If you don’t mind my weaving geographical yarns, I would like to mention a few things about the climes of Eden. The intensity of sunshine in Eden was about the same as Australia’s- Sydney also is almost 32 degrees (33.55S) away from equator, in the Southern Hemisphere. But of course, as I often do, I can’t help boasting that Eden and the larger region around it had the hottest summertime temperatures than any other densely populated big region. At summer’s peak this whole region blazed as hot as let’s say Riyadh, Baghdad and Phoenix, Arizona in July.
The winters in Eden didn’t have the dramatic weather like snowfall but still it could get really cold when nighttime temperatures could creep below freezing because of the continental climate. Short but cold winters really stood out as people were used to enduing extremely hot weather most of the year. It was by late November when most trees started to shed their frost-bitten, yellow, brittle leaves. After the trees had cast off all of their leafy cloaks, for a couple of months all you saw was a landscape dotted with odd ghostly bare trees that seemed to have given up on life and died forever. Poplar trees with their gigantic skeletons rising into the cold dull sky looked uniquely strange.
At night, frosts could occur. Another notable feature of the region’s winters was the thick fogs which sometimes seemed to linger and float for days, and you wouldn’t see any sunlight, but just a hoary pall of thick grey fog. At night when people were buried under piles of blankets, quilts to keep themselves warm, street dogs howled at the invisible moon that was blotted out by thickly frozen air. Many people said the dogs could see the life forms from the infernal regions. As the eerie howls resonated throughout the night people became uneasy and often chanted or muttered holy hymns to keep evil spirits away. It was all very unnerving and Gothic.
As for daytime fogs, they often escalated to become smog because of fires and coal heaters that poor folks used, to keep them from freezing. People found the sunless days very glum and depressing, especially as they were used to the long, hot, incandescent summers.
I must mention that in those days when the events of this story took place the region around Eden really didn’t seem crowded at all and there were plenty of secluded places even in big cities. By further accentuating this desolation the coldest winters and hottest summers days turned the Eden into a ghost town. Mothers warned their children that- if they were not careful and loitered about- most evil spirits can enter their bodies on cold winter nights and hot summer afternoons when they must stay indoors to be safe. Some kids were so spooked by these descriptions that they often confessed to having seen evil spirits swirling around thorny bushes and lonesome acacia trees or in the mirages that formed when ghostly vapors seemed to rise from the tar covered roads under the burning sun.
But now, with the breakneck increase in population and new constructions all that empty space that fed the imagination is lost and gone forever.
The most appealing thing about autumn and winter for me was the natural freshness and healing that cold brought to me. Most of the invasive insects, filthy house flies (that seemed to be everywhere all the time) and hideous lizards (that always terrified me for some reason) either died or hibernated when it was frosty. For these reasons I always found the cold very stimulating, relaxing and wholesome. And there were no more streams of sticky sweat, blisters and rashes on my skin from the fire that fell from sky for most of the year.
In cold weather, people wore woolen clothes and they looked well padded and cute, at least the cute ones did. I always loved the sweaters and my forbidding mother had the keenest eye for all sorts of expensive pullovers, Jerseys that would look gorgeous when they wrapped someone with my age, shape, size, skin tone, hair style etc. In a way, in the wintertime, my mother was the artist and I her work. For this reason, I always let her buy me sweaters even though in almost every other thing I just told her to stay out of my life and leave me alone.
But let’s get back to the big scandalous event of this story. It was autumn and I was happy. For some reasons that I cannot really remember, I and my friends and partners in wanton crimes the Twins were not going out anymore, for our illicit smoking expeditions. Maybe we did not find it very appealing to sit on some tree branch in the wilderness and brave the cold breezes. Maybe they were down with bad cold and fevers like many kids were at the onset of winters. Other than that it could also be that autumn was the time for exams in schools, so I might have been too busy sticking my head in the boring text books and hating mathematics, as always, which made no sense to me. But- against my wishes- the scary Mathematics text books always surrounded me, as did the lizards.
We had one general store that had recently opened up in the neighborhood that year. The young guy who owned and ran it had been displaying some imported fancy electronic gadgets in glass cases to entice many teenagers in the area. He showed us some cool, real clever but inexpensive things like a teddy bear who said he loved you if you poked him in the belly, a Christmas card that chimed with musical tunes when you opened it, electronic watches with hundred year calendars and many other features, Key rings that beeped in different tunes if you whistled near them (that way you could never lose your keys, was the idea), little electronic games that used any kind of light (sunlight, electric bulb or tube light) to run, instead of batteries, many small torches that produced colorful lights, intercom phones that could connect bedrooms to kitchens, so husbands could ring and order a cup of tea from their wives who toiled in the kitchen; it could be the other way round in case of henpecked husbands. In short it was an amazing array of little gadgets. The wonderful and affordable red dot laser pointers would not arrive in Eden for at least 5 more years.
This day is clearly etched in my memory. I had bought a really dandy looking calculator with a big screen from the shop. It showed huge digits and gave out a tinkling sound as you pressed any key. Boy was I excited! To begin with I was so stupid at Math and it made me very angry when I could never solve the text book problems fast enough, as I took ages doing calculations. Besides, my answers were often wrong. I pained me to realize that unlike literature and many other subjects if you’re off the mark doing maths then you’ve lost the whole game no matter how much hard work you put into it. And I don’t even want to talk about square roots, LCM (lowest common multiple), HCF (Highest common factor), the multiples, the divisibles and such Mathematical metaphysical claptrap! In short, this calculator was not only so jazzy but it could also carry me through a lot of crap with least possible pain to my literature loving, moony and imaginative brain cells.
I had just asked my angel of a father that I needed the contraption. He dipped his hand in some small leather bag, handed me bunch of bills and said, ‘‘Sure! And here is extra money. Buy more stuff that you may like and also candy, chewing gum, soft drinks whatever you want prince!’’
So, this is how the calculator was in my hands that made me ecstatic, proud and relieved. The evening was a bit chilly and windy. With the religious zeal of a 12 year old for the trivial, I ran off to show the calculator to my best friends.
Ruble opened the door and I almost took a step back in deference; she looked different: Mature and more handsome than usual. She looked very feminine with a hint of boyish oomph. What was different I wondered and then I noticed she had her hair nicely done and had a fancy hair clip on. She smelled fresh and sweet. She had also rouged her cheeks lightly, had fancy ear rings, a lovely scarf around her neck that she wore in a snappy manner that gave her the blasé look. She even had lipstick on: A pretty girl all wrapped up in a very chic arsenal.
She apologized for looking so pretty, ‘‘Gosh! I’m sorry I was playing with mother’s lipstick. Please don’t laugh!’’
I was too excited to comment on that but I asked about her Twin brothers, ‘Ruble! Where are your brothers? I gotta show my pals something!’’
She too was surprised to see me so thrilled, ‘‘They’re not at home. In fact no one is at home.’’
‘‘Yeah? Well, screw them! You’re here! First, please get me a glass of water.’’
I lay on the carpet in front of the TV and switched on my Christmassy calculator that jingled to life. She came back with the water which I gulped down instantly. Joy being an infectious thing, soon she seemed almost as happy as I. She lay beside me on the carpet- on her stomach- and like me rested on her elbows and raised her neck to look at my device like some jaunty cat with a cute scarf around her neck.
‘‘Ruble, this is a miracle and a savior. For God’s sake I don’t even remember simple multiplication tables let alone complex calculations! Here I am dying to demonstrate and the jingles! O God.’’
I made some simple calculations and wanted to show that calculator thinks the same. Like a dolt I took great pride in predicting the answers to things like 7 multiplied by 4 is 28 and cheered when the calculator tinkled with conformity. At that moment something happened. I almost remember it in minute details, as a slow motion flick. I felt a shadow gently overcoming me from the side. Ruble leaned over to my side, from my left side, and slowly but gently brought her lips to my cheek and held them there for at least two seconds.
I froze. I did not turn my head to look at her but stared at the calculator with my mouth half open with awe.
But then I remembered that girls sometimes did that kind of cutesy thing to boys as they get into some kind of girly-kittenish moment. Of course I was no saint but I would have enjoyed it if the caress had come with some sort of -identifiable- prior short notice and had not so rudely interrupted my wild rapturous moment with the machine in my hand.
Other than that, all my short life before teenage I had liked so many girls and women, but I never really actively romanced them or wrote them love notes and stuff like that that many other boys did. I had always been extraordinarily reserved in the matters of heart. Only once, all I had done was hug a girl. I was only about six years old then, when my family lived in some other part of the city. In my neighborhood there were hardly any boys, so I only played with girls. I loved being with them until the older guys everywhere started to make fun of me and said that only girls played with girls.
But being with girls had given me many opportunities of experiencing romantic stuff of sorts that I watched in the movies. One hot afternoon in the backyard of one girl’s house, when everyone was sleeping, I enclosed her in my arms and held her there, leaning against a big shady tree while some little birds twittered up in the bowery branches. I felt very peaceful and she was quiet too.
Then she asked after at least a couple of minutes swooning in my arms, ‘‘Are you hugging me?’’
‘‘Yes’’ I replied.
‘‘Ok’’ She said, having allayed her doubts or whatever girly trivia it was.
That was all I had done but I had to pay for it. Next day she told the other girl we used to play with, called Dimple, about the hugging incident. Dimple was very angry about it and said it was a dirty sin. But Dimple was weird too. Another hot afternoon I was playing with her when my brother came and said, ‘‘Mom is very angry and she wants you home right now!’’
I did not know any swear words when I was six so I just said, ‘‘No!’’
My brother said, ‘‘I forgot to tell you that mother made a cake and dad has just brought a bunch of new comic books. It’s awesome!’’
I could not see through these tactics those days, so I said, ‘‘Yeah? Let’s go then.’’
Suddenly, Dimple got sad about my desertion. She held my hand and spoke, ‘‘Please stay here a minute longer. I want to tell you a secret.’’
She also begged my brother to excuse us for a minute and took me to the back of her house. I was absolutely unsure what secret she wanted to tell me. I was mighty perplexed.
When we reached under some shade that hid us from the blistering sun she was still holding my hand, with both of her hands. I asked, ‘‘What is it? What secret?’’
‘‘I’m a bit shy to tell you.’’
‘‘I’m leaving! Hurry up or I’m going away right now.’’ I was now very annoyed about her messing me around like an idiot.
She blurted it out, ‘‘Please marry me,’’ and clasped my hand harder.
At that time I found it neither shocking nor sweet. I thought it was very stupid of her and a waste of time. Everyone repeated things from the movies all the time: ‘‘I will kill you’’, ‘‘I love you’’, ‘‘Bastard! I will kill you,’’ and now ‘‘Please marry me.’’ How tedious: some kids had no imagination, I thought.
‘‘Is that all?’’
‘‘Yes. Marry me.’’
‘‘Ok. Catch you later.’’ I left and she followed me and my brother up to the main gate of her house. As a farewell she said, ‘‘Don’t tell your brother! Please!’’
When we were on the street my brother asked, ‘‘What secret was she talking about?’’
‘‘She said, ‘please marry me’, she is such a weird girl, this Dimple.’’ I was still annoyed.
My brother laughed and when we reached home he told it to mother who laughed too. I had no idea what the hell was so funny about it. I was so angry because there was neither cake nor comic books for me. I wanted to kill my brother.
Few seconds had passed after Ruble had kissed me on the cheek. It was my first kiss, as in boy and girl kiss. But I had neither sought nor expected it, so it had only shocked me. Then I heard a nervous giggle, ‘‘Sorry. I’m really sorry. Hey tell you what, I just did it to leave my lipstick mark on your cheek and it looks so silly.’’
‘‘Oh. Yeah?,’’ I giggled nervously too, ‘‘Well, in that case would you please remove it because if my mother saw it she will murder me or throw me out on the street to live with the mangy dogs.’’
She almost took it as some military command, ‘‘Sure!’’. She took her hanky and carefully started rubbing out and removing the mark she had left on my cheek moments before.
Soon, I got up to leave and play with my gadget in the safety of my own home, where no one would disturb me with random pecks on the cheek when I wasn’t even looking. But before leaving, I wanted to confirm once more. ‘‘Are you sure it is totally removed, I’m worried!’’
She again giggled nervously, ‘Yes! It is gone. Now get out, will you?’’
I’d never seen her blushing like this. It was almost as if that the evening embers of the dying sun were glowing from her porcelain cheeks.
Comment on Catholic Muslim Dialogue August 29, 2008
Tags: Catholic, Comment, Interfaith, Muslim
I originally posted it as a private comment but after receiving a comment from another friend I think I should make it available to public. (Note added on 30th August)
Private Post: Comment could not be published as comments are closed on this post:
http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/eboo_patel/2008/04/salam_alaykum_pope_benedict/all_comments.html
Comment text as follows:
It might simplistic but here is one theory: as religious institutions both Catholics and Muslims are essentially the same on social topics: conservative male centric, claiming exclusivity, promising heaven, preaching ‘’sexual morality” in all situations. The only difference is the kind of mythology/Liturgy they subscribe to in order to preach same social/moral world view.
Now, can there be a dialog? Nope, they truly don’t want one. Their exclusive nature means that Catholics want to convert Muslims and vice versa. Eventually they’re competing for same human souls and resources that exist on our planet. I guess what this world really needs is not good dialog but good fences built on mutual understanding.
And Rick Faircloth, evil must be policed by us all as international human community. No race can assume the responsibility of policing its own. It doesn’t work anyway. When Europeans colonized the whole world and butchered, raped, plundered indigenous peoples all over the world, their folks never policed them, in fact they encouraged them.
In your own country slavery lasted for such a long time and no self policing did anything. In fact most White people strongly supported the institution of Slavery. They even quoted Bible to justify slavery just as Apartheid regime in South Africa did to justify their own crimes.
But human conscience guided by true and good religion or beliefs is the ultimate liberator of human race.
Abraham Lincoln said, ”As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master.”
It is written in Galatians 3:28, ”There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.”
This is good human conscience and good religion. And I say Amen to that!
Rick Flaircloth’s comment was:
Hi, Eboo…
Thanks for your thoughts.
As a long-time Christian and ordained minister,
I’d like to offer this perspective.
As the black community will never completely be respected
by the white community in America until it is willing to
“police” its own, so too, the Muslim community will never
be respected by the rest of the world until it is willing to
“police” its own, and insist that its own members value
truth, justice, and righteousness above its value of simply
being called a “muslim.”
The black community has the same problem. Many of that community
value their “blackness” above the values of fairness, appropriate tolerance,
and justice for all.
The black community, as well as the Muslim community, must be willing
to discipline its members who do wrong, such as with terrorist acts, and
stop the behavior before respect and acceptance can follow.
The basic concept is this: any community, white, black, Muslim, Christian must be willing to hold its members accountable for their actions and when members of that community do wrong, punish and stop them “from within the community.” In other words, the community must take responsibility for its own members. Members of various communities cannot always be defended in their actions simply because they are “my brothers.”
May it be so.
Rick
Rick Faircloth,
Hinesville, GA, USA
Below is the comment Received from Fish Hawk and my response:
Perhaps I am the one who is missing the point, but I’m getting the impression that this is being presented as a numbers game, as in regards unto one or the other trying to establish their superiority through size of membership, when that is missing the point entirely. Well, at least in regards unto what the point should be. For if it is indeed true that it is only through Christ that one can get unto Heaven after their time as a part in this world comes unto an end, it would be the most evil thing in the world for a Christian to neglect seeking to help convert every Muslim they come into contact with. The same applies unto Muslims with Christians if what they believe about Allah is true, of course.
Now, this is not to say that it is foolish to hope for a certain amount of mutual respect and cooperation in the hope of making this a better world to live in while we are still here. For that would not bring any glory unto either our Heavenly Father or Allah, but to present proselytizing as being akin unto poaching is foolishness.
August 30, 2008
Very good point my friend. Actually this was supposed to be an invisible comment that I originally posted at my wordpress mirror blog. But months later I hear a word from you and you end up posting your comment on this one!
But well, I will offer a little defense. First the tone of this piece was harsh, provoked by the tone of what I was responding to. Also, surfing through Washington Post’s blogs I got sick of seeing so many bloggers etc. claiming to be ”Interfaith dialog” proponents.
My point was to get very down and dirty and highlight that, yes, eventually it is a numbers game. Christians and Muslims have been slaughtering each other in Lebanon, Indonesia and in the Balkans (Serbia-Bosnia Herzegovina regions)etc. I was making this point from an earthly/ political point of view.
But you raise a very tricky point regarding deeper spiritual issues. Though I still profess to be a (liberal) Christian, I still am not sure how am I to treat Muslims who have well established culture and religion of their own. I have had a few Muslim friends who I have discussed their religion with and loved hearing about their faith, beliefs. But I am not sure that I can tell them they are false and Christianity is what they should convert to…
But as it is, proselytizing across these two faith- Christianity and Islam- goes on. Interestingly, I hear preachy imams on local TV, Radio here in New Zealand but you cannot even carry a Bible in-let’s say- Saudi Arabia. Probably that should be the first point of any interfaith dialog!
I will make my post on WordPress visible and post these comments there too. Many thanks for your valuable feedback.
August 30, 2008