“Age na Number”

As the morning crawls into the night, and the sun furtively escapes the sight of men to usher in the moon. As one day folds like a scroll and submits itself to the savant spectre of a new day, a new dawn, a new sun and a new moon. In the twinkling of an eye, it’s a week, in another twinkle, a month, then a year… and the year-count ekes, from one to ten, to fifteen, then its twenty and beyond.

Man has no inkling, why the stars shimmer on his roof. Why the recess of the soil spills water and even oil, all for his consumption. And the summer rain breathes in life to the trees. The meadows look fresh like catfish. The sky azure; all that beauty, all that artistic prowess, just to guard me, like an umbrella tree, to make me wallow, in the yonder piquancy and the magic fingers of God.

I hear it, when I walk the plains of earth, the morning breeze, yapping my name. The grounds reeling in awe to each sauntering step my sole pounds its bosom. The trees blossoming fresh broods each time my head stoops to its branches, its leaves flying hither thither to catch a speck of my flight. One pink leaf suspended just below my eyes, it rubbed my lips gently before it tobogganed kissing my feet before it finally fell on the ground.

It is said that the most beautiful things are free, I never believed, until last summer; I saw a red rose, in its charming innocence, crying to be let out of the weed that grasped it to its vicious enclave. Next to it was a sunflower, its petals widespread like a virgin’s thighs. Looking straight into the eyes of the sun; it was a microcosm of the sun. I thought, in the absence of the sun, the sunflower could ignite the world.

In short, nature is equal to its task. It is the servant of man. Man actually gives nothing to nature, but just takes and enjoys, all the beauty and all the foods.

What is my place in all this, am I just a beneficiary of the largess of nature like the bazaars harlot, who only knows to collect? The days, the ages, the birthdays; mean nothing to me, until I find that purpose. I can’t be useless as some existentialists suppose. After all, I don’t walk alone; the breeze always creeps beside my earlobe, and specks of dust rummaging my hair and tainting my velvet silk. The hens, goats and lizards skedaddle at every sight of me, while the sturdy amongst them stand akimbo, calling my bluff.

I know many will argue, “I did not create man, except that he worships me,” but the thing with religions is that, they don’t answer our questions wholly or satisfactorily. What is worship? We are made to believe that millions of angels are at God’s disposal to worship him on a daily basis. So, of what benefit is mankind worshiping God to God. Perhaps, worshipping God is the ultimate purpose of existence, perhaps it is the end in itself. Then what are the means to the end? And what befalls people that don’t worship?

Last week, I read an article on saharareporters by one Osage, his argument was that: maugre all the effervescent hooplas about religion, religion in itself has not benefited mankind in what will be considered its most immediate needs. From the basic technological advancements that surround us, and form an integral part of our lives, to the system of governments and laws that guide us on a daily basis. In fact, a microscopic view might consider religions atavistic, looking at it as an instrument of violence, insurgencies and other banes.

On a more specific level, each and everyone has to give peculiar meanings to their lives. A popular saying goes “age na number” and number it is, unless and until, as we count our ages, we can count along some feat in understanding ourselves and our immediate environments, beyond what is popular.

Victor. E. Frankl, whose book on logotheraphy has impacted largely my life, states; “one should not search for an abstract meaning of life. Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life to carry out a concrete assignment which demands fulfillment.” Furthermore, these missions are ever dynamic. For me, for now, I have a dream of a world with cosmopolitan viewpoints. But for my country first, I dream of a country where religious lines are blurred. Where the Muslim does not look at the Christian as a doomed person and the Christian does not look at the Muslim as a savage. Because religion, in itself is not a value; the religion you carry as an emblem, tells me little or nothing about you. A country where our tribes, wealth and sexes, are seen as mere happenstance and not value laden.

There is a silver lining to our dreams, if we broaden our minds towards realizing them. What the mind can conceive, the hands can reach. Surely, Et lux in tenebris lucet- and the light shineth in the darkness.

 

 

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