Youssef is about everything one might expect a Moroccan to be: his is charming, smooth talking, hot tempered, and devastatingly handsome. He has become one of my more constant of Kolkata friends -- insofar as I am constantly certain that every ounce of time with him can only be measured by the frequency that I am forced to roll my eyes at his hilariously cliche antics (it has not been a successful night with Youssef until he has instigated utter absurdity .. in that Moroccan way of his). As soon as the night falls and the mosquitoes rise, however, Youssef becomes a philosopher. Surrounded by a cloud of his chain-smoking, he insists that his conversation partners discuss the meaning of life, the significance of travel (which he terms 'your pilgrimage'), and 'this thing we call relationship with humans'.
A few nights ago he told me that his word for life is 'God'. I grinned and told him that he stole my word ("You jerk!") and then specified that I would have chosen the exact phrase 'the Divine'. I never talk God or divinity with my French-speaking friends (most of them are properly French and lapsed Catholics who are politely freaked out by any religious conversations), so it was a bit starling to be discussing faith journeys in Youssef and Manu's Jadavpur flat.
My Moroccan friend is Muslim, though he isn't practicing right now. "It is very bad, Bettany," he said, "I am not practicing." He told me about his trip to Darjeeling (a city that sits on the base of the Himalayas). One day while there, he felt compelled to stop for one of the daily prayers to Mecca. As he rose, he saw the mountains ("What is the word for strange feeling on my arms?" "Goosebumps.") "Yes, I felt goosebumps along my arms and I knew for the first time in my 26 years that God is real." Now India has become for him a pilgrimage to find the truth of Islam. He said, "I do not know if Islam makes sense, but now I ask questions about it, and maybe one day I will practice again."
I smiled at the honesty and simplicity of his statement. I told him of the night I spent standing on a volcano in Hawaii under an indescribable dome of stars and sang an 'Alleluia' to God. As the song reached its crescendo, the volcano began to erupt and small streams of flowing lava bubbled into the sea. "I felt the Divine in that moment, standing in the peaceful, yet terrifying glory of God's creation."
"So you practice, non?" Youssef asked.
"Yes, I practice."
"And you are Christian, oui?"
"Yes, I am Christian."
"That is good for you."
I looked at my friend and remembered the Hindi greeting 'Namaste', which means 'I see the divine in you.' The Divine is deep within you, Youssef, I thought. I am certain of that.
A few nights ago he told me that his word for life is 'God'. I grinned and told him that he stole my word ("You jerk!") and then specified that I would have chosen the exact phrase 'the Divine'. I never talk God or divinity with my French-speaking friends (most of them are properly French and lapsed Catholics who are politely freaked out by any religious conversations), so it was a bit starling to be discussing faith journeys in Youssef and Manu's Jadavpur flat.
My Moroccan friend is Muslim, though he isn't practicing right now. "It is very bad, Bettany," he said, "I am not practicing." He told me about his trip to Darjeeling (a city that sits on the base of the Himalayas). One day while there, he felt compelled to stop for one of the daily prayers to Mecca. As he rose, he saw the mountains ("What is the word for strange feeling on my arms?" "Goosebumps.") "Yes, I felt goosebumps along my arms and I knew for the first time in my 26 years that God is real." Now India has become for him a pilgrimage to find the truth of Islam. He said, "I do not know if Islam makes sense, but now I ask questions about it, and maybe one day I will practice again."
I smiled at the honesty and simplicity of his statement. I told him of the night I spent standing on a volcano in Hawaii under an indescribable dome of stars and sang an 'Alleluia' to God. As the song reached its crescendo, the volcano began to erupt and small streams of flowing lava bubbled into the sea. "I felt the Divine in that moment, standing in the peaceful, yet terrifying glory of God's creation."
"So you practice, non?" Youssef asked.
"Yes, I practice."
"And you are Christian, oui?"
"Yes, I am Christian."
"That is good for you."
I looked at my friend and remembered the Hindi greeting 'Namaste', which means 'I see the divine in you.' The Divine is deep within you, Youssef, I thought. I am certain of that.
No comments:
Post a Comment