The First Criticism

There is a poem I wrote at the age of 20. The events that lead my heart to pen down a plea to Allah were indeed monumental disasters and left deep impressions with me.

That year had seen many natural disasters. From drought to floods, hurricanes to tornadoes and eventually the PIA crash near Kathmandu Nepal on 28th September 1992 which took all 167 lives on board. I sat in my room, devastated by the news on television. The heart that was filled with anguish became a cluster of thoughts. These thoughts, drowned in tears gave birth to a thoughtful poem:

“Don’t Let Our Faith Be Shattered God”

29-09-92

Oh God I’m forced to wonder

A thought is born in me

I can’t help but to tell you

My heart is full of grief!

There’s land that craves for water

A single drop there be

But You have none to offer

Their crying destiny!

Enough is there however

To eradicate a town

The innocent helpless people

Their fate was but to drown!

Satanic powers rule this world

Their roots are getting strong

They murder truth and all that’s good

Unharmed they all live on!

We need you God to ease our pain

We need a shelter from this rain

If not You then who is their Lord?

To save us from the evil sword!

There’s so much pain and poverty

The dark night is so long

Tell me oh God should we keep hope

For the rise of another dawn!

Let justice once again prevail

This ordeal of suffering be gone

Don’t let our faith be shattered God

You’re all we can hold on!

I was a Literature student and submitted my poem for the school magazine. A few days later, my poem was returned to me with the statement, “It displays weakness of faith and therefore cannot be published at all!” 

The comment left me confused. “But it’s more of a plea than a statement of my faith,” I argued my English teacher who clearly agreed with the decision. “What do you mean by that? You are clearly questioning God for something you have created in this world!” My friends shared a smile, highlighting ‘my’ ill contributions to the world!

She spoke passionately, “People don’t look at themselves! The world is a horrible place because we have contributed horribly. And then we question God!”

I listened to her argument and when she was done I quietly placed my poem in my bag. "If you don't like it, it's fine. But I really don't think it's been understood too well." She glared at me for answering! 

The poem had instigated a dialogue in the staff room and had clearly divided the teachers in their stance upon the decision ‘not to publish’ the poem.

The Pakistan Studies teacher was from Peshawar and her logic encouraged me to think and continue to write whatever came to my mind. “Allah has His ways. Surely man does not hold the capacity to understand everything. But He Himself allows his most loved creation to question, investigate and discover the realities of this life. No one has the right to stop the other from asking a question!”

A similar response came to me from my language teacher who said, “The criticism and division of thoughts indicates a successful and worthwhile piece of literature from you! Don’t let anyone take that spirit and belief in your abilities from you!”

The volcano had erupted and since I had not expected any heat from a simple magazine contribution, it had pushed me to start thinking.

Yes, I did have the right to express my thoughts and ask as many questions as I liked. It was also a fair deal to expect some form of criticism since the world holds such diversity. My connection with God had allowed me to place my thoughts on paper and therefore it was not fair to stamp me as faithless! However, my English teacher did feel quite strongly about my inability to accept our negligence to acknowledge our own self-created problems. 

Of all the responses I received for my poem, hers mattered the most to me. Not just because she had come down on me quite violently, but because she thought differently. In a manner that I did not!

I came home quite dejected. The news had travelled to my mother as well as she taught in the Boys Section. She asked me how I felt about the whole argument. "I don't know Ammi. I don't know if it was wrong on my part to write something that holds religious sensitivity, though the intention was seeking refuge and not pointing a finger!" She knew I was mentally drained with the negativity and was not being able to focus on the positives. 

"I don't think that you have offended any religious sentiments what so ever. Your poem reflects your pain on the sad events that disturbed you emotionally. It's infact a beautiful and real depiction of our world today!" My father came home and when he read it, he loved it as well. "Criticism can be positive and negative. But it should remind you of your individuality and ability to think differently. And you will never be able to please all with your ideas. There will always be a crowd who shall voice their anger and dislike for the view expressed. Do not fear their presence or bend to their rules. Someone's opinion of you does not have to become your reality!"

I began to understand. I had not been able to please everyone and that was bothering me inside. My work had been misinterpreted and I had not put up a fight to defend my ideas.  

Today when I’m much older, I express myself with much more confidence. As expected, I get a variety of ideas as a feedback. As long as I don’t get questioned about my right to hold an opinion, I quite enjoy the chain of thought that rightfully glorifies the artistry of a Creator who did not clone one for the other. 

My faith lies in my belief that He, who created me, reads my thoughts far better than any in the world and I’m grateful to Him for this blessing. My feelings, my emotions and my writing do not depict my weak faith but rather are a means to communicate with the One who eventually opens windows of learning for me right here in this complex world!