Another Mosque Among the Stars

by Ahmed A. Khan

  6.

  Let us forget the woes and count the blessings.

  Okay. To begin with, we are alive. We didn’t die in the spaceship crash. We were not even hurt much.

  This planet is liveable.

  We have found a nice and cozy cave to live in.

  Our stores of food will last us for months and by then we should be able to find edible fruits and such on this planet.

  We have each other for company.

  And probably a good thing that one of us is not a woman. This way we avoid the complications of being the new Adam and Eve for this planet.

  And the planet, on the surface, is not a bad looking one. It has got some beautiful scenery.

  And the books. Don’t forget the books we managed to salvage from the wreck. We have the Bible, the Qur’an, and those poetry collections – Keats, Tennyson, Elliot.

  And we have the sense of wonder, the desire for knowledge, and this planet might – just might – prove interesting.

  7.

  I have noticed something. I dream more often and more intensely when the will-o-the-wisps are near me.

  Strange. Now that you put it into words, of late my dreams seem more and more real to me.

  Reminds me of a line I read somewhere: What are dreams if not a different kind of reality?

  8.

  It is strange, isn’t it, the way our perspective changes with time? Things always seem different when you look at them in retrospect.

  Yes. The sense of values changes. What seemed important then seems trivial now. That which was trivial then appears important now. These days I never even think about who is going to win the next elections back home but I do often think of the way my mother used to kiss me goodbye every morning when I left for school so many years ago.

  There is another thing. In retrospect, I have nothing more than a vague memory of the hurts I received in life. Even when put together and taken collectively, these hurts don’t seem to amount to much. But when I think of all the hurts that I have dished out to others ---

  I know what you are talking about. Regrets. A whole lot of regrets. That day when I slapped my kid when all he did was ask me to buy him a chocolate icecream.

  That day when my mother asked me to get her a book from the library and I refused saying that I couldn’t leave my favorite TV program.

  How many times have I hurt my wife unreasonably, pig-headedly, just out to prove that I was the boss of the house.

  How many times did I simply neglect – and sometimes even crush – the feelings of others.

  And they – all of them – were people who loved us.

  Loved us and cared for us and ---

  And we ---

  Regrets. And pain. And a soul screaming for a second chance.

  You are crying!

  Do you mind? No, you would not. You are crying too.

  Yes. Let us cry ourselves to sleep.

  9.

  Life seems so meaningless now.

  Do you think the will-o-the-wisps are sentient?

  A strange response to my observation about the meaning of life.

  I somehow feel that our life will be meaningful again if the will-o-the-wisps are sentient.

  What is the meaning of life?

  I don’t know. Do you?

  10.

  Most of our problems back on earth – they seem so petty now.

  So many of concerns misplaced.

  So many actions futile.

  Now we learn.

  11.

  Other than home and family and friends, what are the things you miss the most?

  Why do you always have to ask these painful questions? Why can’t you leave memories well enough alone?

  Catharsis man, catharsis.

  Catharsis my foot. I think the concept of catharsis is humbug. Another blunder of modern psychology.

  Okay, then let us talk about these things to pass our time.

  Alright then. I will join you. I miss the little things – those things that many good writers wrote about in their books.

  Things like?

  The stone benches in the park.

  The early morning strollers.

  The dim, dark streets of the night.

  The children going to and coming back from school.

  The tea house and the steam rising up from the tea cups.

  The town library with its dimly lit corners where the mysterious smell of old books hung in the air, like the smell of captured time.

  The birds.

  And the bees.

  Ha, ha!

  12.

  Say, my watch has stopped. What about yours?

  Hmm? Mine seems to have stopped too. The batteries have run down at last.

  So shall we toss them into the lake now?

  Again, why bother? Why not just take them off and leave them lying around on this rock?

  Yeah. Why not?

  And I do believe the will-o-the-wisps are sentient creatures. Let us see if we can communicate with them.

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