It means a straight path—unbending and direct. Apparently, crows love to fly in straight lines. They aren’t troubled by bends or barriers, not like us earth-bound beings facing obstacles at every turn. And unlike airplanes, crows aren’t bound by strict navigation systems.
In practice, this idiom often shows up when talking about routes—be it literal or metaphorical. But walking or living as the crow flies, my friend, is not an easy job at all. Sure, you know a straight line will get you to your destination faster, but can you really glide across homes, crowds, fences, and ponds just because you want to follow a straight line? Can you thumb your nose at every twist and turn in life and embrace the simplicity of the straight path?
It’s a familiar question. And its answer isn’t unknown. A simple life is delightful—but becoming simple is a terribly hard thing. And yet, sometimes, miracles happen. Like a sudden spring that paints black tar roads in fiery hues of Palash flowers. Then, and only then, the path becomes like that of the crow—straight and unhindered.
What’s that? Things are getting too tangled? Alright then, no more delay—let’s begin the story.
***************
That day, Prabir was getting ready for office, as usual. He was caught in a whirlpool of tasks and thoughts. In the middle of this rush, his phone rang. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Unknown number.
He picked it up, irritation evident in his voice:
“Hello? Who’s speaking?”
No response.
“Ugh!” He was about to hang up—when a low, grating, mechanical sound came through.
Then, a hoarse whisper:
“Prabir! Son, don’t go out today! Today is… different. Stay home.”
Who on earth calls to say nonsense like that during busy office hours? He was just about to snap back when the line went dead.
No time to waste. There was an urgent group meeting at work—being late could be disastrous.
He grabbed his car keys and left. But something unsettling had lodged in his mind.
Who had called? What were they trying to say?
The voice… it sounded familiar. But he couldn’t quite place it. His mind grew absent. A faint melody seemed to rise near his ears—first just a murmur, then clearer:
“Life’s no longer straight and narrow / Laughter today is just borrowed / I survived—but barely so…”
It was true. Life was tangled in needless complexity. Work, more work, and more work. Always running. No time to pause, to notice the magic in the ordinary.
Chasing deadlines and targets had left him drained.
Stuck in traffic, he reflected on all this—until suddenly, his senses snapped back.
The world around him had changed, as if by magic. No traffic jam ahead. No bustling crowd on the sidewalks. No weekday chaos. And he wasn’t even driving—but the car was speeding ahead on a silent, unknown road, straight as an arrow. Was this possible? Or a nightmare?
He pinched himself.
“Ow!”
Nope, he was wide awake.
Then, like a flash of lightning, he remembered—
That voice earlier? It had been his uncle Hari. Uncle Hari, who had died five years ago from a terminal illness!
A chill ran down his spine. Was danger approaching? He tried desperately to control the car—but it was no use. He had no control. No one around. Even if there were, who could stop this possessed vehicle? Still, by instinct, he screamed:
“Help! Help me! Please, for God’s sake—help!”
Just then, he noticed a young woman sitting beside him.
Masked.
Her eyes caught his attention—intense, magnetic. Even amid this chaos, they captivated him. Her gaze held sorrow. A deep, distant sadness. She reached out to the steering wheel. With a mere touch, almost magically, the car slowed a little. Still racing forward, but calmer now.
Prabir, voice shaking, asked:
“Y-you… how did you get here?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed, sharp-toned:
“What do you mean how? You were the one yelling your lungs out—Help me! Help me!
And now that I’ve come, instead of saying thank you, you’re interrogating me?”
She pulled down her mask. Her face clouded with a storm of hurt.
Prabir cleared his throat awkwardly:
“Sorry, sorry! You’re right. I forgot myself completely. The way this morning’s been going—my head’s about to explode. Anyway, thank you. Thank you so much.”
She stayed quiet, lips pursed. Then said in a choked voice:
“Forget it. You’re only thanking me because I pointed it out. Otherwise you wouldn’t have.”
Then came the downpour. Rain matched her heavy sighs as she went on:
“I always try to help people. Always. But people… they misunderstand me. They say awful things behind my back. Smile to my face, then betray me.I don’t need anyone. I have no friends.”
Prabir was in a proper fix now. The haunted road. The possessed car. And now, this mysteriously appearing girl filled with sorrow and magic. But it was true—if she hadn’t slowed the car, he might have had a heart attack by now. Her sadness touched him.
Gently, he said:
“Hey… don’t be sad. We’re friends now.”
He extended his right hand for a handshake. She looked at it suspiciously. Then wiped her eyes and took his hand. A soft smile spread across her lips.
“You seem like a good person. That’s why I came when you called for help. Okay, then—we’re friends from today.”
The car was now cruising gently along the straight road.
Another change:
Earlier, the road was flanked only by thorny shrubs. Now, silk cotton and gulmohar trees lined the path, ablaze with red flowers. Even the black tar seemed to blush with their hue.
Prabir hesitated a bit, then asked:
“Yes. Definitely—we’re friends. But tell me something. What is happening to me? The car is driving itself. You showed up out of nowhere. How did you hear my call for help? And how did you enter this locked car?”
The girl laughed, like a waterfall—clear and musical.
Then said:
“You really don’t know? Well, just like crows fly—Sometimes, humans get to travel that way too. Not everyone. But some. On very special days. Like today—you got the chance. As for how I knew? And how I entered the car? We can do that. Such things aren’t difficult for us.”
Her voice had regained its sweetness—but her words were strange.
Prabir stammered, “N-now w-who’re we?”
She replied, quietly, seriously:
“I’ve never told anyone this. I won’t again. We are the forms of consciousness—the Chaitan-rupis. Those for whom rainbows rise even in deserts. We are they. Keep this secret. You can’t trust everyone like you. Usually I lock my heart in a vault. Too many spoil it. Not everyone’s like you.”
Prabir didn’t fully understand. He just laughed awkwardly and scratched his head.
After that, they passed time chatting. Prabir lost track of how long. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. Grotesque figures—half-human, half-beast—stood blocking their path.
They circled the car, leering and making obscene gestures at Prabir and his mysterious companion.
Yes, Anamika—that’s what Prabir had decided to call her in his mind. Maybe she isn’t ordinary and somewhat uncanny. But she is good.
The grotesque cheers of those hideous humanoid figures had nearly deafened the two of them. Anamika had been quite composed until now. But suddenly, she seemed to shrink inward. Tiny tears streamed down her cheeks. Prabir’s heart ached too, but his jaw tightened with resolve. He held Anamika close with both arms.
A few words escaped his lips.
“Don’t be sad at all, Anamika. Why should you let people who hold no place in your life, good or bad, hurt you? Don’t let them make you sad. Just imagine you’re watching a film. They’re all acting. So don’t let it get to you.”
The girl wiped her eyes and softly said,
“Anamika… what a beautiful name! I really like it. And now I’m no longer sad. Because you’re here—as my friend.”
The car had started moving again, gathering speed. Those grotesque human-like figures had been flung far behind. A few tried to chase after the car—but failed to catch up.
In a tone of mock regret, Prabir said to Anamika,
“Looks like I’ve lost my job!”
Anamika replied,
“You’ll find another. But if you hadn’t come this strange way—like a crow in flight—we’d have never met. What would’ve happened then?”
Prabir gave a soft smile and nodded in agreement. As the crimson glow of the setting sun stained the horizon, his lips gently touched Anamika’s forehead.
The car kept gliding forward in a soothing rhythm—straight and steady. Just like a crow flies!
Gopal Lahiri is a bilingual poet, critic, editor, and translator. He has authored 31 books, including eight solo/jointly edited books. His poems are published across more than 150 journals and translated in 18 languages He has been nominated for Pushcart Prize for poetry in 2021. He has received Setu Excellence Award, Pittsburgh, US, in poetry in 2020 and Ukiyoto award for poetry in 2022. He has been conferred First Jayanta Mahapatra National Award on literature in 2024. Recent Credits: One Art Journal, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Shot Glass Journal, MasticadoresUSA, MasticadoresTaiwan, Amythyst Review, Verse-Virtual Journal, Setu Journal, Kitaab Journal and International Times.
My latest book is a lighthearted story about two rival groups of small-town teenagers set in 1968. At a deeper level it is about what makes and breaks community. It can be viewed at
Anyone who has survived the challenges of adolescent society and its cliques will be able to relate to this story about a failed teenage romance and a rivalry between church youth groups from different towns.
Jeff Rasley is a writer, Himalayan expedition leader, lawyer, president of the Basa Village Foundation USA and the Scientech Foundation of Indiana, and is a director of the Indianapolis Peace and Justice Center. Jeff has authored over 90 feature articles in law, travel, spirituality, politics,
Islam prescribes two major festivals each year as obligatory celebrations for the faithful. These are not mere social events, but golden opportunities granted by the Almighty Allah to attain divine blessings through prescribed acts of worship. The human spirit naturally longs for celebration, yet life’s responsibilities and hardships often make it difficult to indulge in joy without reason. In His mercy, Almighty Allah has granted us these special days, allowing moments of joy even amidst life’s trials.
A true believer should be able to draw spiritual nourishment from these occasions, no matter the stage or state of life they are in. One does not need to engage in risky comparisons to understand how Islamic festivals differ from other celebrations. The distinction is clear, and it is precisely this uniqueness that gives Eid its spiritual vitality. The Islamic festivals are deeply rooted in a spiritual context that continues to inspire and ignite the hearts of believers across generations. Rooted in spiritual consciousness, Eid also embraces the human inclination toward beauty and celebration, offering a framework where aesthetics and adornment are refined within the limits of faith.
Eid al-Fitr is a celebration that marks the successful completion of a month-long act of profound worship: fasting during Ramadan. After thirty days of abstaining from food, drink, and other comforts during daylight hours, and engaging in increased acts of charity and devotion, Eid arrives as a moment of divine reward. The fast was not just a physical restriction, but a temporary pause on many permissible things, undertaken solely for the sake of Allah. Eid, then, becomes a moment of release—a transition from restraint to a graceful return to what is allowed, now enriched with gratitude and renewed faith. Interestingly, actions that were prohibited during fasting hours become not only permitted but even rewarded during Eid. For this reason, fasting on the day of Eid is itself forbidden; it is a day meant to enjoy the blessings granted.
Eid al-Adha, or the “Festival of Sacrifice,” is likewise deeply connected to a significant form of worship. Unlike fasting, however, not everyone is able to perform this act—it is tied to the sacred pilgrimage of Hajj. Yet even for those who are not on pilgrimage, Eid al-Adha serves as a reminder of devotion, sacrifice, and submission to Allah’s command.
Pilgrims from across the world converge in the sacred land to perform one of the most profound rites of Hajj: standing at Arafat. This moment, known as the Day of Arafah, is a pinnacle of spiritual elevation. As the pilgrims gather in humility and devotion, Muslims around the globe join in spirit by fasting on this blessed day—a fast known to carry immense reward.
Those who stand in the plains of Arafat are immersed in a unique atmosphere of deep spirituality. The sheer intensity of the experience makes it difficult for them to transition suddenly into outward celebration. Their hearts remain steeped in remembrance and surrender, gaining spiritual rewards rather than engaging in festive scenes. This is why Islamic teachings do not prescribe celebratory rituals for pilgrims on Eid in the same way as for others.
However, there is one exception—the act of sacrifice. Even this, though, is not just symbolic for pilgrims; they are granted the rare honor of performing it at the very place where the history of sacrifice was first etched in faith. It is an extraordinary opportunity to relive the legacy of Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him) right at its geographical and spiritual origin.
After uniting with the pilgrims through the shared act of fasting on the Day of Arafah, the global Muslim community transitions into the observance of Eid al-Adha. In contrast to Eid al-Fitr, which is preceded by a month of personal spiritual striving through fasting, Eid al-Adha is marked more by symbolism and collective unity. Its essence is not tied to any individual achievement, but rather to a shared remembrance—a historical and spiritual bond with a family whose unwavering submission to Allah shaped the very spirit of sacrifice.
The soul of Eid al-Adha is deeply connected to the story of Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him), his son Ismail (peace be upon him), and their ultimate act of devotion. Each year, Muslims remember and relive that legacy, not merely by performing rituals, but by awakening the spirit of submission and trust that defined that family’s life. This remembrance breathes life into the celebration, giving it a depth that transcends time and geography.
The spiritual energy of Eid does not isolate—it envelops. It reaches the poor and the wealthy, the sorrowful and the joyful, the sick and the healthy, men and women alike. No personal hardship, grief, or struggle can stand in the way of partaking in the blessings of Eid. For the rituals of Eid are not restricted by worldly circumstances; they are acts of the heart, accessible to all who carry faith.
The takbeerat (glorifications of Allah) and the Eid prayers performed on this day are acts of worship that any believer, regardless of sorrow or circumstance, can fulfill and earn reward through. Yet, it is not uncommon to see people who, faced with grief or hardship, withdraw from celebration altogether. Some even question: “What Eid? What celebration?” and choose to isolate themselves from the occasion.
But a believer must never take such a stance. Observing the prescribed acts of Eid, to the extent one is able, is an expression of obedience, not merely a matter of mood. Eid is not about doing something to mark the day—it is about attaining something through those actions. Those who emerge from the Eid prayer are not just part of a communal gathering; they are recipients of divine mercy and forgiveness.
To deny oneself these blessings solely due to sorrow is to risk missing out on a moment of grace that may never return. In Islam, mourning practices are limited, especially when it comes to public expressions of grief. Only a widow is permitted an extended mourning period. The believer’s path is one of patience and resilience.
One of the most beautiful features of Eid is how it elevates certain allowable practices to the level of spiritual significance without compromising the spiritual essence. Things commonly seen in celebrations—such as good food, fine clothing, and beauty—take on a dignified, purposeful form in Islam. To wear clean, fresh clothes, to prepare and enjoy good meals, to apply pleasant fragrances, and to bring joy to children—these are not indulgences, but acts of reward when done within the framework of gratitude and moderation.
However, one must always remember: nothing that is forbidden becomes permissible in the name of Eid. The joy of Eid must always be aligned with the values of faith.
As previously emphasized, our actions must serve to amplify goodness and make it more meaningful and impactful. When that is achieved, even the simplest acts become vessels of Eid’s spiritual energy. On no other day of the year does a believer’s clothing or meal attain the same spiritual merit as on Eid. The blessings of Eid are unique to Eid.
Today, fine clothing and abundant food have become common in many parts of the world, and their availability may seem ordinary compared to the past. But this should never become a reason to dismiss the significance of Eid. The day retains its sanctity not because of what we wear or eat, but because of the meaning we attach to those acts when they are done in gratitude, humility, and obedience.
On this special day, a believer should wear garments that are both beautiful and appropriate—not simply for fashion, but as an act of devotion. The act of dressing well on Eid is itself a form of worship. The same applies to food. Streets and restaurants may be beautifully decorated, offering exquisite dishes, but that alone does not define Eid. What matters is the intention behind our preparation and consumption.
Eid meals should not be neglected or reduced to routine. They should reflect care, abundance, and gratitude, prepared with the body, mind, and soul in harmony. Eid is not just about what we do, but how we do it and why. When these elements come together, Eid becomes not only a celebration but also a deeply spiritual renewal.
It is deeply saddening to witness a growing trend that celebrates Eid without truly understanding its spiritual essence. In many places, even the core rituals of Eid are being drawn into a culture of commercialization and, at times, questionable practices. The congregational prayer—intended as a solemn act of devotion—is sometimes reduced to mere crowd-gathering events, devoid of the structure and sanctity it deserves. Similarly, the charitable obligations of Zakat and the sacred act of sacrifice (Qurbani) are increasingly treated as logistical burdens to be “risk-managed” through impersonal and careless distributions, stripping these acts of their profound spiritual and communal impact.
Islam does not merely command actions; it provides clear guidance on how those actions are to be performed. The method is as important as the deed itself. Each ritual in Islam is not just a ceremony but a conscious act of worship. Therefore, it must be carried out with precision, sincerity, and alignment with the Prophetic example.
Another key Sunnah related to the Eid al-Adha celebration is Uloohiyyah (Qurbani), which emphasizes the centrality of Allah’s exclusive worship. This, like other religious acts, follows a prescribed method laid out by Islamic jurisprudence. However, out of convenience, certain practices risk deviating from these prescribed methods, which can be spiritually problematic. It is crucial to handle such rituals with care and precision. The act of sacrifice should be carried out exactly as directed. While the convenience of the giver or the receiver may be considered, it should not compromise the sanctity of the ritual. Often, obligatory or voluntary charity is reduced to a mere exchange, missing the deeper spiritual significance. Therefore, we must remain vigilant and mindful in our actions.
The wearing and gifting of clothes during Eid is another well-known practice. The dress should not only be beautiful, but also modest and appropriate as part of the spiritual value of Eid. Organizing and preparing for such occasions should be done in accordance with Islamic principles, avoiding any practices that contradict these values. For instance, promoting immodest fashion in the name of Eid contradicts its true spirit. Eid is an opportunity for both guests and hosts to earn reward by showing hospitality, but that reward can be lost if boundaries are crossed.
There is a growing trend to overindulge in the freedoms that Eid offers, which leads to excessive and inappropriate behavior. This trend should be carefully avoided, especially within our families. The joy of Eid must not become a pretext for indulging in harmful practices.
Eid should be a day for spiritual nourishment, and we should express gratitude to Allah by celebrating in a manner that honors the essence of the day. If we treat it as a mere excuse for indulgence, it loses its value and becomes something trivial. The heart of a believer should remain open to goodness and free from negative emotions during these times. Our celebrations should reflect this purity of spirit, ensuring that we do not allow uncontrolled behaviors to mar the sanctity of the day.
On the night of Eid and in the days leading up to it, the act of Takbeer (the glorification of Allah) strengthens the faith of the believer. Although the Takbeer was once resonantly recited by small groups of children in the mosque, it should now be practiced with greater intention—both within the mosque and at home. This should not be limited to small, isolated recitations but should be a family-wide activity, involving both adults and children together. By doing this, we can transform the entire night into an uplifting experience of praise without any distractions. This practice has immense spiritual benefits.
Every Eid should be a time for us to increase goodness, love, and harmony. Let us focus on saying Takbeer with enthusiasm, wearing new clothes with spiritual intent, ensuring modesty over fashion, and carrying out the ritual acts such as prayer and charity properly. For men, prayers in the mosque, and for women, prayers at home, should be performed with devotion. Cooking and sharing food, using fragrance in accordance with the Sunnah, visiting family and friends, and exchanging Eid greetings—all these actions make up the holistic celebration of Eid, ensuring that it remains a day of spiritual richness for us.
Scott C. Holstad has authored 60+ books & has appeared in the Minnesota Review, Exquisite Corpse, Pacific Review, Santa Clara Review, Chiron Review, Palo Alto Review, Southern Review, Poetry Ireland Review, Libre, PULP, WIREWORM, Hidden Peak Press, Misfit, Blood+Honey, dadakuku, A Sufferer’s Digest, Horror Sleaze Trash, Synchronized Chaos & Bristol Noir. He’s moved 35+ times & now lives near Gettysburg PA.
Mr. Tough Knuckles
"I want you to understand what you've done, Johnny." The man looked at the boy sternly. "I want you to understand what it means to destroy property. It means something."
The boy looked worried in a vague way, but was silent.
"It wasn't just the window you broke, Mr. I-Like-Throwing-Rocks."
The boy's expression did not change.
"There was a complete set of very fine heirloom china on a table in the room where the window was broken. Most of the china was negatively affected. The window, all that very nice china, and the memories contained in the china, all broken by you.Also, on that very day, there was, by a twist of medicalized fate, a bottle of human urine in the room that was by consequence of your impulsive and selfish actions, over turned. A large part of the carpet was stained and the resulting odor was pervasive. Mr. Littlejohn has recently informed me the stench is still lingering."
The boy's nose wrinkled as consequence of the man's description, but the boy still said nothing.
"I'd like you to think, Johnny, of the meaning of your actions and their consequences. I'd like you to take some time and think. Really, really use your mind. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, Johnny."
Silence.
"Well, Johnny?"
A longer silence. The man folded his arms impatiently.
"I’m waiting, Johnny."
"I'm thinking," said the boy softly with a hint of firmness.
"Good! Very good, Johnny. I'm chuffed to hear you're thinking. Please, keep thinking, and I'd like for you to tell me exactly what it is you're thinking. I'd like for you to put actual words to your thoughts and to communicate them to me directly.”
Silence.
“Can you say something, Johnny?”
Silence. The man leaned toward the boy, and the boy made a fist and scratched his knuckles on his front teeth.
“Well. This defiance is unacceptable. I can only conclude, Mr. Tough Knuckles, you’ve been toying with me from the very start. I think you actually desired to cause damage to private property. In your mind—the law calls it mens rea, Johnny—you truly are a destructive little turk, aren’t you? Henceforth, we will have to seriously correct this attitude.”
“I wouldn’t piss into the wind of this market.”
“Excuse me, young man?”
“Pissed away years of gains.”
“This is completely unacceptable, Johnny.”
“Piss on me, I piss on you.”
“I’m nonplussed! I simply have no choice now, Johnny. This issimply beyond thought! Your days at this school are over, and I will be contacting your parents immediately. Piss on me?Indeed.”
Johnny found his way outside and walked around the parking lot as the night approached. He picked up a rock and threw it at an Audi SUV, shouting, “The bond market’s goin’ to the pisser!”
MJ
"I've never met a chest of drawers I didn't like, and you, dear, are no exception."
"Joseph, you've become tiresome. The most deadliest of sins, really."
"Your drawers are of exceptional quality. They slide silently with the best of them. They slide on air."
"Words slide on air. Yours do."
"Your legs. Let's not forget them. A chest of drawers is nothing, nothing, nothing at all, without sturdy legs."
"If you keep this up, you will realize what it means to have neither leg to stand on."
"I will perorate upon your drawer knobs. In a class of their own, darling."
"I’ll terminate monthly payments to your account if you don't stop talking immediately."
Joseph raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. He twisted swiftly away from the woman towards the open balcony doors, picking up his vodka ice. He took a sip and looked over his shoulder at the woman, asking her tartly, "Who was it who said life is a brief wave from a balcony?"
"Twas my dear husband, Jojo."
"No, no, it was MJ.” Joseph danced toward the balcony railing, laughing, drinking, and beckoning to the woman. “Isn’t it time for a little moonwalk, darling?"
