I sat on the wet sand lost in my thoughts. I had my hand immersed in the sticky clay beside me. The sun was setting behind the vast sea in front of me. I had seen this view a hundred times as the beach was not far from my house but it always left me in amazement.
I had stayed till now only to have a glimpse of the setting sun. I did it every Sunday or at least tried to do it.
I had been working as a journalist for four years now and my love for the job increased every year. I had spent some of my Sundays even, working on some of my big cases but I never had any problem sitting on the floor of my TV launch in all those stacks of papers around me. It was because I was doing what I loved the most and I couldn't have been doing anything else. So I finally decided to get up and leave when I saw a man far away in the vast water body struggling for breath. I could not believe my eyes. I didn't know what to do. What could I do??
I felt sweat on my forehead. I ran for the motor boats on the end of the beach boundary. The man was closing. I was in panic. I asked the man if I could borrow it and told him that it was an emergency.
I told him that I'll pay when I return. He gave me one of them. I asked him to come with me. I thought I would need help.
He dragged the boat in the water. I told him to drive while I will be sitting behind him. As we drove I could see the man more clearly now. We finally reached him.
"Take my hand!" I yelled. He hesitated a little and then took it. I dragged him up with all of my energy. When I dropped him on the boat, he was struggling to breath. So I thought of giving him a mouth to mouth. But when I moved closer I heard him say something in Arabic.
"La illa ha illAllaho Muhammad ur rasool Allah" and then he closed his eyes. I felt a shiver run down my spine.
What did he just say? In Arabic?
I shook him with full power but he was dead. I asked the boat man to return to the shore. He did as I said and in no time we were there. I was a journalist so seeing someone die was not something strange but this time it felt very strange. This man had a long beard so I knew that he was a Muslim. But there was something else about him. His face had an amazing glow and a contentment, while he was saying those words. I could not sleep that night
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Echoes Of The Heart
SpiritualWe, the one's born with Islam as a part of our identity, seem to forget sometimes what treasure we own, how easy it was for us. On the other hand for someone to get to Islam by the desire to believe and pray to someone mighty and powerful is heart...