Mayyah and Me

Its been so many years. And I'm so very scared of forgetting all my memories with her. Though I can still hear her laughter. I don't understand why God had to take her, or take anyone who is loved so much for that matter. But maybe, sometime, I will understand, maybe. We all will. For now, I just really miss her.

  

Summayyah Akram

May 18, 1981 - November 23, 1994

'Tis The Season To Be Happy Lalalala lalalala

Ever since the beginning of my quest to be happy and unbreakable (yes I will be), I'm looking for every chance to celebrate happiness. And as it turns out, a lot of them are coming my way soon.

(that's my own wedding dress)

For one, we have invitations to a few upcoming weddings, at least two of which we will be enjoying the most, hopefully. Traditional dholkis and dance preps have already begun and while my routine doesn't allow me to attend each one, I'm still being swept into the whole excitement. Which reminds me, have you ever seen one of those impressive makeup tutorials on YouTube where the girl doesn't even need makeup since she has flawless skin anyway but still does the works so smoothly that it makes people like me feel even worse? Right then, so I got motivated enough to try being talented myself. I convinced my sister to be my model and it was all working wonderfully until at the end of her photo shoot she refused to make the results public. No, no, not because I was that bad but only because she was embarrassed about going pro. Here's a sneak peak at her eye makeup. Let me know what you think but *Sshh* don't tell her.

Hot Water And The Works

Dear Unnamed Greek (Lord),
Thank you for discovering the shower. While you enjoy your eternal days in Heaven (for you must surely be in Heaven) please know that us mortals love you everyday. For every little drop that hits the human body, for every little acu-poke that it inspires, you will be blessed.

Sincerely,
me

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Dear Benjamin W. Maughan,
Dude, do you have any idea what you have done? You have single-handedly invented one of the greatest blessings in the history of mankind. Hot water - heart warming, ache dissolving, love inspiring, fog communicating hot water!

*sigh*

People appreciate you (most of us at least) and so God must love you too.

Sincerely,
me

Project Bird Home

I am on a quest to be happy. Happy and unbreakable. And so, I turn to my love for painting, even though I don't quite know how to...really...but still...

I have ten absolutely beautiful budgies and finches. JD got them for me recently and ever since then I have been trying to make them as comfortable as possible. I couldn't find little homes for them anywhere so I thought I'd make them myself.

I couldn't trust myself with wood and nails *nervous laugh* so I bought different sized clay pots (mutki) that's traditionally made here. The guy that I got them from had cut holes in them for me, through where the birds could come and go...

So all that remained was to make them look pretty. Yesterday afternoon, me and my sister sat down and painted them. No fancy materials, just good old poster colors.

After they had dried out, I put some cut up straws of grass inside to make them comfy.

And finally, with flexible wire I fixed them inside the cages. The birds went crazy. They chirped and they sang and literally fought over who got which home. It was super cute.

Iqbal

Today is "Iqbal Day" in Pakistan. This is the day when Allama Muhammad Iqbal was born.

Iqbal remains to be one of the most acclaimed poets in literary history whose Persian and Urdu works have influenced and inspired millions of people around the world. He is widely recognized in not just Pakistan but India, Iran and Afghanistan. In fact, much of his work has now been translated in English and many European languages as well. His poetry greatly inspired the creation of Pakistan and the Iranian Revolution but what I most love about his work is the reflection and perspective of life and its many faces. Following is one of his famous works translated in English. It is a dialogue between Man and God which he wrote in the early 20th century. One of my favorites indeed.

Note: I copied this from somewhere and since it is a translation, I myself am confused about a couple of words in this but it nonetheless captures the whole essence.


Shikwa (Complaint to God)

Why should I abet the loss, why forget the gain,
Why forfeit the future, bemoan the past in vain?
Hear the wail of nightingale, and remain unstirred,
Am I a flower insensate that will not say a word?
The power of speech emboldens me to speak out my heart,
I'll sure be damned, I know, if fault my God.

***
Hear, O Lord, from the faithful ones this sad lament,
From those used to hymn a praise, a word of discontent.
Eternally were you present, Lord, eternally omniscient,
The flower hung upon the tree, but without incense.
Be Thou fair, tell us true, O fountain head of grace,
How could the scent spread without the breeze apace?

***
The world presented a queer sight ere we took the stage,
Stones and plants in your stead were worshiped in that age.
Man, being inured to senses, couldn't accept a thing unseen,
How could a formless God impress his senses keen?
Tell me, Lord, if anyone ever invoked Thy name,
The strength of Muslim arm alone restored Thy fame.

***
There was no dearth of peoples on this earth before,
Turkish tribes and Persian clans lived in days of yore;
The Greeks and the Chinese both bred and throve,
Christians as well as the Jews on this planet roved.
But who in Thy holy name raised his valiant sword,
Who set the things right, resolved the rigmarole?

***
We were the warrior bands battling for Thy cause,
Now on land, now on water, we the crusades fought.
Now in Europe's synods did we loudly pray,
Now in African deserts made a bold foray.
Not for territorial greed did we wield the sword,
Not for pelf and power did we suffer the blows.

***
Had we been temped by the greed of glittering gold,
Instead of breaking idols, we would have idols sold.
We impressed on every heart the oneness of our mighty Lord,
Even under the threat of sword, bold and clever was our call.
Who conquered, tell us Thou, the fearful Khyber pass?
Who vanquished the Imperial Rome, who made it fall?

***
Who broke the idols of the primitive folks?
Who fought the kafirs, massacred their hordes?
If the prayer time arrived right amid the war,
With their faces turned to Kaaba, knelt down the brave Hejaz.
Mahmud and Ayaz stood together in the same flank,
The ruler and the ruled forget the difference in their rank.

***
The rich and poor, Lord and slave, all were leveled down,
All became brethren in love, with Thy grace crowned.
We roamed the world through, visited every place,
Did our rounds like the cup, serving sacred ale.
Forget about the forests, we spared not the seas,
Into the dark, unfathomed ocean, we pushed our steeds.

***
We removed falsehood from the earth's face,
We broke the shackles of the human race.
We reclaimed your Kaaba with our kneeling brows,
We pressed the sacred Quran to our heart and soul.
Even then you grumble, we are false, untrue,
If you call us faithless, tell us what are you?

***
You reserve your favors for men of other shades,
While you hurl your bolts on the Muslim race.
This is not our complaint that such alone are blessed,
Who do not know the etiquette, nor even can converse.
The tragedy is while kafirs are with houries actually blest,
On vague hopes of houries in heaven the Muslim race is made to rest!

***
Poverty, taunts, ignominy stare us in the face,
Is humiliation the sole reward of our suffering race?
To perpetuate Thy name is our sole concern,
Deprived of the saqi's aid can the cup revolve and turn?
Gone is your assemblage, off your lovers have sailed,
The midnight sights are no more heard, nor the morning wails;

***
They pledged their hearts to you, what is their return?
Hardly had they stepped inside, when they were externed.
Thy lovers came and went away, fed on hopes of future grace,
Search them now with the lamp of your glowing face.
Unassuaged is Laila's ache, unquenched is Qais's thirst,
In the wilderness of Nejd, the wild deer are still berserk.

***
The same passion thrills the hearts, enchanting still is beauty's gaze,
You are the same as before, same too is the Prophet's race.
Why then this indifference, without a cause or fault?
Why with your threatening looks dost thou break our heart?
Accepted that the flame of love burneth low and dim,
We do not, as in your, dance attendance on your whims;

***
But you too, pardon us, possess a coquettish heart,
Now on us, now on others, alight your amorous darts.
The spring has now taken leave, broken lies the lyre string,
The birds that chirped among the leaves have also taken wing;
single nightingale is left singing on the tree,
A flood of song in her breast is longing for release.

***
From atop the firs and pines the doves have flown away,
The floral petals lie scattered all along the way.
Desolate lie the garden paths, once dressed and neat,
Leafless hang the branches on the naked trees.
The nightingale is unconcerned with the season's range,
Would that someone in the grove appreciates her wail.

***
May the nightingale's wail pierce the listeners' hearts,
May the clinking caravan awaken slumbering thoughts!
Let the hearts pledge anew their faith to you, O Lord,
Let's re-charge our cups from the taverns of the past.
Through I hold a Persian cup, the wine is pure Hejaz,
Thought I sing an Indian song, the turn is of the Arabian cast.

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Jawab-e-Shikwa (The Response)

The word springing from the heart surely carries weight,
Though not endowed with wings, it yet can fly in space.
Pure and spiritual in its essence, it pegs its gaze on high,
Rising from the lowly dust, grazes past the skies.
Keen, defiant, and querulous was my passion crazed,
It pierced through the skies, my audacious wail.

***
"Someone is there," thus spoke the heaven's warder old,
the planets said, "From above proceeds this voice so bold."
No, no," the moon said," "tis someone on the earth below,"
Butted in the milky way: "The voice is hereabouts, I trow."
Ruzwan alone, if at all, understood aright,
He knew it was the man, from heaven once exiled.

***
Even the angles wondered who raised this cry,
All the celestial denizens looked about surprised.
Does man possess the might to scale imperial heights?
Has this mere pinch of dust learnt the knack to fly?
What are these earthly folks? Careless of all respect,
How bold and impudent, the lowly dwellers of the earth!

***
Extremely rude and insolent, cross even with God,
Is it the same Adam whom angels once did laud?
Steeped in bliss, man is of wisdom's lore possessed,
Nonetheless, he's alien to humility's sterling worth.
Man feels proud of the power of his speech,
But the fool doesn't know how and what to speak.

***
You narrate a woeful tale, thus the voice arose,
Your heart is boiling over with tears uncontrolled.
You have delivered your plaint with perfect skill and art,
You have brought the humans in contact with God.
We are inclined to grant, but none deserves our grace,
None treads the righteous path, whom to show the way?

***
Our school is open to all, but talent there is none,
Where is that soil fertile to breed the human gems?
We reward the deserving folks with splendid meed,
We grant newer worlds to those who strive and seek.
Arms have been drained of strength, hearts have gone astray,
The Muslim race is a blot on the Prophet's face.

***
Idol-breakers have left the scene, idol-makers remain,
Aazar has inherited Abraham's glorious name.
Wine, flask, and drinkers-all are new and changed,
A different Kaaba, different idols now your worship claim.
There was a time when you were respected far and wide,
Once this desert bloom was the season's wealth and pride.

***
Every Muslim then was a lover profound of God,
Your sole beloved once was the all-embracing Lord.
Who removed falsehood from the earth's face?
Who broke the shackles of the human race?
Who reclaimed our Kaaba with their kneeling brows?
Who presses the sacred Quran to their heart and soul?

***
True, they were your forbears, but what are you, I say?
Idle sitting, statue-like you dream away your days.
What did you say? Muslims are with hopes of houries consoled,
Even if your plaint is false, your words should be controlled.
Justice is the law supreme, operative on this globe,
Muslims can't expect the houries, if they follow the kafir's code.

***
None of you is, in fact, deserving of the "hoor",
A Moses is but hard to find, burneth still the Tur.
Common to the race entire is their gain or loss,
Common is their faith and creed, common too the Rasul of God;
One Kaaba, one Allah, and one Quran inspire their heart,
Why can't the Muslims then behave like a single lot?

***
Cast, creed and factions have disjointed this race,
Is this way to forge ahead, to flourish in the present age?
It's the poor who visit the mosque, join the kneeling rows,
The poor alone observe the fasts, practice self-control.
If someone repeats our name, it's the poor again,
The devout poor hide your sins, preserve your vaunted name.

***
Drunk with the wine of wealth, the rich are unconcerned with God,
The Muslim race owes its life to the poor, indigent lot.
"Muslims have vanished from earth," this is what we hear,
but we ask, " Were the Muslims ever the Jewish sects.
You are Nisars by your looks, but Hindus by conduct,
Your culture puts to shame even the Jewish sects.

***
If the son is alien to his learned father's traits,
How can he then claim his father's heritage?
All of you love to lead a soft, luxurious life,
Are you a Muslim indeed? Is this the Muslim style?
All of you desire to be invested with the crown,
You should first produce a heart worthy of renown.

***
The new age is the lighting blast, it will set your barns on fire,
It can't produce in groves or deserts the Old Sinai's burning spire.
The new fire consumes for fuel the blood of nations old,
The clothes of the Prophet's race are incinerated in its folds.
Don't be depressed, gardener, by the present scene,
The starry buds are about to burst with a brilliant sheen.
***
The garden will soon be rid of its thorns and weeds,
The martyr's blood will bring to bloom all the dormant seeds.
Mark how the sky reflects its orange purple hues,
The rising sun will flush the sky with its rays anew.
Islamic tree exemplifies cultivation long and hard,
A fruit of arduous gardening over centuries past.

***
Your caravan needn't fear the perils of the path,
But for the call of bells you own no wealth at all.
You are the plant of light, the burning wick that never fails,
With the power of your thought you can incinerate the veil.
We'll love you as our own, if you follow the Prophet's ways,
The world is but a paltry thing, you'll command the pen and page.

Whose War Is This

I'm so depressed these days, and I can't help it. Which is why the 'writer's bloc'. Writing always helped me and I always knew something or the other to write about but I really don't know why this long absence of words.

It may be because of the sad situation my country is in. The insurgency by the Taliban and the suicide bombings have scared us all. The government continues to fight their own superior battles while the Army fights. One by one, they kill and capture the terrorists. And every once in a while, we hear about a brave martyr's fight till the end. The terrorists however, keep pouring in, showing no mercy. What human heart can think of blowing themselves at a market busy with shoppers or a college cafeteria filled with students. I fail to understand this human limit, this evil option. And yet, no word of hope, no condoling presence from our 'president'.

Just going out to run my necessary errands has become a feat. Nothing's significantly different in the way people go about their lives here, but nobody stops to be nice anymore either. In fact, for the ignorant ones, the party still goes on, literally. But for the poor, for the hardworking, for the considerate or for the man who is slowly building a future for his children, the uncertainty remains.

And it doesn't end here. The frustration and the desperation is creeping in the veins of our people. More and more of us are losing faith, losing our values and morals, losing the respect of life, patience and tolerance, of the ability to speak good and do good. Where are we heading?

(photo courtesy: Facebook Group)