Confession !

Getting honest…

It is tough for me. I am a perfectionist.

I like to have everything neat and tidy...all my ducks in a row....

...and I often consider myself at my peak proficiency level if everything is checked off my to-do list before the end of the day.

But on the contrary…if I admit that…I am not at all perfect…hmmm…

How does this confession sound?

Yes….I sinned….messed up…I fell short…tops my list are rarely checked.

And while I confess my sins to Almighty...

HIS grace and brilliance is breathtaking…and…my defences are blown away…all of my protective walls have come down.

It means…

I am admitting my unworthiness…and now there is nothing left.

World's Appart

I went to the Abdullah Shah Ghazi shrine this Thursday as usual.

It was cool and damp and quiet…the way a shrine should be. May be because it was the second day after Eid.

A woman in a black shalwar suit walked by my side where I sat with a few books sprawled about.

The woman sat down besides the big metal box people use to drop Charity money…few steps ahead in front of me…and began reviewing one of the various binders and books that were piled on the table on her left.

I was imagining away from this world and trying to ignore my beloved husband’s pleading eyes…who was sitting far away on the other side of the shrine in the male area…to finish my prayers and stand up to walk out…

I was trying to touch the dept…the calm…the quite and peace of my inner world with the slow beating of my pulses…when I was repeating my Maker name in slow but in rhythmic lyrics and was really enjoying it…hmm...

When I heard this hissing sound.

I figured it was a pipe or something.

The hissing became louder…like an angry whispering…and suddenly morphed into this screeching voice.

I looked up and saw it was the woman in front of me.

She was alone…nobody either male or female came with her…her back toward me…and shaking violently.

She held her hands were in the air…as if begging some imaginary monster to please leave her alone.

Maybe she's practicing her opening statement in her grave, I thought.

Then she began whimpering and shaking her head…shielding herself with her bony hands.

Suddenly her voice changed into this guttural voice and I could hear her cursing and whispering and shrieking insults and obscenities like "Idiot!" and "Hell You!"

Needless to say…I was disturbed and was angry.

I tried to concentrate …but my heart started thumping so loudly in my ears…I couldn't hear myself think.

Maybe she had Tourette Syndrome. Tourette Syndrome was better than just plain crazy.

Maybe she was possessed. Or maybe she had multiple personalities -- that would explain the different voices.

At any rate…I had to wrap up myself to go back to the entrance area where my beloved husband already moved…and slowly took my books so as not to disturb the Scary Woman.

I was actually expecting that she will going to attack me…teeth baring…fingernails outstretched.

I seriously think if she dared I would have give her big hit on her face for disturbing me…
hmmm…

But she didn't.

Friendly Bakra !

To know about last year's Bakra- the goat....click here

Human life and Bakra life are both very interesting..hmmm....

As a Friendly-bakra…you have bakra-friends and talk about bakry and shepherd….grass and leaves.

For the past few years…this has been the bulk of Friendly-bakra’s existence.

Now that friendly-bakra is in a big city…friendly-bakra see this whole other world…the world of humans.

And friendly-bakra makes so many human-friends.

It's a world where all of a sudden your shepherd invite you over to check your teeth…and you begin attending humans which give you amusement.

And only now Friendly-bakra realized that there are two different worlds…because friendly-bakra’s former bakra life seems like a distinct segmant of his life.

Friendly-bakra recently noticed a growing distance between him and his bakra-friends.

“Maybe we just have less in common now….given that they talked about grass 99.9% of the time. Or maybe it feels like the grass takes up 99.9% of my time…if not my thoughts”.

Friendly-bakra also noticed that a few of bakra-friends have gone out of the flock without inviting him or saying good-bye.

When he was in small city…they'd shoot a baahh-email during the week asking if he wanted to see the new flock or farmhouse opening up and check out the 'bakra' there.

Granted…it could be because Friendly-bakra is not as fun as he used to be.

But a part of friendly-bakra suspects that it's because he is no longer in the market and wouldn't delight in the adventures of meeting suspiciously attractive sociopaths...as he has been sold to a lady who is trying so hard to make him a friend.

So friendly-bakra talked about his recent issues with his new lady owner-cum-shepherd….and after a little thought she agreed with friendly-bakra:

“I do know that…even with the human-friend…it's important to maintain one's bakrafriendships.
Because without the bakras….where would bakra be? So you have all my support to mix –up with other bakra...hmmm.

I never wanted you to leave your bakra-friends !“

Friendly-bakra told her that everyone goes through at least a couple emotionally traumatizing events in her/his life…like I will…as friendly-bakra knows well that soon he will be sacrificed…and in the end…friendly-bakra get through it with at least a little help and support from his bakra-friends.

Friendly-bakra has seen too many times where a bakra…once find a human-friend…will "disappear" on his bakra pals.

But sooner or later one realized that how important it is to remain in contact with other bakras.

So Friendly-bakra’s mandate to himself is this: I maintain and nurture my bakrafriendships.

No matter which world I'm in.

The Replacement

hmmm…pieces of shattered glass lay everywhere on the floor…

It was so sudden and so immediate that I couldn't do anything…only to let the mirror fall on the floor…watching it…let it broken into pieces soon as it hit the ground with sudden crashing…shrilling voice.

I sighed on the wastage of my precious mirror…hmm...bent down and stretched one of the hands to pick the pieces…

And readily take it back as one broken piece went deep into my finger…the blood started rushing out from the finger I left the pieces and turn to my wound.

Shattered glasses were still everywhere on the floor…like hopeless pieces of trash…and the beauty of the beautiful glass seemed hopelessly married and wasted.

Once…they were together made a complete image...a complete figure.

The designer who made the mirror carefully kept it far from extra burden or weight…careless on lookers…every break…every cut and every strain.

That’s how with so much care and all time support…the maker finally sell it to one buyer and what she did soon after the mirror landed on her ground?

She let it break…sigh.

But no worry….the shattered looking glass is gone.

The brokenness is replaced with another complete image from the same designer.

Only the useless...rubbish pieces of glass left behind few haunting reminders of what I once treasured more than anything else…and on breaking how deep it gave me a wound.

But this is life…we suffered and our broken dreams…shattered hopes and aspirations lay everywhere like useless pieces of rubbish…destined to fade away…and even though our heart suffered the wound…

hmm....it keeps hoping.

And our hope is greatly dependent on the Designer…the Maker…who must have something in replacement for us…

Who would offer something exact…something which match the empty space brought by the broken dreams in our heart.

It is then that I realize…as I never may have realized before...that the blows that I thought were aimed by Satan to destroy my mirror…my heart...

My Maker used to build my heart up…to make something beautiful in the replacement of the broken pieces.

“It is amazing what God can do with a broken heart… if we let Him have all the pieces.”

There is nothing too broken for myMaker to transform.

Nothing too shattered for Him to use.

It takes time to heal the wounds.

The dreams may change.

The hopes…plans and aspirations we held dear may not remain the same…but from those broken pieces He creates something new.

He always have the replacement.