When I saw the topic of the article itself, I was stunned. I felt a knot of anger developing in my throat. A sense of desperation was expanding in my chest, but as my computer wasn’t functioning properly, I left it, or maybe, I just didn’t want to see what Muslims accused their brothers of.

 

It was anger and frustration in me or was it weariness?; I don’t remember; but yes! I went, fell limply on the bed and some thoughts going on over and over in my brain drowned me into a sleep.

 

‘ Getup! Getup! You haven’t prayed!’. My sister was shaking me when I opened my eyes. I felt them burning and red, ‘leave me!’ I told her, and she, hearing my furious tone went out of the room, glancing back with pleading eyes.

 

I lay for few moments. ‘ What do they think themselves?’, my subconscious self had been going through the same matter all the while. I felt a stretch within me; I hopped down the bed and entered the toilet. But as I bent to wash my face, I glanced into the mirror before me, my cheeks were blushing and slowly tears made their way out of my eyes. I had so many questions and nobody to answer them. Well! I knew the answers. But I felt desperate as to how to make Muslims understand the value o f trust between them.

 

What have we made of ourselves today? A pack of classes and castes? That for the slightest of difference we turn on each other’s life?

 

THE DIFFERENCE IN OPINIONS WAS EVEN AT THE TIME OF THE Prophet (peace be upon him) but nobody fought over it. This was because the Prophet (peace be upon him) reacted to different situations differently and as all were related from the Prophet (peace be upon him) different sahabas took different ways but they never argued.

 

But this is not what I want to say in this article! The article whose topic referred to at the starting was “ Islam forbids killing of innocent civilians, 11 Sept attack”

 

‘ Yes! That’s my desperateness!’ People always turn to their brothers for support, and what do we do when that’s also gone… not just that, even their fingers point in accusation.

 

Our Muslim brothers in Afghanistan…in Russia…stated forwardly that they weren’t involved in those brutal attacks…but who in the world will believe them, not even Muslims.

 

We are, (MashaAllah!), very much obsessed by the non-Islamic media that what they say cannot be put down, you see!. How can they create lies to separate Muslims? Its only Muslims who are liars…and terrorists... And brutal wolves! Is it not?!

 

Well! As “terrorist” is a word associated with my Mujahideen brothers and the non-Islamic media states,

“EXTREMIST…SALAFIST…TERRORIST…IDEOLOGY…”

 

Yes, extreme we are… extremely good, extremely generous, extremely well-mannered extremely truthful …etc that is all there in Islam, and salafi too, followers of the Salaf, our righteous ancestors,

 

So, if this extremism and salafi thought is associated with terrorism, hey!, then that becomes a compliment. If I am called a terrorist because I am a Muslim then I would like to be called so, because I am proud to be a Muslim!, AlhamduliLLah. Now! If I am a terrorist you wont believe me.

 

The Prophet (peace be upon him) is reported to have said that Muslims are like one body if one part is affected, the other cannot be spared. Yes and I can see how this body has been cut into chunks, that each is lifeless.

 

We never get into the feeling of our brothers. We don’t understand how desperate they might be with no one supporting them! (though, indeed Allah is sufficient as a helper!) How horrible their lives might be with one day a sister’s goodbye, then the next, a dad’s burial.

 

And in the midst of all this, I am hanging with a mere wish to do something for my brothers and being helpless at the same time. I can pray! I can cry! But till when? When will be the time to rise again…when will I be able to hold the gun on my shoulder and join that wonderful group of Muslims…the (so-called) terrorists…the mujahideen.

 

 

 

I, and if my cries, would help something decrease

I would cry for you through out and never cease

 

And I still compose poems that I feel

Which seem to, yet never bring me ease