imagine, at the age of 28, in this whole wide world, there's a human who doesn't want anyone besides you. Now recall. Has any human ever needed you so purely before in all these years. Nope. This need. This pure need is intense. Addictive. Impending a heavy sense of 'Here I am' but hesitant as arms of weakling mere piece of flesh accepts a strong piece of existence in her arms.

As I hold her, the distance between sultana as a mere human prone to mistakes and Sultana as a mother that a pure soul is clinging for is immense.

Sultana as a mother puts sultana as a human in backseat. Crushing the guilt of all these years of wrongdoings, Sultana as a mother takes charge to be the best self to this little one. Without even consulting Sultana as a human. Sultana as a human is too far ashamed to hold this blessing anyway.

I don't know what I've been blessed with because I don't know how God can bless the purest piece of His creation into arms of mere humans filled with years of dust, dirt and distance from God.

Perhaps then, Zainab is not dependent on me. She infact is merely dependent for her worldly needs. Sultana on the other hand feels immensely dependent on this little guide that in mere 30days has already and strongly crushed and selfishly burnt all past years of everything. She seems to be already challenging and realigning the concept of Humanity and Love.

She is deep and intense. Her gaze converses far more than my years of knowledge.

I, I am weak and fragile. Ashamed of existence in front of the purest.

Even my realisation is shallow. She cuts through the worldly crap to reach the Human I never knew existed.

In between diapers, poops, endless crying sessions and every hour feeds, she guides my words and dictates my thoughts and pens down in my heart what I have never known.

Strangely. She tells of worlds and thoughts so peaceful and beyond the mundane.

Nope. I don't know what I've been blessed with. I know as of now she stands as the closest connection to Him. Far above and beyond the limiting concept of a mere result of biological reproduction. She seems to speak of Peaceful worlds, of mystical sense of some entity all encompassing and Magical.

To the world it maybe blabbing of a new mom, to me every bit so rational so logical yet so mystical.

The closest glimpse of what Life is and could be. The closest whisper of Absolute Purity, Joy and Humanity, her existence telling tales of universes unknown.

She is the closest that I could ever reach God.

at least be free in this world.

Hurr (Arabic for free thinker). He was the man responsible for stopping Hussain's caravan in Karbala and restricting their water access while waiting for further orders from his seniors. Night before the battle, he finally gave in to his internal struggle and surrendered to Hussain, joining his forces to wholeheartedly fight for a cause. He broke out of his social pressures to choose a side he freely thought to be right.

You choose.
You choose a narrative to believe in.
You listen, read, learn, think, acknowledge, choose and decide to follow a certain narrative. A certain happening. A certain cosmic event.

So today, don't tell a tale of delusional unity where you exist in two narratives. Where you believe in a war of two rights or lesser right and rights. For when two stand, one is an oppressed.

Don't convince yourself of sweet illusions of existence of grey. There exists plain black and plain white.

As striking and brutal it sounds, there exists polarized Right and polarized Wrong.

Be free enough to choose then.
Be confident enough to first read unbiased narratives, independent of heritage, childhood and lineage broughtup and read.
Then decide. Choose a side you're convinced of.

Just like today, you have come to believe how Hussain and Karbala is for all, come to believe that Hussain and Karbala existed in the Realm of striking Right while negating  striking Wrong.

In as much as Hussain teaches Humanity, it imparts the knowledge of courage. Courage of standing for the Right and fighting for it.

You can't possibly be selling 'Hussain is for all' while blurring right and wrong.

Once you say 'Hussain is for all', you are endorsing the fact that He stood for Right while the other stood for wrong.

Once you claim his notion for Humanity, you are standing up to recognising and fighting Oppression and Injustice within and outside.

Once you claim to respect him, you are joining the one who fought against him. 1400 years ago to till this very moment and beyond.

Don't make him exist like facebook Rumi where you swiftly and fluidly twist and turn his mission to fit a skewed definition of Peace and Unity.

For He is the man who stood for Peace and Unity while dying a death for rejecting oppression.

Those who understand His mission don't mourn the physical brutalities inflicted.

Those who understand His mission mourn the moment when he looked around wondering where His grandfather's supporters, followers and companions' families had gone as he stood alone asking one last time if there was anyone to help him.

He was the grandson of the man who happens to be a universal figure of Peace and Humanity and the Last Prophet of 2billion around the world.

So when he says today if there is anyone there to help him, you can't possibly be joining him without negating first absolutely all the forces and intentions that stood against him then and that work against His struggle for Justice today.

He wholeheartedly welcomed Hurr to join him. He compassionately forgave him. For he saw a free thinker in Hurr. He saw Hurr in Hurr.

As he addressed his enemies one last time, clarifying his defensive stance in the war, he said "If you don’t believe in any religion and don’t fear the Resurrection Day, at least be free in this world."

So if you really believe in joining His cause, do so while freeing yourself from the shackles of emotional biases and sweet illusions of believing in two opposing forces as right simultaneously. You can't respect his enemies or likes of his enemies while endorsing his mission. Be you then be from any sect, faith, no faith.

And that is how he stands Universal.

Process.

When you turn to the world.
The world seeks you. Bogs you down with the shackles of expecting contact. Constant contact. You don't seem to feel the conversation over the digital.

You turn back to the real world. Books, you stare at them. They are silent. The words. You recognise the words.

You remember seeing them poured out through you.

You suddenly remember the mind. Ah the mind.

You turn your gaze and stare blankly. Your blank gaze, blinking so often as if expecting the mind to respond. Where are the words you wonder. Where are the thoughts you ponder.

As if being caught in the midst of a sudden halt om some batch processing belt, you look right, you look left.

You look at the paper. Emptiness of which makes you look back at the mind.

You stand in the middle. The only source. The sole source of ensuring the smooth processing of batches of thoughts.

You try ascertaining, is it the words not passing through the belt or is the clogging of too many thoughts to pour out.

You fear a fallout.
You fear failing.
You fear breaking the process.
You fear losing the job your mind had dutifully assigned to you.
You remember of days, you pick up crunchy papers of thoughts and thoughts.
Of the days when mind seemed to entrust you.

You pick up an old one and inhale deeply. As if asking the words to take you there.

You travel in time to the day when the Mind had chosen you. Words. Thoughts. Through me? No way. You had wondered. Pondered.

With absolute fear, complete lack of faith you had started with trembling fingers.

And once you started, you didn't stop. Like a typist in the courtroom. Tuck tuck tuck. typing as it all proceeds.

You're nothing but a mere part of the process. That little gear in any mechanical working that keeps the flow going.

That little piece in the watch that keeps the time going.

But what if the piece fails. The ticking stops. For watch, the Time halts.
For the one wearing the watch, he gets it replaced. He gets it fixed.

You are jerked back to life as you hear the batch processing restart.

And there, you see. The first words, the spurt of few words. Few thoughts. Merely coming out.

Admist all this, you stand yet in silence as your fingers tremble.

Disturbing isn't it? Well. Face it.

It begins silently. Subtlety.
When a mother is told to be good and share the joy. When she is told to let others experience the joy too.
"Here, we'll handle the child, you go enjoy yourself."
"Get your child off breastfeed for a while, for convenience, otherwise your child will simply be stuck to you."
As you grow, here, go hug this aunty. aww, go uncle is asking for a cheek kiss.
That stern gaze that falls upon a little one when pressed to sit in some uncle or aunt's lap.
That awkward moment when the mother is pressed to let her child be sent to a relative's house for joy.

It all starts there.
In ways so subtle.
There is no excuse from working mother to housewise.
From educated to uneducated. To those living in nuclear to those living in joint families.

It all starts from teaching our child to silent his/her natural birth right over his/her body.
It all starts from worshipping culture in the name of 'respect'.
It all starts from snatching the right of being respected as a child and giving it to an adult.

It all starts when we visit Bangkok, Thailand for honeymoons, in our wonders of magical time, conveniently choosing to ignore the plight of children suffering amidst that makeshift dungeons of beauty.

It all starts when we change display pictures for Army Public School victims while feeling uncomfortable about the Kasur children.

It all starts from a mother trying to protect her child being labelled as paranoid.

It all starts from an old aunt stern fully gazing at your lose shirt and jeans making you realize how ashmed you should be of your body as you are taken to change into 'kameez shalwar' for that's the culture. Lest do they know, dark truths don't care from jeans to shalwar kameez.

It all starts from within.
Outside the world is beautiful. Birds chirping and singing praises of joy, as somewhere, right now, sits perhaps a child hiding in the darkest corners wondering what it was.

It all starts from within. You and I. We welcome a child in the world and let the devils unleash. For all we care, in the name of culture, society, shame, denial and power.

For all we care, even the topic makes us uncomfortable. Bitter. Sad. Rather than making us frustrated and protective.

Love.

There is emptiness within.
To ease the emptiness, we reach out to the world.

Emptiness often is the unsaid, unknown, unheard of guiding force within causing us to reach out.
Give this emptiness any name.  Any word, description, title, emotion.

When we reach out to ease it, we call it Love.

We reach out thus to humans, to pets, to children we bring in this world and to the things.
In the name of Love we reach out.
To extinguish the emptiness within.

However, in our bid to do so, we end up worshipping the lover.

We reach out to shopping. Retail therapy. Until it exhausts us.
We reach out to career. Until it exhausts us.
We reach out to political power. Until it exhauts us.
We reach out to humans. Until they exhaust us.
We turn bitter.

We expect the things and people to reciprocate the Love in the way we want them to.

We want money, power, shopping to quench our ever growing thirst the way we want it to.
It fails us.
We expect humans to reach back to us in our ever growing thirst of them in just the way we want them to.
We get frustrated.
Tired.
For they fail us.
For they fail our expectations.
We do so much for them.
They. They fail to return just enough.
They reach out when they want something.

We forget.
One basic rule.
You and I.
We began reaching out for a reason.
We began loving for a reason.
Reason to quench our own emptiness within.
A reason for my own self.

When we love others for the sake of what we did for them or even for the sake of merely loving - we are inevitably worshipping them.
Case of misguided Love.

It is only when we Love for the sake of Divine that we love without returns.

Don't love like a tradesman that expects gains and returns.
Don't love like a hopeless optimist that expects good from anywhere in the world.

Love like you love your Lord.
Evolve to Love Him for He is Worthy.
Evolve to Love others for He created them worthy of Love.

Love others for His sake. Whether a loss or a gain. An emptiness filled. A reason satisifed. Reaching out thus for His sake. Loving hence for His sake.

Know where you stand know.
Know your emptiness within.
Know yourself inside.

Fill it with Your Lord.
Fall for Him first.
The illusions of failed expectations and people will dissolve.
You'd see bigger beautiful reasons to Love and Cherish.

You'd love the hated, You'd love the selfish and You'd love the love of Humans.

For you were created to Love with just one reason.
For you were created to Love for His sake, not for your sake or not even for the sake of Love. For love for the sake of love is an illusion as it runs the error of assuming no Divine.

How could there be Love without the Lover of lovers.

I do nothing but wonder.

History narrates how years ago, on this day, cousin and son-in-law of Muslims' last Prophet was attacked and killed while he was busy offering his prayers. What he said as he was attacked is what leaves me wondering.

I wonder at this man who utters his success when his enemy attacks him.
I wonder at this man's nafs that makes him utter so.
I wonder at this man's level of Nothingness.
His passion to be who he was.
I wonder at the loss of words to express what he could or still can mean to me.

I wonder just by looking at the shape of his words.
I wonder just merely by quoting his quotes.
I wonder just at the corners of his wisdom.
I wonder just at the start of his depth of knowledge
The intensity of my wonder is frustrating.
For even after years of knowing him, I know nothing of him.

From raising of my hand in his praise to the depth of my heart, I realize of my wonder as it lies entangled in the worldly nafs of shallowness.

I struggle to know if I praise him for I side with him or I praise him for I know him.
The ugliness of my shackles stare back, whispering of my failures to realise him still.

While he bows down to His Lord and claims success as he is attacked.
I sit here wondering at my ability to wonder as much as our inability to feel.

Then I wonder at the intensity of his loneliness.
Where a water well seemed to be a better recipient of his knowledge than a humanly intellect like ours.

He was alone then. He is alone still.

While History bears witness to politics played, swinging from the pages narrating him as the closest companion of Muhammad to a lonesome disappearance from books for 25years.

While History bears witness to what the world did to him and still does to him.

While the history bears witness to the undeniable silence and unquestionable isolation he faced.
I stand still struggling to break my inner silence and listen to him for real.

While the History bears witness to the world of hypocrisy outside.
I bear witness to my hypocrisy within.

While his words invite me still to explore the depths of wisdom and knowledge.
I bear witness alone to my inability to grasp him still.

I bear witness to failing my nafs as much as I bear witness to having him teach me how to control my nafs.

And all awhile, I yet inevitably and uncontrollably end up where I first felt him right.

Where I first felt him lonely.
Where I felt felt him jolt my existing paradigms of success.
As he prostrated to His Lord and while his enemy attacked. He claimed success.

I yet wonder at the definition of success.
But then, faulty or not, with my shackled nafs, I struggle to understand his definition of success.

What more can I utter of the sickness within.

How Rich is the man that reaches across Time to offer me Knowledge still.
How poor the student I am for failing him each time.

How vast is Ali's Lord that make Ali who Ali is.
How confiding is my nafs to make me as dark as I feel.

He who offers water to his killer.
I who side with Ali for reasons yet unexplored.

The world moves on, shrugging away and brushing aside an event a mere event. A loss a mere loss.
While my ego fights and defends him on rigorous grounds.
While Ali offers water to his killer today.
While Ali yet invites seekers to his gates today.

He knew his enemies well yet so humble he remained. The epitome of Justice. How beautiful a human.
While I, I befriend the nafs within.

The world within feels the intensity not felt. For Love unexplored. For Knowledge untouched. For wisdom yet unattained.

How humble is Ali. How Majestic His Lord.
And how naive of me to nothing but wonder.

He who yet says 'Ask me before you lose me'
I who yet hesitate fighting my nafs to reach the gates of his grandeur.

I who stand poor and ugly bound in the shackles of my ego at his gates.

And How Majestic of His Lord who gives me a chance each moment.
How Generous of His Ali who makes me yet fall in love with His Lord despite my ugliness.

Don't give me religions and gods and wars and which language to call my Lord.
Don't give me people and the world outside.
Give me of Humans so humble, of faith so universal, of Peace so Peaceful, of of a man who directs you to a Lord so Beautiful. Of a man who gives you of Universe so Vast.

I who nothing but wonder at this man.