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No its not writer's block Its something else Just wondering why am I not writing much these days!

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Transition ..... Just one dance

As dervish as you may become, you can not survive without ignoring your worldly needs, he learnt this while going through his spiritual journey in the city of Prophet.

It was almost a week he was in Madinah spending his whole day sitting in the courtyard of the mosque. Still he was unable to cross the unseen borders, still he was hesitating taking steps towards the door of the mosque. Yet he had been through some transitions. He was joining in the congregational prayers five times a day, he was making du'a after each salah, he could feel the tenderness in his heart, which he never realized existed before.

He would spend his whole day roaming around the mosque and then sitting under the shadow of the giant umbrellas near Babe jibril, he would sleep on the marble floor of the courtyard, while people kept on making noise and the cleaning personals off and on crossing his path with their equipments to keep the courtyard cleaner. Still he used to nap with a deep, smooth and peaceful sleep which was oblivion to him ever.

After Isha prayers when the mosque doors closed, he had to get back to his hotel room. He had booked himself in one of the finest hotels across Masjid e Nabawi, which was hardly at a distance of a few minutes walk. Inside the hotel restaurant he would quietly have his dinner and then will remain confined to his room. 

Though there was lot for him to do inside this lavish hotel room, but neither he turn on television or for that matter his laptop to inquire about the worldly matters. It was as if he was going through switching of orbits, from this worldly circulation to the spiritual one.

From his window the pious deep green dome of the masjid was making a beautiful sight, he would sit on one of the chairs kept with the small round coffee table by the window and keep staring. He could feel the most strongest positive energies emitting out of this architecture. From his eyes, to his skin and to every tiny nerve ending hidden deep inside the skin was magnificently effected by this positive ray of energy.

It was almost a week he had not used his laptop. Not many people in his contact knew he was in Madinah. only a few in Spain and just one person in Pakistan.

Suddenly he picked up his cell phone and started checking his call log. There was none. No messages either. 

So nobody needs me, his smile was instantaneous.

If not in Spain , that one person in Pakistan could have sent him a message. Though he kept on denying, in his hearts of heart, he wanted someone to keep his track, to ask if he was alright, to worry for his food and routines. What a humanly feeling that was. A basic instinct.

Telling himself, he had to check his official emails, he turned on his laptop. An then a sudden realization made him flinch.

The last time he had any conversation with Mawra, she was angry with him, and they ended up in a serious quarrel.

"the reason for no communication", he thought.

And on opening up his gmail account, there was just one email he was looking for, and it dated back five days.

She had written the shortest of the emails to him.

"I have agreed to what You asked me for. But I am not happy, I can not be."

He was struck hard. 

They had fought over an issue before his flight to Madinah, and now she was telling him she had surrendered.

He felt his heart sinking.

Mawra Suhail was getting engaged.

Against her will.

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