Growing Up Bin Laden

Osama bin Laden, the name itself strikes terror in the bravest of hearts. But his personal life has always been fiercely guarded. Recently, his personal life came under public scrutiny when “Growing Up Bin Laden” was released. It has been authored by Jean Sasson and has been co-authored by Osama’s fourth son Omar Bin Laden and his senior wife Najwa  Bin Laden.

As the book progressed, it came as a shock to learn that Osama, in his early life had been shy and laid back but it was with his silence that he commanded attention. Deeply religious, he was a nature lover and considered nature to be God’s greatest gift to humankind. Jean Sasson said that, “People are not born terrorists. Nor do they become terrorists in a single stroke..And so it was with Osama Bin Laden. And the man, men and events that planted the seed faded away. But the seed grew and the terrorist walked. And this man before, became the terrorist thereafter.” [Growing Up Bin Laden, Jean Sasson, xiv].

Jean Sasson rightly justifies the fact Osama Bin Laden was not a born terrorist and as a reader you will probably be compelled to agree.  Then what lead him to spread so much of terror, loss of innocent blood of human beings? The reason was that it angered him that he was denied a chance to serve his own country Saudi Arabia, when Iraq attacked Kuwait. Instead of taking help from the Mujahedeen, Saudi Arabia took the assistance of United States and the first seed of antagonism was planted.

The entire world knows the brutality one man can inflict on the entire world. But this book is a glaring example of how overpowering hatred can numb all other emotions. Such was Osama’s hatred for the United States that he did not hesitate to ask his sons to put their names in the list of suicide bombers. Omar Bin Laden justifies this as, “My father hated his enemies more that he loved his sons”. It is rather interesting to note that just the way he terrorised the world his family was equally terrorized by him. He was a complete dictator and controlled everything with an iron hand. He was an egoist to such an extent that he led people to believe he was left handed but never accepted the fact that he was partially blind in the right eye.

Osama Bin Laden remained an enigma most of his life. His life, acts are now a part of history, which will be recounted for generations to come. Even though he has spread only hatred in this world, his sons did not follow his footsteps. They did not inherit the terrorist their father was. Omar Bin laden, when he was leaving Afghanistan saw a tall figure, his father, disappearing into the horizon. He knew that he was not running away from Afghanistan to look from happiness but to merely find peace.

Inspirations

March is far away in the horizon and the year end is almost knocking at our doors. Yes it has been that long since I wrote something. Why I did not write? It could be because of lack of self discipline. But on introspection I realized that it was the lack of inspiration. Lack of the need to sit up and type furiously till all that was clogging my mind has been expressed. Why did I feel the need to be inspired? Because without inspiration I feel one is dead! Like the famous saying goes existing is not enough but has to live, breath and take the best life can give. So to the next question. What did ultimately inspire me? The answer lies in death and a friend!

One morning a bunch of naively adventurous nearly adults set out to explore the cemeteries of Bangalore. I happened to be a part of them.  The cemeteries had graves which is expected. But what was different is how all the graves had a story to tell. The graves without tombstones told you that the individual buried had no money to shell for a fancy tombstone. The grave was decorated with flowers which was almost a consolation. The family may use that money to feed the living than care about the dead. The ones with tombstones clearly flaunted of affluence. One grave that particularly stood out was a big black grave and every individual in the graveyard knew that it belonged to the founder of Sagar Hospital.

One of the rituals that caught my fancy was mass burning. So if you are poor and cannot afford to burn the body and fulfill the last rites, what you do is find someone who is equally poor and in the same condition as you are. Then the cost of cremation is shared by all who cannot afford to individually burn the dead. Then mass burning takes place. Hard to believe, right?

All these stories were told to us by a worker in the graveyard who was reeking of alcohol. Most of us were drawn by the stories he had to tell and repulsed at the same time due to the unbearable stench of alcohol. But the reality of their lives is so deathly that remaining intoxicated is the only means of survival. The cemetery is a parallel world and it is hard to believe that is situated right opposite one of the busiest bus stops of Bangalore. So many people come and leave the bus stop everyday to get on with their lives not having a second to stare at place where time stands still because the graves have nowhere to go, but to lie still in the peace that death has to offer.

This became one of the inspirations. This was followed by another inspiration. This time it was the living. A friend, who has a brilliant sense of humour, good insight of human beings and a capability to inspire people around even from a considerable distance, like another city. Come to think of it a good dash of life and death can do wonders.