Headphones are in. World is out.
Volume, amplified. Problems, postponed.
My head moves rhythmically to the beat of the drums.
Adrenaline rush, oblivious to the world now. I am in a bubble of my own, drowning out the disturbing sounds of this depressing world as my thoughts take me on an escapade, in tune with the song. A fantasy, and in it I am invincible. In it I am – Bang!
Adrenaline rush, oblivious to the world now. I am in a bubble of my own, drowning out the disturbing sounds of this depressing world as my thoughts take me on an escapade, in tune with the song. A fantasy, and in it I am invincible. In it I am – Bang!
My surreal world crumbles. Back to Earth.
Mother, knocking on my room door. She opens it and I hear a penetrative melody seep into my room. It was the call for the Maghreb prayer. A song of its own, but of a different sort. One that eases the heart yet awakens the mind. Soothing at the same time that it is reminding. Adrenaline is interrupted by guilt, but the power of the music has deafened me.
“Leave the music”, she said. “This is the Shaytan! Get up and pray”. I shuffle in my seat to show my mother that I’m getting up. 10 new notifications. Let me check them quickly, prayer can wait. I spend an hour updating myself with the trivial happenings of people I barely know.
My friend calls me, wanting to go out. I kill another 45 minutes deciding on what to wear, making sure that my jacket is super fitted, jeans are fashionably tight. She parks outside and calls me to leave the house.
Mother, knocking on my room door. She opens it and I hear a penetrative melody seep into my room. It was the call for the Maghreb prayer. A song of its own, but of a different sort. One that eases the heart yet awakens the mind. Soothing at the same time that it is reminding. Adrenaline is interrupted by guilt, but the power of the music has deafened me.
“Leave the music”, she said. “This is the Shaytan! Get up and pray”. I shuffle in my seat to show my mother that I’m getting up. 10 new notifications. Let me check them quickly, prayer can wait. I spend an hour updating myself with the trivial happenings of people I barely know.
My friend calls me, wanting to go out. I kill another 45 minutes deciding on what to wear, making sure that my jacket is super fitted, jeans are fashionably tight. She parks outside and calls me to leave the house.
Damn, I haven’t prayed. In 5 minutes I manage to squeeze the prayers in but with a million thoughts in my head as I do so. My body is robotically moving to the verses, but my mind is far, far away. I am prostrating, but not reflecting.
I rush down the stairs without saying goodbye to my mother. Get in the car and we head off. The CD goes in and I’m back up there. The car is moving with the song and I feel the bass pounding against my chest. All the stress vanishes. I shove all my troubles under the carpet because, momentarily, the lyrics have snatched my care away. Once again, I enter a realm of oblivion.
My favourite part was coming as we reached the traffic lights. My friend looks at me and I look back at her laughing. We wait for the best bit, clearing our throats for the high notes to come. Five seconds…four…three…two….
Halt.
We went spinning. Neither of us saw the van and it hit hard.
I was in a trance. Everything was blurred and I couldn't work out where I was. For a moment or two, the white light above me had me believing that I was floating in seventh heaven, but the indistinguishable voices of the uniformed professionals surrounding me came as a sudden realisation. I was probably in the emergency unit of the hospital because around me, there were many people at my care. They were discussing me. I was the centre of attention. But this time, I wasn't invincible. I was a vulnerable adolescent, hopelessly lying on an awfully clean hospital bed. Bruised and in a state of utter confusion.
Why did this happen? How did I let this happen?
Between unconsciousness and full awareness of my surroundings, I heard deep, muffled cries. The same cries I heard once from a broken-hearted mother that I once neglected, and never listened to. The same cries of the woman that rushed to quench my thirst and hunger, from my cradle to this age. That woman, who wanted nothing more than my happiness. I heard the sorrow in my father’s voice as he reconciled my mother. I remembered all the times that I made fun of him to my friends for being angry and overly protective. What was the pain from my battered body now compared to that of my heart? I wanted to jump into their arms and wipe my mother’s tears. Apologise endlessly. Why were they crying? I’m going to be fine.
Between unconsciousness and full awareness of my surroundings, I heard deep, muffled cries. The same cries I heard once from a broken-hearted mother that I once neglected, and never listened to. The same cries of the woman that rushed to quench my thirst and hunger, from my cradle to this age. That woman, who wanted nothing more than my happiness. I heard the sorrow in my father’s voice as he reconciled my mother. I remembered all the times that I made fun of him to my friends for being angry and overly protective. What was the pain from my battered body now compared to that of my heart? I wanted to jump into their arms and wipe my mother’s tears. Apologise endlessly. Why were they crying? I’m going to be fine.
I’m too young to die. I’m too young to die. This thought was repeated and ran through my mind. I can’t die.
But it wasn't up to me.
In that moment, I remembered the song that I was last listening to in the car. But this time, I couldn't move to the beat. I couldn't move my lips to the lyrics. I was paralysed, and the rhythm of the song was like fire down my ears. I wished to have my senses back, the senses that I had too many a time abused. Remorse overcame me and I bled inside. All those times I was disrespectful to my parents or didn't show them love, came back to me. I wanted to kiss their feet and hands. I remembered that girl dressing in front of the mirror, careless whether her clothing was tight or not and I was crushed inside. I wished that I had used my ears to appreciate the melody of the Holy book’s verses. That last prostration – If only I had let it last longer.
Just one year, God. Give me one more year and I’ll change. Lord, take me back.
But you can’t cheat death.
The wails as my corpse was lowered six feet under were piercing but became hushed cries the deeper I went in. Wails came from the same people that I had once slandered behind their backs. I could have done so much more in life. God’s mercy? Unfathomable. Immeasurable. He allowed me to make mistakes but I never bothered to learn from them. Instead, I repeated them over and over again thinking that the pilgrimage to Hajj would clear my history. Delete. Never did I think that I may not live to make that journey. The circumambulation should’ve been within, every day of my life. It was too late to regret.
I knew death was certain, yet I didn't prepare myself for it.
But it wasn't up to me.
In that moment, I remembered the song that I was last listening to in the car. But this time, I couldn't move to the beat. I couldn't move my lips to the lyrics. I was paralysed, and the rhythm of the song was like fire down my ears. I wished to have my senses back, the senses that I had too many a time abused. Remorse overcame me and I bled inside. All those times I was disrespectful to my parents or didn't show them love, came back to me. I wanted to kiss their feet and hands. I remembered that girl dressing in front of the mirror, careless whether her clothing was tight or not and I was crushed inside. I wished that I had used my ears to appreciate the melody of the Holy book’s verses. That last prostration – If only I had let it last longer.
Just one year, God. Give me one more year and I’ll change. Lord, take me back.
But you can’t cheat death.
The wails as my corpse was lowered six feet under were piercing but became hushed cries the deeper I went in. Wails came from the same people that I had once slandered behind their backs. I could have done so much more in life. God’s mercy? Unfathomable. Immeasurable. He allowed me to make mistakes but I never bothered to learn from them. Instead, I repeated them over and over again thinking that the pilgrimage to Hajj would clear my history. Delete. Never did I think that I may not live to make that journey. The circumambulation should’ve been within, every day of my life. It was too late to regret.
I knew death was certain, yet I didn't prepare myself for it.
“I wonder at the proud one who was a drop of sperm yesterday & will be a rotting corpse tomorrow.
And I wonder at the one who doubts God but sees God’s creation.
And I wonder at the one who forgets death even though he sees the dead.
And I wonder at the one who disavows the final genesis even though he sees the original genesis”
And I wonder at the one who doubts God but sees God’s creation.
And I wonder at the one who forgets death even though he sees the dead.
And I wonder at the one who disavows the final genesis even though he sees the original genesis”
– Imam Ali (as)
The Angel of Death does not wait for you, so what are you waiting for?
Please recite Surat Al-Fatiha for all our loved ones and the youth in our communities that have passed away recently, in particular Yousef Zayni and Sakina Ahmed.
Very poignant, beautifully written & a great reminder.
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