Tales From Agrabah

• 5. A رمضان Like No Other (١٤٤١): Part 1

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A رمضان Like No Other (١٤٤١): Part 1

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Day: [ ١ ]

One hot summer vacation, years ago, I remember thinking 'we might not have a more bizarre Ramadhan than this one'. That year (I think it was 2012), we spent half of the blessed month in the Middle East and the rest of it, including Eid, in the Homeland. What was bizarre was that we got to fast 31 days (because of the time differences). Looking back now, it seems like nothing. What has 2020 brought that hasn't surprised us?

From the out-of-season rain pitter-pattering on the heavily translucent windows in my room, bringing thousands of known memories and unknown blessings, to the forced lockdown instigated by The Invisible Enemy... Sometimes, I think we were going too fast for our own good. The gaps between us probably increased even as crowds gathered. Maybe that's why we're stuck in isolation.

Maybe it's not the enemy after all, maybe we are. If Earth was a person, he'd be suffering from human toxicity, and the virus would be his effective antibody. Are we finally evolving with a pause button? Have we gone so far over the edge that we now need mass deaths to remind us who's in-charge and who the guest is?

And somehow, we still have people who believe it's all a hoax. Even if it is, safe > sorry. But it's most definitely not something to be taken lightly. My college isn't a quarantine centre for fun; we're not in the red zone for nothing. Even if people don't care about themselves, nobody should have the right of putting medical personnel at risk. Nobody should be putting anybody in harm, but that's a different story for another day.

What have you guys been doing with groceries and everyday things though? #Untouch24Hours? Washing with turmeric powder / soap? Somebody here wanted to try 'drying up the virus' from newspapers, but then it would be the next day until we could label it "readable". If we're doing this much to the things, the Safe Agenda for humans should be crazier. And thus, masajid aren't a place to come together this Ramadhan. Though it is really heartbreaking, I think I'm enjoying the home taraweeh too.

Ramadhan Mubarak to all those whom I didn't get a chance to wish! ^_^

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Day: [ ٢ ]

There is a forest beside where my house stands. Thick, with crisscrossing branches, rich green leaves, heavily dewed in the mornings, sucking the pollution out from the air... I don't know what it's like inside, we aren't allowed to wander there. It looks like it runs beside the roads for eternity, like the roads were paved through a large clearing; because we saw grasslands, horse trails and random camouflaged booths. I still don't know what those are for. It's lined all around by a cobbled footpath which is high enough to be called a tiny wall, but effective enough to avoid almost all accidents.

If you were lucky, you'd see a soldier walking about inside the forest, gaze fixed on a distant target, a gun stationed in his hand. Or you might catch another fighter painting a sign board that reads "trespassers will be shot". I've seen one of them staring wistfully at the busy roads, maybe wondering when they'd get to walk with people instead of carrying bullets. We never heard gunshots though, the forest was doing its job in magnificence. We call it the military lands... Well, I sometimes call it the military muffler.

Months ago, when we found out it's going to be cut down, I remember how it was opposed... In our heads. I sometimes talk to those plants, and didn't want to lose those moments of one-way conversation. I mean, they always have great stories to tell; they are a witness for many situations, (including a murder, a couple of months ago). It was natural I was upset at the authorities. But I did make Du'a for something to stall it, because I loved those trees. And guess what? We're in lockdown. 😁