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I come to you once again

Lord of my frail heart

and wandering thoughts

To You I belong

and to You

I seek refuge

from the atrocities

of my soul

I send peace and blessings 

to the embodiment of Mercy

The epitome of beauty

and the essence of bravery

My beloved prophet

Muhammad

Salla Llahu aleyhi Wassalam

*

I call unto you

Ya Kareem

with dear wishes 

and dire needs

that none can grant me

But You

Respond to me

My Lord

For there’s no response

more beloved to me

than Your response

*

Ya Salam

Ya Wakeel

I hand you the affairs of my mother

For her worry is too big

for the universe

and too small for You

Grant her serenity

Oh Giver of peace

when the world seems

a bit too much for her

Grant her Your Love

Ya Wadood

For she is the manifestation of widaad

donning love

in all its shapes

and all its colours

Grant her Your Highest Jannah

For You are Al Wahhab

The Great Giver of gifts

and she is Wahiba

the receiver of Your gift of giving

And what better reward than a most beautiful garden

For a lover of gardens?!

*

I pray to you

Ya Raafi’

Elevate the status of my father in the heavens

Make the angels chorus his name

Let the humans know his title

on a day that everyone 

seeks Your attention

Ya Malik

Grant Him palaces next to You

of majestic, magnificent architecture

than he’s ever dreamed of

For he has raised daughters

And sons

And grandchildren

in a way that suits 

Your love 

and grand Mercy

*

I beg You

Oh Most Pure One

Purify my sisters 

my brothers

my nephews and nieces

for they seek nothing

than Your purity

Ya Muhaymin

I beseech You to be their Guardian

and Their Light

in a world that is so wicked

and so wrong

in so many ways

Grant them goodness

Ya Barr

For you’re the source of goodness

And a Benefactor of a kind

Fill them with happiness and joy

in both this world

and the one that comes

next

*

Ya Rahman

I have loved ones in the graves

Ones that I miss dearly

Ones that I pray for mostly

Pardon them 

Oh Pardoner

Illuminate their spaces

in a way that befits You

Ya An-Nur

Grant them new homes

more beautiful

Than they left behind

Grant us a reunion

more joyful

more blissful

more pleasant

than we could ever envision.

*

I invoke you

Ya Baasit

Extend to me,

my lovely family,

my cherished friends,

and my very dear ones

Your Mercy

in all that we do

Guide us to Your path

and make us steadfast

in it

Give us wisdom

when we are blinded by the world

Grant us ease

when nothing seems easy

Enrich us, Ya Mughni

with faith 

and hope

with contentment 

and peace

with love 

and compassion

Make us among Your favourites

for I yearn for nothing

more than that

Oh My Beloved.

I pray.

I pray. 

I pray.

Have you ever seen a nightingale sing?
When the clouds are white
and gray
and orangish blue
When the sun is still peeping shyly
through the sky
like a child who’s still learning
to carry
the weight of her mother tongue

There are some things you notice
only when you’re in glee
When the heart is at rest
with its existence in the world

Like the first touch of fresh, cool air
when it reaches your lungs
Cleansing you of all dust
and ashes
Blowing your noodle-like hair around
Strands of it lingering on your radiant face
The gentle swishing of leaves
dance to the reviving melody of the nightingale

The sun rays,
a strong energy of red
and the happiness of yellow,
piercing through your ebony eyes
glittering
like they were dipped in perfect shades of olive
and brown

Your mother’s honey voice
hums silkily
in the vastness of her love
She sings a song of enchantment
A tune already engraved on your soul
Her maroon white hair rests weakly on her shoulders
You stand side by side
Fingers interlocked delicately
as you watch the tan beauty
perching on one of the branches
in the lush green forest

It serenades your souls
with the procession of rippling whistles,
and trills,
and gurgles
that makes the entire universe stand still
Listening to the powerful performance
of an exquisite bird
A gentle trickling sound
of a river
meanders by
Possessing your entire being
with a solace
unknown

A poet stands to watch
and a writer
and an artist
The muse is in front of them
unraveling
all the magic of dawn

And you stand there too
You glance at your frail mother
as she raises her head from
the wheelchair
to look at you
Her eyes twinkling
as she beams with bliss
And it just seems like God
has pinned you as a favourite today
Because suddenly,
everything has a tune of joy
to it.
On this day,
It feels like the universe
is shining
on you.

You have done it again. You have, in your stubborn nature, done it again. Unbelievable! Annoyingly unbelievable. But for your mother, it isn’t exactly unbelievable. All she ever said when she knew what you’ve done was, ‘What is new…’ Even so, her voice was heavy and almost cold when you told her of your crisis. You are her son after all; even when she knew how shady and irresponsible you are, she still hoped and prayed for you to change and settle down.

The last time it happened, it was three years back, when you started going after the mother of your ex fiancée. Hell broke loose. Insults were thrown. Your mother was abused right on her face. About how she hadn’t raised you well. How she had horribly failed as a mother. There were blows thrown on your face by your fiancée. Tears. A lot of tears. And of course shouting. The neighbours were all there; whispering, staring and shaking heads. A disgrace. You’ve always been a disgrace to your mother, your family and community.

You tried to protect your mother. Tried to stop both mother and daughter from dragging your mother in the mud. But your mother had always been dragged into your mud and she always cleaned it up. Maybe that was her mistake. Maybe her biggest mistake was that she hoped her son will change and that it was just the hot-youth hormones within you burning you into ashes. This too shall pass, she convinced herself. He will grow up soon. So she took it all in; the insults, the stares and being the black sheep of the family.

Everyone said it was because she is a single mother. She needed a man and you needed a father to put you in your right place. That she was weak-hearted towards you. You are her only son and her only child anyway. People said a lot of things. But you knew better. You know better. You know how your mother gave you endless pep-talks about respecting women. How she warned you not to be what your father was to her. You know how your mother struggled to bring food to the table. You know how she taught you about God. About empathy and compassion. You, better than anyone else, know how she would cry alone silently and the only thing you’d hear from the next room is her frequent sniffs. You know how she’d wake up with eyes swollen and red like ripe tomatoes, laughing nervously and blaming her allergies for it. You know. You know.

Mother and daughter broke your mother’s heart into pieces just like you had broken their relationship; their bond, their home. Who gets in between a mother and daughter anyway?

Your mother cried her heart off and begged for death. She begged for a calamity. She begged for cancer and a fire to burn her down into nothingness. She begged for the angel of death to appear. She begged. She begged a lot. That was when you promised that you’d change. You promised never to let her down again. You promised her to be a better person; a better man.

Years went by and your mother stayed by your side. Praying for you. Guiding you. Loving you. For a moment you settled. For a moment, there weren’t any scandals happening. You just stayed low key. You travelled to the Middle East to start afresh. For a moment, it was quiet. Your mother held her breath; always scared on a phone call that would inform of her of your other evil-doing or worse. But for a moment, nothing happened. For a moment, she believed you had changed and settled.

Then came the late night phone call. It was you once again, calling from the Saudi cell. You have been arrested for impregnating a minor. A 16 year old. Your mother’s silence on the other side of the phone was too loud you could hear her cry and touch her anguish. She barely said before she ended the call.

You are here now. Holding the cell bars with both your hands. Looking outside as the police officers pace back and forth as they speak in Arabic. Big macho men hovering around you. Pee stench all over the place. Guilt is chewing on your heart like sugarcane, only your heart is not as sweet. Maybe just bitter. You want your mother to speak to you. To say it’s going to be okay as she’d always done. You want her to not be angry and disappointed with you. You want to cry on her laps and ask for forgiveness. You want to tell her you deserve it; to rot in this cell in a foreign country or be beaten up to death. You want to tell her she deserves better because she is the better human being. You have a lot to tell her, but this time she wouldn’t listen. This time, she has disowned you. This time, she won’t clean your mess.

Here you are; burning inside and trapped outside.

You have done it again.

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