Now when Ramadhan has taken a back seat to just about everything else and the old, disenchanted life slowly settles upon the days, shackling people into blitzy routines so they can once again get back to being the same, ever-complaining slaves to time and world, i look back in retrospect to find what impact the blessed days have made on my life.
Daura Tarjumah Quran wasn’t something new to me but this Ramadhan’s was a no match. I was staying back in university for summer semester when i heard about Abbasi shb’s daura. Lemme tell you here that i’m the type of guy who rarely expects good out of things. Call it pessismism but that really helps; at least you’re never let down. But when i learnt the man was known to have been conducting the same program for the last NINETEEN years, i couldn’t help anticipating the wildest (if that’s the right word to say) things there. The daura was expected to draw in fikris from all corners of Pindi/Islamabad. As i was contemplating the distance (19km on the busiest roads of Islamabad) vs worth issues, i was appointed Naqeeb over the rest to ensure their timely arrivals. So, it wasn’t a choice anymore. Soon I found myself scrambling to find a balance between being utterly indifferent, overly demanding and any possible combination of the two towards my Ma’mooreen. You can either be strict and get things done or be good, sit back and get nowhere. That’s a precarious balance. I am no rope-walker but i must say, i did try to walk that fine line. It might not have made me a good Ameer but i’m sure it did turn me into a better Ma’moor.
Anyway, the nights were more enthralling than i could imagine. Abbasi shb, like always, was amazing. The first time i saw him in those round-lensed spectacles and that off-white hat, i remember thinking, “Jeez, he looks a lot older!” But when i sat down i found he sounded a lot wiser as well. Or maybe that was the first time his wisdom was actually trickling down into my chicken-sized brain unlike his usual fikri lectures which make me feel like knocking my head and asking if that’s really home to some wrinkly, redneck Mr. Brain. After all, fikr was never my strongest point. So i was saying, when he addresses the general public, he is very kind, polite and easier to understand. I found him opening things up, instead of bringing them to a close with a usual satirical remark which would later turn into a shared joke among his keen disciples who liked to talk about world politics, social injustice, secret cults and political Islam.
Realizing that it was a one-off for me, I vowed not to sleep even if that means having to dream with open eyes, drinking gallons of water and taking consequent leaks and avoiding catch-up gossips under the cool night sky. The month-long ordeal paid off AlhumdulIllah. You see, I am a fikri now!