Category: Rant

  • Ramblings…

    I sometimes think that we need less religion and more faith. Less people and more humanity. I should stop before I turn this into an annoying post that goes on ad nauseum about clever comparisons of oh so enlightening opposites. 

    We probably need less cynics and more sincerity as well, I guess. But everyone’s trying to be a Rumi or Plato or Ghandi, and nobody tries to be themselves, because we’re all so focused on being unique individuals…just like everyone else. Hmmm, and we’re also always generalising our negative perceptions so that it doesn’t feel so bad to have them because we convince ourselves that everyone else is just as screwy in the head. 

    My thoughts are tiring. Almost as tiring as human nature. The fickleness and frailties of the human soul are no longer endearing to me. I now find it annoyingly cliched. Everyone is struggling. Everyone is in pain or distress or dis-ease. So much so, that a normal person that is truly optimistic and genuinely carefree is almost uplifting…almost, because I can’t help but wonder if they have all their faculties in good order to find reason to be this way in a world full of crap. Look at your dash and count how many posts has people using the words heart, soul, life, death and other similar philosophical triggers before you dismiss my cynicism as being that of a jaded old man. 

    Death to the cynics, dammit! 

  • Happy Damned Birthday

    Birthdays have always been an ominous occasion for me. I can never find a reason to celebrate because of the stark reminders carried by such a milestone. I’m certainly a glass-half-empty kind of person when it comes to this, probably because my glass full of life just got emptier at the passing of yet another year.

    I’ve been obsessed with this image of a long curve or arc that symbolises time stretching inversely across the horizon with only the very tip of its apex brushing the soil. And that single moment of its brushing represents my entire lifetime in the context of the universe, making me realise exactly how insignificant my existence really is.

    And this is not even close to my birthday, which incidentally has ceased to hold any significance for me, be it joyous or otherwise. It really has faded into just another day, because it has never changed the condition of my life in any way except to serve as a reminder that I’m supposed to take a moment to benchmark my life against others that have grovelled for as long as I have.

    We’re all beggars. Some just more dignified than others. Who is not begging for happiness or contentment, wealth or comfort, companionship and fame? At our weaker moments we morbidly acknowledge this, but when the memory of pain subsides, such realisations are discarded in favour of feelings of false elation. Forgetfulness is probably our greatest gift and mercy. Imagine the pain of a life that bore the intensity of the memories of every moment of distress or destitution? 

    Oh yes, birthdays…I hate those. It’s supposed to signify the passing of another year, when in fact it’s just the passing of yet another day. Just another day, with more significance attached to it than anyone could ever justify. How I despise the feeble-minded that define themselves by such whimsical milestones!

  • Politically Incorrect

    After watching a documentary produced by CNN on Islamophobia in America, I was unwittingly reminded of the dark days of apartheid in my home country. I recalled a specific incident when I was working as a network technician in one of the branches of a leading bank. I was behind the bullet proof window separating the teller from the customers when a black man was standing in line waiting his turn and minding his own business. Close to him was an unkempt white lady probably in her 50’s who would generally have been classified as Jerry Springer material had she been living in the US.

    Through some mishap, the black man’s arm brushed against this woman sending her into an absolutely frenzied state hurling the most vile and abusive language at this black man who just stood there and watched, along with everyone else including me, in absolute amazement. The stunned silence in the banking hall didn’t dissuade this woman at all. Her ignorant venom just kept spewing out as if she was possessed with no control whatsoever over her emotional state. Such blind hatred was the result of generations of brainwashing by an elitist white regime that violently oppressed the non-white majority of the country because they believed that the bible said they should.

    The only difference I see between them and the Islamaphobes today is that it didn’t take generations of brainwashing or divine inspiration but simply a single despicable event the perpetrators of which have never been subjected to a fair trial, nor have the outcomes of official investigations been revealed. Yet the same blind rage and hatred that existed in apartheid South Africa still exists in a populace that refuse to see the truth of their own leaders. The only chilling conclusion I can draw from this is that if they choose not to see the error of their own ways willingly, they may have to succumb to the same kind of pain and agony that South Africa experienced before the darkness of apartheid was finally lifted.

  • A Few Random Thoughts…and a rant!

    I think celebrating birthdays breeds a sense of entitlement within us. Celebrating an event over which you had absolutely no influence whatsoever is superficial beyond belief. Automatically we entrench the idea that the manner in which you’re acknowledged or showered with gifts on the ‘occasion of your birth’ is supposedly a barometer to determine your worth to your significant others. What rubbish!

    The way I am treated when I give of myself to those around me, how I’m appreciated in that process, and how much I’m remembered in a good way by others when I’m not present seem to me to be much more relevant markers against which to determine how others appreciate me relative to how I would like to be appreciated. 

    The date of your birth is nothing to celebrate. It’s how you’ve chosen to live your life in between all those birthdays that counts. Focus on occasions and I swear you will miss life itself. Wait for a specific time to do something special and your life will become routine before you know it. There’s something to celebrate every single day of our lives, but we’re impervious to it all because we’ve been conditioned to look for events worth celebrating based on predefined bullshit criteria set out by society established on pagan rituals that 99% of us are completely oblivious to. 

    But, it’s my bloody birthday and you will acknowledge how special I am, even if you don’t bloody mean it, right? Damn! How pathetic. Today is not my birthday. Today is my daughter’s birthday, and she turns 7. And I had the displeasure of having to explain to her why it is that just because it’s her birthday, she shouldn’t suddenly expect her cousins and family to want to gather around to acknowledge and appreciate her, when they pretty much have no time for her the moment she’s out of sight. 

    I think we often forget that we’re raising kids to be adults. In fact, I’m certain that we do. Look around at the irresponsible idiots that pretend to be adults these days, and you’ll immediately know what I’m talking about. How many times have you read horror stories in the news where children were involved and thought that the adult in question should never be allowed to breed? I do this often. And I constantly remind myself these days that I am raising an adult, not a child, and if I raise her to understand that fun and good times and having a carefree but responsible spirit is not limited to childhood but something to be treasured throughout her life, then I reckon I would have achieved more than most parents these days.

    Too many parents are liberal apologists. They’re so afraid of being disliked by their children that they forget that they’re supposed to be providing guidance to the next generation of adults, rather than trying to expand their social circles within their offspring. But I guess at least they’re present and trying, which is more than we can say for the self-absorbed personifications of Barbie and Ken who think that children are just a necessary prop to enhance their social standing! 

    Blah!

  • One of my greatest challenges in life has been to deal with loneliness and disappointment in a dignified manner. The urge to want to throw caution to the wind, be reckless and try to demand significance through uncharacteristic behaviour has always nagged me, but my deeply ingrained sense of restraint and control never allows it to happen. 

    I’m always terrified of acting in a way that will earn me ridicule. My sense of composure and my overall calm disposition belies the turmoil that stirs beneath the surface. I rarely lose my temper, and even when I do, it’s a decisive moment of sharp remarks intended to inflict maximum damage before I withdraw again and resume my normal demeanour. And often, when I’m tempted to let go and just express myself unreservedly, I quickly realise that my insignificance will make any tantrum laughable, and will probably not yield the results I hope for. And so I continue being measured and restrained enjoying nothing more than sharp wit and vicious sarcasm, often in a light hearted tone with people that rarely get the true undertones of the venom that I usually spit. 

    This has been a self indulgent post of hardly any truth at all. 

  • Islam Is NOT a Cult!

    We’re so prone to deferring all questions or concerns about the interpretation or implementation of Islam in our lives to the scholars that we’re actively stifling any intellectual or meaningful engagement in the process. It’s as if we’ve been indoctrinated to believe that questioning the ‘elders’ is tantamount to disbelief!

    But in all this to-ing and fro-ing between the questioners and the followers of the scholars, we fail to ask what qualifies one as a scholar to begin with. We assume that in the present day if someone completes the mandatory 5-7 year course at an Islamic institute to earn the title of Sheikh, or Aalim, or Maulana, it automatically makes them a scholar and because they studied the Hadith in a formal and rigorous setting, under informed instruction, they’re automatically empowered to make fatwas and decide who is being a heretic or a kaafir, and who is a sincere Muslim on the path of the righteous. 

    Unfortunately my personal experiences with men and women of such ilk has proven otherwise. I’m often reminded of the words of another admired scholar that says, “of what use is it to acquire more knowledge if we don’t practise on the knowledge we have?” Another point I’m constantly reminded of, and the irony of this is that this reminder is a result of the very same people that blindly quote what the ‘scholars’ proclaim, is that every single Hadith, without fail, has never once made mention of any sahabi via a title like the ones that we have endowed on our own scholars! Not once have I seen a hadith narrated by Mufti so-and-so, or Sheikh so-and-so, yet these were the stars of the Ummah by which we can accept guidance! So are our scholars suddenly more meritorious than the illustrious companions of our beloved Nabi (SAW) that we have to refer to them by titles? Obviously not. 

    Coupled with this is the fact that our scholars have gotten it wrong several times…’several’ being a substantial understatement. We’re so busy trying to prove whose version of Islam is more correct that we forget the simple principles that made Muslims great on this earth when they followed the principles and not the rituals! We have great scholars recognised by their peers and other blind followers as being great scholars who write great big kitaabs and produce other magnificent literature and content to educate the Awwaam (the masses) while they still believe that preventing women from going to the masjid is acceptable, and that the moon and star is not a significant bid’ah that needs to be dealt with decisively. 

    These are the same scholars that I’m supposed to trust blindly when they first issued fatwa after fatwa that TV was haraam, and then established and/or supported Islamic TV channels, and also issued fatwas that suicide bombings are acceptable, yet cannot show a single shred of evidence that suicide under any circumstances is permissible in Islam, let alone the indiscriminate killing of women, children, the elderly and unarmed civilians under the guise that they may take up arms against the Muslims at some point in the future, and other whimsical excuses!

    We have a clergy that lacks back bone. One of the signs of the hour is that the Ulama will be despised, and the usual assumption is that this will be because of a lack of understanding or humility amongst the Awwaam! I believe it’s because the Ulama will lose credibility because of their double standards and ignorance in defining fatwas due to their ignorance of present day realities, let alone their contempt for western technology. 

    It amazes me to see how many times we are so ready to reminisce about the great days of the past when Muslims contributed so magnificently to science, medicine, technology and almost every field of engineering and other intellectual pursuits, yet we don’t question the overwhelming ignorance and impotence of the Ummah in all these fields today. Exceptions exist, but that’s all the Ummah has offered in recent decades/centuries. Exceptions! Muslims were the leaders in all these fields as the norm, not the exception. But then we became arrogant and turned Islam into a cult rather than a way of life. We created hierarchies that prevent an ordinary Muslim from standing close to the Imam around the Haram in Makkah because those places are reserved for royalty or those close to them! (I have experienced this first hand!) We’ve created clerical structures that are not dissimilar to the structures of the grossly misguided Catholic Church and we revel in the order and pomp and splendour that exists in these structures. 

    I’m constantly reminded of the Hadith that encourages us to share our knowledge even if it is only a single verse, yet if scholars today are to be believed, then you’d be obliged to check with them before you quote anything or provide any advice unless of course such advice or quotes are in fact a re-quote of their words. The Ulama are disconnected from the Ummah, and the Ummah is disconnected from the Ulama. We’re in a sad state, yet we persist in excessive debates and interpretations of matters that are simple and straight forward. Matters that don’t affect the Iman of a person, but in fact, are only compromised by the intention of the believer, the sincerity of which can only be determined by Allah alone. 

    Nonetheless, there is never a shortage of Ulama ready to proclaim who is kafir and who is not. I shudder at the thought of making such a statement even with people I know well, and whose outward appearance is blatantly un-Islamic, because again, I’m reminded of the hadith that teaches us that if one person claims that another is a kafir, then one of them is. We’ve lost our way. That is why people are turning to Islam in droves, not because we’re setting a great example, but because Allah is raising a nation to protect His deen like He promised He would. 

    Islam is NOT a cult. It is not about ritualistic ideals and blind faith! And it certainly is not about an elite group of self-proclaimed scholars who rarely demonstrate the principles of Islam in their lives, other than what is obvious in their physical appearance. Many sincere believers who are knowledgeable and well-read on many aspects of Islam have been demonised and ostracised because they didn’t subscribe to this cult-ish version of Islam, yet those individuals have demonstrated a greater commitment to the true values of Islam than the scholars that compete for attention on a daily basis.

    The day our Ulama have the courage to openly condemn the spineless acts of suicide bombings, the unfathomable atrocities of killing innocent women and children, the disgusting embellishment of the houses of Allah with those pagan symbols of the moon and star, and so many other blatantly haraam issues, that is the day that they may enjoy the respect and loyalty of the Awwaam. 

    For the record, as I stated previously, I despise this term ‘Awwaam’, but I use it to remind myself of the condescension with which the Ulama refer to those people that are not part of their circles or their structures. I doubt very much that Rasulullah (SAW) ever used such a condescending or derogatory term on even the most unkempt of Bedouin that may have approached him for advice. 

  • New Year, Same Life

    Tomorrow is just another Sunday that follows a Saturday, the same way it has since the day I was born. And I believe it’s been happening for a long time before that as well. Whether I call it the 1st of January, or the 29th of February, it will still be the day that follows Saturday and precedes Monday…like it has all my life.

    The jaded one in me finds it difficult to attach any significance to this, the same way I find it difficult to attach any significance to a birthday. And it seems the pragmatist in me agrees. We start dying the moment we take our first breath, and we start living the moment we realise that we’re dying. And in between, we take it all for granted and feel like martyrs or victims the moment we’re faced with a challenge.

    New Year’s day is up there with Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, and every other stupid capitalistic bullshit event that was ever coined to give us a false sense of comfort that we’re celebrating life through these events when in fact we’re simply celebrating events and forget that life is being neglected in between, because we’re conditioned to limit our celebrations only to those days deemed worthy of celebration, and we take for granted the rest of the moments that occur at times that have not been deemed significant by the great ones. 

    Fuck occasions. Celebrate life. It’s a whole lot more rewarding, and cheaper!

  • Yet another brain dump

    I should be finishing my monthly report that was due this afternoon. But it’s one of those evenings when I feel as inspired as a…blah…can’t even think of a decent comparison. It’s a feeling that comes over me at times and despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to avoid it. But more recently I’ve realised that it does pass even when it feels most intense. It eventually passes. So I keep reminding myself of this so that I don’t make any significant decisions when in this state.

    So instead, I choose to write a post and wait for the silence to provide some affirmation. It always does. Cold, meaningful silence. Reminds me why I go to bed alone at night. In fact, it reminds me why I resist going to bed at all. Recently I’ve been going through the motions of deliberately passing out on the couch. Fading in and out of consciousness for about three or four hours with the tv mumbling in the background, and then eventually fighting the midnight chill to get to bed hoping to get some recuperative rest in the remaining hours before I awaken again before dawn.

    All the while, my brain flatlines. Emotionless and empty. The word that plagues me most these days is ‘vacuous’. Seems fitting. Meaningless rants and pointless brain dumps confirm this state. It’s this affirmation that the silence gives me. Affirmation that the void is as prominent as my mind perceives it to be. Affirmation that this one chance at life is slowly slipping away. Affirmation that every resolution or promise I made to myself during my idealistic youth was thwarted by life. I missed the point each time I thought I was making profound choices. But it turns out that those profound choices were in fact desires driven by necessity rather than carefully constructed strategies.

    My boat has sailed, and I’m left with a rubber dinghy and no oars. Fortunately I’m not up any creek, or on rough seas. I’m in the middle of the desert waiting for the tide to come in. But the sunset looks so beautiful. I wonder if there’ll be stars out tonight? Insanity beckons. The dunes are hauntingly beautiful, and the view of the night sky from my dinghy is enchanting. Stars guiding the mariners to their destinations, but for me they serve as nothing but confetti against a black canvas because I need no guidance to any destination. My dinghy is all I need, just in case the tide comes in. And if not, who cares…?