Stealing Into the Theater

The last uncles had left the masjid for their homes after Fajr prayer, and it was still dark when I set out this morning. My eyes scanned the sky continually in the silent minutes before the sun’s advent upon earth. I set out of my apartment building and out of the street so I could find a proper view of the Eastern horizon; I knew where to go, the main playground next to the neighborhood masjid.

Sky tinged with pink, as I made my way to the main ground.

 In the cover of darkness, I silently walked and set out for the ground. A very faint streak of pink tinged the sky to the east. Something was different in the air, a sense of calmness and peace lingered as I entered the sand and gravel-strewn field. In the dying cover of darkness, I concealed myself from the Watchers of the Night and the Guardians of the Day. The place was deserted… On the road behind me and the ground in front of me, not a soul was in sight. The only figures I could make out were a few people in the Masjid courtyard far to my right.

Like a street urchin who has stolen into a theater where he isn’t supposed to be, I stood in the shade of darkness and waited for the show to begin. The serenity grew paramount as all spotlights focused on the horizon, the curtains were about to be raised. Like a lost child discovering a wonder for the first time, I steeled myself for the change of guard. The Guardians of the Day had already made the first move, with the ever so slight hue of pink visible just above the horizon. The Watchers of the Night slowly complied, exposing the underbellies of the clouds to the pink radiance. Even though the Watchers still kept control of the dark sky, they entrusted the clouds to the care of the Guardians first. The transition was sublime, the clouds coming to life, waking up from their slumber at the guardians’ touch. The touch of pink spread to clouds who rested further from the dark horizon, and the streak of pink in the sky started to increase.

Just before dawn... the view to the East beyond the neighborhood Masjid.

Glued to his spot on the edge of the field, the street urchin watched. The fear of being caught by the performers was not important; all eyes were fixed on the stage as the action unfolded. The Watchers had started to withdraw from their shift; the darkness was giving way to the blue of the sky I knew all too well. My awe-struck eyes scanned the stage, afraid that I might miss something… then I discovered a star, a diamond shining bright in the Watchers’ armor. As they slowly loosened their grasp on the sky, I kept my eyes fixed on the jewel in their armor… I wanted to watch them hand it over to the guardians. Ever so gracefully, I watched as the performers went about their change of shifts; it was a moment of pure tranquility as I watched the diamond being presented to the Guardians… the spreading blue overwhelming the Watchers’ cover, the star fading into the cosmos.

The Guardians were now really starting to turn up their stride, this was clearly their show. The serenity and peace now gave way to some sweet music. I heard one note from behind me, an unknown bird calling into the dawn… a few moments passed, the Guardians gave a fresh signal to the stage orchestra, another note followed from somewhere to my left. The Watchers had now completed their handover of the clouds to the guardians… Little swirls of grey, they stretched themselves awake in the pink of the dawn.

Look closely... a flock of birds above the minaret is visible.

The Guardians’ influence now started to spread beyond the stage that was the horizon. Black silhouettes with wings darted across the sky now, speeding to the Guardians who had now begun to stretch their dominance across the heavens. The pink had faded to a stronger gold; the Watchers were retreating now, their duty complete. The darkness only remained part of the skies further from the horizon, all melting away as the guardians prepared for the eminent arrival… the rise of the sun. In a final ritual, the Guardians summoned their orchestra players on stage for a final crescendo. The birds rose high in the sky, circling above the Masjid minaret… their black silhouettes visible against the pale, early morning skies.

A crow’s loud caw brought my eyes back to earth. Two or three of them swooped over my head, and I looked around me, startled. It had become bright, the darkness had all but faded and the Watchers had departed. Caww! went the crows again… My cover had been blown. The Guardians had discovered the street urchin who had stolen into the theater and were forcing me to leave. The show was almost over, and I stood my ground, adamant to see the climax. The sun had not come up yet!

But alas, it was not meant to be. The Guardians ordered the grey clouds to keep cover over the East… There shone an aura of gold from behind the thick mane of grey, but the sun never came. The curtains sealed shut in my face, and I was asked to desert my stolen seat. It was a grey morning as I accepted defeat and left the theater; I could not help but feel that such performances were reserved for the few. A chance wandering after sehri time was not the way to experience the change of guard between the night and day. For all it was worth, it made sense that the right to experience this show needed to be earned. The Guardians of the Day may have chased me away this morning, but I plan on earning a proper audience and a better seat for this sublime change of guard, the crossing of the heavens between night and day. It is needed more than ever to release my heart of the irony that was now settling in: the irony of witnessing the dawn, yet missing the sunrise.

Night of Rain

On a glass window, the rain drops fall… Drop by drop, a crystal mosaic forms; shiny droplets sticking to the glass and then dripping ever so gracefully down its smooth surface. Behind the mosaic, a backdrop of an overcast sky and wet tree tops excites my mind. The neighborhood cars and apartment buildings are all bathed clean, their grime and dust collecting in the puddles that now form on the street. On a glass window, the rain drops fall, only a figment of my imagination as I wait ever so expectantly for the monsoon rains that never arrived.

Monsoon in Karachi is one of those things that I look forward to every year. It’s just one of those times of the year which has its own charm, the rare cloudy skies, cool summer breezes and those rain showers which bring out the colors of the city. This year, Ramadan fell in what would be the peak of our Monsoon season, and even though the skies were overcast for the first few weeks, the rains never came. There were those occasional moments when I stood in Taraweeh prayer in our Masjid courtyard and it began drizzling, ever so lightly. But the drizzles lasted only for moments, coming and going on occasional nights stretched far in between. It just wasn’t the same. Likewise, this Ramadan wasn’t the same.

For starters, this was my first Ramadan experience since I got my first job last year. Gone were the easy school and college days, where you could doze off for a nap in class or laze off at home during holidays. I was apprehensive at this new prospect of how I’ll have to adapt my Ramadan schedule with my work demands. Anticipating a tough month, I went in with a plan to balance my spiritual, work and personal objectives. There are so many things that I have been intending to do for the past many months, yet procrastination, distractions and other priorities left me no chance of chasing them. Secondly, the past year has been relentless at pulling me into the fast lane of the rat race of life. Ever since I started working, I have fallen prey to the same work-eat-sleep-repeat cycle day after grueling day. There has been no time spent in planning for the long run, and I could feel the rust start gathering on my personal ambitions. And it seems right now that I’m heading for the path I have dreaded all my life, that one day I will look upon my personal ambitions as myths and dreams only a part of my imagination, like the rain I’m still waiting for.

I had gone in with a plan to explore the long term possibilities (career track, higher education) seriously and rekindle some of my old hobbies once more. I had planned to start reading more, writing more and discovering some more knowledge to keep on learning new things and break out of my stagnant state where I was aimlessly spending time online, playing video games or just wasting time. Hence, the idea was to have a more productive Ramadan, establish some good, new habits and come out the other side with a clearer direction on where I was going. It was a time for self-evaluation and strategic planning.

Alas though, the short term objectives for work have been overwhelming for the past month or so. I can’t be grateful enough that I have gotten the chance to work in full on a 360 degree marketing campaign, being able to channel good influence on most campaign components; I have been living an amateur marketeer’s dream. However, the need to plan for the long term was still strong because my future growth at my current workplace remains in question, with a likely glass ceiling preventing my rise. My current project has been extremely demanding and I have been spending day and night working on it; however, it has also been extremely rewarding in terms of what I’ve managed to learn. Therefore, most of my month was spent working and in spiritual pursuits, hoping for answers.

So even though I was apparently gaining in the short term from my work on the campaign, my long term outlook still remains bleak. I am torn in conflict for I have been using all my time productively and yet have not been able to find the time for myself, to squeeze in my personal objectives or plan my long-term work objectives.

This period has left me confused. At a time when I actually shunned all kind of distractions and tried to focus solely on what’s important to me, I found that I still could not find the time. So how does that bode for the future? Responsibilities will surely increase… at home and at work. So how then will I cope? The question troubles me greatly, and I struggle to find some way to continue with the plan I had made.

During this time, fortunately, I got the chance to get back on track with an old friend who now happened to be working with me. I eventually discovered our mutual love for some things, which included some of my hobbies and interests at heart. We discussed the love for books, for writing and for getting lost when traversing God’s green earth; I often found a few of these things in another person but I realized that there was hardly anyone I knew who shared exactly the same interests. Yet there she was, someone I already knew but had chosen to overlook for the longest time. We managed to find some time to talk in between, as I worked helplessly during the morning and afternoon. It was with the help of some of those talks that I finally mustered enough motivation to squeeze, bit by bit, some time to start reading again, to start writing again. I came to realize that not all my objectives can be covered through self-isolation. Sometimes, we need that extra push from a friend to start us on our way.

To look ahead for the long term, I realized that isolation and focus is not the simple key, but invited opinions and help from those close to us is what we often need, plus always a little faith. However, that only answered half my questions. I may have some clarity on how to get back to what’s important for me (my personal goals), but I still do not know exactly where the road leads. I do not know where my long term work objectives lead to? What is my next step after my current project ends? Will I be recognized for all the effort I have put in and allowed a growth path at my current workplace? Or is there an entirely different path… a path where my long term, hazy goals are related to the interests that are important to me. I am confused. My current work on the campaign has set me up for another trip of Pakistan like last October. I am confused, but I look forward to traveling the diverse-scape of Pakistan, and to discover new paths where I can get lost… get lost so I can find myself again.

Today is the last day of Ramadan and the monsoon seems to be over. The overcast clouds have dissolved to make way for the intense sun and heat which was missing for the entire month. Ramadan’s parting has left me confused, but still I wait… hopeful for some answers. The glass windows shine bright with the glare of the sun, dry of the silver mosaic which never formed. The rain drops never fell, but the road to the heart of Pakistan is about to open once more… so I hang on to hope. Pakistan beckons once more, a confused land with much to discover on every path; it calls out to me. Just like I rediscovered how a friend can motivate me, I hope to rediscover Pakistan. I am confused, but still I hang on, hopeful for answers, waiting for the rain… I hang on to faith.

I decided to share this little poem here, a discovery I made while riding a subway train in NYC in June; a little discovery helping me to discover new paths in more places. Noche de Lluvia, Spanish for Night of Rain: