Past two days have been a ride of see-saw.
If one was an utter joyous relief of a dear friend’s wedding ceremony. Other was sheer departure of a friend’s father.
Death – they call it.
From that we have yet another lesson learnt.
Life has its highs and lows. Prime is the fact that we realise our “point of contentment” from it. In moments of high altitude modesty is the rope to hold to. It keeps us tied to the true essence of faith resulting in decentness in the attitude of the behaviours of believers. It lets us inhale the beauty of Islam just as Allah has ordained us to. It lets us believe in the (only) omnipotent and makes us comprehend the demands of the belief of Qadr ; lets us cherish this brief sojourn the way a traveller’s pace in an inn.
As Robert Frost puts it:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood,
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that passing there
Had worn them really about the same
And both the morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh! I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
– Robert Frost