Daily Times

Being an extremely sinful person, perhaps overwhelmed and overburdened by the huge load of his sins, all I can say is that it is quite a hefty load to carry. With each passing day a terrifying feeling engulfs one’s thoughts. This journey is going to come to its logical ending. What do I have on my report card to look forward to? Pretty much nothing. Not a single act of good to boast about or, for that matter, to feel comfortable about.
It is one of those feelings that most people battle with but do not voice. Perhaps in this very space, somewhere, I have written about that final day when our ‘accounting’ will happen. When the ultimate Judge will go through my record. I fear that day. I often get misty eyed about just the thought of meeting the Creator. My heart pumps in anxiety and my eyes well up. On that day, that single day, I solely rely on the limitless mercy of the most Merciful and Beneficent. I sincerely hope that after the utterly embarrassing moment of my dark deeds being weighed, the mercy of the Merciful will be in abundance. Otherwise someone like me has no other place but the dungeons of fiery hell to call my eternal abode.
I know I am not a religious person at all. I believe in the faith that was given to me by my parents. I seek solace and comfort in the bounties of our Creator. Often the thought intrigues me, that the Creator of this universe and perhaps many unseen worlds that are beyond our wildest imaginations will be concerned with the sins of a tiny creature like me. The mind freezes with that mere thought that there may be billions like me who are considered His creation. What joy would a Creator like God seek in roasting his own creation in the fires of hell?
When I raise these questions to my friends or some of the religious folk I come across, they take it like I am acting too smart. There is none of that. I am just trying to understand a God so powerful, so merciful, that He gives everything to his creation, from a drop of water to tiny insects; why would He find it comforting to see everyone in distress?
I am of the perhaps unpopular opinion that we do not have the ability to understand or fathom an entity like God. We create our perceptions, based on what we read or hear. The two angels on our shoulders — one for good and the other for evil — have a tedious job. Those are the real writers. Their lines will really matter and the rest will perhaps make no difference.
I have had some experiences in this life that solidify my belief that there is something beyond our imaginations running this whole universe and perhaps many others no one knows about. That brings us to the subject of His messengers. It is amazing how those people were selected in almost every sphere, rich or poor. How those people went through a transformation is quite touching. Their love and devotion for their Creator is something beyond our comprehension.
Come to think of it, none of us would have known anything about our Creator if it were not for these messengers bringing the message to us. What a guiding light. From the stories told to me by my mother about the early childhood about our Prophet (PBUH) and what I was able to read, I am often overwhelmed with the purity in his heart. His undaunted resolve and belief in his Creator in the worst kind of situation gives one unparalleled inspiration.
These lines that most readers glance through and perhaps read are a blessing from our Creator. Most writers are eternally gifted as this is a talent that comes from up above. It is one of the hardest things as you cannot force your mind to do something. I consider this a blessing from our Creator: an ordinary scribbler like me gets read and appreciated by the people.
A few years back, some lines had been circulating in my mind. I sat down and put those down to paper. The sheer power within those lines was nothing I had experienced before. The more I read the lines, the more I became a believer that these were a gift from up above. The surge of emotions that I had never experienced in the past, overpowered me. Trembling and often breaking down in tears like a child, I shared those with none other than my mother over the phone line. From any seasoned writer’s perspective the product was very amateur. However, for someone like me, experiencing the sheer purity was quite a rewarding experience. No matter how hard I try, I cannot reproduce any such thing again. For curious minds, it was a devotional poem in praise of the Prophet (PBUH).
Very few people are gifted, who can feel the essence of written lines. Words matter, words have the power, words when written become a document. I dread the document in the hands of the angel on the assignment of documenting my sins. I wish I had some magical words somewhere that would clear that dark document like a clean slate.

The writer is a Pakistani-US mortgage banker. He blogs at http://dasghar.blogspot.com and can be reached at dasghar@aol.com. He tweets at http://twitter.com/dasghar