33

BismillahirRahmanirRaheem 

It's been two months since my birthday and I realize today that I updated this blog was a year ago.

A year ago, I was brave. A year later I'm listening to Shaykh Hamza Yusuf on Spotify, procrastinating on work, and failing to be a good Muslim and filled with trepidation. 

A year ago I had very little practice in my faith. I had questions. I had very little idea of what Allah was/is. Ironically, I also felt invincible. Earlier this year I was subject to crippling anxiety, alhamdulillah. I didn't know it was anxiety or ocd, I just knew that I was mentally devastated. It was debilitating to say the least, but Allah works in the most perfect way. This led me to prayers and to guidance and to seeking out the answers to the questions that were troubling my mind. And in prayer I found love, I found mercy, and I found relief. 

I have the same loving mother, the same loving wife, and in laws, and I have the same Allah I always had guarding me, protecting me, guiding me, showing me the cruelty and evils of life, but I have become different. I'm, however, not the same person. I struggle with my bad habits, I struggle to be a good son and a good husband, a good employee, a good colleague and a good friend, as I always have.  The only contrast is how much I believe in Allah's plan. 

"Lakum dīnukum waliya dīn"

"For you is your religion, and for me is my religion."

32.

I got engaged this year, and I will be married soon. 

On this birthday, I received so much love from my partner, my mom, and my sister, and other family members, it's been overwhelming. 

Life in my early thirties is uncertain. I feel that the world is mine to rule, yet I can clearly see that I have no control over it. Never have I felt so in control of my own decisions, yet so insufficient of opportunities. I know that hard times pass, and I've gone through harder, but the uncertainty makes me want to run away from my troubles. 

The only people that keep me grounded are my mom and wife-to-be. I am so thankful to have found Zareen; the most loving, caring, and affectionate person I have come across. She fills my life with joy and gives me a reason to go on. May God bless her, and may God always bless my mother, speaking from what little faith I have left. 

- 

It's hard to believe that in 8 years I will be stepping into my 40's. It's hard to believe life is so fleeting. I knew this, but now I feel it more than ever. 

I want to live longer, live healthier, and prosper. So generic of me, but it's nice to think I will grow old, and may have children of my own one day, and that they will have a loving mother, and I will try to be a good father.

- 

In my lifetime, I've seen so much, as did my generation, and the pandemic seems to be the peak of it all. Such a harrowing time for us all, yet we must go on, live on, try to be normal, and we do. A friend of mine wrote that the only thing preventing us from knowing that the times are abnormal are the masks on our face. If they hadn't existed, we'd be completely unaware that death is lurking. 

I miss my father. Ever since dad died, I have learned to rid myself of fears I used to have, and as I grow older, I hope that I can face the world a brave, wise, and revered man. Though, as I inch closer to starting a family of my own, I know that that may not be the case. 

On this birthday I wish my loved ones the happiest of lives, and I hope that they achieve every good thing that they deserve in life. 

GUMMO - Sleepers

 Sleepers

Ketamine moonshine

Closing in on our eyes

Rivers won't flow tonight

Unaching start now

Blindness gives away

Sounds of horns fade

Our nerves of steel break

Let's forget everything

Night in, Day out

We play out world wars

Our song was a classic

Now we're throwing bombs

Slow

Sleep

Deep

Take cover baby

That's enough

No need for sunrise

The sun it bleeds too much blood

Wide awake, We're out of touch

Narrow slumber's here to clutch

Rest is best

Rest is love

Rest in love

Rest in love

Slow

Sleep

Peace

Call it truce baby

Fall in love

Q visuals

 

Subscription

SUBSCRIPTION

Tilok Adnan

Monthly magazine arrives

Best issue in a while 

Headline reads, BAGGAGE CLAIMS

A spitting image of me wrinkled,

Not too much,

Like my bed sheet my mom made

In the morning and I moved very little

In my sleep - around the eyes

My lips sealed tight -

An envelope with strong glue seal

Bitter tasting, ready to be sent off

Address not specified -

Lateral horizontal reflection of a smile

Photoshopped with experience

The face draws curiosity 

It sells to know something is wrong 

The public will engage 

Readership still exists in a world of screens

Only the fucking details are left out

For shorter attention spans 

Glossy print, the fresh smell of pages

Novel dramatic imagery for a

Devastating cover story

Read me. 

A BOY AND A BUS

A BOY AND A BUS
- Tilok Adnan

He's waiting for the BRTC to move; 

the big, red machine stares -

    "What do you want me to do? 

Men, women, and children

are in a rush to feed me,

they've no clue it slows me down." 

    "Be fed, my friend, 

my big, red heart -

not in comparison to you - 

needs feeding, too.

Your role in the city is quite like mine, 

an empty vehicle whose engine 

pumps to reach the people that need us.

In my case, a person

and without them I feel 

as if I have no function." 

    "You're too naive. 

You're pink and blushed, 

I can hear the sound of your blood rush

I can hear it like monsoon rain, 

it outweighs the buzz of the avenue.

Lovers like you take me for a ride

to forever and more, until they realize 

they've reached the end and

I can't go further.

In this way, love dies." 

    "Are you saying you're exhausted?"

    "Tired." 

    "Perhaps you're right, but 

what do you know of alleys

and homes, and fresh grass 

and the path by the lake?" 

    "I know they exist. That they are places.

Destinations no one can call their own.

Catacombs of memories over years.

Where are you headed?"

    "Your route is bound. 

You don't see past the city's blocks. 

My heart follows intuition, 

each day it takes a different path." 

    "So why make today's journey long?

Move along, go another way." 

    "Just as you do, my heart knows

that a journey takes time." 

The bus leaves. 

He walks onward. 

YOU

              YOU 

              by Tilok Adnan

Someday we will have to leave the Earth 

    Inhabit another rugged rock pushing

                                                            down

                                                      on 

                                                                        

emptiness

    

     

    We will pull it back with populace 

    We will skip alien stones on alien planes 

    Look up at the sky of a different hundred hues

    It is this semblance of an act that will always

                                                       

                                                           define the you.