God of Spinoza

We have politicians, bureaucrats and other very useful people making money off people’s miseries. Often leaving behind many who wish only foul upon such men. And why not? Such individuals, more often than not, garner vast amounts of wealth and fame at the behest of the notoriety that accompanies it.

We continue to be run by inept beings who sell their soul to the devil each despicable morning. Stretching their limbs in their white silk sheets, cautious of not dropping their Rolex watches over their night stands and ensuring their chefs prepare the perfect meal for them. Evidently most of them have never seen hunger or tough times and it shows.

Hard men create soft times, soft men create hard times. Hard times create hard men, soft times create soft men. Our rulers were born in soft times surrounded by soft men.

On the flip side, you have a mildly educated, mid-aged man, working a hard and honest 9-5 corporate job to make sure he has food on the table and clothes on his body. Where does such a man fit in this entire scenario? He will have more than half his money cut away in taxes and the rest spent in pumping fuel in his vehicle. All the while, sahab’s children cruise in phase 8 with their windows down and their egos up.

Similarly, you have a single mother, who fell in love with a man-child (thanks to our entertainment-media) who couldn’t commit to a marriage and decided to leave. The man-child returned to the safe haven of his father’s multi-national business and his warm abode while the single mother, ostracised by her family and the righteous society works two jobs to feed a hungry mouth at home.

And yet, the dream goes on. We hope and we pray and we keep at it. With the belief that a new day brings new hope to our fractured dreams and our sprained willpower. Every morning, somewhere in the deserts of Balochistan, a child wakes up in the wee hours, looks down at his chapped hands and asks God where he went wrong. His father tosses and turns in the twilight, realising he cannot sit up because he was killed by those who considered him to be a terrorist.

Hope has a way of lighting up even the darkest of caves. It is a flame that simmers slowly and consistently within the chests of those who breathe. It sits right beside a voice that orders it to continue burning when it is about to run about. The conscience, perpetual and ever-present, only benefits those who prepare to submit themselves before a higher deity, an absolute power that dictates the principles of just about everything.

Some call it nature, other call it God. Some say no superior power exists while some say nothing can be known about someone you can’t see. Seeing is believing, but for some, believing is seeing.

Science tells us that planets revolve around the sun in their own designated routes, clerics tell us that the sun revolves around the planets. Someone somewhere is telling their spouse about how their day looks like. Man zealously plans but somewhere up in the skies, God smiles at their plans. Who plans better?

One stands before a statute with their palms clapped together, the second prays to a man hung on a cross and the third prays by bringing their hands up in an upward cusped motion. The fourth laughs at all of them.

Irrespective of where you fall in that category, next time you do either of those things, please say a prayer for Mr Rizwan Abbas, my Islamiat teacher at Habib Pubic School. An articulate speaker, emblematic of simplicity, far from the lavish complexities of the world. He passed away peacefully on 20/09/23.

Respect the noble profession and respect those who spend their lives imparting knowledge. I can think of very few things that may be higher than someone educating young minds at a very basic salary.

Published in The Express Tribune, September 26^th, 2023.

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