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TO BE REALLY SOMETHING
O what are my sufferings
In comparison to the ones
That tested the very spirit of men
Far greater than me.
Can I ever claim to possess
The patience of Job*?
Or the endurance of Moses*?
Can I stay in the belly of a fish
For three days and nights
And still keep praising my God?
Can I be as brave and full of trust
In God Almighty as Abraham* was?
Can I lose my sight while weeping
For the son I loved most of all
Like Jacob* did, for several years?
Can I be like the Christ who
Despite being a youth in his thirties
Chose to take on himself the task
Of bringing back the "lost sheep of God"
To the ken from where they had flocked
Each on a way gone quite astray
Than the one shown by Lord God
In the scriptures inspired in David*
Moses and Aaron*?
And can I be like Muhammad of Arabia*
The man who came as God's mercy
Not to just his nation but the world in all?
Can I be Husain*, the son of Ali*
Who was tested to the limits of human endurance
And the very extremes of patience
Along with his seventy two faithful followers
Who preferred 'death' to dishonour
And courageously bowed not to the will of evil
As represented by Ibn-e-Ziyad* and Shimr* the coward*?
Along with their army of 10,000, in Karbala, Iraq?
Can I stay without food and water for ten days
And still remain committed to the ideals
Of the religion of Islam as taught by Prophet Muhammad?
No, I cannot be like any one of these noble men
Who were chosen to be what they became
Because God knew the grit and virtues they had
Imbibed in them like the best concrete
And honed to be the best with the passage of time.
How can I ever be like these valiant and great ones?
I cannot, even if I want to
Because I am just a poet, an ordinary man
A journalist who writes the truth whenever he can
A person who cannot tolerate injustice
And does his best to fight avarice...
But according to the rules of the editor
And the 'Chief Operating Officer' who pays me my dough
At the first of every month.
Yes, I do bend and break
When I think of my loved one
My friends and my dependents...
And this is the fungus which is eating up my soul
As my conscience yells against me
Cursing me for the timidity of spirit
I have... and which makes me crumble
To make compromises with the bosses I have.
O yes, I do want to be noble, brave and valiant
Like all the warriors and servants of God
Mentioned by me in my thoughts above.
But can I ever be so?
I pray and pray, for days and nights
And still the nervousness in me does not let go
And keeps enchaining me to my mortal goals!
And I find myself looking at the mirror reflection
Daily as I stand to shave and wash my face
It tells me almost mockingly
That I am still nothing more than
A plain, fragile, working man
Who lacks the faith to be really something
Who loves his own more than he loves God...
