some how i don’t understand whats happening to us all .by us i mean shiaz in particular and muslims in general .here i am at the budh ka imambargah at shub-e-ashour , the night which proved to be the last wee living hours of Prophet's (PBUH) grandson Imam Hussain (a.s) and all i see is people having fun .This night is anything but fun and we have forgotten this plain simple fact .Painfully over and done by he sheer hypocrisy and atrocity meted out towards this revered soul . We have forgotten that Hussain (a.s) , his family and his people in karbala spent this last night praying .we have transformed this night as a fornicating ritual . Conventions demand that we visit 40 imambargahs and light candle and incense to establish that Hussaniat has survived 1400 years .A noble cause but we have reduced it to a mere formality .


Sitting in a corner at the imambargah, I see faces all over. Everyone clad in black symbolizing mourning. But a few of these faces are smiling. Laughing. Mothers hugging their kids. Fathers smoking, making small talk. Teenagers running askew .


I suddenly felt that I needed to write. I looked around for something to write on . A piece of paper , some cardboard .. anything on which I could pen my disturbed thoughts . I tore off a poster from the wall and decided to scribble on its back side , I sat just infront of a group of kids playing some kind of a poem game .while i was sitting there , writing , one of the smaller girls who i believe was the ring leader stopped playing and squinted at me through her freckled face and disheveled hair . she smiled and walked towards me .uncle kya aap apna school ka homework kar rahay hain .After nodding affirmatively ,as amused as i was , i didn’t smile but just stared at her .In the background i could see her mother chatting animatedly with who seemed to be an old acquaintance about aatay daal kay bhao .she briefly glanced at us and then resumed her important discussion . The little girl meanwhile shook my hand and stared closely at what i had written . She pronounced out a few words loudly . Mother . Fail . She . smile . hummm I wonder what she’s going to do next , I thought .She repeated smile a few times then looked at me . Flashed a million dollar smile and walked away proudly as if she had just helped me complete my homework .


Another man comes and sits beside me . He ruefully looked at the chaos and looked at me as if he could peep into that corner of my id which wanted to hide away someplace distant and quiet . Kids , he remarks . Just than his kid walked up to us . I want to read a noha .. he cries out loud . The hapless father points and me and says .. uncle ko suna do .whoa .


for once i thought that im not the only one thinking weird things .Weirdo yes but thoughts have a way of transcending our souls and communicate with situations and people . And we doubt this innate ability in ourselves .Why ? The "Why" is a long preachy session something im not too keen about just right now .


tou this man's son kept arguing that he wanted to recite a Noha . Despite myself , i smiled to encouraged him . He says uncle aapki daari kahaan gaee . It was then that i realized that i had been on the channel for the past few weeks brandishing a beard and just a day before i had wiped the slate clean . To be honest , i was clueless . I tried to come up with a good 'why' but i couldn’t .Instead i said .. Yaar NOha tou sunao .He replied grimly ... I dont wanna recite my noha here . I want to recite my noha at the Gulshan Iqbal waali imambargah which was burned . I was flabbergasted . A year ago Imambargah Madinat-ul-Ilm was burned by some unidentified people and this kid remembers it . Whoa .I am almost spilled my cup of tea . The kid and his father looked at me with scorn . Maybe the father thought id be able to convince him to recite the Noha here only but ofcourse I had other things on my mind .


Another couple standing near the tea kiosk was talking animatedly looking around . Actually the wife was animated and husband anything but that .He was trying to get a himself a cup of tea .Begum wasn’t helping . she kept tugging on his sleeve .The last tug proved to be too much for that don Quixote and his hand moved away from the hot stream of tea that was being poured into his cup .The piping tea teem licked his hand lividly spilling all over the table. I loved the glare he gave to his wife . She sighed loudly enough to wake up me mum back in jersey and walked away .


The same girl which had helped complete my homework came running from somewhere , stopped briefly squinting at my written spew , ruefully looked at me as if I was the only damsel there and loudly commented " Uncle aapki writing bohot untidy hai . She left me smiling . A statement from our bright future.


I realized that my head was oscillating by now in disbelief . And this was supposed to be a night of prayers .Not fornication . It was anything but orison


Go figure.Yes . Lets burn his dairy.