Thoughts on the earthquake which hit Pakistan (and India) in October 2005
Posted with permission from the author
I cannot recollect the majority of this Ramadhan. Three weeks have been completely erased from my memory. I can easily blame this numbness on the earthquake and the sentiments this has stirred deep within me. It’s hard to describe the sight of parents burying their children, children burying their parents, entire villages being wiped out of existence. Stories upon stories, some of which are more difficult to digest than others. I could easily blame the numbness on the earthquake, but this is Ramadhan, and I have to be completely honest with you, myself, and moreover, Allah (SubHana Wa Ta`ala).
I remember the first day of Ramadan. The month sneaked up on me, despite the fact that Pakistan started two days after Saudi Arabia (we can speculate on why this happened, but I think a lengthy discussion on this would detract from the point of this diary).
I can also vividly remember the 8th of October – the day the earthquake hit. I remember eating suhoor ,praying Fajr, watching an Islamic program on TV, watching the Fajr prayers of Masjid al-Haraam on TV, chatting with my mom, falling asleep at around 8:30. The earthquake hit half an hour after that (time recorded: 8:52 am). I woke with no doubt in my mind that this was an earthquake, but I was more concerned with finding a chaddar to drape myself with before I ran out of the house. Since I had no balance, no sense of feeling, blurred vision and since my mom was yelling at me to get out of the house – I gave up my search, and stumbled outside into our driveway, wishing secretly that I had slept with a burkah on (heh).
What seemed like an eternity later, all of us were sitting on the ground in our garden, and the earth was still moving. Quietly, angrily, but steadily. The biggest surprise to me was being able to see the air on top of the earth quivering. I could see it, and I could hear it, and that memory will be with me for the rest of my life.
The entire day was filled with worry, sadness, relief, fear, shock, and confusion …amongst a multitude of other emotions. Because of the continuous aftershocks, we had camped ourselves outside of the house where we listened to the radio, prayed and read Qur’an. At one point, we had gone searching for our friends who had been in the collapsed building, only to find the roads jam-packed and the cellular lines completely congested. So we returned in an attempt to subtract from the chaos, hoping for the best. Alhamdulillah, they showed up at our place a few hours after the earthquake.
I remember the hail storm that night. It was loud. And tremendous. It was also heartbreaking. My heart bleeds for the people in the cold.
There is so much more to say about that day, but this is a Ramadan diary, not an earthquake diary. I just feel that my entry would have been incomplete without describing the event that changed the course of the entire month for me. And as I sit here, typing all of this up, reflecting on what I accomplished in this month – I draw a blank. In fact I draw a series of blanks, one for each day after 08-10-2005. I have vague memories of my more charitable moments, even vaguer memories of standing at the morning assembly at school wondering why I am still here (at the school, on this earth .. why oh why?). I remember endless discussions with family, friends, colleagues and students; watching the news and reading the paper; praying half-heartedly, distractedly. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since that fateful day.
And every inch of my body, mind, and soul is numb. I just can’t conclude what purpose this Ramadan has served for me. The earthquake hasn’t jolted the spirituality back into me, even though I consciously think it should have. Am I more conscientious of death? Am I more appreciative of life? I honestly don’t know the answers to those questions.
What I have realized is that I have changed. I am saddened by the vast immorality in the world. And I am saddened because I know that my views of what is immoral are not absolute, but relative to my narrow experiences. I am saddened at the GEO news coverage of a reporter handing a mic to a boy caught in the rubble, asking him to explain his circumstance. I am saddened at the interview of the little girl they rescued and dressed up in pretty clothes. They asked her if she was happy that she was still alive. She shook her head no, but replied “yes.” Then she almost cried when she said “but I am not happy, because my mother is dead.” I am saddened by the flocks of people driving, walking, running towards Margalla Towers. Not to help, mind you, but to gawk. I am saddened by the looters, the kidnappers, and the liars who have been helped and not harmed by this tragedy. I am frightened for the state of the world, for the death of the redemption of humanity.
And as I think back to what has always been redeeming about humans: the men and women who stepped up to the plate to dig through rubble with their own hands, to direct traffic without being asked to, to give up for their brothers and sisters in need – I can’t help but think that the gulf between me and the pious, between me and piety itself, continues to increase on a daily basis.
I don’t know if that’s something I can overcome for the rest of my life.
The month is erased because I am lost in unnecessary and impractical contemplation. And everything in my life seems really pointless right now.
Reading back on last year’s diary, I know that so many things in my life have changed. The Fajr athaan of this day (Friday, October 28th, 2005), flashes the realization, that this is juma-tul-wida. Ramadan has always been the guest of honor that I wait year round for. I anticipate it’s coming, and I get really excited at its arrival. This year I have ignored it thoroughly (preoccupied in my thoughts as I have been), and I can’t remember its stay too well. I know it is leaving soon, and I have a lump in my throat as I think of its departure.
The only thing I can do is embrace the rest of this month, pray that Allah lets me live another year, that He accepts my fasts, that He forgives me my negligence, that He keeps me shaded in His grace, that He doesn’t forget me as I struggle through these days, the He grants me the redeeming qualities that I crave, and that He keeps me on the siraat-ul-mustaqeem.
If you’re still with me, thank you for reading.
