It is distasteful, to say the least, when a writer comes off as pretentious and a “try-hard”. Many would think of Shakespeare's works as befalling this category — with fancy words, references to old legends, and just their critical acclaim.
But I find his work to be the exact opposite. He is immensely humble with his plays in particular.
It's not that he does not have ambitious hopes at what message he tries to convey, or how greatly he wanted to entertain his crowds — but rather, he most humbly accepted that at the very end of the day, what he produced was entertainment.
No matter how in depth, how life-changing, motivating, depressing, and accurate in portraying the human condition his plays were, he accepted that what he produced was entertainment. I make this claim based upon how at the end of each of his plays, no matter what has preceded that curtain call — every character gets up and just dances with everyone else, in tune with a merry song playing in the background.
Instead of a more cynical interpretation (life is pointless, so just chill), or a more practical one (crowds needed to be reminded a play is not reality) — I just think he embraced that he produced a good night's entertainment that people would love as recreation.
And in doing so, he did not take on the heavy and futile task of proving how deep or significant his plays would be, which would only induce pretentiousness. He embraced the fact that he “only” made entertainment. And thus he made the most deep, touching, and accurate pieces of enriching entertainment in the history of man.
At a small supermarket, two men pushing their trolleys were about to head into the same narrow aisle.
They both stooped in their tracks, looked at each other and smiled widely. They both gestured and asked each other to go first.
I was walking by this scene, and I noticed one guy was wearing a kufi and had a marvellous beard — I could tell he was a Muslim. (now, that's relevant to the story, because Islam places huge importance on having the best manners and character possible)
I was curious to see who would oblige to take the other's offer, when the guy with the beard looked to a different counter for a moment, and said to his new friend, “I'll go over here first ☺”
He didn't speak in emoji, but the way he said it conveyed it so. The other guy thanked him deeply and walked away with a smile, as the beard man went into his new aisle.
I watched this exchange in awe. That was true ettiquette.
Spending time with many grandparents, a universal trait I have found across them all is how they have no life. Staring at the TV in the evening, and hoping the garbage man stops by in the morning so there's someone coming to visit. It's a sad state they're in, one that people decades younger often share with them.
But what makes their case special is that they fill the hole in their lives with the lives of their grand-sons and -daughters.
A sense of pride and gladness is their right of course, but the unhealthy reliance upon their offsprings' lives as something that gives meaning to their own seems extremely unhealthy.
Going through albums of graduation photos, Harvard this, award that, summa cum loud, and then lists of where they have worked — IBM, Amazon, Google. Then the PhD daughter gets extra special mention, prestigious organization bla. Then come the wedding videos (which I have a whole other set of complaints about) of a bride in various poses, phony dances and lighting, and a crowd who are glad that the food was finally served.
Each life has purpose, and it angers me to see older peope resigning to nothing but living through their progeny and making that their accomplishment in life. There's a lot they can do even in their old age, and seeing their sad state makes me fear what might become of my parents. Or, even myself.
Praying a salah (ritual prayer) in congregation, in Bangladesh the whole congregation prays voluntary salah in the Mosque immediately after the compulsory prayers — making it difficult for anyone to walk out to pray the voluntary prayers in the optimal way, at home.
The compulsory prayer is completely in sync, more or less, and everyone prays together. The voluntary ones are prayed individually however, and it will be an assortment of people in various positions, praying at their own pace. It is incredible to find anyone who prays at the same speed as you.
I found someone like that. When I bowed, he bowed. When I prostrated, he prostrated. And we were praying at the same pace for over 10 minutes — there were so many variables, but I had found someone who is like a clone of me.
I was thinking of how I was going to greet him afterwards, and remark how remarkable our link-up was. I finished prayer a few seconds after him, but right after he picked up his shoes and left without a glance.
Then I realized — while I was busy building a relationship with him in my head, he was busy cementing his relationship with Him.
Trying to cross a street in Dhaka, Bangladesh is a fun challenge.
Your life is most definitely on the line as you try to reach into the goodness in drivers' hearts to get them to stop their behemoth of metal while you, a mere mortal of flesh, stand stranded in-between lanes of cars trying to dodge one bike while gesturing apologies to another jeep. The floor is most definitely lava when there is no zebra crossing.
But, after I narrowly made it to my side of the street today — I realized that this is life.
Your life is always on hanging on a small balance. One little change and your life falls apart, let alone cease to exist. We are tiny and powerless as we try to live in an environment where there are as many threats as atoms in that space. It is only by God's mercy that he protects us — we are like a child in the womb, all our needs taken care of yet completely oblivious of the one who does that.
It is incredubly easy to spend time doing completely meaningless tasks, which only fool one's self into feeling productive, while accomplishing nothing of value at all.
We must stay vigilant, by keeping conscious of the motive and virtue of all significant tasks we do, and how they help us accomplish what matters most.
I was blinded by the intense noon heat after walking out if the cool mosque. After my eyes adjusted, I saw a young man now younger or older than me.
He squatted on the ground, holding a knife and a basket of mangoes while squinting his eyes so he can survive.
I have him a bereaved smile and walked home. But it was my heart that was bereaved. My first feeling was sadness at how he was having to work so hard while I chill all day. I could be him, he could be me.
I kept feeling sorry for him... But only later I realized that I should only be sorry for myself.
I have been blessed with more things than him in this world, but if I keep going the way I am — I will have nothing in the next world while he has everything.
I am miles behind. The blessings I have are trials, while the trials he has are blessings.
Before a movie in Thailand, they played the national anthem. It was overlayed with various scenes of their king, very regal, overlooking crowds of people.
The scenes changed, and the king changed his parents and dress, and the crowd was made of a different group of people, by religion, age or ethnicity.
I had flashbacks of Louis XIV, an absolutist monarch leaving his mark on all art. But also, they have the people a reminder before the movie if the glory of their king, the real hero above any superstar.
Instead of a king, I would love it if there were reminders of God before a movie (in a majority Muslim area of course). It would help some people at least get out of rampant worldliness.
I have encountered able-bodied people who choose to pray sitting — because they have no prayer mat when out and about, and the ground is dirty.
I asked the person who did this most recently, why not pray standing, properly? He said it's dirty; but it's carpeted and indoors and even a corner where no one goes. He shrugged and prayed sitting.
But that got me thinking, Islamically the place is visibly clean, and smelling it or any other sense makes the ground in question clean.
The guys qualm is that, it could be dirty — if it could be, it isn't. The principle in the shariah, as I have noticed, is: if in doubt, pick the more positive option.
The problem here wasn't the ground and it's impurity; it was the person's false sense of hygiene which prevented the salah from being established properly.