Tug O’ War? ‘Twixt Arabic verses, and dialectics? House of God— a pilgrimage to Mecca— a mandate? Pelting stones, and Satan— salvation? Diktats of Islam— a religion stuck in time. Obsolete and corrugated. High-end Heaven— a promise or fishnet? Burnt into my molten flesh, this faith, a legacy— favour or fascism? Caught between traditionalists and reformists— A woman I am.
How do I atone for my existence?
With black cloak— inch tape of virtues? Or a tiara of polygamy? Pentagons, and prayers. Farce, and fasts. Mozart, and mosques.
How do I believe in a God that wants to be praised all the time?
Believers and Non-believers— a dividing line, another Auschwitz? Judgement Day— trick or treat?
Khadija Rehman, a mermaid of the strait of literature, is pursuing Honours in English from Lady Sri Ram College for Women. She recognizes herself as a storyteller of crimson tales. She was born out of literature, and breathes in the woodsy smells of storybooks. She is an amateur writer of the dark, wine-blotched emotions; agony and pathos are the ink that stain her works.