The Sunday after

 I sit here today as I try to ponder on the inner workings of my mind on this silent afternoon, the Sunday after my escapades. It is something I often do after a long bout of extroverted-ness, my chronic condition of expanding more energy than I would care to on various musings of life. So much has happened in the past three weeks, but most of it too private to tell-tale on a public blog.  But know this: there's a bitter coffee to my right, just within reach, and then the ever pervasive sound of the ceiling fan running as my mind tries to count its rotations with accuracy. I sit donning a jade shalwar kameez, buttons of the sleeves in place, back straight as it soothes the pain, I am back in the confines of sunny equatorial Lahore, the city of gardens, home to guardrails of the Punjab.  I am reminded, suddenly and somberly of my grandfather, typing as I typed, with both hands on his keyboard, fingers pushing buttons, the learnings of his typewriter days being translated to the memo
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حلاوة الدين المرة

 The bittersweetness of religion




What is religion if not solace

What is religion if not comfort?

It is chains and shackles that bind me 

It is force that holds me back from my potential 

But is it not comfort, that there is something grander, more meaningful in the distance?

For some that may be the case, for radicals it is a tool used to apply pressure, a rallying cry for insecure men to justify their barbarism, a veil for weak women to cower behind

The question then is, why is that?

Interpretation. Simple. Or so I think

Meaning the ways in which it can be understood are as many as the number of humans that reside on the planet, and then even they have conflicting understandings that fluctuate like the weather, different every day of the week 

Is it not astounding though, that despite the oceans of  difference in opinions and interpretations of these religions, that they have withstood the test of time? then is there not something more to it?

Some would say it has withstood because humans are built in a manner where they need answers, the curious ape would go crazy if at the end of his existence was oblivion

In essence the true beauty of life is faith, faith in either a Omnipresent being or faith in nothingness

Such is the bittersweetness of religion 



- M 

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