The Quest Without – Part 1

‘Kun Faya Kun…Allah hu…’ she could hear loud but distant a Sufi yarn spun deliriously round and round. ‘There is something strong around this veranda that I can’t amusingly overlook,’ she breathed nervously, pacing through those meek corridors. She had lived in that murky cottage for over a year and was now on the verge of giving in to the cravings of change and her impulse. She wanted to go back to the city, as her search for the divine seemed going nowhere and ending in vain.

She, who would never concur living in isolation and that too in a town far away from her home and family, had one fine day decided to take a leap of faith and leave. She had survived harsh conditions, considering the absence of modern day conveniences of life, praying, eating simple food, and loving the divine soul. She had staunch faith He existed. She still needed to see it for her own self as seeing is believing some said. However, as the quest almost met a dead-end, she gathered her few belongings that night and waited for her neighbor who had generously agreed to pick her up and drop her off at the train station.

She was waiting in the veranda, walking about peevishly. While taking her fourth turn towards the end of the corridor, she froze in her feet, breathing heavily, with sweating palms and forehead, uttering squeaks of horror and pain. She was unable to take her eyes off of what she saw. ‘Was it really there or simply my hallucination’, she couldn’t deduce. Before her stood a true-to-life shrine with its crown touching the skyline, surrounded by dervishes swooned in passion, waking up and swirling in the ecstasy of losing self to the auburn flames of divine love.



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I write for people. I write for love. In my world you hear all what remains unheard. I welcome both dark and bright with arms wide open. -MsK

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