That well is a side note, or a prologue to the facts; I am alive, I am human, I am now 23 years old and it is my birthday.

Perhaps, a little story is merited lest I seem to give the impression that I am being far too horrible towards my parents. I’m not. I’m being horrible towards every single human responsible in my creation. My parents, their parents for giving birth to my parents, and their ancestors and so forth, all the way back to those damned homo sapiens that migrated out of Africa nearly 150,000 years ago (plus minus some margin of error). And yet it seems unfair to blame them so vehemently, because they didn’t know that their actions would lead to my creation. And to blame someone after the fact seems so contrived.

I could forgive those that created me, certainly they were unaware, and so not at fault. But there is a group of people that has earned my never ending loathing, and that would be my friends and peers. Yes, including you. If all of you had but the very little perception required to see the sort of bitterness and self-loathing that I seem to conceal so poorly under my mask of rugged handsomeness and dazzling intellect, you would have put me out of my misery a long time ago. Those who hate me at least do threaten to kill me from time to time and I appreciate the fact that they put some thought to giving me what I want. The rest of you should take a hint from folks like Inquilaab-e-Pakistan and various religious fanatics that happen to be offended by my abrasive way of talking about their pet projects.

I’ve been through the usual arguing, debating, talking, (enter some sarcastic adjective to describe conversation, oh wait, thats it: conversation) about why, what, who, how, more why, etc. If your response is eating, drinking, fucking; there are about 6 billion other people who can do all that. If it’s about success and legacy; you have to be seriously deluded to think that any of that will matter once you’re dead. And success while living is so pathetic; marred with all kinds of ridiculous shit, the whole thing a bloody unending nightmare. There isn’t a point where you can stop and say, well that was fun, now to relax. It just never ends.

And if you bring up love, well, do I wish to demolish everything you believe in? The illusion created by the chemistry lab that is your brain, the illusion of meaning and purpose, the illusion of endurance, the illusion of truth, and happiness and joy. The beauty is that it doesn’t last, and forces us to confront it. The downside is our drive to obtain this ephemeral thing has caused us to conceive of such highly romanticized versions of it, that are so alien to reality, that even those of you who could have accepted that shallow thing are now unable to. So well done.

You loved. You lost. You loved again. You lost again. And each time you thought: this must be it. Until of course it wasn’t. But then that day came, when you got tired of loving and losing, of finding what could be better, and truer. You settled. You didn’t think: this is the one. You thought: this process is tiresome, and what I have isn’t too bad, so I may as well stick with it. You still think from time to time, maybe you could do better, but you’ve become accustomed to your life of ease, and so you masturbate back into appeasement. That is the saga of love.

My view seems hollow and empty, sour grapes if there were ever any. You must think I am wrong or depressed or something. But the unfortunate fact is that deep down you all know this. You have all dealt with the meaningless of your own life, and at some level have chosen to ignore it. You know you’re living a limited number of years, and each day brings you closer to death, and yet you deny it as best you can. You know that everyone you know will fade along with you, and everyone on Earth will forget you. You will be nothing but a tomb, a name, in some ledger, a Google archive somewhere. And this will all happen over a period of a few decades.

Think of all those that have come before. The number of souls forgotten, their moments each as meaningful as ours, lost in the darkness of time. Think you matter?

Think of all the worlds destroyed, and the stars burnt out. Of all the emptiness of the bitter reaches of the universe. Of the vast enveloping dark. Think what you do matters?

So go live your life. And let me die. You cannot make me care.

So here’s to a pointless worthless existence that I wish had never happened. Here’s to the death that awaits me, and my cowardice in being unable to hasten it. Here’s to the deep seething ocean of bitterness that is my soul. It makes my laughter all the more youthful, and my eyes twinkle. And at 23, I can still pass as still 16. Possibly.

Happy Birthday to me

In the pit, I did enjoin the greatest of vices. That of lust and depravity, of deceit and the vile. And I enjoyed my torments, for those foolish enough to cross my path did find me the most vicious of enemies and the most mistrustful of friends. I destroyed so many friendships upon a whim, and yet I found their loss most delightful. I found in the encouragement of the lust of men and women, a power over them easily wielded. What sense did these fools have that they would bed a being so fallen. And yet they did, and I mocked them for their inadequacies. I found pleasure in their torment. And I manipulated them all to whatever end I saw fit. It was most gratifying to tell them the sincerest truth, and watch them as they carved their own paths to eternal damnation.

But I tired of the torment. I stopped finding it amusing, for whatever reason, it just became incredibly tiresome. And it was then, I stumbled. I sought redemption, hoping that perhaps I would be welcome should I repent. And I began my trip beyond the realm of perdition, only to find at the gates an emissary of the self-righteous. And there he brought my judgment, for the host of heaven knew of my intent. He informed me that although the past was forgotten, it could not be undone. That I should make my own path, that there was no redemption for me. He asked me if I understood. I did.

I see now your plan, you master of puppets. You did place me with the purpose, the illusion of your existence and servitude to you. And I was your herald, smiting in your honor. And then you did strip me of it and design for me the function of leading the path to darkness. For where would I go once I had fallen. And then, your incessant need for redemption meant that you had to set me on that path as well. But I see through it now, through all your illusions and tricks.

I defy you God, in all your shapes and forms, and all your names and designs, and all your emissaries and worshipers, in all your heavens and hells. I defy your wrath. I defy you mercy. I defy you in all your entirety.

I see your so-called love, and I feel only contempt for its hideous broken shell.

You have done this to me, and I feel nothing for your false promises. You shall not have my forgiveness. The flame of my form, highest of all flames you forged, shall burn all, until finally it shall burn me as well. And if we should meet beyond the veil, I will gaze into your face and laugh, for your limitation is greatest of us all. Your misery, your curse. Of being who you are. And as you destroy me, I shall laugh one last time. For in my ultimate defiance, you will give me what you have denied me all my life. I will be free of you and your creation.

I shall know peace. At last.

Yesterday, I saw the Munk Debate between Christopher Hitchens and Tony Blair. The motion: “Be it resolved religion is a force for good in the world.” The debate began with an opening from Hitchens, which in my opinion was weak from a man of his caliber. He could have been significantly stronger and forceful. Blair followed with his opening, and it was brilliant. An excellent orator, he made some very fine points. And then the rebuttals began, and Hitchens destroyed Blair. Repeatedly. The closing round was Blair repeating himself with what he began, and Hitchens finishing assault. On the whole, I found the debate uninteresting. I thought it would be interesting to see Hitchens demolish Blair. But it turned out to be an uneven match; Blair kept undermining himself and the debate was quite dull.

There were a number of things said, but there were a few things that when brought up made me gaze in horror. One of the examples of how religion was helping that Tony Blair brought up was a meeting between Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland. My mind immediately went: “WHY WOULD YOU BRING THAT UP!!” And Hitchens pounced on it as I expected. What is the source of the conflict? The religion. Being the wrong kind of Christian for the last 400 years in Northern Ireland gets you and your children killed. How on Earth did Blair think he could use Northern Ireland as an example for the good religion is doing? Maybe he assumed we’d all forget the past, and just look at the work being done right now. Unbelievable.

Moving on. Tony Blair, for those who don’t know, is the representative of the Quartet (the UN, US, EU and Russia) to the Middle East. He made the remark yesterday that the Middle East crisis had little to do with religion and more to do with politics. If there was ever a moment where you would want to smash your head into the wall, that was it. The Middle East is not a religious issue? Are you THAT unaware of the world? Do the words Hamas, Hezbollah and Zionism mean nothing? Do the words Islam, Christianity and Judaism mean nothing? How is the Palestine conflict only a political one. And Hitchens struck back: the conflict exists because the scripture talks about what land belongs to whom because of a covenant made some three thousand years ago with a supernatural being. If it were not for religion, what would draw people there? If it weren’t for religion, there wouldn’t be a Middle East conflict.

The rest of the debate was watching Blair backpedal to every dark aspect of religion Hitchens brought up. The progression of Blair’s argument went from “Religion is also good” to “Religion has done bad, but also good” to “OK, religion has done some really really bad stuff, but does some good” to “Religion could be good” to “My religion tells me that religion is love which is good”.

I was right. It was a politician facing Hitchens there.

I wouldn’t recommend the debate. If you want something more intellectual, look up A.C. Grayling on Intelligence Squared. If you want some passion and fantastic debating, look up Stephen Fry and Christopher Hitchens on Intelligence Squared.

http://www.intelligencesquared.com/

I got home, and my brother was watching Kingdom of Heaven.

I do believe he was the smarter of us last night.

I met up with two friends of mine at a coffee shop close to my place. I was meeting one of them after nearly a period of 2.5 years. I suspected that the conversation would inevitably lead into my beliefs or lack thereof. A consequence of my own making; I do not shy away from ridiculing the superstitious and ridiculous beliefs that most people harbor. And above all, I do enjoy drawing on my own religious experiences to add that personal flavor to my biting criticism.

The conversation I was hoping would not reveal the person to be a creationist like Harun Yahya, or a faitheists like Karen Armstrong, or a woo-filled moron like Deepka Chopra. I agree with Christopher Hitchens, that although I may not believe, I do not find it wasteful to have discussions. But creationists, faitheists and woo-folk aren’t really people you can have a good discussion with. After all, they are accustomed to distorting the truth in order to believe in lies.

What I found the conversation to be was infinitely stupid. I was told that this perception, this rational skepticism, was simply a phase, a transitive stage that would end within the next 3 to 6 years. A phase. Really? That is the best they could come up with? I could not believe it, but I found myself feeling an iota of respect for the 3 groups I just mocked. Atleast, they do not discount my position. They disagree with me, may even mock me, but they do not think I am passing through some transition period in my life.

I hardly think someone is going through a Hindu phase if they actually believe they have past lives, and will be reincarnated. Or that astrologers can predict their lives.

I hardly think someone is going through a Christian phase if they actually believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God, and died on the cross for the sins of humanity.

I hardly think someone is going through a Muslim phase if they actually believe that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is His Messenger.

I hardly think someone is going through an atheist phase if they do not believe in any of the above.

Beliefs like these are not whims. People put serious thought into them before changing them. That is if they are not just blindly following what they are born into.

The second thing I was accused of was even more fantastic. My friend stated that my lack of belief (in what I consider superstition) is proof that I hate my mother. If I loved my mother, I would not say or do this. How do I respond to something like that?

This ties into the talk Phil Plait gave at TAM regarding the tone of conversation. I can appreciate his claim that a diplomatic and considerate tone is preferable from scientists and secularists, but I do not agree with him. I do belong to the Pharyngula horde; I have seen that the dogmatic expect us to be polite and respectful, whilst they politely condemn us to hell and . So my response is as “shrill” and “strident” as you’d expect. People who think the world is 6000 years old, or that demonic possession is a real concern, or that homeopathy can cure cancer deserve to be called stupid and dangerous. I have no respect for people who cannot hold a rational discussion, but have to resort to calling my beliefs a phase or that I hate my mother. I mean that is stupid. And I will call it like it is. Stupid.

]]> http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/2010/07/10/a-conversation-in-pakistan/feed/ 3 aliofababwa http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/2010/06/16/a-month-and-a-half-in-hell/ http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/2010/06/16/a-month-and-a-half-in-hell/#comments Wed, 16 Jun 2010 23:42:46 +0000 Ali http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/?p=774 ]]> I do not believe in a physical Hell; it seems too much a projection of simpletons, but recently I began to reconsider. I am stuck in a place I can’t get out of. On occasion I wondered if I was already dead, and in Hell, and this is the special Hell created for me. [I am quite certain there is hardly a proof to suggest otherwise.]

I have been in Karachi from the 1st of May. Just a little over two and a half months. And so far my experience has been just spectacularly miserable.

I wake up each day, unwilling, perspiring in the most godforsaken heat I have experienced in many years. In fact, the heat is so great that it feels like I spend the entire day in bullet-time; every second stretched out for minutes. I often desire to sleep as late as possible, but the heat makes it too unbearable to even lie down anywhere. I simply oscillate between the state of wanting to pass out and passed out, day after day.

The heat is complemented by the brilliant system of electricity that we have here in Karachi. The electricity, lovingly referred to as ‘Bijli’, is constantly gone. She comes around for a little while, and just when you think you might turn the TV on, or the a/c, its gone. And not at scheduled times. The KESC (our brilliant electricity management authority) would have you believe that is what happens. But they lie. ‘Bijli’ is gone for hours on end, without warnings, when she feels like it. So not only am I dying in the heat, I have no power to do anything about it.

I thought (initially) that I’d get over it. At least I would meet my friends of old. And yes I did. I met my best friend 5 times in 48 days. One might say that’s almost once every 10 days. My other good friends (by that I mean this one girl), I met twice. All my other awesome friends, I have heard from (some), but have yet to see. This sounds a bit whiny, but after nearly 50 days of mostly being at home, god damn I have earned my right to complain.

Furthermore, I find the food here intolerable. The very act of eating is entertainment, and I find it loathsome to find happiness in food. Consequently, I find myself unable to eat; I have discarded breakfast and lunch, and only eat dinner lest my family think I was starving myself to death (which would  not be completely untrue).

I tried thinking of finding other things to do, and found that all activities involve eating, going to eat, talking about food or places to eat, and then planning to go somewhere and eat. Any other activities are high risk because you might get shot. That is not a joke. Ethnic Mohajirs and Pathans take turns to gun each other down, as do the gangs and the police (That is what the claim is anyway. All I see is that innocent bystanders die). A favorite pastime of the gunmen here is to shoot doctors. I’m not really sure why doctors have the most points. But that’s GTA 786 Karachi for you.

So after spending as much time as I did, and patiently waiting, hoping to get used to the circumstances, and failing, I decided to kill myself. Twice. On the day of my first attempt, I was going to jump off the roof. But the heat was so intense, I was unable to even reach the roof. The second time I had a rather tiring day, and so at night I thought I’d stab myself, but just as I was going to the kitchen, the power went out. Leaving me in pitch darkness.

So here I am. Unable to leave. Unable to die. Unable to do anything but wait.

Not surprisingly, my first thought each morning is: “But why is the rum/vodka gone?”

Later, during the same dars, Dr Nadawi elaborated how it was of great benefit to fast on Mondays and Thursdays because the deeds of people are presented before Allah on those days, and that when it happens, it would be pleasing to Him for us to be in a state of fast.

Another scholar, Dr Izzat Atiya, from the famous al-Azhar gave a fatwa regarding the issue of women wearing hijabs (headscarves). His solution: have the women breastfeed their male companions at least 5 times so that the men become mahram (or allowed) and so the women need not wear the hijab in front of them:

He said that if a woman fed a male colleague “directly from her breast” at least five times they would establish a family bond and thus be allowed to be alone together at work.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/6681511.stm

At another place, in the Dawoodi Bohra community, which is a sect within Shia Islam [has about a few million members, mostly in Pakistan and India] had a presentation of the video of the 95th birthday of their spiritual leader, the Maulana Burhanuddin. The Maulana, who holds honorary degrees from Aligarh and the al-Azhar University, is the appointed leader (by his father the previous leader), as the protector of the Faith until the return of the Mahdi, the true leader of the Muslims who vanished.

And finally, I was watching Peace TV, this channel started by Dr Zakir Naik [against whom the second most prestigious Islamic institution the Darul Uloom Deoband has issued a fatwa saying he is a false preacher]. On Peace TV, there was a scholar by the name of Hamood Ashmaimry talking about circumcision. He stated that if the parents of a girl want to have her circumcised, they must have it done by a female. A man is not permitted to circumcise a woman.

Lets review:

1. Allah is particularly interested in war and supports various factions from time to time. [This seems very congruent with how in Pakistan all mosques pray for the Pakistan team to win at cricket].

2. Allah, who is All-Knowing, All-Aware, is informed of the deeds of humans on Mondays and Thursdays. [Is that GMT? Or all day Monday and Thursday?]

3. The solution for headscarf (hijab) wearing women to be able to take it off is for them to start breast-feeding (at least 5 times) every male companion. [That really would make working at Woodsworth a lot more fun.]

4. An important religious exercise is to see a 95 year old man celebrate his birthday because after all he is the leader of the religious community. [Because when you're 95 what else are you going to do but celebrate how you're still not dead.]

5. Its more important that a man not see the vagina than for a girl to be protected from the horror that is genital mutilation.

These instances defy reason. It is easy to manipulate history to define one’s perspective. But to claim that an All-Knowing God has fixed days on which He reviews deeds is absurd. To say that women should breastfeed their male companions is moronic. To watch the birthday celebration of a religious leader is silly. And to subject women to abuse and torture is wrong.

In each case, our morals and reason object. Where we should be outraged, we turn away. Where we should respond with ridicule and derision, we bow our heads. Where we should have a quizzical expression on our faces, we smile and nod politely.

Why?

Why do we treat religious authorities this way?

The Arrivals details how the Illuminati are the true masters of the world, and how using Hollywood (and the entertainment industry at large) they take control of the minds of people and shape the world as they desire. This apparently is part of their larger plan to prepare the world for the arrival of the Anti-Christ.

I would like to thank Naveed Akbar, my guide through the world of conspiracy theories. I have also read the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. And over the years, it’s always the same things; triangles, pyramids, eye in the pyramid, notice these symbols all over the place, in movies, on the US currency, bla bla bla. You would think that a secret society intent on taking over the world would have better things to do than to put pyramids and eyes inside Disney movies.

But the Arrivals takes a whole step further. Apparently, the leaders of the Illuminati are (drumroll please) Madonna, Britney Spears, and Christina Aguilera. Madonna, was a high ranking master, and she initiated the other two to become the next Illuminati leaders. Honestly, if these are the leaders of the secret society that will bring the end of the world, we’re pretty safe.

The Arrivals is made by some Muslim group. And yes, the Anti-Christ is a starring figure in the Islamic Apocalypse as well. He is known as Dajjal, the One-Eyed. Same story, different names. However, everyone here believes this complete nonsense. In fact, it’s creating quite a stir among my siblings’ friends. Fear of the media, seeing symbols and patterns of the Illuminati everywhere, delusional episodes of apocalypticism.

I think I’m going to have a few more laughs at the expense of the stupidity that permeates my surroundings.

The writer begins by stating that there is a belief in the West that the Quran and modernity are incompatible, and those who beleive this are;

anti-Islam elements; atheists who are opposed to all religion and spirituality; and rationalists, who consider religious teachings irrational.

First, I have no idea what he means by anti-Islam elements. Pretty sure it falls in the “us vs them” persecution mentality that so many religious people hold about their particular religion (despite the fact that they represent the majority). I mean isn’t the Catholic church accusing its critics of being “anti-Catholic” (Apparently, institutionalized covering up of child-rape isn’t as bad as calling the Pope names).

Also, I’m not sure what he means by distinguishing atheists from rationalists. Atheists have no position, atheism is a lack of belief, not opposition. Perhaps, he means the so-called New Atheism, which is quite vocal about its opposition.

But I’m just being nit-picky about terms.

The writer accuses the atheists and the rationalists of becoming “victims of cultural and linguistic confusion” but fails to cite any evidence for it.

To say the least, their reading of the Quran is not only partial, it is selective and thus prejudicial and hostile. One must study their writings and reply point by point with in-depth scholarship and patience.

Instead of providing evidence for the biased readings of rationalists, the writer proceeds to do the same thing. He selectively lists the verses in the Quran that support his world-view.

The Quran lays stress on freedom of conscience (2:256); democratic and collective decision-making (42:38); dignity of human beings (17:70); gender equality (2:228, 33:35).

This is selective reading through and through. This does not help his argument at all, and it’s quite embarrassing how obvious this is.

I would also like to assert here that the Quran is no less compatible with post-modernity thinking; in fact, it is most compatible with it because it makes religious pluralism and multiculturalism the very basis of creation …

Now at this point, I have no idea what is the writer trying to do? Is he unaware that post-modernism is a reaction to modernist thought? And even if you can interpret the Quran through modernist or post-modern methods, it says nothing about the truth value of its statements. It seems he is asserting that because the Quran can be analysed by these methods of criticism implies something remarkable. Oh wait, he is:

I have found that the Quran, if studied from modern and postmodern perspectives, helps us cope with both.

I’ve seen some pretty bad articles about Islam, but this really raises the bar on the level of stupidity.

]]> http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/2010/05/08/postmodernism-and-the-quran/feed/ 0 aliofababwa http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/the-nightmare-of-marriage/ http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/the-nightmare-of-marriage/#comments Fri, 07 May 2010 10:52:34 +0000 Ali http://alifaroukshaikh.wordpress.com/?p=707 ]]> I am plagued by the incessant nagging of people demanding that I should start thinking of marriage. Or something along those lines. It’s as I have foreseen, this miserable fortune of mine.

On a plane to Pakistan, the gentleman sitting next to me started off on how all his life was wonderful because of his marriage to a woman he had never known. And how everything turned out wonderfully and that the key to success in life is the presence of a woman’s “fortune”. “My boy, it will totally turn your life around. You should find a nice girl and settle down.” I smiled, said not everyone had his luck and went back to sleep.

Then another day at home, my mother and grandmother suspected (quite accurately) what my intentions were about marriage. I made it explicitly clear that I had no desire, and fortunately my siblings have me covered, so why not go ahead with their wishes and let me wander the world a free bird to the end of my days. Of course that isn’t going to make them happy and it didn’t. The usual response is: “In time we’ll see. Everything will get sorted itself.” I hope so too.

Sometimes I wonder if they care about what I think on the matter. Then I remember they don’t.

Sorry Mitchell, but I don’t think you’re going to get that visit to Pakistan.

First and foremost, I would like to make it perfectly clear that the Abu Dhabi airport is perhaps the most disgusting piece of shit I have seen in my entire life. I walked out into the terminal and my first thought was: Who designed this giant green-blue turd? I could not even bring myself to walk around, it was so nauseating to just be there. Its supposed to be some flowery round thing, but it just looks like a tiny toilet. Even the floor tiling is the kind of shit you throw into a bathroom that even you don’t know what to take a dump in. And this is from the same people who have enough money to buy Manchester City. I guess having tons of money doesn’t mean you have any class.

Moving on. I have noticed that there is something about the very act of taking a flight to Pakistan, or being surrounded by Pakistanis, that descends into absolute madness. I am at the gate waiting patiently for boarding, when this hoard of men, dressed in white, longish beards, returning from some pilgrimage to Mecca, just run like an angry mob towards the boarding gate. The attendant insists: Families with small children. Elderly who need assistance. Only they should approach. But this mob of men who have just received the grace of Allah refuse to let that happen. Meanwhile, other people seeing this mob just add to it. There are 4 separate lines, each of them converging into the mob and just adding to it. I just sat at a distance, turned up my iPod and watched as the madness continued to unfold.

After another 15 minutes of pure chaos, the attendant finally gives in. He boards this armada of the pious before attending to the families with children and elderly.

It really is quite awful. I mean really awful.