Perfection is around us all.
In the lines, textures and crevices.
In the ripples, winds and shimmering particles.
In the fluffy skin of the creatures floating above,
In the slippery specks between our toes,
Perfection is everywhere, but not inside us, never within us.
But that’s all right. God’s perfection makes us bearable.
HIS perfection is enough.
How do I explain to the little inquisitive minds about man’s barbarity? And that it knows no bounds, understands no limits. Just like God’s mercy knows no bounds, and understands no limits.
How do I tell them that there is one God? And that anyone who believes in a higher power is looking at the same sky, praying to the same heavens. Whether standing, sitting, with hands folded or open, eyes open or shut. Yet in the mind of one believer, the other is always unworthy; One method of prayer is correct but the other is an abomination; One Book is light but the other is confusion; One language is enough but the other is inadequate; One skin color is perfect but the other is impure. I am right, but you are wrong.
How do I make them understand that all religions preached by Prophets from the past said the same thing, in different words, under different circumstances, but essentially sang the same tune? Yet still, everyone claws at each others throats because one doesn’t like the sound of the other.
Image credits: Sameen khan
How do I explain man’s kindness? A small number of people who make the world go around. These are life’s real heroes who restore your faith in everything that is good and blessed. These are people who make the real difference.
How do I tell them about life’s unfairness? But that there is nothing more fair than death. There are things we will never understand because we don’t have all the facts. That’s why we are the worst of judges.
How do I explain that life is more grey than it is black and white? There is always an exception to the rule, an anomaly that stands out like a blister. Everything is as simple as we live it to be and as difficult as we think it to be.
How do I tell them that everything is disconnected when looked from our eyes and that nothing ever really makes sense? But then that’s why we look up and within; For signs that show the connections. For dreams that tell all.
How do I tell them the importance of coincidences, flukes, luck and whims? Those are life’s miracles, our own magical moments, where God leans over and whispers.
How do I make them realize that they might spend their entire lives juggling such unanswered questions? But then maybe that’s what matters the most. As long as they ask, they will continue to look for answers. And as long as they don’t stop looking, there will always be hope.
Real life is mundane. Real life is ordinary; From waking up with muck in your eyes and going to the grocery store for milk, to going on a yearly family trip and getting a paycheck. But then it’s the moments in between that make your heart pop out of its socket, one hop too quick, one beat too sudden. Those are the bumps on the road some of us secretly wish for because we want to feel something, sometimes anything. Even if it’s discomfort of a new shoe because the comfort of an old well-worn shoe tends to suffocate.
Just the other day I was thinking about the monotony of life. Routine can be exhausting. But despite the redundancy, I am old enough to understand that an uneventful day is something to be grateful about. As humans we are programmed to seek thrill from life. We turn to fantasy, disbelief and magic of the world to jolt us. If nothing else, for many even a good dose of gossip is enough. We love to hear stories of ordinary people doing the remarkable. Apart from the chants of ooo,s and aaa,s our minds stop to ponder for a minute, ‘What if that was me?!’ A Pakistani girl gets shot in the head, survives and goes on to become a Nobel Peace Prize winner. The perfect story for a book or a movie. But since its real life, her story gets an added gold star. We breathe a little in awe-inspiring lives of others. We paint our colors on their unreal canvas. But at the end of the day, we always want to snap out of it and get back to our much-welcomed reality.
The question however remains. Why do we squirm in our seats when life gets too redundant? What’s so inviting about surprise? Should we wish for the extraordinary, the occasional bumps or detours on the road? Or should we find peace in the drudgery of life? Some would argue the presence of fate and destiny. No matter what you wish for, if something is going to happen, it will – be it good or bad. It could be anything really. You wake up, trip over your laptop’s charger and end up in the hospital. Or you get mugged on your way to an interview. Or a friend’s friend gets hit by lightning. Or a close relative falls terminally ill. Don’t get me wrong. Wonderful things also happen in life. People win the lottery. Your book becomes a best seller. You finally get along with your mother-in-law. The good or the bad, as long as there’s a tinge of surprise adding oomph like jalapenos in your salad, routine becomes worth breaking. Life happens to others a bit more bluntly than others. Maybe it’s in the stars. Those who experience extraordinary circumstances usually don’t buckle under pressure. Maybe they have a stronger heart and a sturdier stomach to endure. Maybe they are just built that way.
My story so far is ordinary. Unless you call a toddler puking on a road trip and a preschooler sleep-talking something special. And I am happy with that. Every time I think I’m stuck in a rut I try to remind myself that I need to be grateful. I don’t need a speed-breaker because I am traveling at a comfortable 50 KMH. I love adventure and surprises but I don’t have the stomach for greater things. My penchant for thrill will hopefully come from roller coasters and bunji jumping. I shrivel under pressure. My nerves tighten and get jammed like the highway during rush hour. I’d like to blame it on the hormones, but I don’t think I can get away with that every time. That’s just me.
People say you can tell a lot about a person if you travel with them. I think I`m a good traveler and I usually enjoy a lot. But on one occasion I almost lost my luggage after a strenuous journey of 24 hours with just my two children. And the minute I saw my husband outside, instead of greeting him with a smile I was an angry wreck in tears. Eventually all turned out well and my luggage was found.
I also learned a valuable lesson. Sometimes when you’ve lived a life of comfort for too long, it gets difficult to expect the unexpected. I did not have to react the way I did. People have lost more. Life? Family? Health? Faith? Surely misplaced baggage does not fit the criteria. Maybe that`s why God keeps me snuggled in a beautifully ordinary life. And that is my biggest blessing.
I can do with a bit more of strengthening but a six-pack mind? Errr. I don’t have the nerves of steel, or even brass. I am gold (in terms of malleability only, and besides modesty is my biggest virtue) on my good days. And that too after plenty of effort.
What about you? Does life’s monotony get overbearing at times? Does a break from it all make you feel alive, no matter how shocking? Or are you content with your life’s routine?
Hope was dying. Her bruise was soul-deep. An existence that was mutilated by an open-house of attackers. She was stabbed by hypocrites, kicked by liars, slapped by the wretched. Her life begged for release. One drop of blood after another, she lost herself. How can you fix a soul when there’s no blood left?
And then Faith came along. Like a tickling breeze of reassurance. Like a cold sip of water on a scorching day. Like the embrace of a loved one. Like the welcoming ear of a stranger. Like a shy beam of sunlight, peaking through sinister clouds. Like an unseen hand nudging towards the right path.
Hope opened her eyes again. A flame of promise shone through the ashes. An ocean of gloom surrendered. She took her first step. Then there was light. Glistening like a million fairies dancing beneath the moonlit skies.
Nida Khan Writes 