In loving memory of my father

I do not know from where to begin! How does one sum up the loss of a lifetime of unconditional and selfless love? They say that writing is like cutting open a vein! Today i am going to do exactly that! I am going to open up the most powerful and painful vein of my life.  Many a times i have thought of writing about this particular void in my life, but somehow i could not muster up the courage. But today, on the 15th death anniversary of my beloved father, i am going to write about him.

I clearly remember that morning from 15 years ago, as if it happened yesterday. My mother and me had gone to market for my wedding shopping, when we got a call from my brother, asking us to come home immediately! I still remember the fear in his trembling voice. When we rushed back home, we came to know that my brother had received an over seas call, informing him that my father had met with a road accident while travelling from Iraq to Jordan. Though he had died on the spot, but at that time we were told that he was in a critical condition, just to soften the blow. I must have never prayed so earnestly in my life. We all prayed and begged to Almighty to save my father, but little did we know that he had already left this world.

When we got the real news, our world came crashing down. The fact that he had died thousands of miles away from home, made it all the more difficult to believe. My first reaction was utter denial and disbelief! He was only 49 years old, with not a single ailment or an ounce of fat in his body! How could he die! But then death never looks for reasons or justifications! One has to accept it as it is!  As a 21 year old girl, who was about to get married in a month, this was a life shattering news for me. My father was my hero, my mentor, my teacher, my guide, my world! Being the only daughter and the eldest of three children, i was very much attached to him. But then which daughter is not attached to her father! I used to call him 'pappa', and if  i would be in a very good mood, or if i wanted to persuade him for anything, i would call him 'appa'! Why i would omit the 'p' is a mystery to me as well! :)

We slowly coped with the loss, and life gained semblance of normalcy, though it never became same again. But we somehow learnt to live without him.My mother picked up the broken fragments of our lives. Family and friends were a great support to us. And the most powerful factor was of course the dua and blessing of our Maula(RA), as he prayed for my father near the Zarih mubarak of Maulana Ali (sa). This dua gave us the strength to survive.

 My father was not only an exceptional father, but he was an extra ordinary man. Though he hailed from a small village in Rajasthan, he achieved great heights in his life.He had the good fortune of studying in 'Al jamea tus saifiyah' in Surat, and this institution  shaped his whole life and gave his personality brilliant dimensions. He became a professor in  "Al jamea tus saifiyah". He was a very good orator, and he would mesmerize the crowds with his soft voice and powerful words.He was not only a teacher, but he was a mentor, a guide, a confidante for his students. Many of his students have shared their experiences with me that how my father had touched their lives. Even today, after all these years, if i am in a dilemma about any course of action, i ask myself that 'would my dad have approved of my action'?

He had a dynamic personality, and yet he made people feel very comfortable. Everyone connected to him on their own levels.How i wish i had inherited some of his humbleness! :) He would be the life of any picnic or party! He was a very good swimmer, and a very adventurous being. (This quality i have definitely inherited from him!!) He also had the artistic abilities and he could also stitch really well.

He was far ahead of his times. The younger generation connected to him very well, because he understood them. In spite of his busy schedule, he was always there for me and my brothers. He would supervise and help us in each aspect of our lives. We would have long discussions about different subjects, be it arabic, physics, biology or politics. How i wish his time with us was not so short, so we could have learnt more from him. We took it for granted that he would always be around to answer our queries, to help and guide us!

His vast knowledge on different subjects amazed me. We had cupboards full of books in different languages and on different subjects, in our house. He would read late into night. In spite of his position and status in society, he was a very simple man at heart. His dream was to someday retire and immerse himself in research work.    

Even today after 15 years of his death, people still remember him with tears in their eyes! What can be a greater achievement! For others he was a boss, a colleague, a friend, a teacher, a brother. But for me he was my 'pappa', who was always there for me whenever i needed him. Who nurtured me with pure love, who pampered and tolerated my whims and fancies, who shaped my personality and who gave me the confidence to face the world. He was the one who listened patiently to my non stop chatter, with whom i sometimes fought and got my way, whom i sometimes coaxed and cajoled, and at other times i simply bowed to his wise and firm decisions.

Today (13th jumad al ukhra), on his 15th death anniversary, i dedicate this poem by Shelley to him. (One of my friends dedicated this poem to her mother, whom she had lost to cancer.)

                                    Music, when soft voices die,
                                    Vibrates in the memory
                                    Odours, when sweet violets sicken, 
                                    Live within the sense they quicken.

                                     Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
                                     Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;
                                     And so thy thoughts when thou art gone,
                                     Love itself shall slumber on. 
                                 
Pappa, you are and will always be missed and remembered dearly!!

P.s. I invite the readers who knew him, to share their experiences about him. 

Silhouettes...

Sometimes less is more. Sometimes a silhouette shot can portray a message more beautifully and effectively than a regular shot. And i particularly like the silhouette shots because they don't give the viewers a clear idea of what is there, but leave a lot to imagination, and that is the beauty of silhouettes! They evoke a feeling of mystery and suspense.

Lately i have been fascinated with silhouette photography. I like the fact that the silhouette shots are open to one's imagination and fancy, and the viewers can interpret those  in any way they like!  For instance, have a look at this one:

One fine evening as i was standing in my balcony, i noticed these two pigeons and in my excitement to capture them in camera, i did not realize that i was shooting against the sunlight! So it turned out to be a silhouette by default. ;)  This particular image has kept my imagination active and i have come up with so may different situations to interpret this one! The male pigeon seems to be wooing his lady love, and she is using the typical sly female gestures. May be she is secretly pleased with his advances, but she is not showing it!

Or may be they already are a couple and the male pigeon is apologizing for forgetting her birthday or anniversary may be! :) What a typical male thing to do! Even our avian male friends are prone to this particular forgetfulness.

Or looking at it from another angle, may be she is upset with him because she suspects him of having eyes for other females in the area! And the poor thing is trying to convince her that she is the only one in his life, and that his heart flutters (quite literally) on her sight!  :))  And the readers are welcome to interpret this one in any way they fancy!

These images were captured on utraan or makar sankrant, when the whole India seems to be on terraces! My sons dragged me to the terrace, and because i can not fly a kite at all, i was quite  happy and content with my camera. The mood was jubilant all around, and the cries of 'kai po che' could be heard everywhere! What joy is derived from cutting a five rupee worth kite is beyond my understanding! The pride and happiness is so great as if one has conquered a fort!  ;) Or may be it is a case of sour grapes for me! ;)

This festival reminds me of the book "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. What a beautifully poignant book! I have written a review about this book which can be viewed here: The kite runner.

I shot this one on a beautiful morning on the soothing waters of enchanting Dal lake in kashmir. They do not refer to Kashmir as 'heaven on earth' for nothing! Dal lake is a place like none other! It is a world within itself and it will need another post! :)

These are a few other images captured here and there! I invite my readers to interpret the silhouettes in this post and give their witty and imaginative inputs!  :)

You are everywhere!!

O' Maula, you are eveywhere! Forty days_the official mourning period has come to an end. But can we ever  stop mourning you O'Maula? A lifetime would not be enough! And how can we not miss you each second? You_ who have been responsible for our very existence! Though you have departed from this world, but i see you everywhere. You are everywhere O' Maula!

You are in my thoughts when i open my eyes in the morning and look at your huge photo frame in my bedroom. It is from you that i seek benedictions and strength to go through one more day. You are there in the fresh roses in my balcony, as they remind me of the freshness of your benevolent and smiling face. You are there in the first beams of sunlight that stream through my window in the morning, as they remind me of the divine light that would radiate from you.

You are there in the innocent faces of my kids, as they look at your photo and then look at me with sad eyes. They remind me of your shafaqat on them, as you had blessed them many times with different barakaat of tehneek, sehra, qadambosi, ziarat sharaf , and the list is endless.

O' Maula you are there in my wedding album, performing my nisbat (engagement) and then my nikah!

You are there in each moment of my life, silently blessing, nurturing and protecting me. I remember the countless times that you have blessed me with your salaam, qadambosi, talaqqi, and the most precious honour of sitting in front of you for 5 years for shafahi imtehaan. The expressions on your kind face when you would look at us from behind those glasses are engraved in my memory forever.

You are there in each book that i open, because it is you who has nurtured me in your Jamea for eleven priceless years of my life. You are there in each word that i teach, because without your blessings, we would not be able to utter a single word.

You are there when we return home tired in the afternoon, as the thali of 'faiz ul mawaid il burhaniyah' is waiting for us! How can we forget you for even a second! And how can we ever thank your endless benevolence.

And O' Maula, you are there most evidently in your mansoos_ Aali qadar Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin(tus). You are there in his illuminated face, his graceful gait, his powerful voice, his charismatic smile, his magnetic gaze _ each and every gesture of your mansoos reminds us of you. He is your true heir! "Man ashbaha abaaho fama zalam"!

His tenderness and affection for his followers is same as yours. His magnetic personality draws thousands and thousands towards him each day. O' our beloved Maula! You continue to live through your son and mansoos_ Syedna Mufaddal saifuddin (tus) , as he truly carries your legacy. May He live a long , healthy and prosperous life till the day of judgement, and may we continue to see You in Him. Ameen 

Missing you each second O' Maula!!

We Dawoodi Bohras across the world are mourning the sad demise of our beloved spiritual leader, His Holiness Dr. Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin(RA). Hundreds of eulogies have been written for him. This one  i have written for him with my humble pen. 

دنيا ميطط تها جو لطف وه باقي نهي رها

جينسس ميطط جــو مزه تها وه باقي نهي رها

                                                                        بلبل كا وه  ترانه جو ميضضها كبهي لككا                                                                                      

سننسس ميطط اْج  اس كو ذرا دل نهي لككا                                                                                

غنححو طط ميطط تها تبسم طراوت جو تهي كبهي

وه تازككي عدم هسس  وه خوشبو نهي رهي

                                                                        اْئي جو نعيِ مولى قيامت كي تهي ككهرٌي                                                                                               

كهـــرام تهــــا مححا هوا اْفت كي تهي ككهرٌي                                                                          

دل نسس كها كه كيسسس بهلا  كرلوطط ميطط يقيطط

كيسسس ميطط مان لو طط كه ميرسس شاه اب نهيطط

هر ســــانس   مــيري   مولى جُرٌي    ْ تهي تمهي   سسس    بس                                                     

هر   اك   خوشي مجهسس تو    ملي تهي تمهي   سسس بــس                                                              

 هيطط  دٌهوند تي نككاهيطط ميري تجهــ كو ححار سو

دكهـــتا نهيطط كـــهيطط بهي اسس مولىْ كهاطط هسس تو

مؤمن كا     دانه دانه    تمـــهارسس كـــرم ســـسس تها                                                             

عالم ميطط اْب   و دانه   تمهـــارسس قدم  ســسس تها               

عـــالي قدر كو ديكها    ميانسس  كسس  ساتهـ      ساتهـ

كيسسس  اب   ان كو   ديكهسس جنازسس كــسس سـاتهـ   ساتهـ

تـــا عــمر تـــيــــرسس قدموطط   ثثه  مولىْ جهكا يا سر                                                        

هــــــائسس جـــــهـــكاهسس  اْج  وه ســــر تيري قبر ثثر                                                                

ديكهي جو جاه و شوكت وشانِ ثثدر كبهي

ديكهينككسس وه   هي  حشمت و شانِ ثثسر سبهي

دشمن كي تيرسس خزيِ ميطط هونككي عمر تمام                                                         

روشـــن جبيطط كي ديد كــــسس مــؤمــن ثثيئسس ككا جام                                                 

هــــو طــول عمر تيري اسس عـــالي قــدر شـــــــها

خوشيــاطط  رهسس هميشه جظظاطط ثثه  هو    تُو  وهــاطط

تسنـــيم باندي ثثر هـــو اسس مـــولىْ بس اك نــــظر                                                  

هر ثثل هو   اُس  كا تيري هي خدمة ميطط بس بسر 

And the tears continue to flow....

O' Maula! O' Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin (RA) where are you? Why did you leave us Maula? We mumineen across the globe were eagerly waiting to celebrate your milad mubarak in a few weeks! What my eyes are seeing today, my heart denies to believe and my mind refuses to accept or register.

My eyes that had always seen Aliqadar maula(tus) holding the Miyana  of Aqa Burhanuddin(RA) , saw him holding his Janaza today. The eyes that had witnessed the grand and majestic procession of 100th milad mubarak, and they had seen thousands of mumineen on the streets of Mumbai with joy written on each face, those eyes today witnessed the funeral of Aqa Maula, and thousands of mumineen on the same Mumbai streets, with grief stricken faces. The eyes that for years had seen Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin(RA) doing sajda near his beloved father's qabr mubarak, today saw Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin(TUS) offering sajda near his father's qabr mubarak with same khushu and khudu. The eyes that had several times observed Aliqadar Maula(tus) kissing the hands and feet of Burhanuddin Maula(RA), saw him kissing his qabr today. Alas! How can these eyes stop shedding tears after witnessing such heart wrenching scenes, and how can the inward eye not flash images from past and not compare them.

My heart and tongue that had always uttered the priceless words 'inni wallahe uhibboka ya maulaya' in Maula's hazrat, uttered the same words near his qabr mubarak. The feelings of over whelming love and devotion that had always flowed from heart in his presence, flowed today near his qabr, but this time feelings of immense grief were mixed with love.

The feet that  for years had been trained to stand in queues and carried me to Maula's hazrat innumerable times, carried me to Raudat tahera today, near his qabr. But this time the spring in my steps was missing, instead each step weighed a ton!

My hands that had been lucky enough to get the sharaf of Maula's salaam and talaqqi several times, are holding the flower petals from his qabr today.

My ears that had always listened Maula's sweet voice, are listening his aza today. His affectionate words of "ae mara pyaara pyaara farzando" keep echoing in my ears.

Each fiber of my being misses him and mourns his loss. As soon as i open my eyes in the morning and look at his huge frame, the sad realization hits me. But then i look at the photo of his mansoos, Aliqadar Maula (TUS) , and his presence gives me the strength to go on. He is our greatest solace. May Allah grant Syedna Mufaddal saifuddin (TUS) a long and healthy life till Qayamat. Ameen.

The D word

A dear friend got divorced recently. It was sad and unfortunate. I had been a witness to their courtship days, their fairy tale wedding and the years that had followed. So it was sad and hard to swallow. But having said that, I had also seen the divorce coming long before it actually happened. Now the reason i am writing this post is not to discuss  their divorce, but society's reaction to a divorce! I fail to understand the stigma attached to a divorce. When the religion and the law both permit a couple to go their separate ways if they choose, then who are we to judge and dissect their personal life? Why can't we accept their decision without wagging our tongues? Why all the tsk tsk and the snide comments?

Since this person is a close friend of mine, i have been a target of endless questions from people who barely even know him! Behind the cloak of sympathy, they want to know all the details. What caused the divorce, who will look after the kids, how will he manage the house, blah,blah... When i tell those people to mind their own business, they give me those suspicious looks. They take me for devil's advocate. As if I care! Sometimes i feel like telling them that if you are so interested, why don't you apply for a governess or a maid in his house! (He can do with one!) 

It perplexes me that why is so much negativity attached to a divorce? It is a sad turn of events, no doubt, and certainly no one celebrates a divorce. But why can't we be a little more accommodating as a society? Why can't we accept divorce as a way of life? Why do we need to tag a divorced person with negativity? Why does a divorce seemingly overshadow all the positive qualities of that person? 

The most common comment I hear is that they should have compromised for the sake of their children. I just want to ask everyone a question that when a couple gets divorced, do they decide it overnight? Certainly not! Love may happen at first sight, but divorces do not happen overnight! They as parents must have thought a thousand times about their kids and how their decision is going to affect them. They must have lost a lot of sleep over this. And if they still feel that they should go their separate ways, then we have no right to question their integrity as parents and their loyalty towards their kids. Whatever may be their reasons, it is not for us to judge their decision!

I end the post with a couple of funny images to cheer my friend up! :)

Kashmir_heaven on earth!

                                        Gar Firdaus bar-rue zamin ast
                                        Hameen ast-o, hameen ast-o, hameen ast!!
If there is heaven on earth, it is this, it is this!! The reason why emperor Jehangir repeated this famous couplet by Amir Khusro when he first set foot in Kashmir, is evident as soon as one enters the beautiful Kashmir! It is a place like none other.

We visited this paradise on earth in may this year, and i was smitten beyond words by the captivating beauty of this place. The visit was therapeutic, and it soothed the mind and body and rejuvenated all the senses. All the poems of Wordsworth about the beauty of nature rushed to the mind.

Everything about Kashmir is exceptional, From the famous Dal lake to the snow covered Gulmarg and Sonmarg , the famous gardens of Srinagar, the quaint Pahalgaam or the valley of shepherds, the saffron fields, the Kashmir willow bats, the Jhelum and Lidder rivers, the Kashmiri people, Kashmiri cuisine _ each of these is extra ordinary. And all these require a separate post. :) This post is the first one in my series of posts about Kashmir. I hope i can capture at least a fraction of Kashmir's  beauty in my words. But as they say that ' a picture is worth a thousand words' , so here are some of the shots that i have captured.

My first sunrise in Kashmir. Jammu Srinagar highway

The houseboat where we stayed.....on the soothing waters of  Dal!

The early morning beauty of Dal lake

Sonmarg_ the meadow of gold

Miles to go before i sleep......en route Pahalgaam!

The famous gondola ride in Gulmarg

So dear readers, this is just the beginning, and there's a lot more to come!  :)

Under the mango tree!

There is a lone mango tree in the premises of the school where I teach. It stands tall, majestic and proud. It has been there since many years, even before the school was built. Every morning when I enter the premises, my eyes automatically turn towards the huge tree, and my heart fills with wonder and joy at this miracle of nature. The tree seems to welcome everyone entering the school with open arms.

The silent tree plays a pivotal role in the huge ground of the school. Like a wise old grandfather, it draws children to itself all the time. After an exhausting  PT or karate period, students sit under the cool shade of the mango tree and catch their breath. Sometimes while boys are busy playing cricket, the girls gather around the mango tree and play their girlish games. Or they just sit there whispering, giggling , chattering and sharing their innocent secrets with each other. The tree smiles at their girlish giggles.
Sometimes teachers bring their books and chairs to the ground, and sit under the mango tree, doing their work in peace, away from the hustle bustle of the classes and the staff room.
As soon as the summer starts, the tree is laden with mangoes.The green raw mangoes! Or the kacchi keri in other words. The sense of joy is palpable. Children and elders alike, are drawn towards the tree to get their share of Kacchi Keri.
The tree has witnessed many sports events and cricket matches that are held in the school ground. It has also seen the school develop by leaps and bounds in a few years. It has observed the tiny children blossom with each passing day. And who knows what events and changes it will observe in the years to come!
The mango tree inspired me to write a short poem and here's my feeble attempt at poetry. :)

                                   Under the mango tree

                                   the children play, 

                                  they run, they jump

                                  they skip and hop,

                                  and tired they stay,

                                  under the mango tree. 

                                     

                                 Under the mango tree

                                 the teachers sit,

                                catching a quiet moment  

                                to reflect,

                                in the cool shade 

                               of the mango tree.

                               Under the mango tree

                               waiting for the bell to ring

                               the drivers gather, 

                               they laugh and they joke,

                              and they chatter,

                              under the mango tree.

                              Under the mango tree

                              the birds spring,

                              sparrows, koels and parrots,

                             to gather worms and twig,

                             they build their nests 

                             in the mango tree!

  

It is that time of the year again.....

It is that time of the year again when nights are longer than days! When the sleepy eyes refuse to open and the body refuses to leave the warm  bed early in the chilly mornings. When the air is crisp and cool, and the sunlight is soft and welcome! When sweaters and mufflers become a part of everyday dressing, and when applying moisturizing cream before bed becomes a mandatory routine.  When a steaming mug of coffee and a favorite author give unmatched pleasure.

Winter has always been my favorite season. It is a season of intimacy, warmth, reflection and bonding.It gives us the opportunity to stay inside and reflect, to bond with the family, to enjoy the small pleasures that home has to offer. How well some one has described it ; " Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey and enjoy each idle hour". Winter is the family time in true sense!!

Many of the beautiful memories of my life are connected with this season. I can still recall the sound of cold winter wind against the window of my childhood home. I can hear the voice of my mother as she cajoled us to leave the warm bed and get ready for school. I still remember the color and design of my favourite  sweater. I remember gathering around the old  room heater after dinner and munching on dry fruits. How beautiful those days were! How simple and yet how engaging those small pleasures were!
Winters remind me of my honeymoon. We honeymooned in the quaint hill station of Mussourie in the chilly  winters of December.On one pleasant day we went to a high altitude spot named Dhantoli, situated some kilometers away from Mussourie, to witness snowfall. And just as we returned to our hill top resort in Mussourie, it started snowing there! What a wasted trip to Dhantoli! :) How soft and cool those specks of snow felt. And what a total transformation it was the next morning!  The green landscape had turned white overnight. What a sight! Something that can only be felt and not explained.

How time flies! 2012 has come to an end, and it only seems yesterday when we had welcomed this year. Can't  believe its almost over. At this time of the year last year, I was battling some conflicting emotions, and here I am, still battling those conflicts and hoping for some impossible miracles to happen.Seasons are passing by, but the hope remains, and the life goes on...........

Desert_ the kingdom of sand!

Desert! A vast expanse of sand! A timeless space of beauty, silence and longing! A land full of mysteries. Who knows what secrets lie beneath those infinite grains of sand, what untold stories are buried under those dunes!

 A desert fascinates me greatly. It appears mysterious to me , like an enigmatic woman beckoning its admirers. The amazing stories of explorers of Sahara,Gobi and Rub al khali keep me occupied for hours. My mind travels with them into the depths of the desert and observes the native desert people, the bedouins, the caravans on camels and the desert culture. May be having Rajasthani genes in my body has to play some role in my love for desert. Though I have never actually been inside the depths of a desert, but i have experienced desert from its fringes. I have got a taste of desert in Sind, UAE, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Iraq and my ancestral land of Rajasthan! I keep wondering that what lies beneath those huge sand dunes, how does life survive in desert! 

Desert teaches us many things. Take for instance the phenomenon of mirage. To run after something that doesn't even exist! And how many mirages we chase during the course of our lives? Running after illusions! Finding meaning where none exists, looking for comfort in materialistic things. And then we finally realize that we have been running after mirages all this time! How devastating that realization must be to a man who is dying of thirst, and who has pinned his hopes on the mirage!!

An interesting phenomenon occurs when it rains in desert.The dormant seeds come to life and overnight the flowers blossom, transforming the barren land into a pretty sight! Isn't that miraculous? Sometimes a barren soul blooms into a beautiful entity by the power of divine love and water of knowledge! And that is what a true miracle is! Total transformation! 

Thinking about desert and thirst invokes images of Karbala. Of the thirst and hardships endured by Imam Husain(a.s) and his family, in the scorching heat of desert. But they endured it all without faltering because the soils of their souls were fertile and nourished with divine love and pure water of knowledge!  The desert turned into garden of Eden for them.

This world is but a desert full of hardships and mirages! Those who successfully cross it without getting engulfed by its vastness and its mirages, reach the evergreen gardens of eden!

بارش کا موسم

                                              روک سکو تو روک لو بارش کی پہلی بوندوں  کو

                                               !کچچی  مٹی  تو مھکے گی ہے مٹی کی مجبوری

بارش کا یہ خوبصورت موسم ! سورج کا بادلوں کے ساتھ آنکھ مچولی کھیلنا ! کبھی قوس و  قزح کے رنگوں کا افق پہ بکھرنا  ! کبھی نرم نرم بوندوں کا مٹی کو مہکانا تو کبھی موسلادھار بارش کا رات بھر برسنا . بجلی کا چمکنا اور بادلوں کا گرجنا

بارش کا موسم بھی کتنا حسین اور خوشنما ہے . جب ہر چیز نکھری نکھری دھلی دھلی محسوس ہوتی ہے . ہر پتہ ہر بوٹا ہر گل خوشی اور سرمستی سے لہراتا ہے مٹی کی سوندھی خوشبو حواسوں پہ چھا جاتی ہے . یہ وہ موسم ہے جب دل بلاوجہ خوشی سے جھومنے لگتا ہے . جب ٹپ ٹپ  گرتی بوندوں کی آواز ہر موسیقی سے بھلی لگتی ہے. جب دل چاھتا ہے کے تمام   فکروں سے آزاد ہو کر کھلے آسمان کے نیچے کھڑے ہو کر ہر بوند کو اپنے اندر سما لیں . یہ وہ موسم ہے جب انکہے  ،انجان  
جذبے پروان چڑھتے ہے، جب دل میں نئی امنگیں انگڑائیا ں  لیتی ہے. جب دل سے تمام شکوے اور کدورتیں دھل جاتی ہے اور دل چاہتا ہے کے سدا یہ خوبصورتی قائم رہے، یہ رم جھم کی نرم آواز سدا  دل کو لبھاتی رہے .

In Maula's praise

Last week, we_the MSB family_  got the azeem sharaf of ziafat of His Holiness Dr. Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin(tus). I wrote this humble poem to be presented to him in ziafat.

O’ Noorani Maula , O’ angel of light,

You make my life pure, radiant and bright.

Beholding your Noorani face is my Ibaadat,

Through it I gain everlasting saa’dat.

None can compare thee in thy eminence,

You outshine the stars in their radiance.

Your exalted being, your dignified presence,

Fills my heart with awe and reverence.

Sweeter than the sweetest honey, is thy voice,

It melts the hearts and makes them rejoice.

O’ pillar of righteousness o’ saviour of millions,

 With your piety and conduct you inspire millions.

In your glory and magnificence you are like sun,

Your light is reflected in Mufaddal(tus)_your son.

May you both live a life of health,

Of glory, peace, bliss and wealth.

Playing with colours....continues...

Recently in Mumbai, i got the sharaf of presenting a glass painting  of Hutaib mubarak painted by me, in the Hazrat of Aali qadar Mufaddal Maula (tus). Aaliqadar Maula(tus) accepted it , and blessed me with a benevolent smile.  While i was rushing to saifee mahal to present the painting, i realized that i had not clicked any photo of the painting. But it was too late by then. So i just managed to click a couple of  hazy photos using my outdated mobile :)

And here are some of my glass paintings.

And these two paintings i gifted to two of my friends when they shifted to their new homes in mumbai.

I experimented with oil pastels on canvas and this is what i got...

Not too happy with the result, i  re-painted it with oil paints ;


And this is one of my oil paintings ;

I bought a plain white t-shirt, and to make it more interesting added some colors to it;



This is how i had fun with colors during my vacations ;)  and i got myself loads of colors and art material and now i am looking forward to experiment with new mediums.
p.s. If you want to see more of my work then  have a look at my posts "playing with colors" and "expressing with colors" on this blog!



The Kite Runner

I recently finished reading 'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini. It is one of those books that leave a deep impression on mind, that make us pause during the hustle bustle of our daily lives, and think! Though the story is set in Afghanistan , but it rises above time and space , because it deals with issues that are universal. It is a story about friendship, loyalty, betrayal, longing for acceptance, courage, regrets, redemption and survival.

The story revolves around two boys _ Amir_ a privileged blue blooded Pashtun, and his Hazara servant boy _ Hassan. The two boys grew up together, Amir _ timid by nature, and Hassan_  courageous and  fiercely loyal and devoted to Amir. Amir is desperate to gain the approval of his father who it seems is more fond of Hassan than his own son. He resolves to win the local kite-fighting tournament to prove that he has the makings of a man. His loyal friend hassan_the fastest kite runner_ promises to help him. But neither of the boys could foresee what would happen to Hassan on the afternoon of the tournament, and what price he would have to pay to help Amir, which was to shatter their lives. And thus Amir's life becomes a long journey of regrets and remorse and finally redemption!

What i liked most about the book is its vivid description of Afghanistan. As soon as we think about Afghanistan , our mind conjures up an image of a country torn by war, landmines, Russians, drugs, mujahedeen and Taliban. But the author describes the old Afghanistan of 1960s and 1970s and he does a wonderful job! He paints a captivating picture of Afghanistan, with descriptions of the beautiful city of Kabul, snow covered mountains, and afghan tradition and culture. And then he paints another picture_that of Afghanistan after Russian invasion, and after years of war and Taliban, and the transformation is shattering. The contrast is devastating and it brings a lump of tears to the throat.

One more thing that i enjoyed while reading the book is the use of Farsi terms. There are words like Tashakor (thank you), Nang and Namoos (Honour and pride), Khastegar (suitor), Khoshteep (handsome), zendagi migzara (life goes on), and the wedding song _ Ahesta boro, Mah-e-man-Ahesta boro (Go slowly,my lovely moon, go slowly) . The use of Farsi terms deepens the Afghan touch of the book.

The phrase that has stayed with me from the book is ; "For you a thousand times over!" When Amir cuts the last kite in the kite flying tournament, and Hassan runs to bring that kite for Amir, Amir tells him ; 'Hassan! come back with it!" And the ever loyal Hassan replies; "For you a thousand times over!" This one sentence sums up the silent, undying and sacrificial love of Hassan for Amir. And this same phrase is repeated by Amir after almost twenty six years to Hassan's son, as a way of redemption and seeking forgiveness. Finally his conscience forgives him. Life has come full  circle for him! 

Thirties rock!!

I am in my early thirties. I no longer believe that I am invincible, or that the world revolves around me! And I have reached the realization that temper tantrums will get me nowhere! Kids have started calling me 'Aunty'! The indians' tendency  to address anyone, even a complete stranger as 'uncle' or 'aunty' is pretty annoying. Sometimes you find people double your age with greying hairs, addressing you as aunty, and you wonder are they blind or what?? But then you realize that it is their vain attempt to defy age that makes them address everyone as aunty or uncle. But that will need another post, and before i go completely off-track, let me come back to the point i was trying to make. That i am no longer a young- twentyish -something -lady! My elder one has recently turned 10. And that makes me feel older! It was not until a few years ago that the college going teenagers would mistaken me as one of them (oh how good it felt!) Though my physical appearance has not changed much in these few years, but perhaps the calm and maturity that age offers, and the presence of a ten year old besides me, makes me look my age.

Thirties can be a very pleasant age. It is a period in a woman's life when she is more settled in life. When her children no longer need her constant attention.When she can devote more time to herself. When she finds an inner calm and serenity.   It is an age when follies of youth are almost over.  When one has learnt from mistakes. When one knows what one wants from life, or what one doesn't!

It is an age when a person is neither too old to try new things and explore new worlds, nor too young to foolishly believe that he or she  can be everything at once! (there was a point in my life when i wanted to be a lawyer, a teacher, a journalist, an artist, a writer, and a detective!)

It is an age when passion no longer clouds one's better judgement. When one has stopped making friends with every tom , dick and harry. It is an age which offers wisdom, maturity and sensitivity. An age when one appreciates his parents, his friends, his family more. When things are not taken for granted!

Today in my thirties, while reflecting back, i realize the mistakes that i have made, the times when i have been ungrateful and reckless. But i don't intend to dwell on it forever. Instead i feel that with age i have definitely become more sensitive, more appreciative of my blessings, and more accommodating to others. I don't feel old a bit! I have a job that i love, a wonderful family life,and more time to pursue my hobbies compared to my twenties. There are a lot of things that i still want to accomplish, and i feel that life has truly begun for me! Who said thirties is middle age? i think thirties rock!! :)  Did anyone just call me 'aunty'? I don't mind! ;)

To my love....

It must have been love at first sight! I can't exactly recall when was the first time that we were introduced to each other, because I was very young at that time. But ever since I can remember, you have been an inseparable part of my life. I have always cherished your sweet company. Be it a party, a boring lecture, a stressful day, a quiet moment, a joyous celebration or just an ordinary day_ you have always been there.

People accuse me of being addicted to you. They point out that your excessive company is not doing me any good. They advise me to avoid you as much as possible. But how can I do that? My heart melts at your sight and all I want is to posses you. May be that's why it is said that love is blind! (and deaf and dumb as well)! I don't care whether you are a good influence or a bad one, because the  euphoria that you provide me with is beyond words. As soon as I see you, all I want to do is drown myself in your sweetness. You are tentalizing as well as soothing, at the same time.

I admire you with all your different moods and avatars , whether its dark, bitter, sweet, smooth, hard, hot, cold or molten. You are so tempting, and I totlly agree with Oscar Wilde when he says that ; "I can resist anything except temptation"! I admit without fear or shame that I simply can't resist you. You are absolutely irresistible! So let's not give a hoot to what anyone says, and lets become one! Ah! let me immerse myself in the pleasure that you have to offer, my dearest chocolate bar! I just can't survive without you. ;)

Surat_ in all its glory!

The wait has been very long this time, almost two years! Our train enters the surat station at 15 minutes past midnight on 8th of march. We hire an auto rickshaw and start towards my husband's ancestral home in Bilal gali. As the rickshaw enters the area of Jhapa Bazaar, familiar sights, sounds and odours greet us! Even at this unearthly hour, this particular area in Surat is wide awake. The vendors selling heavenly smelling food, the areas around Jamea and Qasr mubarak illuminated with series of lights, and talabats roaming around in streets. Oh, its all so familiar! Been there , done that! "Oh, how much I have missed you! What took it so long this time?" My heart silently complains to Surat. "Welcome home! Don't worry, I will more than make up for the lost time", it whispers back.

Surat has always been very close to my heart with hundreds of pleasant memories of my Jamea days associated with it. This year when 101st Milad Mubarak of Aqa Moula (tus) was declared in Surat, my heart jumped with joy(and so did I!) :) I was going to Surat after two long years!

Stepping in Surat is like stepping back in time. It is a wonderful blend of old heritage and new amenities.Though old,dilapidated buildings are getting replaced by trendy new ones, but the essence of old Surat remains the same. It is a place like none other! Its an honour to walk in the streets that have been walked on by many Duat Kiram(ra) . To touch one's forehead to the threshold of Devri Mubarak. To pray in the majestic Masjid e Moazzam. To perform ziarat of seven Duat resting in those pristine Qubbas. And to feel the aura surrounding Al Jamea Tus Saifiyah!

This year the celebrations are double and the happiness twice as much! That of 101st Milad and of wedding in Qasre aali! Surat has been decorated like a bride. It looks bright, beautiful and inviting. The joy is palpable. The air is charged with excitement, joy and festivities. What a time to be alive!

On 16th of Rabi ul Akhar, the red cloth_mandvo_ symbolizing the beginning of marriage celebrations, was tied infront of Qasr Mubarak. Aqa Moula (tus) himself graced the occasion with his esteemed presence. The place was resonant with cries of 'Mubarak Moula'!

Every night after maghrib Moula would perform ziarat. Due to newly constructed bridge and glass elevator, it is possible to do deedar even from the end of Bilal Gali. The sight of his noorani face in the illuminated glass lift made the hearts leap with joy and love! And tears of gratitude automatically rolled down.

On 18th of Rabi ul akhar , mumineen across the world witnessed the grand procession of Milad Mubarak.
It was a treat to watch this procession, and a treat to watch and hear the band of Jamea playing different tunes, especially the tune of 'nahno ban ul jamea'. And after the procession was over, the traditional yemeni steps were performed in the street of devri, and it went on for almost an hour. The chants of 'marhaba ya noora aini' could be heard everywhere.

On the eve of Milad Mubarak, there was 'wadhawani majlis' exclusively for ladies. The decoration around Moula's bethk was in the shape of a beautiful purple khaima (tent). It is an occasion that I always look forward to with much anticipation and enthusiasm. To gaze at the dazzling stars of the royal family shining brightly in beautiful elegant clothes and ethnic jewellery! To observe them performing the 'wadhawani' rituals. The protocol they follow and the easy grace and charm with which they carry themselves! No words can do justice to the beauty of this captivating event.

The morning of 20th Rabi ul Akhar dawned with euphoria in every mumin's heart. What luck to be able to gaze at the sun and the moon on one platform! The moon sitting at sun's feet, taking light from it. May the glory and radiance of these celestial bodies continue to guide the generations and generations to come.

On 21st of rabi ul Akhar, the magnificent wedding procession was held. The young bridegrooms of the royal family adorned with flowers,  rode elegantly on horses. The young bhaisahebs (boys), dressed up in golden dresses and turbans sat royally on horses. And the pretty little bensahebas (girls), resembling fairies, were seated in beautifully decorated camel carts. Everything was so mesmerising. Now this is what we call a 'fairy tale wedding'! The ultimate royals!

I was in Surat for six days and I thoroughly enjoyed myself each second. Drenched myself in the barakaat being showered endlessly. It was like a dream come true. And along with that, I enjoyed all that Surat has to offer. Relished the famous Falooda of Taj. Savoured the mouth watering tikkas of 'chote mian' and egg sandwiches of 'ghulam nabi' . And enjoyed the paan of 'saleem'. Surat is the only place where you would find people from every walk of life eating at all the famous roadside stalls and joints without any inhibitions. So don't be surprised if while eating your 'chatpati' you realize that some well known figure of community is standing next to you. :)

I am back to my home in Rajasthan, but am missing Surat each second. The decorated streets of surat flash upon my inward eye. 'Music when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory'. From the folds of my memory I hear the echo of this tune:
                                     Ek so ekwi Milad ki ye baha
                                     Ho mubarak, mubarak , mubarak shaha......