Archive for August 3rd, 2025

IF —-

IF you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:


IF you can dream — and not make dreams your master;

If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build them up with worn-out tools:


If you can make a heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again with your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the WILL which says to them: “Hold on!”


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Your is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And — which is more — you’ll be a MAN, MY SON!


Short Story

Imagine the good news.

 

The most powerful celestial being with the Arabic name of Allah has chosen you to be born in one true faith. You are born a Sunni Muslim in the subcontinent. He communicates in Arabic and you speak Punjabi. You are taught religion in an ancient Arabic by your Hafiz father who does not understand Arabic but can recite it fully.

 

You recognize that the most Arab looking Indian is the most pious , loved by the community and enjoys great status. You try to be more like him, learn Quran by rote and come to USA. You want to fuck a white girl and frequent strip clubs. You pray five times a day, eat zabiha halal and never miss a roza.

 

At 30, you cannot take it anymore and start doing prostitutes. Finally at 35 you get married. You have a son and you put him in an Islamic school at the mosque. At 10 he starts the hifz program while going to suburban middle school. You want him to be a good Arabic speaking and Quran reciting Muslim. But he likes a white girl. They fall in love and he runs away at 18. You call out to the most powerful being in Arabic reciting duas – you do not understand but the ship has sailed.

 

Your son Ahmed is now married to Susan and she is pregnant

Random short story i wrote.