"Babuji, can you hold my hand. This confusion in my mind needs to be channeled to somewhere else"
"You need no hands to cling onto. I can see the uncertainty in you, my dear. Your eyes. The somber glitters. The look of needing someone"
Perhaps the moonless night was nothing more than a complete set of theatrical drama, a set of opera with no white color, or lack of it. Something that the certainty never drives beyond the uncertainty. Or maybe something similar like that. The thought of getting saved, or hand being held by the one he could call a savior had dimmed, like the stars of unreachable. The numbness attack on his feet paralyzed his mind. Or the numbness attack to his mind paralyzed his limbs. He lost. Neither did Rafeeq.
He merges Night into Day, and he merges Day into Night, and he has subjected the sun and the moon (to his Law): each one runs its course for a term appointed. Such is Allah your Lord: to Him belongs all Dominion. And those whom ye invoke besides Him have not the least power.
The silent prayer reverberated like an unidentified humming echo. And please, he didn’t want this last imaginary pillar to be dissolved, like the stars and the moon and the days he had seen before his eyes.