Published in Dawn Magazine on March 8, 1998
AFTER A MONTH in the Holy Land you feel that you should now grow a beard. So, although it makes you look ten years older, you stick to it. The beard, plus a tasbih (rosary) in your hand and a grim expression on your face, soon has people regarding you as a wise man and scholar.
One day, after a late wedding dinner, you ask a friend to drop you at a short distance from your place, as you think a ten-minute walk will do you a world of good.
After a couple of minutes, a police van appears and they ask you to come with them. You tell them you live a couple of streets away, but they won't budge.
So you climb into the van, and when you get to the police station, you find it full of other bearded men. It turns out that two foreigners (citizens of a neighbouring country) had been shot that evening, and so the cops had decided to arrest everyone who remotely looked like a fundamentalist. You try to talk to the cops, but no on pays you any attention. You are locked up with the others.
You spend 15 hours in the stinking black hole before you spot someone you know, a visitor outside the cell. By sign language, for the noise is deafening, you tell him to contact your folks. An hour later a couple of nephews arrive. You seem them distribute money liberally among the cops, and you are allowed to go. You ask them how much they had to dole out for your freedom, but they don't tell you. Later, when you find out, you almost have a heart attack.
The next day you rush to a barber and have all your facial hair removed. You resolve never to grow a beard again even if it means that you'll fry in hell. Now that you've been to a place worse than hell, you are confident that spending an eternity in the real thing won't be such an ordeal.
By Shakir Lakhani
No comments:
Post a Comment