Of The Dearly Beloved

Half way through the ride, of what must have been the slowest pace one had ever made on a rather empty road, the rain came. One tried to switch the music player to upbeat tunes in an effort to boost mood and speed, trying to get home as fast as one could. But an attempt to speed up was soon stopped by a bumpy road that shook one hard and elicited tears and cries of pain.

After a couple of songs, Bee Gees’ “How Deep Is Your Love” started. Not a speeding song, one admits. Yet the calm and laid back feel hit one immediately.

I know your eyes in the morning sun
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain
And the moment that you wander far from me
I wanna feel you in my arms again

And you come to me on a summer breeze
Keep me warm in your love and then softly leave
And it’s me you need to show”

One stopped. One looked up at the dark night sky. The rain hit one’s face.

How deep is your love, how deep is your love
I really mean to learn…”

Then one laughed hard even though the shaking hurt a lot and then screamed along with the falsetto’s “aaaaa…”

Aaah! You! You with the capital Y! Did You just pull a prank on me?


Last couple of weeks had been hell. One could barely stand but one hated lying down in bed covered in the smell of medicine even more. A cough provoked protests from every joints and muscles. In one’s dramatic eye, each movement was a reminder of a failing physical, biological, and psychological system.

A reminder for another on-air session, due in three hours, went off.

“Shouldn’t you cancel it?”

I am bored. Have I not been wallowing in self-pity for too long now?

One made preparation in the slowest motion, trying not to upset these imbalances even further. What normally had taken less than half an hour now took more than one to complete. Everything had slowed down.

The on-air session was quite a torture. Sitting still in a cold room began to raise one’s temperature and temper. But one had no energy left to entertain a rant. One spent the session break huddled in a corner, sleeping.

“Why didn’t you just cancel? Or go home early?”

“It’s going to rain. You’ll get worse!”


“I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You’re the light in my deepest darkest hour
You’re my saviour when I fall

And you may not think I care for you
When you know down inside that I really do
And it’s me you need to show

How deep is your love, how deep is your love
I really mean to learn…”

As soon as the music faded out, one took out the earphones and let the sound of rain take over one’s auditory sensors. Instead of focusing on the crumbling internals one began to take note of the cold drip on one’s skin, a distraction for the pain. The ride began to speed up.

Don’t You answer prayers when it’s raining? So please hear me out…

So one started talking, of woes and worries, of hurt and pain, of mistakes and failures, of wishes and dreams, and of pleas…

رَبَّنَا مَا خَلَقْتَ هَذا بَاطِلاً سُبْحَانَكَ فَقِنَا عَذَابَ النَّارِ

One cried, coughed, and laughed. One laughed harder.


One got home to wondering stares. One was still laughing hard.

“What’s funny?”


One took a hot bath.

One slept while it was still raining outside, strangely soundly. One woke up to a fresh dawn.

One still coughed but the pain had subsided. The muscle pulls that came with it felt right. One wondered if the burst of laughter that shook the night before somehow “realigned” these internal muscles. You know, like when TV box went wrong, you shake it to make it work. Or maybe one had just survived a critical period because one’s immune system had won the war. Or that one’s will prevailed.

Either way, O Dearly Beloved, The Merciful, The Most Compassionate, thanks for the laugh and, You know, everything else.


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