Random reflections

 

The past few days, my mind has been occupied by various things. As a result of this, I reflected on different concepts and ideas and now I plan to incorporate all of them into one single piece of writing. So if in this blog you find, which you definitely will, my thoughts taking unusual turns with every proceeding paragraph, don’t be surprised.

My first reflection pertains to a word that I recently heard in a video on YouTube in an attempt to learn Arabic. Mentioned on the first page of the book being taught was a word اغترب. At first, I didn’t know what that meant and so using a dictionary was pertinent. However, anyone who has gotten some understanding of Arabic can easily deduce the root letters of most words that appear to his eyes. Hence, I understood that this word was made up of the root غ ر ب. Also, the consistency of Arabic at most places allows its learners to figure out atleast some sense from the root letters. I hereby resorted to all the words and combinations that I have read with these root letters and came across غریب and غرب. The former means ‘strange’ in Arabic, while the latter means West (the western world). Realizing that complete comprehension calls for a dictionary, I typed the word on my online dictionary. The results showed that this word meant ‘Leaving one’s own country’. I was beautifully surprised. There is an enigmatic link between the root letters with this word. According to this link, the one who leaves his country, in reality acquires strangeness. As opposed to the modern mind, the Arabic dictionary does not advocate for leaving a country and naming the destination as a ‘home’. When you leave your motherland, you acclimatize to strangeness and, to your best, achieve a nationality. Not a new home.

It was at my cousin’s place, when another cousin said ‘I read all your writings’. With the joy of coming across a consistent reader, arrived a question too: What would be two rules that I will always follow and advise beginners in writing? With great thought, I think that I have the answer ready to be shared,

Primarily, I believe that what you write should actually be what you wanted to write. It has to be representative of your thoughts. It doesn’t have to be a portrayal of your skill at writing. The better the quality of thought, the more real and believable the discourse is. I think, I would never want to sit and write unless I am clear on what it is that needs to be jotted. And when I say clear, I mean it. Let me try illustrating this: Observe the difference between the aim of a study and its hypothesis. The aim would probably be a vague, detail-requiring notion like: The effect of fear on human mind. While the hypothesis will be a clear-cut, testable piece of data that anybody can use to put into practice like: Less students perform well when they fear insult from teacher. This is the clarity that writing needs.

In aiming for triumph at the first one, my second rule is to adhere to paragraphs. Forget what your teacher said about the three paragraphs of an essay and how all your life you have been forcing gazillion thoughts into the middle one. There is no universal rule that dictates the number of paragraphs. You need as many paragraphs as much clarity your thoughts need. For my own writings, I try to assure that it inculcates enough paragraphs that if a reader wants to make a topic out of each, he can. When you make a paragraph, it means that you finished what you wanted to say, took a break, and with the following one, you might continue but will not let your reader feel monotony.

My last reflection is inspired by a talk of Hamza Andreas Tzortzis. In this talk, he explained the mindset and the paradigm in which the Palestinians are living. Articulating an example with such beauty that my writing never does justice to it, he questioned the audience that: will any of them ever exchange their eyes in return of 10 million dollars? The answer was no. Following this was a rightful claim. None of us will exchange even a single breath in return for no matter what amount of money. Which means every breath that we take is singularly the most important blessing we have, the rest is mere bonus.

Yet, we continue to strive and grieve in absence of more.

May Allah make us truly grateful for all the blessings that we have. Ameen