Sarfraz Manzoor

I walk into a store selling old stuff, statuues of many-armed Hindu gods and cracked fading Buddhas. Where did you get all this stuff, I ask the owner. Don’t ask, he says. Seriously though, how old is this stuff. He looks at me, nods me inside the store. See this one here, its fifth century he says pointing at an old stone statue. How much, I ask. Five hundred dollars. Where did you get it all from. Archeological digs. Much of this stuff ends up in Europe. There is a lot of Hindu and Buddhist stuff here, and I see you have some Christian statues too. Yes, those Jesus statues are from Goa. How old are they? About nineteenth century. So pretty old then? Yes but you wanted really old that was why I showed those Hindu items.

Do you have any Islamic stuff? Are you Muslim? Yes, I am.

Then forget about all this bullshit. Don’t buy it, I won’t even sell it to you. I am in the wrong business, I need to get out. Don’t even think about putting this into your house. I had no idea you were Muslim. Listen, this life is bullshit. The only thing that matters is that happens next. This is just the waiting room to the next life. They say its death but its not, its just a transfer my friend. Don’t fear death, its the door that opens to the next life. All this you see in this life, its bullshit. Its the next life you need to be preparing for. How could you even think about buying this stuff?