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Every morning I wake up to the light just to feel the newness of the day that has just been gifted to me. The moment I press my hands on the bed to push my upper half of the body away from it, I say to myself the words ‘there is no God but Allah and Muhammad (pbuh) is His prophet’ and fold my legs erecting my back to sit there straight. I recite a few more verses of the Holy Quran and slip out of the bed taking myself to the window where I move aside the curtain to have a look at the sun-lit street some feet below. I know that I have been blessed.

Between the street below and the window overlooking it, is a small tree. It too big to be called as a plant, and so, for me it is a tree. It has leaves that are dark purple on their upper surfaces and the color of the under sides is green. This is the only one of the several plants and trees that has survived the presence of my house for 16 years. I have been looking at it from the age of 4 but pity me, I do not remember the season when flowers bloom on it.

Every morning when I look down, I miss the sight of this lonely resident of my house. It gives some sort of deep sense and beauty to my house from the outside making the elevation look more abstract than what the architect had planned 16 years ago. I am sure it would be a great loss to the uniqueness of my house should that tree be razed. Still, things won’t cease to change much even if such a thing is done; time and life will still move on.

In the same way, there are some things that come attached with me whenever I am confronted with. To be precise, they are more than just attached to me – they are an integral part me, dissolved in me, found only in me. I, being a high-level life, am a lot different than the house or even the tree. I am the one who lives in that house, ignores the tree and looks at the street behind and below it, and dreams of a home. I am Syed Zubair Hasan and this story is of a guy like me.

He stood leaning against the wall looking at some papers lying on a table a few feet away from him made visible by the yellow light screened from the front window. It was afternoon. Tear drops were rolling down his cheek and he was catching them with his hands to prevent them from falling on the floor. He had just started to write a book on himself and the ink on the very first page refused to dry. The wet ink didn’t allow him to turn the page. It didn’t allow him even to hide the page somewhere. The first page in the book of his life refused to turn and move to the next. It was at a stand still.

***

The other day his friend told him that he was intelligent. He didn’t know what to say in reply. He tried to recall if he had ever heard somebody being called intelligent and the reply the person had given. He pressed his memory hard but found nothing. He simply smiled back.

Moments later he began to count all the foolish things he had done in the last 24 hours and why his friend was just being his friend and praising him.

When he woke up the day before, he spent 2 hours on the bed, and had day dreamt. He had dreamt of being the most cleaver person to live; a man who would never be wrong, who would never fail. He dreamt of being a very smart guy for whom any person would fall and who would never be rejected. He had also day dreamt of waking up everyday in front of a face he loved more than many things. At the end of those 2 hours, he had laughed at himself in his mind and had called himself a fool.

After that he ate some snacks without brushing his teeth. He gave himself a reason that he had washed his mouth just the night before. He didn’t eat a full meal and started reading some newspaper with hunger still in his belly. He wasted a lot of time playing with a pillow lying on the divan. He even hummed a few English songs. He sang them loudly too just to see if he can sing. He found that he couldn’t. He tried Hindi. This time he was better. But he was still starving. He knew he had to eat because morning meal is the most important meal of the day.

He then turned on his computer and started listening to the song he was trying to sing. He heard several songs, each of them several times until he at last considered he should eat something. He got some food ready and didn’t feel like washing his hands so took along with a spoon sitting in front of the computer again. He took more than an hour to finish. He knew he was wasting time and that he was an idiot to do so.

After spending a good 3 hours with the computer he took a nap again. It was already evening. He was lethargic all the time and slept at 2:30 am after doing effectively nothing. The next day his friend came and woke him up.

He tried to recollect everything till he had heard the door bell ring. He understood he was not intelligent. He felt he was a person worse than a fool because he was aware of his dumbness and yet did nothing to correct it.

Then he tried to call to mind and analyze the body-language of his friend calling him intelligent. He put in all the things he knew about body-languages and came to a conclusion that his friend was not tricking him and he had meant to say that. He thought he could be wrong with his analysis because a person who likes to be called as intelligent would never like proving a person who had called him intelligent as wrong. So, he thought, maybe he is fooling himself again. He brought tears in his eyes because he wasn’t good enough to comprehend the truth. He wanted to be intelligent.

***

Once he had an exam to write. He started preparing very late on the day just before the exam. He hardy slept for 2 hours in the night and the next day he was ready to leave his house when his mother said “best of luck”. He replied “thank you” but wasn’t satisfied with what his mother had told him. His father said the same words to him and he felt bad again. The words he wanted to hear were “do the exam well” so that he could say “inshAllah”. All his friends said the same “best of luck” to him and he went to write the exam unhappy.

He didn’t do the exam well. He came out of the place with his head down. Not in shame, but the way he always tries to keep his head. He tied to keep away from all the people who were discussing the question paper. After reaching home, when his parents asked him how he had done the exam, he replied “not so good”. He knew he would be scolded but still he said that. After saying, he felt proud of himself that he always tells the truth to his parents and unlike other people, he never says “the exam was good” even for the one that was bad. He didn’t know if he could be proud because saying the truth is obligatory and it’s no big deal doing something right for the fear that doing wrong would fetch a punishment in the hereafter.

***

He had always tried to keep his head down. Once he was even stopped by a policeman and asked for some identification. He knew that it was something bizarre and unusual keeping the head down always, but he continued with it even in times when he felt the maximum discomfort.

The greatest uneasiness came to him whenever he kept his head down while walking in front of girls or when there were girls standing around. It seemed to him as if by keeping his head down he was giving them a sign that he was shying away from them. He felt as if they were looking at him and laughing talking among themselves how immature he looked. He always felt embarrassed in these occasions but all through he also kept in mind that most probably there is nobody noticing him. But he somehow wanted to be noticed!

He also took pride in letting his friends know that he keeps his head down and never looks up at anybody or anything and particularly never at girls with whom he has nothing to do. He told them that he never feels like looking at them. But he knows how much he fights with the instincts within him that force him to see up. He knows that every time such situation comes, he has to fight a tough battle. But he wins almost always.

He had hated himself several times because he has to brawl and it doesn’t come to him by itself. He hates the thing he has to fight. He hates the instinct that lies deep within him - the very human instincts that makes a boy look at a girl – not as just another human being but as something else. He hates himself for this instinct he has in himself.

Once while thinking about this he said to himself that he hates the man inside him. He laughed at what he had thought. He spent more time on this and realized the word ‘instinct’ as best the best suited to characterize this attraction a male has towards a female. It exists in animals in its wildest form and humans being sophisticated can keep it hidden. He hated himself because he had to hide it. He knew it was an obvious think which everybody knew but never spoke of but was completely normal; but still he wasn’t happy with this.

He once asked himself “do girls get attracted to themselves when they look in the mirror?” He still hates this thing in him. He wants to be a pure, uncorrupted person.

***

Until 8 years back he used to think that only men can love women. Then he learnt life and learnt that it can be both-ways. He found ‘love’ a confusing and an unbelievable concept. He thought love could be real only between people who are bonded by some relation. Life educated him he was wrong. He now believes in a love that can never be wrong. He calls himself a fool for believing in more than what others believe and, most importantly in, what others choose to believe. He knows that this thing can take away his life.

***

He wants to be a good person. In spite of all the mistakes he does and the bad things, he still desires to have goodness within him and so, he keeps telling himself that he has to be good. Every offense he commits gives him guilt. He finds others not minding it done by him or the same thing done by them. But he knows he is right. But the pathos is that he still has a lot of crap within him.

It pains him whenever he finds some person doing something good which he doesn’t do. Some times he is too proud to accept that he is wrong. At times he gives a docile surrender too. He is usually confused but presents a sturdy mature picture.

He likes people calling him good but doesn’t take any compliments when they are given. He believes that if he accepts that he is good, then he would stop doing everything he does to become good. But still he likes being called as good.

***

Once he heard a song in Hindi which translates as “it’s a different thing that you are not in front of me, but you are always here with me”. He has a friend who likes this song and even he used to like it until when he understood that when we miss somebody, we never feel that that person is with us here. We instead feel that we are with them. He thinks of the song by Michael Jackson “you are not alone, I am here with you. Though you’re far way, I am always here to stay”.

Whenever some beloved person is far away from us, we don’t know about how it would be if that person was now here with us now. We instead imagine ourselves being with that person wherever he/she is. He realized this and feels delighted that he has. But he knows it won’t make any difference except that he gets another thing to write about. He will, in anyways, miss the people he misses and will imagine him to be with them. His dreams bring those people to him.

***

Till date he doesn’t know what friendship is. He once called somebody his best friend but he was confused as he couldn’t understand what a best friend is too. But he still believes that someday he will have a friend who would be his best friend. Yet deep inside he knows that he may never find that kind of a person because he thinks he himself is not well-matched for such a thing. He feels bad for that.

His idea of best friend is a person who would be with him even when he is wrong; give him a shoulder to cry on, and most significantly, a person in front of whom he can cry. According to him a best friend is one who would support him at all times alongside telling him whenever he has done something wrong. He thinks of a best friend as a person who would be with him even if he has become the worst person. He calls best friend as a person who is there only for him. He would be very possessive for this best friend if he had one, and so, he knows this relation is impossible. He knows he is asking for too much.

He gives a lot of respect to his friends. It’s not that he expects the same amount of respect in return but he wants whatever he gets to have integrity in it. He knows that his friends show respect towards him only because he respects them. But some times he has seen a few being different with him in terms of showing a little less respect. It was not that he didn’t like the ‘less respect’ thing, but he came to know from that that the respect his friends usually give him is not from their heart, but just a show – something done in return – with no loyalty and uprightness. He knows this is normal – also that he is a bit difficult to deal with. But he has high regards for some of his friends for unique reasons. For others – he is a good friend in return, but respect related things vary with hostility.

***

He has stopped watching television; for two reasons - he doesn’t like what television has to offer, and he likes telling everybody that he doesn’t like watching television.

He doesn’t like the things that are aired on the television – nudity, obscenity, vulgarity and the fooling done by the directors of the television shows. According to him, television shows are made in such a way that the viewers like them even if there is something inaccurate in them and even if it is bad for the viewers to watch. He also knows that it is the viewers who are more wrong. But he has never had any disregards for people who watch television. He calls it as a personal choice and he has made his choice already.

And of course he is a man of pride. So, he gets another thing to flaunt – whenever he gets a chance, he tells people that he doesn’t like television. He knows this is bad he is doing.

***

He loves writing things people like reading but don’t talk about. It can also be thought that what he does is similar to what television does – show what is liked by people and what people want to see. He knows that there are things that directly connect to people’s hearts. These are the things people usually don’t know how to put into words. He tries to do it.

Then there are always things people are afraid to talk about and also the things people are ashamed to get it on their mouths. He tries to give such things a form of words and sentences. He thinks he is doing a good job this way, but he knows he has to be more ingenious and write about feelings that people have never felt but would feel after they read it written by him. He wants to create new feelings.

When he writes, he knows that sometimes he is ending up praising himself in a more indirect and an offensive way. He knows he is trying to prove others wrong and put himself ahead. Even when he dishonors himself, in some way he is trying to praise himself for accepting his fault. He knows not how many people realize this while reading him.

He usually has some set of people in his mind when he is writing. He writes thinking that he is writing to impress them. He tries to think like them but he fails several times – usually when they don’t understand something he has put forth in a twisted fashion. Sometimes he codes in some ideas into this words – he feels bad when nobody understands them and he ends up explaining it openly. It is like a perfect murder, done by a criminal, in a way that nobody can know it has been done by him, but because it is something flawlessly done, he ends up telling it to others in self-appreciation of his flawlessness.

He knows he has a lot more to learn to become a successful writer. But he also knows that people around him will put a lot of resistance to stop him from doing that. It’s because he wants to walk on a road that is usually not taken.

***

He has always tried to be the same person in front of his friends what he is behind them. He wants to have veracity in his relationship and doesn’t want to hide the feeling he has for any of his friends. He thinks he can tell his friends what all he thinks of them but he is afraid that they will misconstrue him. He has tried it a few times but he doesn’t know how his friends have taken it because they didn’t tell him what they thought about it.

Several times he has tried to tell his friends that he felt so and so for something they have done. He tried to be direct but also knows that unknowingly he has conveyed things he never wanted to. He again wanted to clear such things but he didn’t do it, fearing loosing that friend. All he wants is to be a good friend – a person who can be trusted and who could be told anything. He knows he has to prove his trustworthiness, but he knows not how.

He is always cautious not to end up having any distasteful misunderstanding with any of his friends. He is always ready to finding the middle ground – ready to compromise even if it’s not him who is at fault. He doesn’t know if this is right but he can go to any extent to save his friendship.

He might have started some friendships because of some reason like taking help or doing some favor – something very selfish. But once he becomes a friend, he needs no reasons to continue the friendship. He believes that friendship is comparable to the kind of relationships we have with our family relatives which can never end – just suspended.

The only thing he wouldn’t like his friends doing is grouping against him. It’s not the invasiveness that he dislikes; he doesn’t likes being left lonely. He needs to have people around him – for him. He knows it’s not always possible.

He tries not to differentiate between the kind of friendships he may have with boys and girls. But he always remembers that there are some lines that are not to be crossed no matter what happens. He knows that sometimes he could become more favorable towards girls. He hopes nothing ever gets misjudged and speculated. He feels bad because things are not going to be the same always.

***

He always says that he likes being criticized, but even he doesn’t know if he really likes it. Oh perchance he likes being told that he is wrong but not in a way that makes him feel that he is wrong. He likes working around things and discussing them, but never being offended and bombarded with comments. He knows he has to change a few things inside him and be open for some healthy criticism.

He also knows that sometimes he has not been good towards others while telling them about their mistakes. May be he has affronted them but they haven’t said to him a thing about that. He wants to know if he was wrong, but he doesn’t know how to find it out – people are not so forthright; they think, understand, build inside them some grudge against him, and remember it always. He wants people to talk to him at an emotional level taking him as their equal. He hates being taken as a mediocre even if he himself is a zilch. He must correct himself.

All through he tries to criticize himself. Every time he keeps saying to himself “you are wrong, damn it, you are wrong”. Then he cries because he finds it difficult to know where he is wrong. He says to himself “you are fooling yourself honey, this is not the way things work. Think, think and find out the right thing.” He feels bad because he doesn’t know how to direct his mind to thinking in a conscientious way. He wants to get things right but he ends up being wrong. He makes others believe that he is not wrong. He feels culpable about this.

He talks a lot to himself and tries to come clean on everything. Almost at all times, he has words to confess with everybody around because at one time or the other he has manipulated everybody to believe in something he wanted them to believe. He has done it quite a few times and he is guilty for this. He wants to tell about everything to these people but he fears that they may start hating him. He doesn’t like being hated. He is good in hiding things – he doesn’t remember telling any lies to influence people. He takes lies as a very big sin and he avoids it – but not always. He is sad that it is this way. He wants to correct himself but ends up doing nothing. That is even poorer.

***

He wants to be good looking and he thinks its normal for everybody to want it. He tries to be tidy and clean and has put strict rules on himself – do not sleep at night without brushing teeth even if it is 4 am, use an ear bud at least every alternate day, never wear anything that has even a small stain on it, and several more things.

He spends time in front of mirror but sometimes he hates doing that. There is a very peculiar thing that makes him hate the mirror. He also thinks that all mirrors in the world should be destroyed. There are times he fears looking himself in the mirror – he knows why he fears that – if he doesn’t find himself good-looking, he is anxious that even others won’t. He also knows that he is not so good looking for somebody and he will be reminded of that every time he looks into a mirror. But he also thanks Allah for what He has blessed him with. But he asks for more – like every other person.

***

He has thought deeply on a notion called as ‘chick-logic’. He found it first somewhere on the internet and he was shocked to realize all that. “Chick-logic” explains that female instincts make women like men who are bad – or macho, powerful, strong, wild and huge – but it’s the society that brainwashes them making them believe in decency and makes them ask for gentlemen. He knows that all this sounds weird but it’s true.

Things like these have come into humans from animals – like in case of deer where the strongest male gets to mate with the females. Such an explanation appears indecent but this concept has been streamlined and made civilized to be introduced into human beings. He knows that things work this way and he thinks of all this as interesting. But he wants to be good and not bad.

He thinks that it is not a good idea to talk about this but because it is such an obvious concrete, he is ready for any dialogue. But he knows it is difficult to be frank and very sincere while talking on such perceptive points.

***

He believes that crying is the most beautiful emotion. He finds it more powerful and effective than laughing. But he knows that it is difficult to cry than to laugh – similar to that fact that it is easier to feel than to think.

He initially used to find that it is only for the weak and the timid to cry but now he understands that it is indispensable that a person cries and purifies himself. Those who can’t cry can’t laugh properly. He finds that crying strengthens him.

Sometimes when he had wanted to cry, he wasn’t able to cry. He had wanted to alleviate his pains by shedding some tears but even that wasn’t given to him. He had spent moments that lye between a feeling that makes us cry and the real crying with tears. He finds it the most difficult thing to experience. He has always felt nice after crying.

Sometimes he has liked crying too. He had wanted to cry – even wanted to continue crying. Crying ends in contentment. He has hardly felt bad that he had to cry, he felt terrible because he never got a shoulder to cry on. He has just imagined how it would feel crying with head put on a shoulder of a person who loves him, and he felt great just by imagining. He doesn’t know if he will ever find such a shoulder or any shoulder just to help him cry. He would prefer a shoulder that loves him.

***

He has wondered about how girls feel about obscene things – things portrayed on television, magazines, and newspapers. He thinks that they must be feeling ashamed but he knows he can’t understand it by himself. This, he thinks, is a bit difficult to understand and sensitive too. Or perhaps they just don’t care about such tings. They know it better.

He is also confused with how girls take praise when it is done in a bit explicit way. There are so many songs and poems describing women in a praising way but by using a little obscenity. He doesn’t think this should be appreciated but he thinks it is – secretly. Some obvious things are not spoken because they should not be spoken – just to keep up some respect for each other.

***

He has been told several times that he is a different person. His brother and his father call him a strange human being. Again – he won’t accept that he is different because if he accepts it, he will stop doing all the things he does do to be different. He thinks that everybody wants to be different. It is normal according to him to intend to be different.

He also says that everybody wants to be made to feel important. He has once read “everybody carries a tag around his/her neck saying ‘make me feel important’”. He tries to do things that he thinks will make him important but he is not sure if what he does is right. He knows that he can just end up being a bigger fool. He knows he is an idiot already and so, he also tries doing things that may not be idiotic.

He knows he also has to make other people feel important. He wants to do it many times but is again afraid that he may be misunderstood. He wants to have integrity and likes discussing things and talking them over.

***

He knows that he has been blinded by a few things to which he has given some unprecedented priority. He is still trying to find out if that is wrong. He believes that it is wrong but doesn’t know why it is. To be precise, he is confused. He is not ready to take advices too. He listens to people but acts to his own will. He likes people telling him on such things and he wants to hear more. But he prefers to have things done his way. He is a kind of an egoist - sometimes an egotist too. He must put things right before they put him on the erroneous path.

***

So, he wrote the first page of the book of his life and he is waiting for the ink to dry. Things have come to a stand still for him and the page cannot be turned. The story of a guy like me is of a single page having the things written above here. There were some things he was afraid to right; scared to put into words for the fear that they will create complexities for him. He will be living with all the words he writes for all his life. So, he needs to be careful. But now, he can right only when the first page is turned. He is waiting for that.

He hopes that the reason that is stopping the ink from drying itself turns the pages and writes the rest of the story. He knows that would never happen. He will remain as an unfinished story in the book of his life.

This guy like me has seen 20 years till now and the last 2 of those 20 were the most significant. They have shown him new lights and have also blinded him. I pray to Allah that he walks on the right path and sees all his dreams come true. Allah is greatest and only He will decide the whole thing, and this guy like me will accept what Allah decides. Even I will accept that!