Wednesday, 7 November 2012


This henna reminds me of life
With its fake vibrant red for a week
And like life it doesn't leave easily
We don't fade gently into graves
It is the abrupt pealing of dead skin
The vague marks we leave for loved ones
Of our fading orange light
The pattern of our life becomes disorganized
And they will remember us
As random dots specked in their memory
And they will remember us briefly on eids when
We are no longer there
And I am too scared to leave a permanent mark behind
Too scared that my hands might shake the
The lines of my life might not be straight
And so I am nothing but a raw, red palm
My potential ripping from my skin
This henna, this life disappears no matter
How hard we try to grip

By time,
Indeed, mankind is in loss,
Except for those who have believed and done righteous deeds and advised each other to truth and advised each other to patience.

Surah Asr

The soul of a Muslim is removed like a water drop flows from a vessel. The soul of a non-Muslim is removed like a multi-pointed skewer is removed from wet wool that causes the veins and nerves to sever 
Ahmad, Abu-Daawood & Al-Haakim

When a man dies, his deeds come to an end, but three: 
1. recurring charity, 
2. or knowledge (by which people) benefit, 
3. or a pious off-spring, who prays for him (for the deceased).

Sahih Muslim


  1. What an apt similarity you have drawn so eloquently. Like henna we leave our temporary presence, make others smile for a little while, and then we must inevitably fade away.

    1. And it doesn't matter how hard we try to hold on , the wear and tear of this world is causing us to fade and one day we'll wake up ( or we more like we won't) and we won't even realize that its gone