SUFI AND THE BIKER

The mystics of Islam propagated love. They knew no hate, jealousy or violence. Universal love was and still is their motto.
So is the biker's.

A biker doesn't differentiate between good roads and bad. Potholes are mere obstacles on the road. He enjoys cruising on the tarmac, or receiving violent jolts to his back. The destination is merely a number and a name. The journey is more important to him. The people, their faces and lives he touches, just by being there.
Someone aspires to be a biker, some to have a better life and own a bike like that, and some, just to be free like him.
The biker's heart thumps with the engine, just as a Sufi's beats with his songs. Both of them have surrendered their souls to God. They are in search of His abode. And this search continues till the last breath. Nothing can be more fulfilling for the biker than riding into the sunset. That's the image the biker and the sufi see when they close their eyes for the last time. They have reached their destination.
Both of them did not choose their destiny, rather it was the other way round. The bike chose the biker, love chose the sufi. Whatever comes their way, they take it in their stride. Rain, shine, stone, dust; nothing throws them off track. Rather, they see the beauty in all of it.
Scenes which seem normal to you and me fascinate them. Things that would just make us smile draw a tear from them. They transcend time and space on their road towards the truth. The truth being, that in the end, we are all fellow travelers, no matter what the ride.