Random

What is with with wispy voices and delivering the truth in that level tone? I could never talk about something close to my heart without a pitch that went *khirrrr* on the ears. Noam Chomsky, I need lessons.

Giving people too much importance has gotten me no where, except for the healthy amount of scepticism that I reserve for everybody’s vehement convictions and that has served me well.

I must still learn to live that one profound hadith of the Prophet(peace be upon him), ‘Overlook’. That’s just one word but it teaches a lesson so deep that encompasses a whole life of wise, compassionate and enriched living, only if I can master it now.

Life should always be on a ‘more than this’ quest but never on an ungrateful latitude.

Rightfully Yours

I love the header! Give it up for Zaufishan for the colors and her awesome Muslimness!

‘But Dearest, Whither to?’

 

 

Trying to defeat my own state of existence such as it is. This is an attempt at churning the wheels that refuse to move…I’m becoming uncomfortable under my own skin. I have decided to brave mediocrity and pour my words as they come, perhaps this will at least give voice to my opinion that sits smirking in the recesses of my mind.

 

Forgive me for stating the obvious; there is a rabid frenzy out there on the issue of Roy and her statements on Kashmir. I’ve been following the conflict of Kashmir with a great deal of interest, largely out of guilt that we are so unaware of our own brethren living a life in a manner that can only bespeak of shame in the wresting away of the rights of a land that is the pride of the democratic grandiose such as India.

 

Humanity has always been sacrificed at the altar of complacency but this is just not it, it transgresses this ‘minor’ infraction to something more, an unnatural detachment to the cries of the suffering. It’s just not Kashmir, it is the plight of such people under just such circumstances the world over.

 

 

Are we so caught up in our own geographical boundaries that ‘humanity’ stops short on the fringes of these lines on the map? Shouldn’t we endeavour to reach out to the bond that we share of that skimmed over entity, an ought-to in every pageant, the ballot of the politician, the vague grasp of everyman- Humanity. Lost in its own redundancy, yet, there’s nothing else to put it otherwise.

 

What of this state of Kashmir? It’s still a question now, time’s not too far when it might become a rhetoric, stops at a stone cold period. I’ve read up so much on Kashmir, the web is marvelous that way, everything has a flip side and it’s just a click away. If we have arguments that demand ‘Azadi’, there are those who argue against it.  Each diatribe is followed by comments, appalling and intelligent, mostly appalling. It’s baffling how we stew in our own self-importance and lose every shred of empathy. Any person who is less than empathetic with the Kashmiri heart speaks out of ignorance. If you are the true citizen you claim to be, read up on the Human Rights reports over the past many years, reports by international organizations not the piddle that the supercilious and self-serving dish out.

 

While I commend all of those who are speaking up for the people of Kashmir, each one raising points of great importance but now, all of them are in the danger of sounding like a broken record, each statement meant well, meaning the same, unfortunately becoming the verbiage of a friendly thesaurus.

 

‘Azadi’ may well be the hymn in Kashmiri lands but how is one to sustain this, grow as a…nation, if you will. Or the India, built on such grand ideals, takes up the cause to heart, reforms its approach, and wins the heart of Kashmir…

How are we to proceed? Do we see any agenda that is not just the grappling of a drowning governance but the oath of integrity, to follow and to deliver? Do we see the framing of a work plan by the Kashmiri leaders that won’t steep the people in greater turmoil than they are in already once ‘Azadi’ is realized?

 

 

 

 

If we look past the masses of parades of the distrustful and agonized, past the smoking ruins, past the ringing gun shots, past the whistle of flying stones, past the drawn faces of the military, leaders, government- not ignoring them but gathering them as we sweep over this conflict and embrace all of it, in hopes of giving comfort…not by cooking your own goose to serve a soulful soup but making amends, building bridges that will not and cannot be burnt.

 

Look past ‘Azadi’ as a power transfer, or warring interests, but as it is meant to be seen, freedom to live without fear or anger and the liberty to be happy as a people with due rights.

 

Find Clarity in Alacrity. What a Puzzle.

With Alacrity. Aaah the sound of it. I’ve always loved that phrase, only if I was synonymous with it, it would be symphony I tell you. My projects are synonymous with the pipeline which traverses eternity itself at the rate at which I’m going. How am I to conquer the world at this pace

I baffle myself all the time.

Life’s inSignificance

Who would’ve thought I’d be a blogging chicken, shying away from posting only coz……I was full of it! Full of reasons, excuses, and empty angst! What of it now? Nothing, I’m putting my otherself on the ignore, I’ve had enough. About time me thinks.

So here’s hitting the ground running, putting up an absolutely non committal, insignificant post just so I can! hah! Subhan Allah! I’ve missed doing this, tripping over my thoughts as I run my fingers in a flurry over the keyboard, missing out letters,  grinning over a thought or just plain saying it like it is!

I wish I could twang the guitar in punctuation like Elvis to end the post and to a Thankyouverymuch smug closing.

Feels good.

Harpy and loving it.

The Notice I’d want to use outside the Centre for Islamic Studies,

 

Assalamualaikum dearest one and all,

Is it really so hard to put in a 10Rs Note from your exaggerated or not monthly earnings? If you haven’t noticed there’s a lonely looking piggy bank sitting right there, yes ‘piggy’ bank, there’s nothing here to go ‘astighfirullah!’ about- it’s just a name for pete’s sake! The piggy bank couldn’t help being named that way and incidentally a Pig, in spite of its ill-repute is still Allah’s (swt) creation and He knows best. Ok, digression. Sorry. What I wanted to really say is that you might’ve given generously about two months ago a neatly folded 10 Rs note or bright-shiny coins and this might be enough for you to ride the generosity float for quite sometime but really you must know that it’s not enough for the people who will be recipient of your blip-like generosity. Although they won’t complain, I feel the need to take you up by the collar and shake you till you see reason. And in this state of shock and disgruntle, excusing yourself with the tail between the legs is not enough, please go visit the lonely piggy bank and make it happy.

 

Thank you.

 

PS: our Piggy Bank is not even made after its namesake, it’s a Barbie doll trunk!

The ‘Fairness’ of Eman

The regular Joe Abdullah is in search of the Super-Muslimah. Br. Joe Abdullah will attend numerous talks, seminars on Islam. He makes it a point to never miss a halaqa or the study circle. When the brothers decide that he’s been single long enough, they ask him to start working on his Bio-data for circulation amongst the sisters. The bio-data arrives running well into 5 pages at the least, all detailing the requirements of the sister, with the first paragraph vaguely attempting to provide details about him.

The brothers will peruse through the magna-cum-laude and exclaim ‘MashaAllah!’ in unison. They will promptly take copies home to their wives so that they can pass along the booklet onto other single sisters. Once the sisters have searched the document for any hopes of making it even by hair’s breadth, they realize it’s a pitifully hopeless case. No sister could compete with THAT! The ‘leisure time activities’ requirement should be read twice or more –very carefully- just so, to make sure that it’s for real.

When the booklet is approaching its end, you can see in very small text like a statutory warning, ‘Important requirement- Must be fair and beautiful.’, this is apart from that requirement that reminds the sister that she should also be from a ‘respectable’ and educated, ‘decently well-off’ family background; no matter her level of eeman, the struggles she had to face in getting to this state, the family that has abandoned her.

Br. Joe Abdullah I pray someday you open your eyes to see greater beauty than what your blindness demands, I pray that you feel ashamed for strait-jacketing this sister ‘full of eman and taqwah’ into such petty requirements, I pray that someday you repent this grand-production of a booklet and know that a real muslimah is far above all this as is a real muslim. Attending every Halaqa, Study circle and talk that there is does not make you a worthier or more perceptive muslim than others if you’re still stuck in the above collusion. I pray that you wake-up before it’s too late.

 P.S: This is dedicated to all those sisters who had to go through similar straits and to all the sisters at my halaqa circle whose beauty far precedes such farcical definitions.

Ayn Rand

 

 

I’ve been meaning to write about Ayn Rand for quite sometime now…well, since the moment I finished ‘Atlas Shrugged’ with great relief, i.e.  I’ve high respect for the author for having crystallized her thoughts with such crispness of dialogue and narrative; she also makes certain points that may well challenge the thinking of many but unfortunately, she’s an unforgivable drone. She repeats the same ‘crisp’ dialogues over and over again. I feel horrible about criticizing someone for something that’s obviously their lifetime’s achievement but I’m sorry Mrs Ayn Rand, I would have told you something similar but well cushioned if I’d have ever had the chance to meet you after having read your book and being the person I am now.

 

Rand’s philosophy is not a winner, ladies and gentlemen, if you care to know. Her philosophy is the well-woven package of universal truths that have been recognized and embraced for all of time by conscientious souls, discerning minds but there is the brutal approach that she adopts that makes you feel like you’ve just been force-fed, all with good intentions.

 

She preaches the philosophy of ‘Objectivism’, of ‘The Virtue of Selfishness’. Even if I don’t agree with her completely, there are times when I feel that she has spoken my mind. The characters in her book are strong and imposing (makes quite an aspirant out of one) but really, what she hasn’t considered is the alienation of those people who might have been drawn towards the truth, if it weren’t for the brutally dogmatic stand, of people who might’ve been saved only with a little more kindness, understanding and patience. A quick-fix in the manner of a coup, to rout all evil by isolating the worthy ones in hopes of awakening this ‘other’ faction’s sense of wrong-doing is heartless. The glory (even if real or imagined) of such a revolution would be short-lived.

 

Her use of language is quite another thing. Use of words that have always been associated with negative imagery only builds the degree of wariness, the warmth is missing to befriend the…the… cupboard revolutionaries (still hiding, still discovering, still unsure of themselves), the ‘diamonds-in-the-rough’. Words are the stuff of a working wand that may be flourished in a swish of a delightful surprise, not shock especially in matters as delicate as coaxing someone to think better, live better. As a psychologist, I hold the power of words in immense awe. You make or break. Period.

 

I have reasons to find many other contentions with her work, especially, her easy dismissal of the role of faith, of spirituality in ones’ lives. It’s presumptuous and it’s dangerous. The importance of faith is unquestionable. A ‘moral code’ based on this should be a wonderful possibility, a revered lodestone. And on the ‘The Virtue of Selfishness’, the sheer misapplication that I see of this strain of philosophy is appalling and this provision that there’s room for colossal misunderstanding, itself, writes the story of inevitable fallibility of this circuitous logic. If selfishness were a creature, it would be a shape changer, easily switching from the guise of virtue to vice and vice versa, at will, never letting on one about its true identity.

 

In tentative summary, I feel that a little more heart, a little less judgement, a lot less sentencing, a great deal of patience, understanding and oodles of that famed courage can go a long way in making this world a better place. You just ride the storm baby- minus a twenty page speech about its ups and downs!

Of 5D+ Realities

I remember from the days I interned at the therapeutic community for schizophrenia and other schizotypal patients, one particular patient. He carried himself with an apparent aura of enigma, detached and rarely conversant. Over the days, we became something of passing acquaintances- I would leave him alone and pretend he wasn’t around when I sensed he needed to be alone but other times he’d walk over and greet me with marked nonchalance but that’s when he was in dire need of an audience.

On one such occasion, when we used to have almost normal ‘discussions’(one sided, more likely), he looked up suddenly with his piercing eyes and said something that never fails to unsettle me. I almost believed he could see right through me at that particular time. It took all my effort not to squirm as if I’d been found guilty and the act would save face.

He had said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Learn to loosen up and try living it like that”.

We’d never had discussions where I’d revealed anything about myself; in all our meetings, I’d mostly be the silent but attentive audience to what he had to say. This, was something of a shock. I’d felt the same way many times but I’d always brushed it away as an excuse that the mind resourcefully invents.

In Islam, all types of mental illnesses do not have to have the same explanation- Physical or emotional, there is also the ‘supernatural’ to contend with. There exists a parallel world of ‘spirits’ (to put it in highly simplistic terms), the world of djinns, beings created from smokeless fire who lead a life much akin to the human way, except of course, they have different powers that we don’t have. Every human being, at the time of his birth is assigned a guardian angel and a djinn (specifically called the Khaareen). Their respective activities are all but obvious- yes, one’s the guide, another, the whisperer of temptations.

These two have been witness to your lives for all of time, so to speak. But, certain human beings play with the forbidden, they learn to converse with their tempters- angels being angels know their boundaries and never cross that invisible line. This situation is highly potent, fraught with its own dangers. Smooth talkers can never be trusted as we’re wont to know, the tempters being no exceptions. They’ll eventually manipulate the human but in turn give him a taste of something else, the ability to converse with others’ appointed djinns and thus the means to gain obscene amount of insight into the other person’s life. This, I’ve read, is how the local medium, shaman, witch, warlock works. But every thing has it limits, the djinn only knows half-truths, never in the full-knowledge of the future, hence the warning to stay away from sure-fire traps of promised havens, or abodes through such encounters.

My point here, having explained in fair details about the djinn, is to mention their role in mental illnesses. Possessions apart, conversations with the beings itself might be enough to unhinge. When piercing-eyes pronounced the statement in no uncertain tones, I felt …how should I put it, …compromised?

Strong Iman is an invaluable weapon; I’ve heard that strong iman makes us inviolable from such treason, no less (since every person is his own state- my own theory of anarchy).

That was also my last working day at the place; I walked away with, admittedly, a sigh of relief. I want to return to work as a volunteer but according to one fatwa, according to a highly reliable sister, a sheikh said that it’s better to stay away from people you suspect of being in such states-  i.e, possessed or ‘shadowed’(another story, altogether). The dilemma is, how do I reconcile my professional obligations with just such a situation?

Any opinions out there?

All I gotta say for now, ‘Deuced If I knew, deuced if I don’t!’

Matrimonial (s)COOP

 

At 24, I must now hear the matrimonial clock ticking away grimly or so according to my mother. She rues the day she decided to give me reprieve for two more years, 22 would’ve looked far more appealing on the summarized Bio-Data- Your life on a cold, white sheet of paper, no less, no more.

Networking, by far is the only life-line once you’re on the block. You have ‘marriage brokers’, a dime, a dozen, all with registers-full of male and female faces softened by the special ‘matrimonial photo effects’- I kid you not- you just stop at a studio and calmly announce, ‘One matrimonial photo shoot, please’, and promptly they shall enquire nary a blink, ‘2 or more dresses maydum? With or without make-up?’

From thence, it’s been a circus, all in the name of filial love, what it makes one do- I don’t care to relive or wish it on anybody.

Next you must thumb through these endless registers after you’ve become an entry in the columns yourself. If something hopeful is sighted amongst the one-page renditions of life, as it is, of the attached post-card- sized smiling 0980128 or 5752387 or 7269329, then the phone is put to use a great deal to settle meetings of the families. When the agreed-upon day dawns, it shall always be one way only, the boy’s family must first have the honor of visiting the girl’s, if, otherwise is suggested, it’d be laughed right out, or tut-tutted as forward thinking like a train that is headed for inevitable collision.

 Note: This is not a universal example, things might be done differently but this is what I’ve been witness to for eons now and it hasn’t changed much. 

The girl must make her appearance in all her shining meekness, a coyness that shall not allow her to look up even once, she must curb her tongue, speak only when spoken to and the responses must be minimal, preferably monosyllabic.

I find interacting with the older members of the family more genuine, respecting elders comes naturally, having been ingrained right from our first wail to keep that tongue in check and all manners perfectly in place but interacting with this new species, ‘The Prospective’ is very close to coming to spontaneous detonation. Having harbored every conceivable evil towards the other sex- stupidity ruling the list, you come onto the scene with a healthy dose of suspicion and a great deal of seething resentment at having to do what is as desirable as having slugs for breakfast. One’s own family turns a deaf ear to any protests, all the while laying down instructions and giving unwelcome ‘advice’.

 -         you’re a girl, you have to get married

-         you can’t expect to remain single and happy forever

-         no you cannot appear in your full hijab, it’s not done, draping a dupatta is as good as hijab

-         these are the ways of the world dearest

-         don’t you want our happiness

-         no, you can’t just spread the word around the circles and people won’t appear out of thin air, think of it, you’ll make a brilliant match, even if you’ve to suffer the so-called ‘indignity’ of being a register number- with- a- face

-          *chuckle, chuckle@-@

-         now, I know you need to be yourself, but just this once, hold your tongue, will you? We don’t want to scare them off now, do we?

This is but the beginning, more rounds of high-teas and endless discussions will culminate the great- meeting-of-the families. It’s not marriage per se that I object to, but the approach to the matter that I dislike.

My friends seem to have taken it all well and most of them are now married. But why am I finding all this terrible? I can settle for the ‘ways-of-the-world’ most of the time but these days I just want to kick someone/something hard-  this nebulous world, perhaps, that dictates my happiness and that of my family’s.

In addition to all this, there’s more. Now that everybody knows that you’re in the game, you must watch your steps, v-e-r-y carefully. I’ve been corrected a million times, now, it hasn’t helped any and it won’t! It’s just plain absurd!

-When in a gathering, do not help the hostess, it draws the attention of all the ‘aunties’ who want you for their sons, nephews, neighbors.

- address every older woman as ‘aunty’, even if you’d love to call the warm woman as everybody else is calling her, ‘maasi’, ‘phupi’, ‘ammijan’, all this had hardly mattered before, but now it’s just signals approval of your interest in any tom-cats they might have in the bag or even more vile, one’s snaring prowess by garnering affection with endearments just so you can wheedle out a match.

It gets darned treacherous with increasing degree. Even, being human might not be allowed for fear of sending all sorts of muddled signals.

Patience, I tell you, is a trying virtue.