The Essence

Another Ramadan’s gone and over,
But have we found the four-leafed clover?
Long hot days of hunger and thirst,
With longing for food till we burst,
Has it changed our minds? Molded our desires?
Has it been enough to calm down our fires?
Have we repented sincerely for salvation?
Have we directed properly our oration?
Do we feel what Allah wants us to feel?
Or are we just craving that afternoon meal?
Fasting is to be patient, to stay silent,
To ponder over the deeds that I sent,
It’s time to get those good grades,
Catch the goodness before it fades,
It seeks to teach tolerance and peace,
But we only seem to think of the evening feast,
It’s a time to make dua, take Allah’s hand,
And work towards achieving brotherhood in the land,
Ramadan’s almost over and gone,
But has our switch to Allah stayed on?
This time it’s been tough, especially cruel,
We weren’t prepared when challenged to this duel,
So give another push, one more is all we need,
To help crack that deeply dug seed,
It’s not hopeless, not just yet,
But we’ve got to do more than just worry and fret,
So if you haven’t made use of Ramadan this time,
Don’t worry, there’s still time to reach out to the Sublime,
Walk to Him, He’ll come running to you,
All you have to do is stay through,
He’s always looking out for us all,
Waiting for us to make that call,
Don’t despair; you’re valuable time is yet remaining,
He could still send His help raining,
Although Ramadan’s almost over and done,
We still have time to become one.

Happy Birthday

These stories are fictional, but based on factual events. The historical significance of birthdays as mentioned has been researched and is true. This is actually why birthdays began.

Ptolemy V sat on his majestic stone throne, bedazzled with precious gems embedded in magnificent swirling designs which filled the viewer with awe and a certain inferiority in front of the Egyptian king. The king, though not unaware of the fact, did not then care of exhibiting his power and grandness – indeed his face displayed something quite contrary to the two qualities mentioned above. Expectant, yet wary, his fearful eyes rested on the bent, bald head of a shriveled old man, who was at that moment juggling some very curious objects in his hands, the largest of which resembled a sort of dial. A sizeable telescope was standing in the corner of the glass dome-like roof, which had been specially constructed for the incredible purpose it had been assigned.
“Aapep, do ask the man to reveal to me his work. I have been waiting the whole day”, the young king impatiently said to his bodyguard. The man at once bowed dutifully, and walked rapidly to obey his orders. His steps approached Panhsj, who had his scales and papers spread in an awkward fashion on the expensive mosaic floor, and the old astrologer’s head immediately snapped up. Not oblivious to the bodyguard’s task, he took hold of a small table placed by his side, and helped himself to his withered feet.
“King of kings! Today is your birth-date, and I am honoured that you have bestowed upon me the kindness of telling you your future. I do not wish to make you wait, you who have suffered through so much! Do forgive me.
“I see a change, I see the winds of disturbance move in the opposite direction – these destructive forces now benefit you! They give you something extremely valuable, and that valuable thing benefits you even more. Oh king, you shall see contentment”, the old man then looked over his shoulders to the latticed doors behind him, from whence entered a confident, muscular man in the style of a distinguished and wealthy class. His gait was strong and his big footsteps quickly reached Panhsj, where he bowed gracefully to the king.
“You have arrived Bestet”, the king joyously exclaimed, “I have had a good birth-date this year, come let me tell you all about it.”
The advisor reverently sauntered over to King Ptolemy V Epiphanies, and wished him a happy birth-date indeed.
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“Alexandro! I hope there has been no trouble this day?” Aesop asked his brother as they both wandered in the spacious open courtyard in the middle of their home.
“Not yet, Aesop, but I am mighty thankful to the gods that I have friends and relatives. Those spirits could not possibly harm me now”, he sighed.
“And that is why you have no reason to worry at all!” Aesop brightly said, and clasped Alexandro’s hand tightly.
Birthdays were no small matter in Ancient Greece. It was the birthday of a person when he would be remembered by all sorts of spirits and demons, it was the birthday when they decided to visit him, to either bring him happiness or curse him to a fatal destiny. So, Alexandro had every reason to be worried – it was his birthday, and the demons might be on their way to cause every kind of unwanted trouble for the boy. He might not even survive the day – the mere thought sent shivers down his backbone. His face turned white with fear.
“One of my friends fell from the top of the roof of his house on his birthday because he had nobody with him, he swears now that he saw the demons – they were laughing at him as he almost smashed his head”, Alexandro hysterically announced.
Before his sympathizing brother had a chance to soothe his fears, the doors behind them opened to reveal the brothers’ aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbours and friends. Each of them briskly walked to the unlucky one, and gave him a bear-sized hug, singing poems of happiness to chase away the demons and invite the spirits of goodness to bless the boy under attention. The girls covered the entire house with flowers and talked enthusiastically, hoping to introduce a cheerful atmosphere. Laughter richoted off the walls as everyone sat around Alexandro and wished he had a very happy birthday, each of them in their frightened hearts praying desperately for the salvation of the boy.
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These stories have been divided into a series. This was part 1.

Illusion

What you see,
Isn’t really what you see,
There’s so much going on behind the scene,
It’s really not peaceful and green,
We see the earth is round,
Firm beneath we feel the ground,
It’s all I seem to be sure of anymore,
The rest seems to me myth and folklore,
This stage God set, I now understand,
There’s a reason He forbid the things He banned,
The tiny human mind is unable to see,
Behind the curtain draped over reality,
We’re in a box, surrounded by every side,
And there’s no possible place to hide,
This fantasy is their imagination,
For which we’ve developed such fascination,
We’re chained with iron fetters,
Glued to reading their letters,
It doesn’t matter what they claim,
They’re all playing a big game,
They don’t care about your money, your estate,
They’re only after ruining our fate,
While we’re busy making profit, buying the latest design,
They’re deviously making use of valuable time,
Are you still confused? Still behind bars?
For God’s sake, open the lids to your empty jars!
This place isn’t what you really think it is,
It’s not all about fame, glamour, showbiz,
Wake up I plead for you to open your eyes,
And respond to Islam’s desperate cries,
It’s an illusion, a cage of fantasy,
We need to get out for a blissful eternity,
So open your eyes! Awake!
It’s time to battle this world of fake.

Change the grey

Divide and rule,
It’s the greatest tool,
Distract, then attack,
It’ll make them fall back,
My people don’t you see what’s happening today?
The hairs on our head are turning grey,
We are losing strength, and common sense,
While our youthful neighbours build up the fence,
We take our stick; wave it in the air,
It only makes the neighbour glare,
Stung, we come back feeling defeated,
Though inside we know we’re being cheated,
The sunrays are getting blocked, flowers are dying,
The beautiful butterflies now don’t come flying,
It’s now darker, we stumble and fall,
All we do then is bang our heads against the fence wall,
My people, it’s not yet that late,
Let’s not resign to whatever fate,
All we need to do is help ourselves,
Take out that Book of God from the dusty shelves,
Look within yourself, decide what’s wrong,
Change it for good, let’s become strong,
God says He’ll help us if we’re good,
I believe that we could,
If only we’d criticize our own spirit,
Find whatever bug and kill it,
Then will we relive our past glory,
For God gave them this same story,
Then can we look past the other’s face,
And fully understand their case,
Then can we join hands and believe,
It was useless to point fingers and grieve,
My people it is finally time to go,
And rid of this evil which is our foe,
So come, let us stand united and sing,
We are the army of our only King!

Protected

It’s really not a cage,
As have thought people of every age,
It does not imprison, instead liberates,
From the darkness that for each waits,
Society, media, the common man, they’re all the same,
Unknowingly they’ve been coerced into giving this a bad name,
They say this doesn’t mean you’re deep in Iman, Islam,
And God doesn’t need it, so what’s the charm?
My sisters, you tell them I don’t do it for you,
And if God doesn’t need it, well I at least do,
You say there’s freedom of what you wear,
Then if I choose this, why do you care?
Whatever I wear on my head,
It’s because of what God has said,
I’m free, free from these worldly chains,
I don’t heed to your absurd claims,
My goal is to please God, not you,
So why waste time trying to others woo?
I know the reality of my existence,
From you I need no assistance,
I cover my head and I am glad,
It helps me see what if truly bad,
It makes me feel clean; it makes me feel blessed,
So why should I be so stressed?
I am protected; I know God is with me,
I am confident and proud, I don’t need you key,
I can walk with my head high, no regret,
No part of my life do I ever have to reject,
Say what you want to say, I don’t care,
God will reward me, this world’s never fair.

The staircase to hope

A student exits a library in Damascus,25 Unique and Creative Staircase Designs
Book loosely in hand, he walks peacefully home,
All of a sudden, pandemonium and fuss!
He doesn’t know if he’ll see his mum.
Two girls play outside with their dolls,
It is another place, yet the same,
They seem not to care being unprotected without walls,
Yet nobody knows how long will be their game.
“I’ve been ordered to slaughter you all”,
Cries a man with a gun,
The biggest seem to be the first to fall,
The man knows when his job is done.
I with my numbered summers think,
Is it wrong to be right?
I never believed so, but tell me the link,
Which leads the devil to his might?
You know the man with the gun?
The other day I saw him breathe his last,
His eyes seemed to be stun,
He says, “The united were too steadfast!”
The little girl who played by the road,
Put on some gear and got ready,
Not caring if alone, she believes her code,
It’s enough to always keep her steady.
The mother indeed failed to meet her son,
But she knew it was her calling,
She knew it was her time to run,
And she absolutely detested stalling.
I ponder on why this model of clay,
Cannot differentiate between fire and his own kind,
I see the other’s reason, but why self slay,
Those with whom one is to find,
The destination which waits joined hands,
The journey which yearns courage and strength,
Oh Muslims, why destroy own lands?
Come back, please, come back at length!
Learn to fight and cope,
Only you can build the staircase to hope!

A Long Road


We’ve all set for your shore,

With Allah’s help and love galore,
Don’t cry, we’re here to hold your hand,
For you the entire ummah takes the stand,
Don’t lose hope, keep faith and be strong,
We know the fight’s brutal, and the road’s been long,
The tides haven’t been calm, it’s been stormy and hard,
But Allah has finally decided to turn our card,
We are united, we’re coming to defend,
Get ready, this war shall end,
We’ve worked hard for God to please,
And He’s now going to send us ease,
For we grieve for you, we yearn for change,
Now it’s in His hands to arrange,
Our brothers and sisters in Palestine, we’re on our way,
We shall put a stop to this cruel play,
You Syrians, do not despair,
You shall be released from this nightmare,
Our fellows in Kashmir, don’t weep and cry,
Because we’re going to win and for that we try,
Don’t lose hope, keep faith and be strong,
We know the fight’s brutal, and the road’s been long,
But do not think we have forgot you, and are lost,
For we shall make them pay the full cost,
They’ve made us suffer in misery, in pain,
But now it’s time for them to be slain.

In God’s holy name

It’s been enough, this cannot continue,
You used my name, yet unfeelingly then slew,
You caused misery, you caused pain,
You abolished the crop and destroyed the grain,
You did so abusing life’s greatest claim,
“I commit in God’s holy name”,
What I make halal, you ignore,
Go after everything else until you’re sore,
You shoot; you kill for money and fame,
All the while going, “In God’s holy name”,
You disrupt peace, and rob my men,
Then come take refuge in my own den?
You bomb my land and plan more blood,
Until everything’s piled into ruins and mud,
You hate, you fight, you swear,
But never do you try to love or care,
You fill your hearts with prejudice,
Chasing away any possible bliss,
You disobey Me and My crew,
And say, “Lord, we did it for you”,
You torture women and children, then smile,
And flaunt about your new style,
You indulge yourself in this dark abyss,
And obey the devil’s every hiss,
You sin and say, “God will always forgive”,
Oh what a narrow, ignorant life you live,
You cheat and steal and lie and take pride,
Then say, “God’s on our side”,
You have to think of who you hire,
Because I created both, gardens and fire.

Sold

Even the heavens cry, knowing we’ve surrendered,
Then the ground weeps, as we have blundered,
The sun hides behind the clouds in shame,
Thinking we were given God’s message in vain,
Our forefathers’ silent graves lay still,
Horrified that we could go so far to kill,
Our own self, our own fate,
And let loose all kinds of hate,
Our first cry is Satan’s touch,
Yet a leader most find him such,
He conspires, then sneers,
Rages fires, then cheers,
I say we’re young yet easily sold,
And he’s old, yet unquestionably bold,
But hasn’t God ensured us more strength?
And definite victory at length?
God, our only master, borne us free,
Yet we strangely purchase slavery,
We think we have freedom, we think we have a life,
But all we do throughout is battle Dajjal’s knife,
We grope our way through this forest, these vines,
Forgetting about Satan’s fatal land mines,
The birds warn and scream, they don’t sing anymore,
Trying to tell us of what evil has in store,
Flowers stay closed, too tortured to see,
Us, but we keep going “me, me and me”,
Trees offer their branches, to protect us and shade us,
But we reject them to accept the heat, smoke and fuss,
Though the small group of alive tend to the ill,
The sick get sicker until they’re pale and still,
It’s a long way to go, a tough war to fight,
But we’ve got to hold hands and keep tight,
This is one test we cannot fail,
To tell the devil we are not for sale!

Borders

In a town of Syria, a 3 year old boy cries,
Dying because of their deception and lies,
They who claimed to be or best friend, our only hope,
The one piece of help for our lives to cope,
With the pressures, the animosity,
Strangely from our very own family,
We’re told to honour our state above all,
Whereas the prophet said nationalism would be our fall,
It’s Iraq vs. Iran, Pakistan vs. Saudi,
 Everyone’s quick to claim their royalty,
 What happened to the day when Umar said,
 I worry for even a single lamb dead?
A Kashmiri man fights armies to save his mother,
 An Afghan boy plays bombs with his brother,
 In Israel, even the stone represents Palestine,
 While we’re afraid to cross the borderline,
 One borderline.
Someone’s black, someone’s white, someone’s an even brown,
One’s poor and homeless, one holds a gold crown,
But we’re not supposed to differentiate nor care,
 For God made sure he made a religion fair,
 So what if the other speaks a different language,
Everyone’s wounds are ours to bandage,
 Even across the line, we have brothers and sisters,
 Who’ve been afflicted with the same wounds, blisters,
 So why be afraid to cross the borderline?
 One bloody borderline.