IS IT REALLY THE INJUSTICE THAT DOESN’T STOP OR IS IT ME?
There is never a day that passes by in the lands of my fellow brothers and sisters, that the sound of gunshots is not heard. And there is never a day that the wind blows past them without the smell of the burning fire across the road. Oh God, has there ever been a day a family has sat together and laughed without the worry of losing each other the very next moment? Oh God, has there ever been a day my fellow oppressed muslims around the globe have been able to live their lives like I do?
Such are the thoughts that taunt me every night of every day. And I think to myself is there anything I can do for them? Not often, however, I’ve heard the news, watched the videos, cried at the pictures and raised my hands for them too. Yet, is there anything more I can do to help them? Is there any other way at my disposal that I can hold on to those hands that reach out to me for help?
Then came this one night, where my heart ached of pain and my eyes filled with tears of shame. It is then that I realized the ultimate answer to my question. It is then that it occurred to me that as compared to food, clothes and shelter, it is moreover a SAVIOUR that they need. A saviour who would put a firm halt on all the injustice and restore the peace we crave. A personality who possesses the ability to bring back to every child, his lost father, and bring back smiles to the mothers who carry in their arms their hungry infants. And need not I think who that saviour may be, for theres only ONE ULTIMATE SAVIOUR for whom the entire world awaits- The Mahdi (ATFS)
However, what filled my heart with guilt and eyes with embarrassment, was knowing that I am the reason for the delayed coming of this saviour. It maybe my one action every day that I do so guiltlessly that might have denied his arrival this Friday. Is it my subh namaz that I miss, or my other prayers that I rush? Is it my Thursday nights wasted or my Fridays more of a weekend than looking for my awaited one? Is it those innumerable times I complain or the way I dress? Is it really my Imam who chooses not to come, OR IS IT ME??
Never had it occurred to me, that my role in stopping the injustice is the greatest of all. I always thought food and shelter is all they needed. And now that it comes to my realization the greatest of all their needs, sorrow is just what I find within me. I look back and all I can think of is what have I done that requires not of me to be regretful? BUT, do I have any more time to stop and think? Is there even ONE more Friday that I can let go off my hands despite knowing it is MY call that the Imam awaits?
Now that I see through the pictures again, with answered questions in my mind, I see the wait of the saviour seem so long in the eyes of the oppressed. I notice tears running down their cheeks yet a smile they manage to wear, for they know, they know He’s coming. I see them try getting a soundful sleep every spot they earn, because although theyre surrounded with fire, they know theres a saviour. And I see again mothers in search of their children and fathers trapped amongst the cruel soldiers, but more than that, I see the belief in them, that there is someone who can get them where they want to be. BUT to undermine everything, there is ONE thing I see that just forces my head to bow down….
And that’s when I see those same tearing, hopeful and searching eyes look into my eyes and see no hope for themselves; and those hands stretched out to me in help slowly fall back down into place downheartedly. It feels like a failure to see those yearning hearts turn away from me. Because they can feel my irresponsiveness in every bullet that they take & every brother that they lose.
So now the questions that taunt me are,
IS IT ONLY THE ENEMIES BEING UNJUST OR IS IT ME?
COULD I HAVE BEEN THE REASONFOR THE PROLONGED OPPRESSION? And,
IS IT REALLY MY IMAM WHO CHOOSES NOT TO COME OR IS IT ME?