Am going to play cards with the cousins again. Last night six of us tried playing Rung by taking out the 2s and ending up with 48 cards to deal evenly. After having explained the game, I dealed the cards to Haris so he could pick which suit (rung) and he said, "Red." This was after I had explained the game and had all of us had a practice round. On hearing Haris choose his 'rung', Ibrahim who was sitting down to be his partner, stopped midway in his seat and mildly commented, "Hum bahut burri tarah haarnay walay hain." To make up for his occassional fumbling, Haris cheats shamelessly by claiming he's out of a suit to play a trump and ends up with three cards of the same suit in the end, getting beaten up by the rest of us in the process. Playing cards can be an extreme sport in the Quraishi household.
Oh Snap.
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Sixty-four
The number of days I had spent without being behind the steering wheel. Driving was never as much fun as tonight, alhamdo lillah.
When All Else Fails, Run
It's been a while since I've ran. Wanting to gradually build my cardiovascular strength to par, I had no intention of running today as well. Just that today, walking on the treadmill didn't seem enough. So I ran, and when I started to get tired, I ran even faster. I ran until my chest started to ache and I felt that my heart wouldn't be able to take more stress. I ran for about a minute after that as well for good measure before slowing down to a walk once again. Alhamdo lillah running felt so good. I was out of aching and out of breath and I loved it.
Thinking that insha Allah the next time I were to try the same routine, my heart would be stronger and more prepared for the pressure. I don't think I've ever made a cognitive decision such as this when upset, not a damaging one anyway. Certainly not one that I know I will come out of feeling stronger and strangely relieved, alhamdo lillah.
I doubt I speak for myself alone when I say that I am capable of worse things to release stress, pressure or heartache. Of all the detrimental things to do, I guarantee this to be the most exhilirating. This hardly counts as being masochistic, because willingly allowing oneself to be hurt more than once by the same aspect, or not shying the fire after being burnt once is far worse. Each one of us puts ourself in such a position so many days of our lives. This one actually did my heart some good.
Pfft
So I chose to 'audit' everyone on Facebook with SuperPoke today. That's got nothing to do with anything. Really.
Monogamy
Ever since Ryzvan got himself a diving watch, I've stopped looking at new styles for him in my emails from Fossil.
Blissful Ignorance
You know you haven't heard of any songs or music in a while when you read a track on IM and are unable to tell the artist from the song.
Spoilt Rotten
You know you're addicted to your pocket PC when you start a chat conversation on your desktop and stop at, "Assa" waiting for the AutoComplete to finish the greeting for you.
An Itch
I have this urge to send a truckload of postcards with, 'Wish you were here' scribbled on the back to so many people right now. To mail them these cards and magically have them travel this way, this much, with me.
Predictably Home
Predictable is hearing Baji beat eggs over the phone and knowing it's a Sunday morning in FL and she's making the sweet omelet for Bhaijan.
It's Ami getting someone's name wrong when narrating an incident and even telling a joke all wrong.
Home is Ami laughing while she's telling a joke because she knows she might mess up any minute.
Home is also Abu quipping in his version of the Indian soap Ami is watching so intently. As is Ami's promise to return the favor the next time Abu tunes into the news.
Home is both Baji and Omar Bhai accidentally calling out my name before their chidrens' when they're up to their usual mischief.
It's SMSing a hug to Mayyam and getting one back almost immediately.
Predictable is Billie saying, 'Qasam se' or, 'Seriously!' to every 'Nahin yaar!'
It's knowing Maina, Afshan and Nazia will go out of their ways to respond to a call for help despite the distance from myself.
It's having to know that we need not catch up.
It's squeezing in rushed conversation with Rabia and feeling great afterwards, everytime.
Predictable is knowing Zairah will coo back a hello when I call her in a sing-song voice. For her to carry poignant memories of my past as if they were her own.
It's Halima being flaky on popular request.
Ashi, sobering up to be more a sister than a friend.
Homeis Ryz woh na telling me something I want to hear before gliding into what he wants to share with me. Ryz returning my coy girl routine with a cheesy line that breaks a previous record set by himself.
Peter Pan
Part of the weaning process involves myself not sleeping in Ami's room when Abu's out of town. Insha Allah this move will help my weaning and hers as well.
Amusing Ourselves to Death
Lately the news on local television channels made me think the same about our culture. I was fortunate enough to recognize the emergence of desensitization and empathy caused by media in the West because of my frequent visits, and also because I was not a resident and I could in turn assess the situation objectively.
Reading the following excerpt from "Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business" by Neil Postman brought the eddy of all those thoughts of discontention to words. I possibly could not agree more. Read, "A Brave New World" if you haven't already.
Amusing Ourselves to Death: an excerpt
"We were keeping our eye on 1984. When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares.
But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell's dark vision, there was another - slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley's vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.
What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drownd in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions". In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.
This book is about the possibility that Huxley, not Orwell, was right."
Disdain
When, when, when will I learn to not look closely at roadkill lying in my path while driving?
Swindled
is finding a hollow, squishy Malteser in an anticipated packet of crispy rewards following a long week.
Medicare
About a month ago I read about a man who lay awake during his own brain surgery. The details of the case can be found here.
Call me one with limited perception and concentration skills, I just can't think beyond learning the fact that a retired truck driver in Australia can enjoy such health benefits, masha Allah.
Hershey Says
For the likes of the Halimas and the Ryzvans of the world - for Halima, who shook her head on finding words such as, "thingamajig" in the autocomplete feature of my phone, and for Ryzvan who tolerantly nodded his head each time I made up words such as these, words he magically understood as well.
Halima and Ryzvan: in your faces.
A Test
I wonder whether I can customize the appearance of a post through my email.
Red.
Bold and pink.
Halima Blue.
Ryz.
Fever
I bought a book because Ethan Hawke wrote it. I saw the cover and WHAM! was reminded of the days of "Reality Bites", of "Great Expectations" and most importantly, of "Before Sunrise."
To read a book should be an experience of its own. Hopefully if it's terrible, I'll finally get over that fluttery-butterfly phase that I had managed to drag all the way from my teenage, until realization yesterday.
Common Sense, for God's Sake
The voice of David AS glorifying Allah by reading out the Psalms does not equal the use of musical instruments. A voice and an instrument are not the same.
If one really were to follow the example of David AS, then there would be musical accompaniment with the recitation of the Quran, but everyone agrees that would be disrespectful and plainly wrong.
Also, David AS fasted every other day, i.e. half the year. I'd like to tell that to the people who're only too keen on "following his example." Try matching his amount of taqwa before addressing other issues.
Volume 3, Book 31, Number 200:Narrated 'Abdullah bin 'Amr bin Al-'As:
The Prophet said to me, "You fast daily all the year and pray every night all the night?" I replied in the affirmative. The Prophet said, "If you keep on doing this, your eyes will become weak and your body will get tired. He who fasts all the year is as he who did not fast at all. The fasting of three days (a month) will be equal to the tasting of the whole year." I replied, "I have the power for more than this." The Prophet said, "Then fast like the fasting of David who used to fast on alternate days and would never flee from the battle field, on meeting the enemy.
Volume 3, Book 31, Number 201:
Narrated 'Abdullah bin 'Amr:
Allah's Apostle was informed about my fasts, and he came to me and I spread for him a leather cushion stuffed with palm fires, but he sat on the ground and the cushion remained between me and him, and then he said, "Isn't it sufficient for you to fast three days a month?" I replied, "O Allah's Apostle! (I can fast more)." He said, "Five?" I replied, "O Allah's Apostle! (I can fast more)." He said, "Seven?" I replied, "O Allah's Apostle! (I can fast more)." He said, "Nine (days per month)?" I replied, "O Allah's Apostle! (I can fast more)" He said, "Eleven (days per month)?" And then the Prophet said, "There is no fast superior to that of the Prophet David it was for half of the year. So, fast on alternate days."
(taken from Sahih Bukhari)
The Kite Runner
So much for goofing around while watching, "Killing Jane." I saw the beginning of a trailer that showed two middle-Eastern boys sitting as friends would and I said, "The Kite Runner" and grabbed Afshan's hand. Amazing how I stumbled upon the trailer of the movie I would not have never read the written version of, had it not been for the love of the person who was squeezing my hand ever so tight throughout the length of the trailer. The trailer I could not have possibly sit through alone.
From hearing my favorite words in the morning, to being humbly reminded of tawwakal nearing evening, Allah Subhana Wa Ta'ala had sure been Generous about His signs to me today.
Rediscovery
My dentist told me to use a super-soft toothbrush for the area he operated on a week ago. I chose a pink colored baby toothbrush with Minnie's ears drawn all over it.
What's in a Number?
My cellphone carrier now offers, "Islamic Services" that include being able to listen to the "Quran, Hadith, Hamd, Naat, Qawali and much more" on my phone.
Somehow I lost track of the Islamic bit after Hamd and Naat.
Or was it when I realized that I can get all these "Islamic Services" by dialing 786? I forget.
Thinking Chair
Halima was over at my place and lounging on my bed with myself sitting on my green sofa. It was then that I realized something and told her that our sitting this way was an extremely rare occassion. She asked why and I answered that I wasn't sure when both of us would be home in Karachi from Lahore at the same time again.
The next day, both Maryam and Halima were over and I had another thought. With Zairah being busy with Ibrahim and Mehreen in CA, it would just be the three of us spending time this way. Until the next year, as Halima duly reminded me.
Next year. I want Afshan and Nazia over right now just thinking of it.
Emotional Hypochondria At Its Best
As soon as Ryzvan signed in from work today, I asked him something that both of us would describe as a, "raat-khanay-ke-liye-kya-pakaoon?" while-at work kind of question: untimely, unnecessary and irrelevant.
Funny thing is, I had realized just how wifey I am capable of sounding as soon as I had asked that particular thing, and alhamdo lillah he was honest enough to reply that it's a question he really cannot answer as well as I could; and so I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. He's as honest as I'd like him to be and alhamdo lillah, more honest than I wouldn't on certain occassions. That, and I made a mental note of checking myself before interrupting his work to ask him something.
Such are the fringe benefits of being friends long before anything else - the emotional hypochondria which makes me sense his reaction to a general situation, even when I am the one creating it for him, and effectively admitting to the sheer silliness of the matter. Alhamdo lillah for honesty and all its instances.
For the Want of Intellectual Stimuli
I was flipping channels on television when I tuned into a children's quiz show on one of our local channels. Seeing Aamir Saleem the singer sit as one of the guests amongst the audience of children made me suddenly wonder the last time I saw someone other than a singer or a musician as a guest for a children's show.
I don't see any authors, I don't even see any actors. I don't see any soldiers, policemen, pilots or any other role models except for singers in childrens' shows.
Talking to Halima about the same, she pointed out that a possible reason why could be that children do not think much about the kinds of people I just mentioned, which brings the argument round to the starting point: children don't think of such people as interesting because such people are not introduced to children with the same razzle dazzle as musicians are.
I want to hear about Ibn-e-Insha from people other than my father. If the actual authors are not available, I'd love to hear people talk about their youth that was spent on such authors like Shafeeq-ur-Rehman, Bano Qudsia and even Ghulam Abbas. Or poets like Ahmed Faraz who are given air-time on Begum Nawazish Ali but not asked how the picture of their country has changed over the span of their lifetime.
Personally I know people who belong to the police and armed forces who have extremely interesting thoughts to share and inspire people with. Why limit such occassions to September 6, and even then to remember older patriots and not celebrate the prospect of newer ones, insha Allah. I know for a fact that many young mindsets will be changed if the army and police were represented by those who feel the same glory behind serving their country as myself, you or any other common man would.
I wouldn't even object half as much to musicians being guests at a show (maybe I would, actually) if they presented even a flicker of inspiration through means of dialogue and reflection shared with the children. Instead, all they do is lip-sync or hand out gifts wrapped in shiny green paper.
Children look extremely cute masha Allah, waving our Pakistani flags in glee while hearing their favorite singer singing a well-known national song, but then they might come out associating August 14 with only the song-and-dance routine. Hearing the people who make Pakistan each day the rest of the year is bound to be an inspiration and a less mindless experience.
I love my country, and I am proud to celebrate its existence. I just don't want the idealogy of Pakistan to be reduced to a mere Chinese whisper that loses its weight by the time it has reached the last ear.
Then Which of The Favors of Your Lord Will You Deny?
The next time I think to scrunch my nose at something I may not like to eat, may Allah Remind me of this. Ameen.
Credits to Asma @ Islamabad Metblogs
Rain
Walking through slush today I kept asking myself whether I am the only one who is extremely careful while driving so other peoples' clothes and subsequent days are not ruined.
A Treat
A treat can be defined as finding Mitchell's Fruit BonBons in the console under the steering-wheel of my car.
Anyone But
Ahmed Faraz on Begum Nawazish Ali's show. Ahmed Faraz. Ahmed Faraz with Meera as the other guest.
Ahmed Faraz on Begum Nawazish Ali's show.
Said and Done
I have realized that as much as I may try roughing it by bathing in less warm water, I am less of a wet cat when I have my usual hot shower and consequently, more pleasant to deal with for all of humankind for the rest of the day.
Humbug.
For sheer girly-girl reasons, I've voluntarily reduced myself to try growing my nails. I don't know how most girls do this. I mean, I can't let my hands look like starfish with each fingernail of a separate length. Last week I trimmed all my fingernails and toenails since I broke one fingernail and couldn't bear to trim one and leave the rest long(er). Ikh.
A Term Appointed For Respite
I am tired of hearing outcries from fellow Muslims about Rushdie being knighted. Was talking to Lima about it as well. We have a crumbling, if not already crumbled constituency, half of my city fears drowning in either rainwater or darkness or both tonight, we have a circus of a military dictatorship, and yet our opposition chooses not to go to the streets about any of this, rather a person who blasphemised Rasool Allah SAWS.
Actually, no. What gets to me is why just about everyone is giving SO much of importance to a worldly status of recognition given to a non-believer. The only reason why all of this is such a big deal is because we are choosing to make this world the be-all and the end-all. What ever happened to believing in an Akhirah (Hereafter)?
The largest opposition party that professes to be a religious one wants to carry on a nationwide protest against the move for knighting him. Whatever for? Because he presented our Prophet SAWS in a poor light? The same Prophet SAWS who told us to be in this world as if we were mere travelers? And exactly what good are we causing his SAWS' sunnah by creating such a fuss about a non-Muslim nation choosing to honor a non-believer in this world by recognizing him for blasphemizing the Prophet SAWS?
I would understand a person who denies the Akhirah to think this to be a big deal because hey, we only live once and once we die there is nothing to look forward to. So we either make or break our future. Why is a Momin thinking the same way? This world is not even a drop as compared to the ocean of the Akhirah. Then what explains this frenzy to be recognized and in this particular case, to not allow recognition? And that too, by worldly standards set by an openly non-believing monarchy?
We have been promised an appointed term for respite, and if Rasool Allah SAWS clearly defined gheebah and bohtaan (back-biting and slander), who are we to redefine its extent? Did he SAWS not face slander and blasphemy in his own time? And why do we think ourselves to be better judges of how to go about this?
There is a calm in my heart not because I condone Rushdie's actions that hurt my Ummah's sentiments, rather because I believe in Divine justice, as it has been promised to me and remains an article of faith for me.
020.129
Had it not been for a Word that went forth before from thy Lord, (their punishment) must necessarily have come; but there is a Term appointed (for respite).
020.130
Therefore be patient with what they say, and celebrate (constantly) the praises of thy Lord, before the rising of the sun, and before its setting; yea, celebrate them for part of the hours of the night, and at the sides of the day: that thou mayest have (spiritual) joy.
020.131
Nor strain thine eyes in longing for the things We have given for enjoyment to parties of them, the splendour of the life of this world, through which We test them: but the provision of thy Lord is better and more enduring.
020.132
Enjoin prayer on thy people, and be constant therein. We ask thee not to provide sustenance: We provide it for thee. But the (fruit of) the Hereafter is for righteousness.
The Word of Allah, Surah Ta-ha (Ta-ha) 20:129-132
Been Around the World and I, I, I
I seriously doubt men have strong observational skills. What else would explain their eagerness to shake hands with each man they met during the course of a day? Do they not see what I see, and that too when I'm not looking in a specific direction? If men saw what most men tend to do with their hands when they think no one is looking, they wouldn't be doing the golden handshake just about everywhere.
Infinite Loop
Some nights ago I had an extremely vivid dream of myself in an animated conversation with Fizza. The topic was of interest to the both of us and the conversation was not only spontaneous but also very realistic, since what I was telling her was something that actually happened and that I wanted to share with her. The next day I called Fizza telling her about this dream and she asked what it was about, and as I began to describe the dream to her, our reactions were one jolt of deja vu after another.
A Day in the Life of...
Halima wanted to get Cerelac for her puppy, Hendrix. Yes, it's quite hard to accept a dog named after a musician, and that too receiving processed cereal in the same world that has children dying of hunger. But then, Halima does her fair share for serving all kinds of living beings and may Allah Accept her worship, Ameen.
So she wanted to get Cerelac for Hendrix and we stopped at a pharmacy for it. Conversation that follows took place inside the store.
Halima is wondering whether she should take Cerelac Banana or not, and I suggested that she had the option of choosing Cerelac 3 Fruits as well, since she was considering fruit nutrients.
To which Halima replied, "Kutta hai..." in a self-explanatory tone.
To which I cautioned, "Halima... Munnay ke baaray mein aisay baat nahin kartay."
Pharmacist looks on.
Finally.
I can finally blog in Lahore. After a month. I am too relieved to relive all the things I had to go through to get my blogger up and running. It's working now, alhamdo lillah. That's what matters.
The Damage Has Been Done
I faced Abu front and center to show him my eyes as I hadn't met him since my PRK surgery. Abu was one to really dislike my contact lenses and amongst his many reasons was a classic one that my eyes looked even more large and strained when I had my contacts on.
So there I was at the airport, waiting for my luggage to arrive on the conveyor belt. I faced him to show him my eyes and jokingly told him that I discovered that my eyes are truly large even without the contact lenses.
To which Abu solemnly replied that it was merely because the lenses had already made my eyes large even before my surgery and nothing can be done to reverse the process.
Sigh.
Phir Bannein Ge Aashna
As soon as I stepped out into the open air at the Karachi airport, I was momentarily stunned by my want to seek out each part of my city and ask the things it went through while I was gone. Almost as if to reach out and touch the parts that hurt the most. A physical pain I still cannot quite explain.
The Ways of My Mum
The first thing that I noticed on entering my room was the newly stitched, ironed and ready to wear shalwar kameez that Ami had strategically placed on my bed. She's treating my two months away from her like a grueling venture into the unknown with very little chances of my return, she's this happy to see me alhamdo lillah. Alhamdo lillah.
Softly As I Leave You
I've come across adults who joke that children can sense fear. I think children can also sense a departure. What else could explain Meher's prolonged hugs and countless kisses to me today?
"I Love Karachi" Banners
Thanks to Ejaz Asi, I can show my love for Karachi by putting up one of many beautiful banners created by him. All are free to view the rest of his work and put it up to show their love for their city, provided the credit remains his.
A Growing Dependancy
Just that sitting in Umreeka and watching a pastried version of today's carnage on television makes me miss home so much.
I woke up to check Karachi Metblogs for the news, and I realized that I turn to the Metblogs for news more than I would turn to even Dawn.com - Metblogs is so real compared to the news, both have human beings writing it, and yet one sounds like a newsfeed and the other is an actual human narrative.
Of Adornment
The Prophet SAWS said, "Modesty does not come into anything without adorning it."
Al-Tirmidhi, Hadith 1253
Ticklish
Probably the best thing I've heard since I heard the songs they came up with for Abu during the last general elections, a song I heard during the news coverage of the rally outside Lahore High Court, described as a milli naghma: "Chacha vardi laanda kyun nahin."
This is a kind of unity as well, to be able to forms words in a tune or a rhythm and describe an era for a nation altogether.
Bazeecha-e-Atfaal
Rabia Baji was shocked to see Meher take off her shirt while dancing to an Indian song playing on a DVD she had put on herself. Omar Bhai replied that Meher was merely imitating what she saw in the song, and chose to wear as much or as little as the heroine in the song.
Why is that still surprising, I wonder. It is nearly impossible to set limits on how much you want a child to imitate when you expose him / her to the Full Monty, so to speak.
Eating Calamari Right Before Going to Bed
I dreamt that Google hooked up with Apple and designed a profile interface for its users. Consequently users on Google Talk who had pictures in their profile had an electric blue colored apple next to their name, instead of the usual green dot.
The Etiquette of Eating
Lately I've alhamdo lillah had the opportunity to see my nieces and nephews eat and I can't help but notice just how similar their eating habits are to the masnoon etiquette, subhan Allah. When left to their own accord, a child will prefer to sit on the floor to eat, eat with his hands when he does, speak while eating and have no qualms about sharing the food on his plate with another, or picking food off another's plate as well.
We as civilized adults of the modern age tend to replace these inherent habits with what we regard as the etiquette of eating.
Arey nahin yaar!
Arey, you are 42% Pakistani!
Not bad, but not good enough to call yourself a real Pakistani either! You seem more London than Lahore, so why not try wearing a shalwar kameez for a week and maybe that'll bump up your rating...
How Pakistani are you? (first class number one!)
Create a Quiz
Whole World in My Hands
When Rafeh and I would play hide-and-seek, I would be left doing the counting regardless of whose turn it is to hide. He's just learning his numbers, so my he would repeat each number as I would say it. It made me think I could just about say anything in a sequence and he would take that to mean numbers. Such is the delight in playing with an innocent mind.
So the numbers one through ten could have names of vegetables like, aik, bhindi, chikkander, karaila and so on...
Reminds me of the time when I was teaching Sehyr "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" with the actions, and when it came to making a diamond in the sky, I taught her that the diamond was actually called, "DeBeers." So for a while after that, whenever I would tell Sehyr to show me DeBeers, she's make a diamond shape with her hands.
Such habits make me a lousy candidate for a baby-sitter unless the parents were people who are unaware of my tendencies.
Browsing Through
I really dislike window-shopping. I do not have the patience to sift through things that I know I will not buy. I usually go shopping when I am certain of what I need, I buy exactly that and I step out. This quality makes me a terrible person to take along on shopping sprees.
Recently I've come up with a list of places I'd window-shop any given day.
1) Places with books - any bookstore, stall keeping books, garage sale with books. I have been told more than once that I'm a pain in book-stores since I take forever in looking through everything.
Yet, I had such a wonderful time with Afshan spending an afternoon at a book-store. Maybe because neither of us minded having done that, alhamdo lillah.
I can also go on endlessly about obscure book titles with Halima, and we can have a laugh just about anywhere with that. Hours of endless entertainment.
Also, heading out towards Saeed Book Bank in Islamabad, Liberty Books in Karachi or Barnes and Noble in Umreeka is taking the easy way out. It is rummaging through books on a sidewalk store and finding one you've been looking for that feels most rewarding. Alhamdo lillah.
2) the Disney Store - I pray I never outgrow the Disney Store. I always head straight towards the stuffed toys on sale section and coo at each character I see there. I hug each one to check its hug-o-meter and bundle up the ones I'd like to keep under one arm.
The snow-globes. Oh, the snow-globes. And the coffee-mugs. The slippers, the pajamas. The stuffed toys on sale. The Disney Store is to me what balloons are to Winnie the Pooh. He says, "Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon." I couldn't agree more.
3) the Fossil store - I don't watch television that much, but there was a time when I heard a phrase resound in almost every Indian channel / show my mother was tuned to. "Mind-blowing." No, not merely mind-blowing, it's pronounced, "mmmmindblowingg" in double-time. I have no clue as to what gets the Indians so enthusiastic as to use that term just about everywhere, but the Fossil store with its watches, bags, wallets, oh the leather and the colors, now that experience is truly, utterly mmmmindblowingg.
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Jelly Belly
Masha Allah, looking at my father's ample belly makes me honestly believe that there must still exist cultures in today's world that would consider rubbing it for good luck, or even a bountiful harvest.
Let Me Count the Ways
I have lost count of the times I've misplaced my phone around the house, even my own room. I hardly seem to care anymore as to where I put it last or when I'll be needing it again. When speaking of the heart as a symbol of endearment, some people are said to walk around with their hearts on their sleeves while others claim to have given their beloved their hearts on departure. I think as a means to ensure I would not flit away like a butterfly as soon as the long winter gave way to spring, Ryz took my brain with him when he left.
Excess Baggage
I recently took a train to Taxila as part of a trip and brought a book along with myself to read during the journey. It's only when the train started to move did I realize that I wouldn't be reading the book at all.
Books are for the times I take the NJ transit to meet Afshan at Penn. Station or when I'm tired after having spent the day in Manhatten.
It is because traveling from New Jersey into the heart of New York does not amount to even half the fascination and beauty in traveling from Golra to Taxila.
For one, one can feel the scenery change every few minutes. The way people walk, the colors their homes are, the kinds of clothes they wear, the cleanliness they maintain, the pets they keep, every single detail made me feel like a child again. I found myself building on tales of their daily lives and their typical routines. Romantic does not necessarily mean the stuff Mills & Boons and Barbara Cartland became famous for (although I wonder why they did). Romantic is being able to follow the smallest movement or expression into the depths of an entire tale. Alhamdo lillah.
The most enjoyable part were the children. Jumping children to match the bounce of Pooh's best friend Tigger. Jumping at the sight of the passing train, jumping in their spot with an almost contagious excitement masha Allah. The older ones shyly waved back to passengers while most just jumped.
Each time I saw them jumping I tried to describe their emotions in a single phrase if not a word. I still cannot come up with one that does their exuberance justice.
Reading makes sense when changing cities even entire states in my situation do not offer any kind of variety. Even the landscape in Umreeka looks like it was engineered on an assembly line as compared to ours, subhan Allah. I did not realize I even kept a book until I found it in my bag on reaching home.
To Have And Have Not
Although this is the second trip that I've made since Ryzvan left it still feels so strangely hollow to travel without the SMSes. The are we there yet?s and the ding dongs that may not sound like much but amount to a lot.
Even stranger is stepping out and consciously not look for little somethings to take back that served as a reminder during the trip.
Bleah
I seriously doubt I'll ever look forward to packing or un-packing. For that to happen I'll need to not have traveled for at least three months at a stretch.
Al-Qalam
After a long time I found myself saving a clipping from a magazine. It's a typographic composition in Urdu script of, "Nastaleeq". It says in Persian, "Qalam goyad keh mann shah jahaanam," meaning, "The pen says, I am the ruler of my kingdom."
Deadlock
Oh please! What if they were just ominous of the modern homo sapien where one is trying to strangle the other and during the process the earth cracked open and swallowed them in whole? Valentine Schmalentine.
The Face of Terror
Police foil suicide attack at Islamabad airport, three wounded ISLAMABAD, Feb 6 (AFP) A suicide attacker opened fire at Islamabad’s International airport late Tuesday before blowing himself up with a hand grenade, and injuring at least three people, the interior minister said. The bomber headed towards the VIP section of the airport in a vehicle with two other men, and he began firing after security staff stopped it in the carpark outside, Interior Minister Aftab Sherpao said. “One of the men started firing at the security staff, injuring a member of the Airport Security Force, an elite police commando and a policeman,” Sherpao said. “They shot back at the attacker, then he tried to throw a grenade at them but when police retaliated, it fell from his hand and exploded and he died,” he said. “The suicide belt he was wearing did not explode, it was still intact.” Sherpao added. Police arrested the two other men in the car, and have cordoned off the airport over fears of further attacks, officials said. Information Minister Mohammad Ali Durrani clarified that he and Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz had landed hours earlier at the nearby Chaklala Airbase following a trip to the Arabian Sea port of Gwadar, and were not at Islamabad airport at the time of the incident. (First Posted @ 21:54 PST Updated @ 23:30 PST)
Abdullah Saab, an ASF officer who was an eye-witness and also injured during the attempted attack described the suicide attacker as a, "Taliban type." Despite the seriousness of the situation I smiled at this simple man's (may Allah Reward him for being true to his duty) choice of words, a obvious result of hearing a term resound much too often in the air.
Reminds me of a cover of our school magazine, Nomad that my friend Nur designed. That particular issue was printed in the winter of 2001. Nur had created a simple collage of Afghani children, children with their large expressive eyes and equally blank faces. Children in bright colors, children in bandages. He had written the simple title of, "The Face of Terror" on the cover. Naturally the cover sparked outrage amongst our American faculty members when all it really did do was show a face of terror we were too willing to forget then, and now.
Tomato, Tomato, Let's Call The Whole Thing Off
A sure-short way to make me tune out a recipe or an entire cooking show for that matter, is mentioning tomato ketchup as part of the ingredients.
123345
Omar Bhai says:
hello fatima popo
º Fatima º says:
hi Sehyroo Patairu!
Omar Bhai says:
hello any one there
º Fatima º says:
yes
one Popo for one Sehyroo
Omar Bhai says:
fatima popo ilove you 123345
º Fatima º says:
My goodness! It grows with each time
Omar Bhai says:
fatima popo could you please whate
º Fatima º says:
of course I can
Sehyr may I please keep you with me forever and ever?
Pretty please?
Omar Bhai says:
i donot know fatima popo
{have to ask mama or abu
º Fatima º says:
I will get Dada or Dado to ask them
We will keep them as well.
How is that?
Omar Bhai says:
ok
Omar Bhai winks:
Play "Heart"
º Fatima º says:
My goodness, you are such a cutie patootie!
Omar Bhai says:
{so you got a new picture fatima popo}
º Fatima º says:
Yes I did. This is my niece Sehyr.
Have you met her? She is lots of fun.
She has very cold feet and she likes to keep them warm by hugging me.
Omar Bhai says:
i know its me sehyr
º Fatima º says:
I know silly! I was just saying that
Omar Bhai says:
hahahahahahahahahahahhahhahahahaha
º Fatima º says:
AND she laughs a lot.
Omar Bhai says:
you are silly popo and she likes warm hugs
º Fatima º says:
she likes warm hugs best from her best friend
AND she will visit really soon insha Allah.
Static
You know when the television is on to a channel with only static for a long time and you're busy doing something else while it hums, and when you're finished you settle down on the couch facing the television, staring at it thinking about what you were busy with. Well, the entire time, the television has been humming its static in the background but you have been oblivious to it because of your distractions. Until the sudden jolt where you realize what you've been staring at for the past fifteen minutes.
What I mean to explain is that although you're busy doing your own work, the static on television may sound the same but its consistency speaks of its everlasting existence. It doesn't matter how early or late you wake up to it, it's been there the entire time whether you gave it importance or not. It's only when you snap to attention do you actually wonder how long the television has been on.
I experienced a similar jolt while reading today's edition of The New York Times in my inbox.
The news read,
"Helicopter Crash Claims 13 on Deadly Day for U.S. in Iraq
By DAMIEN CAVE
Published: January 21, 2007
BAGHDAD, Jan. 20 — On one of the deadliest days for United States forces since the Iraq war began, an American helicopter crashed in a Sunni area north of Baghdad on Saturday, killing all 13 people onboard, the United States military said. "
A bit further down,
"Iraqi state television reported that a raid in south Baghdad on Saturday, with around 100 Iraqi police commandos backed by six United States helicopters, killed 15 suspected Sunni Arab insurgents"
So the wake-up call makes me ask, "Who's the Iraq WAR against?" Now that Saddam has died, who are they fighting or trying to control?
Aren't these insurgents actually residents of Iraq?
Such questions are at the top of my head with a lumbering tower of more questions beneath.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche
"Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche" - I can write the saddest verses tonight. A personal favorite poem. Insha Allah, truly insha Allah once I learn Arabic I will learn Spanish and read Pablo Neruda's poetry in his native language.
Only then will be able to wonder at his simple-minded rhetorics in the language which made him think in the first place.
"Sufre más aquél que espera siempre que aquél que nunca esperó a nadie?" - Does he who waits forever suffer more than he who never waited for anybody?
"Algún día en cualquier parte, en cualquier lugar indefectiblemente te encontrarás a ti mismo, y ésa, sólo ésa, puede ser la más feliz o la más amarga de tus horas." - Someday, somewhere — anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
After that, on to Persian for Amir Khusrau, but that's for another time, another post.
Limbo
"Til I Hear It From You" - Gin Blossoms
I didn't ask
They shouldn't have told me
At first I'd laugh, but now
It's sinking in fast
Whatever they've sold me
Well baby I don't want to take advice from fools
I'll just figure everything is cool
Until I hear it from you
It gets hard
The memory's faded
Who gets what they say?
It's likely they're just jealous and jaded
Well maybe I don't want to take advice from fools
I'll just figure everything is cool
Until I hear it from you
Until I hear it from you
I can't let it get me off
Or break up my train of thought
As far as I know, nothing's wrong
Until I hear it from you
Still thinking about not living without it
Outside looking in
Til we're talking about it, not stepping around it
Maybe I don't want to take advice from fools
I'll just figure everything is cool
Until I hear it from you...
South Sound
Yes, there is such a thing.
Crunchy peanut butter that's simply too crunchy.
So I scoop a teaspoon out from a brand new jar of crunchy peanut butter that Ami bought, and all I can taste after that is peanuts, little bits of peanuts and also larger chunks of peanuts.
Where did the peanut butter go? There is a world of a difference between having peanuts in my peanut butter and having peanut butter in my peanuts.
I am now left with a jar of peanut butter to finish before I can even think of getting another brand. It's a painfully slow process since I cannot manage more than half a teaspoon at a time. In the end I'm simply waiting for it to miraculously dissolve in my mouth since I don't want to chew on it for fear of tasting it and swallowing just large chunks of peanuts is impossible.
Squeaky Clean
There's always a newsfeed that appears on top in my gmail inbox and I usually click on bits I'd like to know more about. Recently there was a piece on some urinal thief in some part of the world. I obviously did not click on the link to learn the details.
Just that the way the final chapter to the urinal thief story was worded made me laugh at its suggested silliness. The newsfeed reads, "Urinal thief comes out clean."
It makes me picture a urinal thief that keeps a bottle of hand sanitizer handy on him in case things get messy. What an immaculate sense of cleanliness. What utter cornball.
These Sounds Keep Running Through My Mind
"Perfect" - Alanis M.
Sometimes is never quite enough
If you're flawless, then you'll win my love
Don't forget to win first place
Don't forget to keep that smile on your face
Be a good boy
Try a little harder
You've got to measure up
And make me prouder
How long before you screw it up?
How many times do I have to tell you to hurry up?
With everything I do for you
The least you can do is keep quiet
Be a good girl
You've gotta try a little harder
That simply wasn't good enough
To make us proud
I'll live through you
I'll make you what I never was
If you're the best, then maybe so am I
Compared to him compared to her
I'm doing this for your own good
You'll make up for what I blew
What's the problem...why are you crying?
Be a good boy
Push a little farther now
That wasn't fast enough
To make us happy
We'll love you just the way you are
If you're perfect.
Neatness' Sake
I really like how Peanuts echo my sentiments about traditions in such a delightful manner. I couldn't have put this in a better way myself if I tried.
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