Al-Hayyu and Al-Mumeet are only your attributes. None except You have the authority to cause death to living beings or grant life to dead. But, Your vicegerent has become a despot. His brazenly contumacious approach has ripped up the sanctum-sanctorum pages of Your heavenly constitution. He has resorted to apostasy in order to grind his satanic axe. His Pharaonic splendour has blind-folded his eyes to comply with Your charter. He no more obeys Your orders and rules, as his predecessors used to obey. His pugnacious approach has created mayhem on the planet. He has reddened the soil with precious human blood. I too have fallen prey to his brutality and savagery. He has ravaged my world in broad daylight.
Pages of history bear testimony to the fact that I have been facing his masculine outrage for centuries together. But, his ancestors used to bury me alive. Now, the learned beast has killed me in my mother's womb. My snow-white shroud is stained with my innocent blood, and I am loudly calling and crying for justice. I vividly remember how a group of medicos sent me to gallows. Since then, I am afraid of the people with white aprons on their bodies, wearing stethoscopes around their necks. How cruel are the people who had a tag viz " Next to God " to their credit. Where is their Hippocratic oath? Is money everything for them? They paid no attention to my repeated pleas when they began to end my life before it could start.
Angels of your Jannah told me that they had wept profusely when I was annihilated in my mother's belly. They further stated that the scary incident had shaken all the skies. But, the so-called Ashraful-Makhlooqat was utterly heedless to my cries. My sighs and sobs were enough to melt mountains, but, I couldn't move his stony heart a bit. I doubt, if he still carries a soft-muscular heart in his chest cavity. Even carnivorous beasts of jungle are ashamed of his viciously vile deeds. But, he feels no sense of guilt.
The trauma of my murder gives me nightmares in my grave as well. I haven't slept well for all these years in the tomb where I have been laid to eternal rest. I often feel scary, even in the confined gloomy room of mud and soil when the masculine progeny of Adam visits the graveyard. I still remember the fateful day when my mother was treacherously taken to a nursing home where the callous people administered dangerous drugs into her veins and arteries. She pleaded for mercy but the soulless merchants of materialism maimed her ruthlessly.
Thy caliph didn't allow me to open my eyes. He strangulated me before I could unfold my eyes to see the people around me. His lethal drugs and chemicals liquidated me to vapours when I was only a lump of flesh. I too had a longing to explore your kaleidoscopic world; wanted to fly above your tall, lofty mountain peaks; had a desire to relish sweet delicacies, had a cherished dream to prostrate before You, wanted to meet my dear mother who suffered anemia and insomnia while I was in her womb, had a wish to embrace my Abu though he was hellbent to abort me. My Lord, You have promised in the holy Quran to investigate my assassination. " For what crime was she killed ." ( Bi-Ayyi Zan-Bin Qutilat ). Surah Al-Takvir, verse number 9.
Thy representative on the planet is extremely selfish and hypocritic. His double standards have made mockery of his prominence in the animal world. The appellation of Ashraful-Makhlooqat should be snatched from him. I beg You to dethrone him of his divine dominion and sovereignty. Angels are mockingly laughing at his follies and buffoonish attitude. He loves Binti-Hawa as his wife, but terribly hates her as his daughter. His cognitive sense has ceased to work. He fails to interpret the fact that his wife is someone's daughter. His false and fake grandeur has enslaved him bitterly. He is more barbarous than his Arab ancestors.
My Lord, see, how he ill-treats the fairer sex on the earth. He pounces upon her like a wild predator and tears her chastity on roads. He molests her in moving buses and trains. He subjects her to his masculinity in offices and work-places. He inflicts atrocities and cruelties upon her, in her in-laws home. He hardly treats her as his better half. He makes her to work as a domestic help, in her own home. She toils hard from dawn to dusk, but fails to get a little share in her ancestral property. How long shall he trample us under his feet !
My Lord, daughter of Eve will no more believe your system of justice if You won't bring my murderers to task. I have sued my case in Your divine court. I don't have legal aides at my back. I don't have eye witnesses and concrete proofs to find him guilty. But, I believe in your system of justice. You are omnipresent, Your orders make even rocks and stones to speak. Your mill grinds slow but grinds sure. I demand a stern and exemplary punishment for my assassinators. The magnitude of their crime is so monstrous that there is no space for any kind of clemency or pardon for them. Waiting for justice...
(Author is a Teacher and Rising Kashmir Columnist. He can be reached at email@example.com)