Jannat-ul-Sears

..let’s just say, I won’t be the richest man in the cemetery.

I laughed after he said that. He  stared at me, confused. My smile sadly vanished when I realized he really meant he won’t be the richest man in the cemetery. He didn’t get the irony of his own statement, that  the richest man in the cemetary is still..dead. Our houses, the trinkets, the clothes, the electronics all serve no purpose six feet under. Yet we cling to them as if they are the only lasting impressions of our life, obsess over them and pretty soon, in the words of Tyler Durden, the things you own, end up owning you.

These thoughts take over whenever I go to the cemetery and find myself walking around, reading tombstones: Beloved Husband, Beloved Daughter, Servant of Allah, yet not one read Man of Wealth. All look the same, flat, grey, surrounded by grass and anything living in that grass. I noticed one tombstone reading Fazlur Khan. My mind went to the structural engineer Fazlur R. Khan, the brains behind the Sears Tower and I wondered if this was his grave sight. I found out that it was not, but did manage to find out he was buried in another Chicago cemetery, with the same flat and grey tombstone. I juxtapose that image with one of the huge monuments men have built to mark their gravesites. Then I wonder why the pioneer of the modern skyscraper did not design a superior marker for himself. Sometimes I think it may have been because he was muslim, and in Islam, there is no pizzaz in death. You leave the world just as you arrived, bare. But a part of me wants to believe that beyond that, Fazlur Khan knew there was no point. He had made his impressions on earth when he was alive, when it mattered and made a difference. He could have been buried in an unmarked grave in an unknown village, but people would still know who he was and what he did.

Which leads me to wonder what the point of cemeteries are. Legally, there are steps you must take to discard a body, but why build lasting monuments, tombstones, huge plots for decaying flesh. It is the memory and impressions that make us remember a person as they were. I dont know how else to end this post but with yet another Junoon song. Don’t forget that in the end, we all become dirt.

Mitti main mil jaein gaey bhoolo na
Jaein gaey to phir hum laut kay na aaein gaey
Bhoolo na

We are going back to dirt
Don’t forget this.
When we go we wont come back.
Don’t forget this.

Khwaab hain jo teri meri aankhon main
Saray mitti main mil jaein gaey
Bhoolo na

The dreams in our eyes
Are going back to dirt.
Don’t forget it

Geet hain jo teri meri sanson main
Saray mitti main mil jaein gaey
Bhoolo na

The songs in our breath
Are going back to dirt.
Don’t forget it.

Raaz hain jo teri meri baaton main
Saray mitti main mil jaein gaey
Bhoolo na

Every secret we have between us
Are going back to dirt.
Dont forget this

Geet hai jo, teri meri saanson mein
Khwab hai jo, teri meri ankhon mein
Saray mitti main mil jaein gaey

The songs on our lips,
The dreams in our eyes.
The secrets in our hearts–

Everything is going back to dirt.