Variety Views.

Whether there's a God or not; whether there's a creator behind this universe or it was created by a mere coincidence, it does not matter. Because the fact of the matter is; we all have something in common. Whether you believe in a holy spirit and a son, a 600-pound man, the one Almighty, an animal spirit, an adventitious occurrence or simply believe in none. We all have a thing or two in common, but the most obvious thing is we all have a belief . Wanting to belong to something that is bigger than life is cemented in our nature as human beings. Some of us find that serene feeling in worshiping a specific God. One or more for that matter. And some others find their serenity in choosing to deny the existence of a certain or all deities. But all in all, I strongly believe that beyond our different reasons to embrace contrasting ideologies or the fact that we love to head-butt one another for no apparent reason. We all have an aspiration to look up to the skies above and kno...

بدايةً أحب ان اشير بأنني لم اكن يوماً ممن فقدوا الآمل في الحياة وتغلب عليهم اليأس, ومنذ فترة ليست بقريبة قررت عدم الإفصاح عن أي رأي لي ربما يعكس ما اعانيه من إحباط. على العكس, قررت بيني وبين نفسي ان أحاول قدر المستطاع ان انظر إلى النصف الممتلئ من الكوب دوماً وذلك بكل بساطة يرجع لسبب قد توصلت إليه موخراً أيضاً وهو ان العالم لن يتأثر بأي رأي بائس قد افصح عنه. دعوني أعيد تكرار الجملة السابقة على محور اوسع قليلاً: العالم لن يتأثر ولن يتغير من بكاء شباب قد غلبهم اليأس ولم يتبقى بشرى للأمل في قلوبهم. الذين يعرفونني في غالب الوقت يقولون ان السمة التي اتميز بها هي "التفاهه." بكل دواعي الفخر اقول انني قد استطعت على مدار ثلاثة اعوام او ربما أثنان ان اتحول من شاب مثقف مهتم ومُلم بجل ما يدور حوله وبما يدور حول العالم إلى شاب سطحي تافه, اقرب ما يكون للسذاجه عن النضوج. ربما أصبحت كذلك لأنني ماعدت استطيع تحمل ما يجرى من حولي. ليس على المستوى الشخصي فقط بل على مستوى المجتمع من حولي. وعلى الرغم أن اغلب من اتعامل معهم يومياً تتساقط منهم طاقة إيجابية كما يتساقط الماء من الدلو الممتلئ, لكن ر...

I've watched the movie "Shawshank Redemption" a handful of times and each time I watch it I stop at one particular scene, where Red (Morgan Freeman) tells Andy (Tim Robbins) that he -Andy- should stop speaking about hope; because hope is a very dangerous thing. The first time I saw that scene, I didn't quite understand what he meant by that. How can hope be dangerous? Isn't it a good thing? It is, right? Only now that I understand the true nature of hope. The dangerous illusion that is called hope. Sometimes we face situations where hope is non-existent and you forcefully give up any ideas that you might have for yourself. There's no room for hope whatsoever, and you consciously and subconsciously accept that as a fact, then by any means hope finds its way to you; you take it. You accept it. Now imagine that and tell me: What will happen if you lose it? If you lost the very thing that keeps pushing you to go further and further? Let me tell you what you m...

So, I decided to post this third instalment one day early, on account of tomorrow being the first day of 2017 and I would like to start it on a less morbid and hopefully more positive note. So far, I have covered two of the blows that I received on that bleak school day morning. As for the bombshell that dropped before me as I was heading to class, it was a bit of news. Another colleague was recounting a story in woeful tones surrounded by sympathetic clucks and exclamations of “Aaaahs!” and “Goodness Gracious!” and the like. Instead of being a smart cookie who has learnt her lesson and would steer clear from such a scene threatening of bad news, being the idiot that I am, I throw myself in the line of fire. I discover that the cause of the hubbub was the death of a thirteen year old girl who died of food poisoning. She ate take out that was bespeckled with rat poison. I don’t know the girl personally. However, she is a representative of all the youth I work so hard to raise...

All right, then! So, let's pick up from where we left off last week, shall we? After I realized that my job is probably utterly useless and hence my existence in this world is futile, because I imbue the young minds and souls of trusting impressionable students (the youth, the future of the community) with obsolete morals that do more harm than good. I need to pull myself together before I enter class and burst into tears, for an urge, to hold every single student in my arms and personally apologizing for the bleak future that lies ahead of him/her, was quickly creeping up on me. Being the nerd that I am, I decide to calm my poor nerves by playing the one game I got installed on my phone: Scrabble! Before I start the game, I am intrigued by a Whatsapp message from a dear student of mine. I rarely receive texts that early in the morning. To cut a long story short, he was drawing my attention to a viral post that displays a photo taken from an Arabic Handwriting school textbook ...

Once upon a time there was nothing but a man and his wife. Separated they were thrown at different parts of the ancient world not knowing where to go or how. After years of separation they have united again, and once they had their moment of rejoicing, they were reminded of why they got apart, to begin with. The man loved the woman very much. He had no one else but her and so did the woman. Unlike most of the things around them they were not made out of them, but instead, they were crafted by the hands of God almighty himself. He has created them for one purpose which is to inhabit God's earth and populate civilizations after civilizations . The man and his wife remembered the reason why they have been expelled from heavens. Simply because they have acted against the wish of God, and to add to that they have lost their sense of existence. They must return home, but how? Death has been and always will be the answer .  Centuries went by, witnessing entire nations getting w...

(Disclaimer: Although all the anecdotes I recount are true stories that I have personally witnessed, or been part of, they revolve around people I have met in different places where I have worked. I have not experienced them all at my current working place. They are rather a compilation of stories I have been accumulating through the years.) Many a time I wake up from a reverie only to discover that I have been daydreaming about being at one of those support group meetings I see in Hollywood movies, but this one is not for cancer or suicide victims or alcoholism or any other such addictions, for my addiction is singular in nature. I imagine the moderator asking if anyone would like to share; and amidst awkward silence, nervous smiles, fidgeting in chairs and shuffling feet, yours truly would rise to the challenge. Without hesitation, I would raise my hand; and after the moderator nods in my direction, granting me permission to go ahead, I would stand up with my shoulders hunched (...