That feeling when you yield to it and finally do it. Is the pleasure more from doing the act itself, or from the release of the pain of enduring the temptation? That pleasure… no one can deny that it truly is substantial. It feels great, but there is something missing, a certain dimension. Like a delicious dish with a key ingredient missing. A dish which no matter how much you eat of it it will always keep you hungry.

But over time, this dish also starts losing it’s other flavors. Of course, it never sated your hunger, but the pleasure you derive from the dish itself starts decreasing till it becomes totally bland and non-existent. No, even more than that, you start to positively hate and be disgusted by it. But that acidic pain of temptation, which starts from your stomach and then permeates your entire body… during the time you are suffering from it even the most detestable and empty things become imbued with wholesomeness.

This ravaging feeling feels almost impossible to stop by yourself. You feel helpless, unable to do anything, as if you are being carried away by a mighty river to the pit of despair and regret. Yet strangely, the things most effective at stopping this burning pain are not as painful at all, only the nature of that pain is different. The sort of pain which eliminates desire is the pain of fear and physical pain. Why and how do they do it? Do we perceive them as realer threats than the mental anguish which follows yielding to temptation? Or is it because that pain is more imminent than the other? This leads me to believe that most men truly cannot think outside their senses. Their entire world is constrained by what he feels physically.

The deceiver, Satan, truly makes our actions seem fair seeming to us for how else can we explain this so common act of utter irrationality in a species which prides itself on being the only one capable of rational thought?


The truth is the truth. Follow it. People’s words are all opinions, calling you to their falsehood. Why should you listen to them? On the off chance that they are correct? Well, isn’t the truth obvious to you? Maybe they have some new information that can refute the truth, the deceiver tells you. Is the truth such that can be refuted by any information at all? No.

Let not their empty words and promises cast doubts and aspersions in your heart. What you have will always be stronger than their desires. After all, they admit to it themselves: that they only follow their own desires. Are you really that stupid then to follow someones false desires? What do you then want to die on: the truth, or someone’s desires?

A lot of them follow their own desires. Is that surprising? No. That is actually quite expected. You know yourself how hard it is to follow the truth, and how the deceiver casts such spurious doubts in your heart. Is it a surprise then that most of mankind are astray? They make fun of you because of your small size, saying that we are arrogant. Is not he arrogant who follows his own desires and refuses to see the clear evidences? The one’s who laugh and pat each other on the back, simply because they believe in their stereotypes and prejudices?

No, set your very nature to be righteous and upright. Let not their worldly accolades intimidate or deceive you. The truth is the truth. Mankind cannot change it.


It was a dark night as I walked along the sidewalk alone back to my house from the mosque. A busy road ran right next to me, and the artificial lights and noises of the motorbikes and cars, hard and indifferent, speeding along showing no indication of my existence, contrasting sharply with the night, annoyed and irked and depressed me.

And then came along a man on a motorbike, asking for directions. He was bald and bony, and the darkness of the night disfigured his ashy face. It was nothing unusual, but when I raised my arms pointing towards places, I felt something brush against my penis. I slowly looked at the handles of his bike, hoping to find his hands there, and found them. I didn’t want to believe what happened, so I continued giving directions. His hands continued to brush against my penis until I finally swallowed the reality of the situation and punched his arm away.

All I could think of later about this incident was what a disgrace. Till this day that incident reminds me of the utter humiliation I experienced and my cowardice and impotence. I was 16 at that time. I regretted deeply that I couldn’t punish him. I made up my mind that if he comes next time, I was going to pull him down and crush his head with the rocks lying around.

I have not met him yet, it has been years since that incident, and the disgrace and the thirst for vengeance still lurks in my heart.


When you walk into its maw unknowingly, like a blind man walking without a stick; and like slumber, before you know it, you are deep in it’s electric, vice like grip; then all the colors seep out of your vision to make the world look like a badly tinted photograph, and the world squeezes to become as irritatingly and intolerably narrow as the eye of a needle…

And when the temptation takes root and blossoms in your heart like a thorny, grotesquely red rose, it sears you torturously; as if your being is simultaneously being drowned and being roasted on a steady flame.

And after the ordeal, when you have surrendered yourself to that pain; when you have drowned below the suffocating waters of the sea of desire; deep down at the seabed where the mass of water which previously pained your heart now exerts a dull, heavy, oppressive guilt on it: you cannot escape.


I hate introverts physically, I despise those kinds of people. I can hardly bear to talk to them. They have the Chaplin disease. That particular combination of arrogance and timidity sets my teeth on edge. They are arrogant. Like all people with timid personalities, their arrogance is unlimited. And that makes me almost nauseous with anger and disgust. Anybody who speaks quietly and shrivels up in company is unbelievably arrogant. He acts shy, but he’s not. He’s afraid. He hates himself, and he loves himself, a very tense situation. To me, it’s the most embarrassing thing in the world—a man who presents himself at his worst to get laughs, in order to free himself from his hang-ups.

Introverts are ridiculously arrogant. Their “humbleness” is arrogance. Their “shyness” is arrogance. They are as arrogant as anyone else. But you won’t know that because they are afraid. They don’t talk much not because they are shy or quiet, but because they are afraid. Afraid of being made fun of, afraid of being humiliated. Afraid of other people. This is where the arrogance, and the contradiction comes in. Introverts crave validation; they crave it more than any extrovert. They want to be praised, they want to be glorified. But the fear of humiliation prevents them from striving for it. It makes them paranoid. That fear drives them to hate everyone else, to antagonize everyone else, to sit in a corner and spit on everyone who passes by.

Now, what will our poor little introvert do now that he can’t get his validation from other people? He will be put on a pedestal, by himself; he will rub the nose of others in the dirt, by himself, all in his own mind. This is why they are so passive aggressive: they don’t need to bring you down physically, you are already humiliated in their own minds.

Their patronizing tone, their false sense of humbleness, their self-depreciation; it all makes me nauseous. I want to hold them by the ears, and scream in their faces at the top of my lungs. To beg them, please, raise your head and stop smiling at yourself. That you are not so superior to me that you have to resort to humiliation to bring yourself down to my level.

I want to humiliate them. I want to humiliate them till they lose that sense of pride. I want them to be humiliated by others, again and again and again, until their deformed and exaggerated sense of pride and self-esteem gets grounded into dust, so that they can rebuild it to be normal like the others.

I want to punch their lying faces. I want to cause them great pain. Not to cause them injury; nor to humiliate them. But to make their faces become angry, frightened, weeping – anything but that smug, almost anaesthetized serenity they wear everywhere. To break that shell of humility, to scratch away that veneer of humbleness, to reveal the haughtiness and hypocrisy inside.

Hypocrisy? Yes, they are hypocrites. Arrogant people are by nature hypocrites. They have impossible standards for others while forgiving themselves their own transgressions. How else do you think they keep up their façade of humble superiority? Another aspect of their hypocrisy is their sensitivity and cruelty. Introverts are sensitive, that much is true, and also a well-known fact. What most people are not aware about is the unusual cruelty of introverts. They can be very cruel. This is because they believe they are more “emotional” beings, able to feel and appreciate the finer sensations, while other people are Neanderthals whose amplitude of both sadness and happiness is minute. They’re not cruel because they’re sadistic or heartless, they simply don’t believe others feel the same way as they do.

The mind of an introvert is inbred. The prejudices it holds feed off themselves, and the biases festering within confirm themselves. It returns, again and again, back to itself for comfort and validation, like a spiral circling inwards ad infinitum. (This inbreeding of thought sometimes leads to a very deformed and ugly view of other people and the world. No surprise then at the fact that sadists, masochist, fetishists, serial killers, are more often than not introverts).

As I said before, introverts get validation from themselves. External input is filtered to remove anything which might affect their prejudices and biases. This is why they appear to be so neutral, not because they are actually so, but because they are afraid to bring out their opinions into the glare of public scrutiny. They start getting anxiety at the thought of people picking away at their precious little values in the broad daylight. At the thought that their worldview might be wrong. All they want to do is to sit in the dark and let their biases and prejudices fester while quietly smiling to themselves in their surety.

Not surprising since their entire world is closed up like a tightly wound ball of yarn inside their minds. Unlike extroverts, who are more receptive in that they welcome feedback from the outside, introverts are not so, they rarely ever change their inert minds, no matter how much evidence you throw at them. They are stubborn, afraid of change, unreactive and often they mistake this stubbornness, which originates from fear, as integrity.


Self-consciousness. People looking at you. Their stares. Their faces. Their thoughts. And you.

Who are they? And should what they think affect you? No man is an island. We are all connected, in one way or another. It is pleasing to hear the brave words which go along the lines of, “Don’t let what others think affect you”, “Do your thing” but practically speaking that is impossible and were a person to take this motto literally he would probably end up in jail or a mental asylum.

However, I purposefully mininterpreted those words. What they probably meant were: “Pay no mind to detractors when you engage in an activity which is frowned upon by society – but not too much or not all of it – and which also has a consequential number of supporters.” Thus this motto becomes applicable to civil rights movements and other noble endeavours whicle excluding more malicious pursuits such as homicide since both of these are frowned upon by society.

I am a Muslim. I believe in no god but God, and that Muhammadﷺ is His Messenger. So the answer to the earlier question “Should what they think affect you?” is no. Obviously that is impossible. I am a human being, and like every other human being, I am happy when people praise me and sad when people insult me.

But as fas as I am concerned, my actions and more importantly their intentions should never change. “…which is frowned upon by society – but not too much or not all of it – and which also has a consequential number of supporters”, but how many Muslims existed when the Holy Prophetﷺ was alive? How many people supported himﷺ in the beginning? If I was the last Muslim on Earth – I am not so boastful as to say I would undoubtedly still keep my faith – the right thing to do would be to live and die as the last Muslim on Earth.

Every person in this society condones that motto if you ask them, yet when someone actually goes and does it, he is looked upon as mad. Are they not the ones who are mad?

Yes, I believe! In spite of all the guilt-tripping, I believe!

A poem

Through this short life, wonders passed through my view:
Sun, moons and stars; roses of scarlet hue.

The sun so bright, it’s warmth that gives us life,
Moons and stars, which drive women to despair,
The rose, whose beauty roused poets through the night.

With you, I can only these wonders compare.
Your smile, which shines through this sad and dark heart.
Your faces’ fair glow, only the moon can match.

Your eyes like stars, which twinkle in the dark.
In this monochrome world your lips a catch
for bees who for roses your lips mistake.

Through this short life, wonders passed through my view,
But none as wondrous, not yet, as you.