Fourteen Patches
Scorching heat hassled my feet,
as I ambled alongside the beast.
A wooden cup, a water bag and
parched barley meal for a feast.
My shadow exhaled hot fumes
on the dry desert sand.
Days of prolonged journey,
In search of a famous land.
Mounted on the highest
was a man wearing a lowly thawb
With evident fourteen patches,
devoid of a pristine robe.
He ruled the continents
With power and dignity.
He owned a little
Enough to satisfy the brevity.
We took turns to sit on the camel,
to relieve ourselves of the toil.
One could rest and another hold reins,
to guide the beast towards the soil.
He beckoned me to stop
And climb on top.
Holding the reins
of the camel’s clop.
Approaching the purpose
I implored the master.
I did not deem right
for him to ignore his lustre.
“The dignitaries are awaiting the ruler
to command them and direct.
A meagre slave on the summit
Will not give you respect.”
He roared and his eyes crimson
He told me a reality
So easily forgotten
“We were humiliated in entirety
And Islam gave us honour
Shall we then choose this world
And push Allah in the corner.”
When his feet get muddled,
in a blameless puddle.
It stumped me more
and enhanced my lore.
It proved my descent
and that of my ruler
We are made with clay
and will return to it sooner.
A sight to behold awaited some,
as we marched into the city.
Never in history, had they seen
A king holding the rope with simplicity.
A slave riding the camel
Made most men bewildered
Tears flowed down relentlessly,
As the equality in Islam was remembered.
The man with fourteen patches,
raised the banner of Islam
Centuries later we still remember,
his humility and vigorous eemaan.
When the difference between
The ruler and the slave.
Was rendered null by the
faithful and brave.
(Thawb – Long shirt
Eemaan – Belief
Allah - God
Islam – Submission to the will of Allah)
Copyright © Shadaab Mumtaz | Year Posted 2011
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