An Ancient City

What more splendid than the smell of jasmine in the city of jasmine…

Walking in the oldest narrow alleys inhabited in the world, the old streets that have witnessed generations after generations of people, of customs and of events that only these streets can acquaint us with. Imagine walking on the same grounds that millions of people have walked on…every stone has had its share of stories, pains, joys and secrets. That stone has drops of blood of some martyr…that stone witnessed an endless number of invaders leaving its beloved grounds, the one over there observed children playing in the streets, that other one noticed the joys of the men walking around the streets before a wedding…it noticed the hop that governed a groom’s walk; only it knew of his happiness. Some other spot must have witnessed people lined up along the street conversing at day next to the products they’re selling. Yet, some other one must have worn out from listening to Um Kalthoum and Abd el Halim or some other prominent music from some ancient time. But what’s common among all of them, is the jasmine scented in them like the blood flowing in our bodies.

The sound of the mosque or the bells of the church; people from different religions reuniting over this Holy piece of Earth. What more beautiful than the Umayyad mosque, for centuries and centuries back, it has been a place for worship. Praying in it, think of how many millions before you have prayed in this mosque…each person with his different story and purpose has been seeking this temple to pray. What more wonderful than the sight of the youngsters running in its yard reminding the ancient mosque of its childhood that is almost as old as the dawn of man.

Nothing can make my heart skip more than the sight of my beloved souks crowded with antique and ‘bharat’ shops, walking among the old simple people late into the night, listening to the sound of the ‘oud’, with the dim lights playing ancient stories in my mind. And I can never feel purer than when the music ceases as the azan starts or the bells of a church ring…never can I feel closer or truer to God.