It begins with a thing as subtle as a gentle breeze, and the forming of a few dark clouds that always make you wonder whether they would shape into a rainy day. But the rain here is always at extremes: when it pours, it showers… as though the gates of heaven have been opened to release a steady stream of river. On other days though, the earth is as water-thirsty as the deserts of Sahara.

This was going to be one of those days when this city would find its streets flooded with absolute bliss: Rain in the land of the pure.

Drip, drip, drip.

A steady stream of tiny droplets plunge themselves head-first on the roads, over the houses and happy faces. First few drops are probably the most minuscule – almost of zero consequences. Except there’s something special about them: They have taken it upon themselves to initiate the change in weather, at a time when the rest of the drops are too scared to do so.

Fearless they fall, losing their identity to earth – sacrificing their lives over it whilst announcing the coming of a downpour. Although insignificant, their presence perhaps claims the merriest part – bringing the tiding of a joyous rain.

And so they fall, drop by drop – never failing to comply with the command of their Lord. They fall on the streets, on big mansions and on the kachi abaadi, not discriminating the rich from the poor, or the weak from the powerful.

Rain is for everyone.

The trees dance to the rhythm of the wind, swaying back and forth, taking pleasure in every moment. The parched earth invites the shower with arms wide open – letting each drop sink into itself in unison, or slide off to seek another land.

The children of the less privileged pour out of their homes; drowning in the Mercy of their Lord. Everyone enjoys the beautiful view; some over a cup of hot coffee, others with a fresh plate of pakoras.

At long last the rain comes to a halt. And now it’s time for everyone to start complaining about the rising levels of humidity, overflowing of the ganda naala and accumulation of dirty water on the streets.

“Why are they like this?” mused an angel in the skies after detecting many frowned faces down below.

“I don’t know”, his companion whispered back. “But I wish they were different.”

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This was inspired by the following ayah:

 

“Verily man is most ungrateful to his Lord” [100:6]

Rain is a blessing among many others that are taken for-granted by the man. The story initially describes several hardships that a rain-drop has to go through for this downpour; but it does so willingly because Allah (glorified and exalted be He) has commanded it.

This is a glimpse of the many sacrifices nature makes so that the needs of a man be fulfilled. Animals are slain and forests are cut down to provide for the man who was created superior to all of them.  We don’t see them complaining:

Why me, Lord? Why should I be sacrificed that too for the sake of Your disobedient slave?

While the one whom they are being sacrificed for is still complaining.

Allahu Akbar!

Allah’s (glorified and exalted be He) blessings encompass all of the mankind. Everyone is blessed with one thing or the other. We like to take pleasure from these bounties to the fullest. Still all we can utter from our mouths are complaints regarding that one thing which we don’t have.

In our blind love of the world, we forget that we are bestowed with numerous blessings which we are undeserving of. And were Allah (glorified and exalted be He) to be fair with us, we would be deprived of most of the things we have.

May Allah protect us from ingratitude and make us more aware of our dependence upon Him inshaAllah.

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