Oasis

As the caravan moved along, Ahmed was at peace. The sun beat down mercilessly and yet they trudged on. The desert around him seemed like a doomed lover’s call; alluring and deadly yet beautiful. The undulating sand dunes reminded him of contours of a different kind. His heart ached and his soul longed for her touch. The journey had been tough on him; on everyone. With water being scarce and the ration of food almost finished, the people were joyous and merry. It seemed that they had returned from a feast and were heading to another. Ahmed smiled and thought to himself, “Does hope really give us the will to live? Do we not lament our state when faced with less trying times than what we are facing currently?” He knew the answer well. With death looming, the people had accepted the inevitable and perhaps wanted to meet their end with a sense of dignity and revelry; as if to mock and laugh at the angel of death saying triumphantly, “I knew what lay ahead of me, so your arrival does not surprise at all.” Ahmed, confused and yet bemused took pride in that foolish belief; that we, after all may choose our place and time of departing. Man’s ego would not let him live in harmony; maybe it will let him die together.                                                                                                       As memories faded and time merged one thing to another, erasing a sense of any past there was or any present he was living, there was a triumphant shout ahead. “It is a miracle. We have been salvaged by the unseen hand.” Ahmed walked briskly and a few paces ahead looked upon an oasis. The sight of it filled his heart with gratitude and relief. People rushed by and found new life in legs that just minutes ago seemed that they had walked their last miles. The sight of men, women and children hugging and greeting was reminiscent of the Eid celebrations and yet this celebration was more true in its show of affection than its namesake. And then, as if time itself had frozen, he saw her face and heard her. He never could forget what she had said to him,” Let your heart be an oasis, always willing to give; not recognizing any tribe, caste or colour. Give and be not afraid of being emptied; like the oasis, your heart too shall draw from your soul the love you have given freely.” He had asked her then, with a furrowed brow,” What about the desert?” She had smiled and replied,” That, my love is your Nafs.”                                                                                                                                                He was jolted back into the present with Ameer exclaiming how he would get to Cairo and fix that cheat, Akbar, who still owed him two sheep. Ahmed laughed.

My People

Shattered fragments of a soul,
Float around the midst of a whole.
It's then one knows what complete means,
A collage of vibrant beautiful dreams.

Broken earth and the brook runs by.
Catchments of a life eroded.
Memories of a nation proud,
Nothing remains, broken people it's token.

Wandering...floating..A sense of longing.
Existing yet non-existing,
Living among the barely conscious,
Neither dead yet neither living.

We need a voice that will sound our thoughts.
A hand to raise us from the depths of despair.
A touch that elevates a spirit faltering,
A smile to lighten blemished days.