S Parvez Manzoor
The Faruqis are dead, brutally murdered in their home. The brilliant scholar of Islam and his gifted spouse are both gone, snatched by the icy hand of death. The valiant knight and his lady have fallen, slain not in combat but in ambush. The sneaky blade of a barbarian has smitten them, earning not glory but eternal damnation. The ink of the scholar has mingled with the blood of the martyr, triumphing over both hatred and ignorance. Peace has finally come to the Palestinian expatriate, ending the agony and ignominy of exile. Only the grief of a bereaved Umma continues.
In mourning the departure of the Faruqis, the eye weeps, the heart cries but the mind searches for answers. Was this merely a wanton act of a senseless killer or the planned deed of a fanatical group? Was the tragedy caused by the external or the internal enemies of Islamic faith? Was the scholarly couple ‘liquidated’ by the Assassination Squad of the Chosen or was the Holy Revenge its ultimate rationale? Alas, within the lonely and unfriendly fortress where the Muslim thinker moves, looking across his shoulders for pious rage from within and the crusading fury from without, any of the above votaries of violence and fanaticism could have answered this roll call of infamy.