Habibullo-Eugene Kiselev

A Synopsis of my Life
2017-07-21 23:29:25 (UTC)

July 21st, 2017, Friday, 11:29:25 p.m.

Yekaterinburg, Russia. GMT 05:00
As I was lying in bed the night before this day (I am not sure if it was Thursday or already Friday, though), I was pondering about my longer poem, THE THRONE OF LUCIFER. When I had published it on the Internet several years ago, one of the participants of this Internet-community wrote a comment, which said, this longer poem was “an epic work”. However, I am not sure if it is a true epic poem in the light of the new information about epic poetry. (When I say “new” I mean “new to me alone”. In the science of pedagogy, it is called “subjective novelty”). I got this knowledge from my Teacher Eugene Lobanov yesterday. So, an epic work should be based on some real historical facts. Therefore, I thought of the improvement of my longer poem to make it really “epic”. The action in this longer poem is not linked with a particular place, though. However, I could use some real sources, for example, legends, stories and so forth. We will see what will come of it. I am pretty sure I will try, though.
As the night had passed, I woke up, made a ghusl (a ritual ablution) and headed to the mosque named “Ramadan” to participate in the Friday ṣalāt and jumuʿah. While I was going there by bus, I received a phone call from one lady. Because there was a lot of noise in the bus, I asked her to call me back later. When I came to the mosque yard, she called me again. She was from a certain translation agency. She knows Associate Professor Lәlә Ƣәjnullovna Josopova, the head of the Department of Foreign Languages and Business Communication at the Ural State Mining University, where I am working as an ESL teacher. So, she wanted to invite me to participate in a simultaneous translation seminar held by one Russian translator, who has worked with many American Presidents and other influential people in authority. I said I had some other things to do, however, I promised to think about it. Later, when the jumuʿah had been over, I called her; she told me she had found another person, my university colleague. I said I was happy for her to have found a participant for this event and wished her all the best. To be honest, I long ago lost interest to the events like that one. The reason is the atmosphere at such workshops. I do not want to say it is bad, unkind or something, no, not at all. I would call this “an atmosphere of false success”. I mean that the things, which are said by the host at such events, as the host himself/herself can be successful. Not flashy or ostentatious, they are usually respectable people. However, when the show is over, you usually feel your worthlessness. I again unwillingly recall “The Master and Margarita”, where the Devil gave the audience during his attraction beautiful clothes for free which turned out to be nonexistent. The people walked naked in the street. So, I think, that such seminars are not my cup of tea.
Okay. Having finished the first part of this dialog, I went to the mosque, where I bought (yeah, bought, however I will bring the money tomorrow) an MP3 CD with the lectures by Ramil Hazrat Yunys (Tartar: Рамил хәзрәт Юныс), a Muslim priest from Tatarstan. I am especially interested in his lectures and his views on the subject of raising children, as I am now writing my first article on Pedagogics. The topic of this article is about the principles of the Muslim religious pedagogy.
When the jumuʿah began, a new Hazrat named Ahmed gave a very meaningful sermon about the Day of Judgment. He said that nowadays there are a great amount of false rumors about this Day, but the Muslims should not pay attention to them. He pointed out all the signs of this Day according to the Holy Qur’an. Among all the signs, he mentioned Mahdi, which kind of perplexed me. I know that the belief in Mahdi is a Shiite tradition, whereas “Ramadan” is a Sunni mosque. I enjoyed this jumuʿah though.
After all this was over, I asked one boy to take a picture of me and the imām-khaṭīb of the mosque, Ənvər Xəzrət Xәbirov. Actually, there are three of us at the photo: a man from Tashkent, Uzbekistan, named Murad, is also there. I got acquainted with him and said that I admire people like him, who dared leave their country looking for a better life. He told me he worked as a taxi-driver in Yekaterinburg. After the sermon, I met a new Hazrat and asked him my question about the prophets. According to the Muslim faith, all prophets taught to worship Allah alone. The Prophet ʿĪsā (‎عليه السلام‎) taught to worship his Heavenly Father. Does this mean that The Prophet ʿĪsā (‎عليه السلام‎) is a son of Allāh? As we know from the Holy Qurʿān, Allāh is not born and he has no children. The following surah Al-Ikhlash says:
Al-Ikhlash
بِسْمِ ٱللَّهِ ٱلرَّحْمَٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيم Bismillāhi r-raḥmāni r-raḥīm In the name of Allah , the Entirely Merciful, the Especially Merciful.
112.1.
قُلْ هُوَ ٱللَّهُ أَحَدٌ Qul huwa-Llāhu ʾaḥad Say, “He is Allah , [who is] One,
112.2.
ٱللَّهُ ٱلصَّمَدُ Allāhu ṣ-ṣamad Allah , the Eternal Refuge.
112.3.
لَمْ يَلِدْ وَلَمْ يُولَدْ Lam yalid walam yūlad He neither begets nor is born,
112.4.
وَلَمْ يَكُن لَّهُۥ كُفُوًا أَحَدٌۢ Walam yakun lahu kufuwan ʾaḥadan Nor is there to Him any equivalent."
He said, that the Christians call The Prophet ʿĪsā (‎عليه السلام‎) Son of God, but this may be metaphorical or at least, this can be a result of the misinterpretation of the Bible, the holy book of Christians.
When I had left the mosque, I met another guy, Alisher. He is from Tajikistan, works in the building industry and goes to the Copper Mosque in Verkhnyaya Pyshma, which I am going to visit soon. As I left the mosque, I decided to go to my apartment on foot. I have to mention that our district is a unique symbiosis of the city agglomeration and wild nature with its field flowers which exhale befuddling scents mixed with the magic splendor of the bright green grass. As I was walking down the Parkhomenko Street, I saw a kitten that was eating herbs. It was sort of wild because it was frightened with me. I called it “kitty-kitty” and talked to it a little bit. Nevertheless, it did not want to counteract with me because of the absence of chow, I suppose. So, I went on coming. Passing by the gardens (“Sadovaya” bus stop); I suddenly noticed a big bird who was sitting among the poplar boughs on the opposite side of the road. It was a black grouse or a wood grouse or… I do not know for sure. I looked at it and it too stared at me. Unfortunately, I could not discern its eyes; it was only a beak, which was showing white amid the bright green summer foliage of a tall poplar. Shortly after, it flew towards another poplar, maybe, it thought I was dangerous. However, I was not dangerous at all! Okay. I saw its vast brown wings; it was flying slowly and gracefully, and its wings were shot with the brown color in the sunny rays of the afternoon. I continued my way; the bird changed its location to a farther poplar.
Having returned to my apartment, I felt a bit tired. Also, I felt a sort of heavy burden on my shoulders. I know, I know, to be an epic poet is a great responsibility, and I will carry it with honor. I promise to myself, to deceased Yuri Valeryevich Konetsky, a genius of epic poetry, who I unfortunately have never met in person, and to my Teacher, Eugene Lobanov.
At about 10:00 p.m., I looked for my emails. Eugene Lobanov sent me a great deal of information about the Russian family of the Prosvirnins-Prosvirins (these are the two options of the same family name). This research appeared to be of great interest; however, it begot some tearing away at first.




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