Divine Intervention?

I wrote the above post sitting on my bed. As soon as I published it, someone called my name and knocked on the door. I greeted them. My first reaction seeing their attire, was “Salaam!”. They asked if they could borrow some time, I obliged. They came in and started speaking in flawless Urdu. This gives me a terrible complex every single time something like this happens. Yes, and then they asked me if I was a believer. I said yes, although I’m not even remotely close to being religious. (In fact, a physical characteristic aside, Eid I think is the only thing that keeps me close to the Prophet).

Then they asked me what the most fundamental aim of my life was. I suppressed a laugh. Then shook my head. I don’t know, really. They said that the fundamental aim of my life (They knew the most fundamental aim of my life!) was to ensure that my life after death was a happy one. This life, they say, is transient, irrelevant. What matters is what comes after it. In their words, "What if we’re sent to hell? God forbid."

 They looked like nice innocent people though. They meant no harm whatsoever. They were doing their bit to secure box level seats in heaven, I don’t mind that. What I mind is the way they think my name is all there is to my identity. Isn’t it plain wrong? Stereotyping begins with names everywhere. I shouldn’t talk about stereotyping myself though, am I not the one who’s hinting at extremism at the hands of those who came to me today? For all I know, they could be peaceful people who just want another one they think belongs to them to come share the friendliness their gatherings have. Why do I look at them with suspicion, I wonder?

I get nauseous thinking of how they found me. They must have a list of names of my hostel inmates. They segregated similar sounding names of their interest out of the list and happily ran on the path of righteousness and came to me. After around 8 minutes of incomprehensible crap, they left me in peace. I told them I was an ardent worshipper and loved everything about my religion. (I wanted to show them the post I had just published).  Such a wonderful coincidence, I’m visited by the most profound believers on the same day that I write my first super blasphemous posts on the www.

~

Mir ke deen-o-mazhab ko kya poochhte ho unney to,
    Kashka khaincha, der mein baiTha, kab ka tark Islam kiya.

~

kashka=tilak, der=temple, tark=give up, deen-o-mazhab=religion, essentially. 

You must be thinking I like belonging to the elite group of those master poets who renounced their faith and realized how all of it was hoccum. 

I do. 

But this couplet came to my mind just like that. I don’t want to be Mir.