He remembered people not by names, but by stories.

I miss

The mind crawls back into an inner recess of thought. I wonder was there some place else, or some time else I lived with a little less time (“sense of time”), and with a little more thought. When were the days I chased the morning sun as it glided across the meadows, only to meet a face of a tall mountain and think “This is the most beautiful of this world!”. I had all answers and none. Chaos sat with certainty. And there was always time to read. 


The kind indian soldier

The day before yesterday we visited the home of a military man. I was bought by his persona. His currency was compassion. And I was surprised when he said, “you win people only through the language of love.” I did not expect that of a high rank soldier. In each person he met, it was as though he kept a tiny piece of them in a book, written out like a poetic biography. So he remembered people not by their names, but by their stories — a novelty in a world where soundbites and pungency defined “person”. Muslim. Man. Bangladesh. ….. Muslim. Woman. Afghan-foreign. In Afghanistan, I find these categories efficiency tools when classing people. He is Afghan. And he is an Afghan American just mean different things. 

So I saw myself elevated from a label. And I took from him this important lesson. To see the humanity in others, let it precede before nationality, race, qualification, …

We also met so many good-hearted people. And conversations enlivened me, I think of them occasionally. 


A piece from a blog entry I wrote, quoting Steve Hagen.

Our journey must go nowhere- neither in nor out. Rather, ours is a journey into nearness, into immediacy. Our journey must be to awaken here and now, to awaken to here and now. To be fully alive, we must be fully present.  (Buddhism plain and simple  – Steve Hagen)


Smiling face

When I wake up in the morning, I turn to Shoaib’s smiling face and these words always come to me, “Is it really true???” 


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