On 9-11-11, Filmmakers Bassam Tariq and Omar Mullick spent a day with the cast and crew of Wajahat Ali’s “The Domestic Crusaders” – a 2 Act play about an American Muslim family living in a post 9-11 world – as it returned to NYC for a special performance.

This 5 minute movie was filmed on 9-11-11 in NYC at the “Art of Justice: 9/11 Performance Project” at Gerald W. Lynch Theater at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City.

For more information on “The Domestic Crusaders” please visit: www.domesticcrusaders.com

“The Domestic Crusaders” are….

Wajahat Ali: Playwright/Producer
Carla Blank: Director/Dramaturge
Ishmael Reed: Producer
Imran W. Sheikh: Assistant Director

Adeel Ahmed: Ghafur, The Youngest Son
Kamran Khan: Sal, The Eldest Son
Monisha Shiva: Fatima, The Daughter
Imran Javaid: Salman, The Father
Abbas Zaidi: Hakim, The Grandfather
Deepti Gupta: Khulsoom, The Mother

Dr. Junaid Bin Jahangir

As in Christianity and Judaism, there has been a shift in the Islamic position on ‘homosexuality’. Archbishop Desmond Tutu has said that he would not worship a homophobic God. Likewise, Rabbi Harold Schulweis has stated that the counsel of celibacy is contrary to the Judaic affirmation of sexuality.

In Islam, US based Imam Suhaib Webb has expressed regret on his referral to a reparative therapy group and argues against the discrimination of gay congregants. Likewise, Sudan based Sheikh Hashim Al-Hakim has indicated that while, he used to be hard against homosexuals, he has ‘learned to respect their humanity’. US based Imam Johari Malik has said that ‘It’s time to get past our homophobia to help human beings’.

In contrast to traditional Muslim views, several church denominations and synagogues bless same-sex unions. However, Muslim discourse is not shaped by alternative voices in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Groups like Muslims for Progressive Values work towards supporting Muslim LGBTQ rights. However, in contrast to Judaism and Christianity, the discussion on same-sex unions in Islam is fairly recent.

• Orientation

Traditional Muslims believe that any homosexual conduct is prohibited. Several Muslim medical professionals argue that homosexuality was declassified as a disorder due to pressure from gay activist groups. However, Rabbi Gershom Barnard indicates that medical opinion gradually evolved from hormonal treatment to psychoanalysis to behavioral conditioning to saying that there is no treatment to finally indicating that there is nothing to treat.

Professor Hashim Kamali of the International Institute of Advanced Islamic Studies in Malaysia has stated that both Islamic jurisprudence and science confirm that sexual orientation is inherent. Dr. Qazi Rahman from the University of London and co-author of the book ‘Born Gay: the Psychobiology of Sex Orientation’ also affirms the innateness of ‘homosexuality’.

According to Dr. Bassem Nathan, three medical opinions existed among medieval Arabs. According to one school of thought, ‘homosexuality results when the maternal sperm prevails over the paternal sperm’. Like Al Razi (d. 925 CE), the Nestorian Christian Hunain Ibn Ishaq (d. 873 CE) and the Melkite Christian Qusta Ibn Luqa (d. 912 CE) also subscribed to the view that ‘homosexuality’ was an inherent trait. 

According to Dr. Sahar Amer, Al Kindi (d. 873 CE) and Ibn Masawayh (d. 857 CE) respectively stated that ‘lesbianism’ was explained on the basis of physical traits and exposure to the effects of certain foods during infancy. In contrast, traditional Muslims reject the prevailing psychiatric view of homosexuality and reference the works of reparative therapy groups.  It is striking to note that reparative therapy groups offer suggestions that include a ‘Dad exposing his penis to his young son in the shower’.

• Promiscuity, anal intercourse, fatal diseases, alcoholism  and celibacy

Traditional Muslims attribute suicidal behavior to ‘homosexuality’ rather than societal prejudice. They associate fatal diseases with ‘homosexual behavior’, specifically understood as male anal intercourse, rather than promiscuity. They allude to the statistics on HIV infections among ‘MSM-men who have sex with men’ and indicate that ‘homosexuality’ leads to ‘fitna-social chaos’.

In contrast, dissenting Muslims distinguish between orientation and the act of ‘anal intercourse’. They indicate that anal intercourse, while strongly disliked, is permissible with the wife’s consent in Shia jurisprudence. Furthermore, they indicate that while many heterosexuals indulge in the act, many monogamous long-term gay couples do not have anal sex.

Dissenting Muslims also distinguish between gay men and the ‘MSM’. The latter are occasionally heterosexuals, who indulge in homosexual acts for financial reasons or because of lack of access to women in prisons or in gender segregated cultures. According to Nadya Labi, writer of ‘The Kingdom in the Closet’, a Filipino expatriate in Saudi Arabia indicated that Saudi men stop calling him for sex after their wives are no longer pregnant or menstruating.

Dissenting Muslims indicate that we do not erroneously associate high AIDS cases in Sub Saharan Africa with heterosexuality. They state that HIV and other diseases should be associated with stigma and promiscuity rather than orientation. However, traditional Muslims analogize ‘homosexuality’ with alcoholism and prescribe celibacy to homosexuals just as they prescribe self control to alcoholics. They view ‘homosexuality’ as a test of life justified by a great reward in the Hereafter. In contrast, the 14^th century mystic poet Hafiz stated that ‘not even seven thousand years of joy can justify seven days of repression’.

Dr. Abdul Azeem Abozaid and Dr. Asyraf Wajdi Dusuki indicate that the Sharia provides alternatives in lieu of a prohibition. They allude to the permissibility of ‘Nikah-marriage’ in lieu of adultery, many food and drinks in lieu of pork and wine and many trade based contracts in place of usury and gambling. However, no such substitute exists for gays and lesbians. Thus, dissenting Muslims argue that it would not be appropriate to create an analogy between a basic intimacy need and craving for a liquid for which exist many alternatives.

Dissenting Muslims further argue that celibacy is a value foreign to Islam. They indicate that Islam, like Judaism, acknowledges basic intimacy needs and affirms a legitimate avenue for their expression. They also warn of ‘fitna-social chaos’ in the absence of a legitimate avenue for sexual expression. The Rabbis, who wrote for the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards on homosexuality, state that many celibate clergy have found it impossible to fulfill their vows.

However, traditional Muslim scholars caution young Muslims against making homosexual behavior compatible with Islamic teachings. In contrast, Rabbi Schulweis states that the ‘Jewish law was not instituted to make life miserable’ and that denying intimacy to innocent people would violate his Jewish sense of fairness and compassion.

• Jurisprudence

Traditional scholars are bound by a forbidding legacy that either prescribes flogging or the capital penalty for ‘liwat-male anal intercourse’. These punishments were either based on analogizing ‘liwat’ with fornication or on texts that were discredited by several jurists like Imam Abu Hanifa and Ibn Hazm as inauthentic. Contemporary Muslim scholars like Sheikh El-Shinqiti also reject these narratives based on the doubts raised by Bukhari, Muslim and other Hadith experts.

Rejecting the analogy with fornication, these jurists suggested a ‘tazeer-discretionary’ penalty by equating ‘liwat’ with other sexual conduct. However, the absence of correction for constitutional homosexuals and the absence of consent in analogizing ‘liwat’ with bestiality and necrophilia limits the scope of any discretionary penalty. As such, some contemporary Muslim scholars like India based Asghar Ali Engineer, Maulana Abu Zafar Hassan Nadvi and Maulana Zaheer Abbas Rizvi are prone to the decriminalization of ‘homosexuality’.

Several past scholars like Imam Abu Hanifa, Ibn Taymmiah and Al Razi assumed that ‘liwat’ was a one-sided conduct. They reasoned that in the absence of disease or financial reasons, the passive partner does not desire ‘liwat’ as it results in hatred and humiliation. However, Archbishop Tutu questions any reason to deny that homosexual love leads towards compassion.

Professor Scott Kugle distinguishes between ‘liwat’, a later juristic term, and ‘amal qaum lut-actions of Lot’s people’, which is associated with apostasy, highway robbery and rebellion in some texts that allude to the Companions. This further emphasizes that any homosexual conduct was viewed as non-consensual by past authorities.

Acknowledging such limitations, some traditional Muslims argue on the basis of the ‘awrah-nakedness’ texts or verses 4:15-16. However, the ‘awrah’ texts are as irrelevant to ‘Nikah-marriage’ as verses 4:15-16, by scholarly unanimity, are for homosexual conduct.

• Qur’anic Analysis

While addressing ‘liwat’, the Muslim tradition does not deal with the anachronistic issue of same-sex unions. Nonetheless, the eventual arguments used to prohibit same-sex unions are based on the verses on Lot’s people and verses 23:5-7 on ‘Hifz Furuj-guarding private parts’.

Based on a holistic contextual analysis, dissenting Muslims argue that the verses on Lot’s people refer to acts of coercion and inhospitality. They argue that the part ‘you approach males and commit highway robbery’ in verse 29:29 refers to coercion. Whereas, the part ‘Have we not forbidden you from (entertaining) others?’ in verse 15:70 refers to inhospitality.

The part ‘we have no right on your daughters’ in verse 11:79 also emphasizes coercion over orientation as the word ‘Haqq-right’ has been used in lieu of the word ‘Irba-desire’. In the context of verse 7:80, Ibn Katheer mentions that Lot’s people invented deeds unfamiliar to men and other creatures that existed before them. In contrast, historical record places homosexual conduct in Bronze Age Mesopotamia (3000 BCE), Stone Age Brazil (12,000 years ago) and several continents in the Paleolithic Age prior to the time of Lot’s people (1800 BCE or 2300 BCE).

In contrast, some Muslims argue that the phrase ‘ma sabaqakum-none preceded you’ in verse 7:80 serves to emphasize the gravity of the crime of Lot’s people. As such, they disagree with the understanding of Ibn Katheer and other commentators on verse 7:80.  Likewise, dissenting Muslims indicate that these verses are not referring to constitutional gays but sexual violence committed by, to borrow Ronnie Hassan’s words, “a lunatic fringe of humanity”.

Dissenting Muslims substantiate these arguments by secondary texts, which, according to Professor Kugle, are relatively difficult to forge. These texts that provide the context for the conduct of Lot’s people appear in ‘Tarikh Tabari’, ‘Qisas Al Anbiya’ and the ‘Jalalyn Tafseer’. Of the various texts, three are reproduced below as examples.

[Lot’s people] said: make it your tradition that if you take a stranger in your country, you penetrate him, and make him pay four Dirhams.  People will not come to your place if you did that.  (Tafsir Jalalyn)

Greed and miserliness bid them follow its call, to the extent that if any strangers stopped to ask for their hospitality, they would rape them (fadahahu) without sexual need, in order to dishonor them. They persisted in this behavior until they began to search out men and force themselves on them. (Qisas Al Anbiya by Al Rawandi)

[Yunus à Ibn Wahb à Ibn Zayd]: Concerning God’s statement, “And you commit abominations in your meetings”, their meetings were the assemblies, and the abomination was their disgusting act which they would perform. They would accost a rider and seize him and mount him. (Tarikh Tabari)

Based on a linguistic analysis, dissenting Muslims argue that the phrase ‘atatoona ldhukrana-approaching males’ in verse 26:165, traditionally understood as consensual homosexual conduct, refers to coercive action. They argue that the verb ‘atatoona’, based on Edward Lane’s Lexicon, also connotes the meanings of ‘pursue’, ‘hasten’, and ‘the act of propelling or impelling – particularly of an arrow from a bow’.  Whereas, based on Lisan Al-Arab, the noun ‘ldhukrana’ connotes a non-receptive entity in contrast to the noun ‘untha-female’ that connotes a receptive entity.

As such, Dr. Hussein Abdul Latif argues that in Classical Arabic usage, consent is assumed to exist between a male and a female. However, such implicit consent is assumed to be absent between males. This substantiates reading the phrase plausibly as ‘pursuing non-receptive entities’. France based Imam Tarek Oubrou has confirmed that the Qur’anic narrative on Lot’s people depicts ‘violent sexual relationships’. Likewise, Dr. Youssef Seddik writes in ‘We never read the Koran’ that ‘homosexuality’ is not forbidden in the Qur’an.

Based on Dr. Khaled El-Rouayheb’s work, scholars like Ibn Hajar Al-Haytami (d. 1566 CE) and Abd Al-Baqi Al-Zurqani (d. 1688 CE) walked a thin line on non-penetrative sexual conduct. The Rector of Al Azhar, Shaykh Muhammad Al-Hafni (d. 1767 CE) summarized the contrasting opinion of the scholars for the permissibility of ‘liwat’ in Paradise.

• Revisiting Jurisprudence

Dissenting Muslims argue that verses 23:5-7 that confine legitimate sexual relations between opposite gender spouses are open to exceptional cases. They allude to past jurists who allowed ‘khuntha mushkil-intersexuals’ to marry based on their inner constitution.  According to the Kuwaiti Encyclopedia of Fiqh, the Hanbali jurist Al-Kharqi reasoned as follows.

‘If he [khuntha] said that he is a man and that he desires women, then he can do it [marry a female].  If he said that he is a woman and he desires men, then he can do it [marry a male].  This is because only he can decide and no one other than him can decide this.  So, his word is accepted as the word of the woman is accepted on menstruation.  He, the Khuntha may know himself according to the desires as he sees which of the two sexes he desires.’

These Muslims eventually reference the juristic framework of ‘maslaha-public interest’ and ‘darura-dire necessity’ to argue for Muslim same-sex unions. The Shafi’i jurist Shihab Al-Din Ahmad Al-Ramli (d. 1550 CE) is recorded to have stated that kissing the object of one’s affection was a duty if in line with the then medical theory such frustration would contribute to the lover’s death.

In contemporary times, the European Council for Fatwa and Research, while recognizing usury as a major sin, allow for home mortgages on the principle of equating ‘Hajah-need’ with ‘darurah-dire necessity’ and restrict this ‘rukhsa-facility’ to those Muslims in a real need for a house. Likewise, Sheikh Hashim Al-Hakim implicitly uses the ‘darurah’ framework when he states that if ‘homosexuals’ are to continue, they must practice safe sex to avoid harm.

Traditional Muslims may reject the scope of ‘aql-reason’ and such juristic frameworks by associating them with ‘hawa-desire’. They argue that the ‘necessity trumps prohibition’ maxim might apply to consuming pork but not sexual conduct. However, dissenting Muslims appeal to a higher ethic based on the Prophet’s teachings.

They emphasize the Prophet’s words paraphrased as ‘do not harm and accept no harm’, ‘wish for your brother what you wish for yourself’, ‘when some Muslims hurt other Muslims ache’, ‘facilitate, do not cause difficulties or cause people to detest the law’ and ‘do not fall into extremities but seek the middle path’.

US based Dr. Emran El-Badawi paraphrases Egyptian scholar Gamal Al Banna as stating that ‘Imam al-Shaf’i was great, but I am greater than him, because I learned from him and I have the benefit of centuries’ worth of knowledge beyond him’. Given our increased knowledge of sexual orientation and the injustice of condemning people to celibacy, the issue of gays and lesbians deserves to be revisited with a renewed perspective. As such, Netherlands based Imam El-Ouazzani and Spain based Abdennur Prado, President of the Junta Islámica Catalana, have indicated to make the issue more debatable.

In 2006, based on human dignity, Conservative Jews sanctioned same-sex unions. Their reasoning included a reference to Rabbi Eliezer’s quote that ‘Let your neighbor’s dignity be precious to you as your own.’ Likewise, in the context of gays and lesbians, Indonesia based Dr. Siti Musdah Mulia has pointed to the Islamic emphasis on ‘Ird-dignity’ of human beings. As such, Muslim scholars are invited to heed the words of Ibn Taymmiah.

When the scholars find out that their decisions are causing lots of suffering, or that people are looking for worse loopholes than the actual prohibition, or that people end up living in the ‘Haram’, then it is time for the scholars to think again about their conclusions. 

Dr. Junaid Bin Jahangir is Lecturer in Economics in Edmonton, Alberta.

Nafees Mahmud

Some go to Mecca, some go to Rome

The particles of air some fine comb

For the secrets of our existence

lust for mystery, no resistance

I come to you

to worship God above

Your eyes, the Almighty’s greatest architecture

Your body like a Mosque

A wonder of the world,

I’ll wash before I enter

Taking great care in this special place

Spending, in devoted worship, many passionate nights

I’ll bow my head in a place sacred

Delicate and soft

In search of my crescent moon

And star

And meet all God’s Prophets

Giving their glad tidings

To those who

Love you right

You are my way to Paradise,

Hell is the self left alone

for too many nights they say

And there is no sin in avoiding Hell

Only in the sanctuary of your body

Can I release my soul

To ascend the fate written for me

with God’s grand pen

Only a woman’s love,

can save the souls of men

Nafees Mahmud is a freelance writer based in London. He blogs at www.nafeesmahmud.com. He is currently working on his first poetry collection for which he is seeking a publisher. @nafeesmahmud

A Short Story by Esther Reiser

The bright sun juxtaposed the biting wind as Sultan made his way home from school. His body lumbered-not because he is a large boy- he is in fact very thin-but simply because he felt tired. Well, that’s the simplest way to describe it. He was imbued with a heaviness that moves up the body, manifesting itself mostly in the head. Indeed, Sultan found it hard to look up or even keep his eyes open.

I’m going to stop being 15 at one point. I’m going to grow up and get a high paying job. Women will love me. I’ll get one who will love me. I’ll stop being alone. He told himself. The guidance counsellor told him to repeat positive mantras to himself whenever he felt down. “They will provide you with a more positive outlook, make you feel better about yourself, and help you achieve everything!” his guidance counsellor enthusiastically told him. “When you’re really down..just force yourself to simile..you’ll feel better!…It will work…trust me!”

Today, it wasn’t. Sultan started the walk home with a forced smile, but decided this wasn’t the best plan when it caused a young girl to run behind her young mother. When the young mother saw the source of her daughter’s agitation, she paused. Terror flashed in her eyes before collecting her daughter and quickly walking off. He concluded that this demonic frown-turned-upside-down must have brought to mind an image of Genghis Khan sizing up a rape victim somewhere in her family history that was regularly told to scare her growing up. He decided to save the “smile your way to happiness” technique to when the park was vacant. Unfortunately, this experience further bruised Sultan conception of his sexual prowess. He feared this awkward shut in stage of his life would never end.

He inhaled and momentarily shut his eyes. Why born here? Why now? The way I’m looked at school? On the streets? Why not in some glorious past or some distant supernatural future? If they’re not scared of you, they just disregard you. It’s always the same….you’re either a threat or a disappointment. No one wants to listen to you..they just don’t care. No matter what you do..they just want to find a reason to hate you. At school..everywhere. I just wish I could go away..just leave this all. I just wish time could go by faster. Everyone says they understand and know what’s best..but they really have no idea…. His thoughts trailed off.

He heard a rustle in the trees beside the path. He was slightly curious as to what was causing the trussle, but didn’t have the energy to investigate it.

Sultan looked up. Today the trail seemed to go on forever. He was neither enjoying his walk nor eager to get home. He stuffed his hand in his pockets and trudged on into a murky and uncertain future.

Deborah was breathless. The dry cold air stung her throat and diaphragm. Her pace had accelerated from a brisk walk to a jog to a run in the course of 30 minutes. Not that it bothered her-if she had the gumption and if her timing was right-the prize at the end would be worthwhile. She brushed away strands of her red hair that had stuck to her parted lips.

Only one thought circulated through her head: If I was a man-I’d probably be arrested. Dear God I have a problem. Yet any of these pre-cautionary thoughts were drowned out by the beating of her heart and her overpowering desire.

Struggling over fallen branches and thick tree roots, Deborah began to envy the smooth and pedestrian nature of the park’s paved paths that her rustic path paralleled. But the anonymity the tress present her with is required. Deborah knew full well being inconspicuous was not her strong suit. She made a mental note never to consider a career in espionage. It may look exciting, but in all likelihood she’ll probably end up being tortured to death.

She saw his black hair bobbing in the spaces between the trees. Deborah felt her heart pounding its way out of her rib cage. Her freckles were being absorbed by the flushing of her cheeks. She could feel her body rapidly shaking and breaking sweat in spite of the fact it was currently well below freezing.  She had caught up! Ok Ok…how to intercede..how to make it look spontaneous? Doubt clouded her mind, Am I going to even be able to do this? Honestly, I don’t think my heart will take it…Couching her fears she continued to follow undaunted. Deborah knew theses rustic para-trails since childhood.

Her admiration for Sultan had been slow going. Their paths had intermittently crossed in the school hallways since the eighth grade. She never took much notice in him, even when a teacher sit them beside each other at an assembly in an effort to break up Deborah’s intensely funny conversations with her best friend and force her to pay attention to a presentation she couldn’t care less about. Through the course, she glanced at him once, wondered why he was so interested in the far left corner of the gymnasium, then figuring he was striving to find any distraction from the principles pontificating, she rested her head on her palm and counted wood panels on the walls. The two split ways without a second thought.

Then grade 10 math class changed everything. Initially, he was simply the body in the desk across the room from her. The teacher, who in a desperate attempt to feel young again, took part in the teenage student’s cruelty; he would scan the class for the students who didn’t quite fit in and make a mockery out of them, much to the delight of the other students. One day it was Deborah’s turn. She was asked for the answer to a complicated problem. She could not answer. The teacher said something sarcastic. The class laughed. Deborah furrowed her brow and dug her fingernails into her palm. Motherfucker. Her eyes rested on her lap, squished together in a sneer. She glanced up. Sultan entered her field of vision. He cast her an empathetic look. He was one of the few not laughing-either out of genuine enjoyment at her suffering or relief at the fact they were not interrogated. He just looked at her with a look that clearly said Don’t sweat it, he’s just an asshole. It could have been anyone. You’ll survive. Within the hour, Sultan answered all five of the problems charged at him correctly and even corrected the teacher-who deflected his humiliation with a vaguely racist comment. Sultan shrugged. The class snickered. Deborah swooned. She was in love.

Thus, the term continued. For the first time in her life she anticipated math class. She nonchalantly moved closer to him as the weeks progressed. She often feared he noticed and would be made uncomfortable, so the emigration stopped when they were separated by the one quiet kid who just drew throughout the class. She snuck glances at him at any point she could. At one point, she was so distracted she missed her teacher calling her name and whatever cutting remark he chose to make. Sultan blossomed into the most handsome boy she had ever seen. His movements were mesmerizing. She loved the way the light reflected off of his narrow black eyes. She loved the shape of his profile. She loved the arches of his eyebrows. She loved the way his lips parted when he concentrated.

Deborah often fantasized their first conversation, coming up with scenarios about how they would first converse. She’d be rushing to class and bump him in the hallway. They’d shyly laugh and exchange pleasantries and love would sprout from there. Or they would be in class and the teacher would assign them an assignment together. She’d try not to act to enthusiastic but play it cool as they spent hours on the city trail. He’d appear from around a corner. She’d greet him and suggest a walk along the creek to the waterfall. It would be hot and they’d be completely alone… Her train of thought would get explicit from this point.

Yet every time she tried to say something-anything-even including warning him of the janitors on-coming cart when it appeared he wasn’t paying any attention to the hallway traffic – she suffered a momentary spasmodic laryngitis. Her words got clogged up in her throat-she stammered and for reasons she didn’t fully understand, she would snarl and feel agitated. Her attempted conversations would often result in her scuffling past, looking at her shoes with a stern expression. Not this time though. Not today. Today she was going to intercept him. Today she was going to get his attention. Today…today..today was the anticipated day. She was going to say hi.

She followed the path that fed onto the pavement. By this time she had passed him by a half a meter. Now it was going to happen. Now or never. She paused momentarily…contemplated her life as of the tenth grade. Realizing this was not helping her at all in this endeavour, she decided it was best that she turned her mind off. She heard his footsteps approaching. Calling up all her courage-she pushed her own body forward.

Her foot touched the pavement. On the ball of her foot she turned in the opposite direction that she had been running. She inhaled and looked up.

Sultan looked up to the site of the elaborately dressed girl who sat by him in math class. He raised his head

“Heyyyyy” Deborah said

“Hi” Sultan replied

“You’re in my math class”

“Yeaaaa..ahh..how is it going?”

“It’s ok. Fisherman is a real asshole isn’t he?”

Sultan raised half his mouth “I think he never got over being homecoming king”

“Agreed.” There was a moment of silence. “You’re really good at math aren’t you”

“I guess. I’m more into Chemistry. I guess I like it because it plays a lot into that.”

“I’m not doing well in either” Deborah looked around, “I’m more about History and English”

“Heh, we should help each other..I’m not an expert in either”

Deborah fidgeted, “would you mind helping me with the test coming up in math?”

“Yeah sure”

“…and I can edit one of your English or History exams”

“Yeah….sure..that would help.”

“Ok well…I’ll see you around!”

“Yeah…on Monday”

“By the way….I’m Deborah” She reached out her hand.

“Sultan. Just like sultan, but say it with an “o” sound”

“Yeah. I got that”

Deborah and Sultan shook hands and then parted ways. Sultan looked back to see Deborah wave at him. He likewise responded

The world spun into slow motion. Deborah walked as if in a trance, unsure of how to process the encounter. Her mind was too busy grasping what actually happened to question whether she scared him off or got his interest. She walked off feeling shaky and light, as if a good gust of wind could pick her up and take her away. Very slowly…she smiled. She began to feel an intoxicating sense of accomplishment creep in. Her pace slowly sped up to a gallop as she began to giggle like a five year old playing tag.

Sultan turned around, not quite sure of what happened. His walks home usually consisted of him staring at the river and the hills that crowned it and, at most, a nod from a regular passer-by. But a full on conversation? For a moment he considered what happened. The girl-Deborah, yeah Deborah,-introducing herself. Engaging in a seemingly out of context conversation on a very, very cold day. Shaking his hand. He suddenly began to feel bad about his elaboration on how to pronounce his name. Then he wondered why he felt that-not like he hasn’t corrected like half the school on the pronunciation of his name. But still…this felt different.

Sultan quickly crashed his train of thought into a wall of denial. No, no. Not possible. Still, for a moment, Sultan looked up and noticed how sunny it was. Without thinking, he smiled. It met an old woman walking past. She smiled back, gave a slight nod and continued on her way, still smiling.

Nostalgia can be a wave that cleanses, or a tide that drowns; so I tell myself every afternoon, when I wake up to what I like to call morning. (Routine is so overrated). Perhaps I’m going slightly mad, but at 26, in the throes of my twenty third episode of unrequited love, I have to ask a few crucial questions, which take me back in time.

Firstly, is it normal for a heterosexual male to discover that his true love, the one soul-mate in whom he finds solace, is a dead homosexual? Secondly, is Freddie Mercury in heaven? We’ll begin with the first, as to be unexpected from one who finds routine anathema to happiness.

Our affair started when he died. One cold November afternoon, at the age of five,  I came home from school to faintly overhear my mother telling my brother: “The…Queen… is dead”. My state of shock was quickly eased into indifference as the blanks were filled in with “…lead singer of…Freddie Mercury…”. With no idea of what she meant, I buried my head back into Janet and Allan Ahlberg’s The Jolly Postman.Readingwas my thing, not music. Little did I know, in just over 24 hours, it would manifest they were talking about the love of my life; my distant companion and emotional guide through the turmoil of life’s heartaches. The following night, a wreath of white lilies was to turn into a bed of roses.

On said evening, sitting in the living room with my head buried in a book my memory cannot recall, my gaze became transfixed to the screen as the sound of the most beautiful, passionate voice to ever bless the planet shot into my ears. Watching the BBC’s Freddie Mercury Tribute Programme, I felt his energy pumping through my veins, watching, in awe, his on stage stride and theatrical hand gestures but most importantly, subconsciously absorbing, through lyrics, his insight into the paradox of human nature, for later comfort.

At the end of the programme I recall telling myself: this is the way to live life; with colourful passion. Unfortunately, years of dull maths, physics and chemistry teachers since put paid to that.

A few days later I had a copy of Queen’s Greatest Hits II and within hours, lyrics such as: “A young fighter screaming, with no time for doubt” became inscribed in my soul, eternally.  Is it any wonder motivation has always been recognised as my greatest strength? (Perhaps I should be less honest about the root of my self starter attitude. In all job interviews, where I thought honesty was appreciated, when asked where my motivation came from I, for a rather verbose creature, succinctly responded, “Freddie Mercury”. Maybe all my interviewees have been homophobes or maybe it was just a non-fitting answer for the corporate world; I now make a living as a freelance writer).

The lyrics to songs such as Breakthru and It’s a Hard Life would later help me through some of the most darkest days of my existence. Indeed, “life is tough on your own…”

Fast forward through twenty broken hearts and we end up in 2008.  The year before, for some odd reason (to be elaborated another time) I, as a so called liberal Muslim, somehow ended up adopting traditionalist, absolutist thought. My Freddie moustache lost its distinction by connecting with a new spurt of facial hair across my cheeks. I felt I had betrayed my beloved. But, as he taught me as a young child: love kills, and the death it caused in me threw me right back into his arms.

For that year, brainwashed by my own material insecurity and desperately seeking solid ground, I experimented with my treasured religion and let me just say, I took things a bit too far, moving from its centre ground to the right wing. However, my libido saved me. With an (unfulfilled) sex drive higher than that of Freddie, Hendrix and Prince put together, my lust could not be stopped by a burka. Spending most of my days in mosques, the catching of unintentional glances from sweet, diamond like eyes, behind mysterious face veils, saw me thrown out by Mullahs for trying to seduce their daughters with my spiritually erotic poetry. “Love is an attribute of God. As his pious worshippers, let us make it, passionately, without restriction” read the subtlest line.

Since my desire for love was again unrequited, the torment left me in a vacuum. Being a pseudo fundamentalist for a year meant I had thrown out my music collection (and torn down all my Freddie posters). With no girlfriend and this time no Freddie to see me through the pain of loneliness with songs like Too Much Love Will Kill You, I went into emotional breakdown. What can one expect under pressure? I was offered counselling. Instead, I chose to download the complete works of Queen. I was saved. Dear Freddie, “whenever this world is cruel to me, I’ve got you to help me forgive…you’re my best friend”.

A year later, at the culmination of a philosophy degree, a different love affair with another moustached Freddie, more commonly known as Nietzsche, began. Still recovering from the straitjacket of absolutist theology, I found peace, and God again, in his Dionysian art. However, with the intense silent study that final year philosophy required, and with the first year in many in which my heart was not broken, I found no presence for the real Freddie in my life. Sometimes those deepest in love need time apart.

But for a romantic like me, heartache is never far away, and so Freddie will always be needed in my life. Thus today, with another broken heart – perhaps the last – as this may be the one that kills me, I ask myself, am I wasting my time chasing after the one woman who I think can make my life more than bearable? Or is Freddie all I need? Or is it the case I keep falling into heartache by subconsciously projecting the turmoil of Freddie’s songs onto my world. Is Freddie the cure or cause?  Is the nostalgia of his music cleansing me or drowning me? To be, or not be?

Pending existential crisis aside, let me assume Freddie is the cure. Where does that leave the soul of my beloved? If I am never to find love outside my affair with Freddie, I need to be certain he’ll be waiting for me inParadisewith a bouquet of flowers and a book of handwritten poetry.

Confused, I went to visit my local Imam. I began: “In the Quran it says: ‘He who saves a life, it is as if he has saved the whole of mankind’. Now, Freddie has saved me from attempted suicide on several occasions. That is, if overdosing on Lucozade can kill you. I’m sure he has saved countless others too. However homosexuality is a grave sin in Islam and Freddie, was more of a rampant Romeo to Johns than Julietts. I know you can’t speak for God, but please help me rest easier at night by telling me if you think it is possible for Freddie to be forgiven.” I walked in with a question; and came out with a black eye.

So there you have it. Freddie and I, two people from two different worlds, one dead, the other alive and yet we have a functioning relationship that most people would say should never have worked.

Yet, something isn’t quite right is it? This isn’t healthy. I get the feeling what I believe to be my medicine might be my poison. Am I drowning in the tide? I want to break free….

Nafees Mahmud is a freelance writer based in London. He blogs at www.nafeesmahmud.com