February 18, 2010

The Boid and I did a research stint on 'the political economy of mazaars' way-back-in-the-day. Either I'm a complete wuss, or this place saps the will to critically analyze, but I just can't bring myself to apply years of cynical-study to the darbars where I've spent the last week-or-so.

Like the brother said after spending hours viewing the world through his camera lens: 'How do you even begin to capture the devotion people here feel for Ali in a photograph?"

I don't know.

I'm still struggling to put it down in words.

Each pair of eyes tells a different story. Most are in tears: some ecstatic, some pained, some sorrowful. All of them reflect this ultimate all-encompassing devotion that - to tell you the truth - I envy very much.

Because I know that despite a genuine respect for what-this-place-has, I'm not there yet.

But for the first time since I began to question, the need to think about 'why' what I see here is-the-way-it-is has vanished somehow. Instead, I'm content just to sit back and observe. And to absorb as much of what's going on as I can. Without really thinking about it too much.

Perhaps that is what respect is all about.

And the truth is, if not belief (although, I have to admit, the core of disbelief has been somewhat affected), and if not devotion, then the least I can do is respect what Karbala and Najaf have to offer.

Na?

4 comments:

Khizzy said...

Haan!

Lonely Perverted Soul said...

yea u do have to give everything the respect....

Anonymous said...

how where are you

shahrukh said...

Would be great to see some of the pictures taken by your brother, if you can share. Enjoy reading your blog. TC