Taking Love for granted

Do you make your loved ones feel valued or do you take them for granted?

Living through the last pangs of cancer

Text of my article published in Dawn Magazine on March 17, 1995 dedicated as a tribute to all the courageous families who saw a loved one die slowly in front of their eyes.

My mother was a simple, middle aged lady of 47 years when she died. Although a diabetic patient for nine years she appeared quite robust. Our family was a normal, happy one, sharing all the pressures and joys of life. Everything seemed alright. There was no reason to doubt the security of our home.
But on August 1992, my mother was diagnosed as suffering from sarcoma, an aggressive form of cancer in its last stages. The doctor said that she only had a few more months to live.
How could that happen? My mother had looked so well! The culprit was a bulging tumour on her right leg that she had ignored for some time. The cancer had spread and the secondaries had ruptured her lungs and were also enveloping her liver slowly. The only thing left for us to do was to ensure that she underwent a treatment as painless as possible. Those were months of pure agony. I don't know how we managed it. Hope amidst despair was the only thing that kept us going.
We hoped for a miracle, firmly believing that the doctors had no power to pronounce a death sentence. We kept on going with determination. The leader of this struggle was my father. He not only conferred with doctors and friends regarding the best treatment possible but also boosted our ebbing spirits. He tried to make my mother's last days as pleasant as he could.

I remember those days my mother was hospitalised for the last time and our whole family would go to the hospital everyday to eat together. The hospital staff were impressed by our seemingly merry mood and many of them didn't believe that my mother was suffering from this fatal disease. Though she had become very weak, to please us she would allow us to he help her out on a wheel chair onto the hospital lawns where we would all sit and joke together. We ignored the seriousness of the situation and tried to laugh as much as we could. This strategy worked well as it always gave us more courage.
However our efforts at merriment lasted just a few days as further complications developed. My mother was confined to her bed and an oxygen mask was her constant companion. I remember that she would restlessly pass the whole night but would not awaken us. Even at this unbearable stage, she had only the comfort of her family at heart.
She had vomited a lot of blood a fortnight before Eid-ul-Azha and after that she collapsed completely. I can never forget the look of helplessness in her eyes and the manner in which she would express this by gesturing with her hands as if talking to herself not knowing what she could do. Till the end, we did not tell her the nature of her illness as we believed it was this ignorance that kept up her will and spirits. Her most earnest desire was to throw a party for the doctors who were so tenderly taking care of her!
Every time my father would talk to the doctor or any fresh reports would come, she would ask what the matter was. We would try to console her like a child saying that it was a simple infection and she would be fine soon. But of course, she was the one who was suffering. She finally guessed that something dreadful was happening to her. From then on, she stopped asking us questions.
She was confined to her bed and needed our assistance for moving even an inch. When my sisters or myself fed her or washed her, she would often remark that we were taking care of her like she did for us. This would give us a feeling of satisfaction that at least we were trying to serve her as well as we could and we would pray that her condition improves.
We tried every means to find a cure to save my mother. We went to aamils and said wazaif, fervently praying and hoping for the best.
Yet how can I describe the feeling of utter helplessness, when all our efforts seemed in vain and we slowly watched her die? Till the end, my mother fought like a courageous soldier. She would hardly utter a word, or let a sigh escape her lips. She was the ultimate picture of courage and forbearance. I remember that often my sisters or myself would weep unseen thinking of the suffering we imagined she must be going through. I would often say to my father that I could not bear it. He would always remark that we had only to see how magnificently she was bearing everything and I would draw more courage from my courageous mother.
It was the 3rd of Muharram. The doctor has us advised us to turn on the AC in my mother's room. The humid Karachi air was dangerous for her. But how could we escape the interminable power failures? All we could do was to ask our helpful neighbours to lend us a wire so that we could switch on a solitary fan for my mother. I remember we spent the whole day cursing the KESC while my mother lay drenched in sweat. She knew nothing could be could and only once remarked, " Bijli walon ko bachon ki haye lage gi." My mother lay still on her bed. She did not have the strength to lift a finger. We would after every few minutes change her position a little so that she could get some air but that day she seemed oblivious to what we were doing. She hardly spoke and when she did her words were so broken that we were no more than a whisper. She had lost her appetite since the past few days and when we asked her if she wanted to drink something, she would part her lips for us to give her water.
That whole day we were without electricity and as night approached we were worried as to what we should do. We tried to take her out on the verandah, but she did not even have the strength to sit on her wheel chair. Finally at about midnight, the electricity came after 15 hours. We quickly switched on the AC and settled ourselves to sleep. Everyone fell asleep at once. But I was restless, I could not sleep. I looked at my mother and she beckoned me towards her. I went closer and asked if she wanted something to eat as she had not taken anything. It was one 'o' clock and she she nodded her head so I propped her on the bed with pillows on her sides and her hands rested on a gao takia on her lap. I went into the kitchen and warmed her some soup. I watched how with great effort she gulped down 3-4 spoons of the liquid.  I wiped her face and lay her on the bed and myself lay down near her.
As I turned sides, I saw my mother looking at me. I went to her and took her hands in mine. I softly asked her what was wrong, but she kept quiet. Her eyes were shining and I admired them and thought they looked lovely. I was praying. My mother's eyes moved from me and rested on the Ayat-ul-Kursi that hung in that room. It seemed as if she was reading it. Then her eyes moved towards another corner. It was then that I thought the movement of her eyes was strange and I awakened my father who was lying nearby. He got up immediately. My mother looked at him for a moment and slowly closed her eyes without uttering a single word. It all happened so quickly that I could not understand what had happened.
I noticed that my mother's breath was not as jerky as it used to be. I looked at my father with tears in my eyes saying, " Ammi is not breathing." I felt her pulse but in my excitement I could not feel it, then I pressed my head on her chest and head a faint heart beat.  I thanked God and checked the oxygen cylinder and found that the mark was on zero. I quickly woke up my brother to fix the other cylinder but our mother had already left us.
Now as I close my eyes, flashes of every moment come back. The pain of death. The pain of explaining to my nine year old brother what had happened. His innocent eyes would see everyone crying and then rest on the peaceful face of my mother.
Today as I relive those painful moments, I wonder whether those last 4-5 months of my mother's illness were really more agonising than the present. Then at least  we had some hope that everything would ultimately be fine. Now we are passing through a life knowing that she can never come back, knowing that we will have to brace ourselves to face this world without being shepherded by her.
Today, I find myself sometimes jealously looking at other daughters sitting with their mothers, some of whom are now grandmothers, sharing secrets, giving advice and enjoying each other's company. There will forever be a void in our lives. Life will go on though very differently. But what a difference that is!

The story of my scars

Scars are usually perceived as ugly unsightly things, a disfigurement that mars beauty. However, recently I watched an inspiring video of an amazing lady that made me realise that we often undermine the transforming power of these physical and emotional scars. Muniba Mazari has certainly become my hero and has propelled to the top of my list of inspiring women of the world. I will not delve into her story but will urge all of you to watch this amazing talk and learn about her first hand.

I must admit I find physical scars difficult to deal with. To me, they represent the pain they must have inflicted on the bearer and are a constant reminder   as well as a source of curiosity and concern for the observer. As a person who has a near physical  reaction every time I hear about someone’s hurt, I truly admire people who confidently embrace their physical scars and forge ahead. I am even more impressed when I see people bravely camouflaging the scars of their soul. We think we are good at hiding these but a person who wears these like a badge on their sleeves is is not too hard to discern. These are the scars I find fascinating.. in fact even liberating. For me the cracks left by personal heartaches, once mended seem to have captured and assimilated some light from places within me I never thought existed.

I recently learnt about the Japanese practice of filling cracks of a broken object with gold. I think it’s a beautiful concept that pays tribute to the process of healing and acknowledges the transformation of a broken object to a more beautiful whole.

Like many other women bound by duty, suffering in silence and learning to cope with challenges, I believe my emotional scars taught me to be stronger and wiser. I constantly find inspiration from strong people around me. I am fortunate to have met an amazing woman in Australia who shared her journey of being an author, artist and an entrepreneur once she moved from being a survivor of childhood abuse and neglect. Melanie Lee now has a permaculture business. In her own words, “ I broke this cycle and re-wrote my life story.”

It’s not easy to acknowledge that we have scars and talk about them. However, recognising these can be the first step to a transformation that you need. Every little punch hole in my heart and the deep cuts on my soul have a story behind them. I am not unhappy but grateful for the wisdom that these experiences have taught me. Using this learning I can enrich the lives of others as I’m more empathetic to their pain and understand their need for support and compassion. Take that first step to tell the story of your scars and let the healing begin so that you are a source of strength and wisdom for others.

Pause To Reflect

If this post somehow resonates with you then please share your thoughts. You can email us your story through the contact form on our site.

If you are struggling with some emotional issues then let us coach you and help you rediscover the sparkling you.

Single at Thirty and over...

Single at Thirty and Over...

Another birthday and the continued nagging of relatives on why I was still single. Ok, so I recently turned thirty, had a job I enjoyed and a clear career path. I was entering the world of charities, working on education projects that allowed me to interact with different communities. It was a job I loved, meeting people, training and trying to bring about a change in the public school system.

Personally, I didn’t have time to delve into the ‘misfortune’ of not having a partner at my age. It was always just a matter of time for me. My focus was on developing myself professionally. Of course, like every young woman I had the longing to find the Mr. Right but so far, in my life, I didn’t come across anyone who would be genuine enough and committed too. I was living in Pakistan, fortunate enough to be living in Karachi, a modern cosmopolitan city  and highly educated with good exposure of living overseas.

I was looked upon as a confident young educated woman, attractive and sensible with good social skills. Like in any other middle class family, we were taught that a girl’s first priority is her home so along with my sisters I had learnt to cook, be hospitable and master the homely chores too. I didn’t quite understand at the time why I didn’t get married earlier. 

My parents had received a few proposals for me when I was much younger but nothing materialised. Later after my mother passed away, I wondered whether it was due to the lack of social status and networking as I was too busy working full time, or the fact that there were no suitable suitors in the immediate family or maybe my poor widower father’s lack of understanding of how to deal with traditional matrimonial practices and services. A dynamic man who had travelled the world and equipped his daughters with good education and values, he was often shocked at the shallowness of our society. A man who proudly illustrated his daughters’ educational achievements and culinary skills was disappointed to  see that most of the mothers-of-grooms-to-be were only concerned with the age, financial status and glamorous looks for their sons’ future wives.

Whatever it was, I was too busy doing other things that were more important for me. However it was often difficult to escape the question in a social gathering. I was at a loss for words when people asked me why I did not marry, till one good friend advised me to counteract this question with, “Do you have anyone in mind?”! I was bemused at the startled look I received then.  The reality was that no one actually helped but just added to the pressure.

This post is a tiny reflection of the social pressures I faced as a single woman living in the Pakistani society; from finding a place to rent, to feeling inappropriate and unattractive when girls much younger than myself were married off with a big fanfare, the social pressures and ultimately my own personal situation that left me as head of family after early death of my parents, slowly added to my woes. 

The society we live in is harsh and unrelenting. Inwardly I crumbled at the expectations put on me but my strengths were my professional attitude, the family values and a strong sense of duty. I did not need a man to make me feel fulfilled, but I did need a companion to share my worries and support me. 

A decade later, at forty years of age I found myself still single but now migrated to a new land and starting afresh in Australia. I was finally free of the prying eyes and social pressures. However, I  struggled with my own insecurities, often wondering what was lacking in me. Why was I not able to attract the right man so far? Surely I was not boring or insincere but yes I was growing older and my struggles may have honed my personality but had affected my health and demeanour. With time I learnt, it was not what I lacked but what I ‘had’ that actually scared men away. This confidence comes only when we are able to live in a positive frame of mind in a society that is fair and non-judgemental.

I am not being arrogant when I say this, as I see this manifested amply amongst my single girl friends. Yes, I was too good for most men. Strong, career focussed women have a tough time in the matrimonial arena because our society actually lacks strong men who can accept these women as equals.  Men in general, like to have a smart woman to talk to, share ideas and enjoy their company, but within their homes and personal life, they want a meek wife who they can control and feel more superior with to feed their male ego as identified by a chauvinistic society. 

Arranged marriages are not that simple to organise either, even in traditional conventional societies. Although such marriages tend to have a higher success rate it relies a lot on the strong family bonds and values of sacrifice, compromise and generosity. With modern values and new set of liberal mindsets, a ‘thinking’ society has I believe increasingly become a threat to this sacred institution. But that is a discussion for another post..

Coming back to my personal journey….I had almost given up on the idea of marriage, but had faith in God and His blessings. I always believed when the time is right, I will find my soul mate. I was lucky when I had this calling. I was introduced to someone who was caring, funny and most importantly a confident and secure individual. It was not just our fate but our mindsets that brought us together. I was clear about what I wanted and what I was willing to compromise on and so was my new life partner.

I believe no relationship is perfect. We need to work on them to make them perfect. There is no formula or checklist for finding the right man or having a successful marriage but when expectations are clear and realistic, great things materialise. I got married at the age of forty four in a joint wedding reception with my younger brother and his wife who were in their late twenties. Age had not dampened my excitement of a new life. I was nervous and hopeful like any other new bride.

The same prying eyes and faces that would look at me with pity were now astonished at how this had happened. I like to believe they are happy for me. 

So to all my dear single ladies out there, this is a shout out to enjoy your lives and feel confident about yourself. Your time will come, if you have faith and keep looking! Never ever sell yourself short, take pride in yourself and hold on to your dreams.

Here's a picture of me with my hubby celebrating six years of a challenging but strong and beautiful companionship.

 Dear Friends, I have now started a coaching business and would love to hear your thoughts on it. Please visit https://eduservecommunity.org/coaching-and-mentoring/

UNESCO Schools promoting SDGs

It was an honour for me to be able to represent UNESCO UK and promote its mission to the schools. My role as the Project Manager involved promoting the Sustainable Development Goals and helping teachers understand the link between these universal goals and their curriculum. The coordination of UNESCO ASPnet schools is managed by the Steve Sinnott Foundation.

As part of this work, I visited two active schools in June this year. Both schools are located in London and inculcate international mindedness as part of their ethos. One specially rich experience was supporting the Korean study on GCED by researchers from Korean Institute of Curriculum & Evaluation. The researchers spoke with teachers, heads and students to understand how Global Citizenship Education is integrated in the curriculum.

Hockerill Anglo-European College in London welcomed the researchers and facilitated the research study for two days.

http://www.stevesinnottfoundation.org.uk/knowledgebase/aspnet-member-school-uk-participates-in-international-gced-research/

The second school visit was at Ecole J Manuel school London. It is a bilingual school with English and French used as the medium of instruction.

The school laid a special focus on Well-being and Anthropology.

I believe an immigrant is ...

In the modern, developed world the word 'immigrant' has almost become synonymous with encroachment. The feelings it stirs up from the natives is often of distaste, insult and even pity. Some arrive on boats and many skilled workers come after a rigorous immigration process.  While most people are understanding and  welcoming , there are others who often use the term as a dirty abuse to hurl at the bewildered people who suddenly turn up in boats on the shores, or as flock of herded cattle across the borders. Who are all these people? Why can't they just stay in their own land. Ok yes, their homes have been bombarded, they are fleeing for their lives... but is it really my responsibility to help them! Oh you can't just use my hard earned tax money on these peasants! I will not allow that....

This is the retort that comes up every once in a while in most civilised nations of the world. I am no historian or researcher but from my limited knowledge and observations I see people going places for better opportunities, to build a brighter future for themselves and their families and I have not even touched upon the humanitarian crisis. Leaving your home your job and everything you love and start from zero in a foreign place with no network of family and friends takes a lot of courage. These people should actually be applauded for their bravery. It is a known fact that immigrants often bring their life's savings and invest in their new host country. The immigration business itself is a very lucrative one for the government.

Its high time we change the negative  attitude towards immigrants and give them the respect they deserve. Please share your definition for 'immigrants' and leave a comment below

I believe an immigrant is ...

From Meeting the Royals to Jalebi Junction....Hello London!

Hello Friends,

Sorry for the long gap in writing. I always think of writing something here but just get distracted with ... you know what . LIFE! yesss..anyways while thinking of a topic for my blog I remembered I actually didn't share my not so recent move from down under to the world's most famous city-London! This upward geographic move from Aussie land to a country that once ruled more than half the world, my awe was of course contained as I also struggled to cope with the extreme time difference and weather. I took my time to take in the historic magnificence as well as the colours of diversity. While I treaded along Central London on Oxford Street, Regent Street and took in the lights at Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus discovering the landmarks and streets names that had been etched in my mind since childhood from our Monopoly board game I could not help recalling the famous nursery rhyme.. " Pussy cat Pussy cat where have you been? .. I have been to London to see the Queen!" .. well I only watched the live telecast of the monarch's 90th birthday on television. However only after the sinking feeling I had while staying up all night to follow the historic UK referendum that voted Brexit, I knew I now feel part of this great country too.

Big Ben

The quaint phone booths 

Meeting the Royals

Harrods

Buckingham Palace

Canary Wharf

There is so much to discover here but what I like most about this city is the feeling of being at home away from home. While  Turkish kebabs and Lebanese pizzas have become the popular street foods in Sydney, one will find the Fried chicken shops run mostly by Pakistanis at abundance in almost every part of London. For someone like me who loves to try out new cuisines but is a diehard desi fan, stepping into Southhall High Street in London's West and Bury Park in Luton was a definite treat. The authentic taste and smell of Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi food and the crowded markets reminded me of walking in Karachi's famous Tariq Road market. Through this blog I am sharing with you some of the highlights of my stay here so far. Hope you enjoy!

A variety of mixed vegetarian and non-veg curries

Colourful ethnic dresses for every occasion

Spicy chicken tikka and lamb BBQ

Fresh Jalebis at Jalebi Junction

A traditional Paan (Betel leaf) shop in South Hall

Life in the UK has been for me the biggest adventure so far as it was the first time in my life that I moved away from my immediate family to start a new life in a brand new place with my loving partner. I am lucky to have this opportunity to learn more and grow. See you around!

Sha's Tasty Adventures

Hi all,

Its been some time since I wrote here. Its not easy maintaining your own blog when you have to manage social media accounts as part of your work too. This post is actually an introduction to my current professional work. I am fortunate to be part of a great community project that does wonders for our taste buds. I bet you will really be jealous with this part of my job.

I am part of a team that organises walking tours as part of a social enterprise project. This project is one of the initiatives of  The Benevolent Society which is one of the oldest charities in Australia soon to celebrate 200 years of community service. The tours aim to promote the positive image of suburbs that are otherwise considered disadvantaged by focussing on their rich cultural diversity and food traditions. It creates training and employment opportunities for locals and  also helps to promote small local business.

Its a community project with a very Tasty touch!!. A lot of fun and  a great way to learn about different cultures through food.

If you are in Sydney, you must come to one of the food tours and progressive dinners. Each walking tour has a minimum of 6 stops, includes a sit-down lunch and is a true case of Taste indulgence as the participants go about the day tasting and sampling. and even get a take home bag of goodies, samples and recipes!!

All net profits from the tours are reinvested in community development. So eat your heart out for a Tasty social cause!!

You can help to support this initiative by joining us on facebook, following us on twitter and visiting our blog and sharing this information within your network.

Here are just some of the appetising shots of the Taste indulgence that is part of our tours. Hope to see you soon at a Taste Food Tour!

Freshly baked Cheese pockets- Lebanese bakery

Lamb seekh kabab & Chicken Tikka - Pakistani BBQ

Honey & Sesame stick and Baklava- Moroccan style

Different kinds of Baklava - Middle Eastern sweets

Food preparation at a Thai restaurant

Freshly baked Baklava ( Middle Eastern Sweet)

Chevapi & Pleskavice- Bosnian Serbian meal

Chicken Parmigiani with roasted potatoes & Green salad -Italian meal

Basant in Sydney

It was a lovely day inspite of the weather forecast for early showers. Sydney siders had fun at a Fair held in the open grounds of Sydney Olympic Park on May 28. The colourful event was  organised by Jazbah International , a Pakistani youth organisation registered as a charity in Australia. Families enjoyed the popular Pakistani and Indian foods Papri chat, samosas, Chana Bhatura, Chicken tikka and Lahori fish with crispy jalebis. People of all ages including children, youth and elders enthusiastically participated in flying colourful kites as they reminisced about the much loved Basant festival held back home.

The theme was of Basant, a popular festival celebrated in both India and Pakistan by flying colourful kites amidst merry making.  This colourful festival Basant is held in most cities in both Indian and Pakistani Punjab. In Pakistan it is celebrated with vigour in the historical city of Lahore. In Pakistani towns and cities, where there is less open space, terraces and rooftops are often used for the kite competitions. It is more colourful in the old city of Lahore where everyone wears yellow clothes and flies kites from the rooftops. People from different cities travel to Lahore, where kite flying begins at dawn and continues until dusk. Friends, neighbours and visitors battle one another for victory and cries of triumph fill the air when one cuts the kite string of the other kite flyer. Special songs are played at the occasion as men gather on the rooftops. Special treats are organised and it is an occasion to laugh, eat and be playful. 

The OBL phenomenon..can we ever get over it??

Osama Bin Laden..a name that has changed the world like never before. A prime 'suspect' on the war on terror was finally caught by USA on 1st May 2011in a country that has been a strong ally in this war for over a decade. He was earlier operating from the stony caves in Afghanistan and later took refuge in a serene city in Pakistan, living a very protected life within a short distance from the Pakistan capital- Islamabad. How do we know all this? The world's most powerful man, the president of USA announced this, so how can there be any doubts? Surely he has to be trusted...

The world media continues its testaments from the political bigwigs and keeps on churning controversy theories with each passing day. News and views are thrown at the masses for all those who care to believe or dis-believe. There is plenty for everyone to hold on to.

The OBL phenomenon has caught on as a viral epidemic, brainwashing us, provoking us to take sides and fuelling in the great divide between perceived rights and wrongs. What is all this leading to? Except for creating another thick smog of looming fear over the the ordinary citizens who are crippled with financial instability, the  continued war on terror serves to further de-humanise the world. It maintains a strong hold of the world's superpower on ordinary people blatantly shouting the message  "We don't care what you think. We are out there for vengeance for the 9/11 attack on our soil. We don't care how the ignorant masses in your countries feel. We are the saviours of humanity!! so we will hunt down the bad guys no matter where they are hiding, even if it means a few hundred thousand innocent lives are lost in the process. All is fair in Love and War!! So accept the fact that we are there to help you lead a peaceful life. There can be no peace in the world without this war on terror!!"

I don't know about you, but all this just makes me cringe. I really don't care about how the world's most wanted man was killed, buried or swept away in sea. I don't know what twists and turns the OBL story will take in future, but I am certainly concerned about what it is making us turn into. Normal, average citizens just want to have a normal happy life. I want straight forward answers in a world that is either black or white. However, the grey smog keeps thickening, suffocating the minds, making us cynical and even delusional. So OBL is gone, now its time for Mullah Omar and then...?? Who will be the next 'bad guy' the world will love to hate? Who will we now throw the blame at for all the vice in the world??

It's said that will power and discipline can help you cross any bridges, what do we do if the bridges we see are only a figment of our imagination. In this world of deception, is anything for real?? Can we ever get over this mania?

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY!

"Logic and critical thinking are the hallmarks of a free society, while rote memorization and repetition are the dictator's counterfeit." -- Michael Rivero

The cultural perspective of Burqa- 'veil' by Murtaza Shibli

The other side of purdah
Murtaza Shibli attempts to lift the much-maligned veil
Adjust Font Size  Purdah hai purdah Akbar (Rishi Kapoor) views obliquely his veiled beloved (Neetu Singh) in ‘Amar Akbar Anthony’ Mirza Ghalib, who played with the purdah motif A model on the Paris runway The romance of the veil Veiled protest Mirza Ghalib in one of his famous couplets admits to having had serial affairs with veiled women, and begs Allah not to look at his nama-e-a’amal or list of deeds. He invokes the Islamic ruling that forbids gazing at women as being an ignoble act, and leans on it to imply that the same applies to the gaze of the Almighty as well Rasul Mir, a 19th century romantic Koshur poet, is captivated by the contours of his beloved’s breasts. In one of his poems, while beckoning his beloved Kungi, he describes her ‘fiery breasts’ as inverted domes, rebelliously inverting the concept of holiness by locating it in the body of his beloved. Fittingly, Rasul Mir is buried inside the compound of a large mosque in Dooru, Islamabad, in Kashmir The veil has a romantic side too. For centuries, the burqa, hijab, niqab or purdah have inspired romantic poetry: ghazals and poems in Urdu, Farsi, and my mother tongue Koshur(Kashmiri), as well as many other languages that flourish in Muslim cultures from Sindh to Samarkand and Delhi to Dhaka, all are replete with references to the enchanting veil.The mystery of this romance is that the beloved is behind the veil, away from the pernicious gaze of society or ‘zamana’. Even the romances that incubate inside the burqa and the flaming passions that are generated and struggle for an outlet must remain hidden, adding to the intensity and charm of the romance. In classical Farsi and Urdu poetry, the beloved is always veiled, enhancing the pain of longing and love, and intensifying the desire for union. Even when the meeting finally takes place, desire remains un-satiated, and this provokes an even greater desire for a more complete unveiling. There is always a demand for more. A modern Urdu poet sums up the feeling: na ji bhar kay dekha na kutch baat ki badi arzoo thi mulaqat ki (I could not see or talk much; I longed so much for union) Mirza Ghalib in one of his famous couplets admits to having had serial affairs with veiled women, and begs Allah not to look at his nama-e-a’amal or list of deeds. He invokes the Islamic ruling that forbids gazing at women as being an ignoble act, and leans on it to imply that the same applies to the gaze of the Almighty as well. Ghalib’s stated intention, however, is to save the honour of those veiled beauties. In one of his ghazals he says: The shroud veiled the wound of the flaws of nakedness The veil becomes an object of beatification and respect, not for any religious reason, but because of what it holds inside – the most precious and priceless object that is the essence of the beloved. Because it is covering a precious object, the veil itself attains the status of that object. The burqa, which some have described as a shapeless tent, becomes an aastana or shrine. The respect it inspires resembles what Qays ibn al-Mulawwah (better known as Majnun of Layla-Majnun fame) felt for Layla’s house. In one of the poems Qays, the Majnun, says: I pass by these walls, the walls of Layla And I kiss this wall and that wall It’s not Love of the houses that has taken my heart But of the One who dwells in those houses But the need to unveil the beloved is a part of the very metaphor of veiling: in the classic Bollywood film Amar Akbar Anthony , Rishi Kapoor’s Akbar sings a qawwali in a theatre before his beloved, who is wearing a burqa. Cries Akbar (in a cheeky and playful demeanour): Veil o veil! Behind the veil Is the One And if I don’t unveil her beauty My name ain’t Akbar! There is also, of course, the veiled One’s rebuttal to every prudah-tearing Akbar. In the film Nikah (1982) there is a verbal duel between groups of men and women in the form of a sung aawwali. The men sing: Chehra chupa liya hai kisi nay hijab mein Ji chahata hai aag laga doon naqab mein (Someone has hidden her face beneath the hijab I wish I could set the niqab on fire) And the women’s reply is: Bijali thi ik jo hum ne chhupa li naqab mein Lag jaati varna aag tumhaare shabab mein (It is lightning that we have covered with our niqab Otherwise it would have set your youth on fire.) Others have not been so subtle in demanding a carnal encounter. One of the greatest modern Urdu poets, Ahmad Faraz (1931-2008), questions the wisdom of the veil by emphasizing the earthly (and therefore legitimate) nature of human desire: You are not God and my love is not angelic Being humans why should we meet under so many veils Muslim as well as non-Muslim politicians have described the veil as a limitation. But they seem unfamiliar with its other life as motif and metaphor for the preciousness of the human soul, not to mention its storied sexual role: Rasul Mir, a 19thcentury romantic Koshur poet, is captivated by the contours of his beloved’s breasts and venerates them, often employing religious symbols. In one of his poems he describes the breasts of his beloved as objects of desire for all those who are in love. These are rotund and sweet as pomegranates, and he prays for them during his nocturnal supplications. In one of his poems, while beckoning his beloved Kungi , he describes her ‘fiery breasts’ as inverted domes, rebelliously inverting the concept of holiness by locating it in the body of his beloved. Fittingly, Rasul Mir is buried inside the compound of a large mosque in Dooru, Islamabad, in Kashmir. When I visited his grave in 2006, it was decorated like a Sufi shrine, bedecked with flowers and burning incense. A small signboard there read: Aashiq Rasul Mir . Many people, including Islamic scholars, argue that the veil affords safety and security to women. This is most applicable to places like Afghanistan or the tribal areas of Pakistan, where women have been bartered to settle family or clan feuds, or raped and kidnapped by warlords because of their beauty. In many conservative Muslim cultures, the burqa offers a necessary anonymity to women to negotiate cultural taboos and frontiers without being noticed as ‘a particular woman’, and shields them from unwarranted male attention. In this way, the burqa becomes important and very convenient to go to the cinema or to meet your mahboob or lover, or simply to wander around without attracting male attention. (Also worth noting is the fact that under the safety and anonymity of the burqa, many women from once financially secure families can go out and beg for alms and food. In Kashmir, India, Iran and Turkey, I have seen women begging with their veils on as it protects their family’s reputation.) There are poetic references that place the veil as the main defence for women against the evils of society, particularly from the prying eyes of lascivious males. An Urdu couplet set in a mischievous idiom counsels women: Don’t let that scarf fall off your breast Or else even the old would pray for their youth to come back And now for a piece of my own experience: after last year’s news of arow between Saudi Princess SaraAl-Amoudi and her Swedish boyfriendPatrick Ribbsaeter, a photograph of her appeared in a black veil with only her eyes showing. It provoked an instant nostalgia for my college days, and I couldn’t help but mumble a Koshur song that addresses a burqa-clad beauty: Chi hai chak nara wuzmul Krehnis hai burqas tal (You are a bolt of lightning, flashing fire Under this black burqa) Murtaza Shibli is a London based writer and consultant on Muslim issues in Europe and South Asia. He is also the editor of '7/7: Muslim Perspectives', a book that explores the British Muslim reaction to the London bombings

Saira Khan's Pakistan Adventure

An excellent production led by Saira Khan, a British woman with roots in Kashmir. Saira Khan takes you through a journey that will certainly be an eye opener for many non-Pakistanis. This documentary beautifully captures the multidimensional nature of the Pakistani society which is an eclectic mix of rich tradition, culture, expressions of art, music, religious devotion all embedded in a land enriched with beautiful flowing rivers, serene desert and magnificent mountains.

Socrates-Triple Filter Test

In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?"
"Hold on a minute," Socrates replied..
"Before telling me anything, I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test."

"Triple filter?"

"That's right," Socrates continued.
"Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it the triple filter test."

"The first filter is TRUTH. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"
"No," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and..."

'All right," said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter, the filter of GOODNESS. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?"

"No, on the contrary...."

"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left: the filter of USEFULNESS. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?"

"No, not really."

"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"

Friends, use this triple filter each time you hear loose talk about any of your near & dear friends.

Day Dreaming is for FOOOLS!!!

Day dreaming is for fools...really?  I have started to think differently now .

Research has shown that children with a high imagination turn out to be more creative. Dreams make the impossible possible as they let your mind go where it wants to without any societal or physical barriers.

Dreams have always intrigued me. I often think of the common dreams I frequently have and have with time learnt to take them as symbolic. However, what I am talking about now is not the dreams we see while in a state of sleep when the subconscious mind conjures up images often reflecting our daily thoughts, the matters most affecting us.

Recently, I have come to realise the healing power of day dreams. Yes, really it’s a great therapy, as long as you don’t live in it all the time. It can act like a relaxing tonic.

 So many times in life we are faced with situations we have no control on. It makes us sad and depressed. But if you are able to switch on this side of you that lets you experience positive feelings of hope and you are able to just focus on the positivity of what you have rather on what you don’t have..it can be a real blessing.

Some of you may find this funny or even ridiculous. I don’t have any scientific explanation for this. Cynics will differ. They will say you are a fool to think like this. This is denial. You need to accept the realities and move on with life.

But hey, did you ever realise how much we practice this already. Especially what we are going through in  Pakistan. We are all aware of the harsh realities, the painful situation is enough to throw any sensitive creature in a state of perpetual shock,  but we are still alive, function  normally. Because we have created our own surreal world... we have to.. we can’t go on without it.

On a personal level, I have found this technique therapeautic. It helps me stay positive and gives me the time to heal internally. I am sure you must have your own take on the subject. Would love to hear what you think.

Travellers

The journey of life is filled with numerous fellow travellers we meet along the way. Familiar faces and  routine  become such an important fabric of life. As I think of my daily companions, I recall the quick hello with the elderly lady who walks her two dogs early every morning as I wait for the bus, there is the look of familiarity with the station master and the guards whom I see everyday and am able to recognise them even if I see them without their uniforms in another place, the exchange of regular emails from an old friend who shares her pains and struggles in life  as a single mom looking after her two kids while battling with the scars of an ugly divorce, the small talk with the fitness instructor at the gym where ladies of all shapes , sizes  and  ages are using physical exercise as a means to deal with their own separate issues....the exchange of witty updates on facebook between friends you have never met in life and probably will never meet...all these people though insignificant in their individual capacity make up a very important part of my life.

They add colour to the otherwise routine chores, the work, the complexity of relationships, the struggles and triumphs of life. How significant are all these fellow travellers, sometimes they provide the sanity that you need to get through the bad days. It takes just a familiar smile or the odd comment on facebook that lifts your spirits or diverts your thoughts to an angle you didn’t consider before.

This thought once again makes me realise that after all it’s the little things in life that really keep you together . The friendship you counted on for years can simply fade into a distant memory, the bonds that you make in love can suddenly fire up and die their own course, the people who share their stories with you can just move by when they find a new meaning to life. People come and go. Some like to just savour the companionship and stay in touch for whatever their need is at that time. Some exchange meaningful words under the cover of jest and silently watch for a response, while some people are persistent and loyal and can make you feel special..and with them all the other travellers fill in the gaps to help you stay grounded to real life.

As I further divulge into this thought, I realise it's not these nameless travellers who are providing me the sanity, its actually the fact that all these people actually make me count the numerous blessings I have come to take for granted. The exchange of pleasantries with strangers reminds me what a beautiful race God has created. We are human, we care for each other and feel connected even while silently standing in a queue. I am thankful for the blessing of health so I can travel independently, for my work that gives me confidence and provides me livelihood and for my family and friends who add value by making me a part of their lives.

If you have been too busy with work, family or any other matter...just take a few seconds to take in the environment around you. The very nature of life.. good or bad, happy or sad should be a reminder that you are alive and there is so much to be thankful for.

My fellow travellers I wish you a lovely jpurney....

A sad truth

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Donate generously for Pakistan Floods

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From Bankstown Pressure Cooks to Bankstown Bites

I had never thought I would find fame in the land 'Downunder' which is so painfully far from my beloved home country. It's not like I have become some sort of a celebrity, but I am certainly proud of the fact that I was asked to do a cooking demonstration from the Pakistani culture in front of a live audience at a well atended local Annual event.                                                                  Bankstown Bites is an Annual event organised by the local council to promote the cultural diversity of this Sydney suburb that has a wonderful mix of people from all around the world. The event promotes Bankstown as the ultimate Food centre of Sydney. It gives a chance for local businesses to showcase their wares and delight people with the authentic and rich tastes of the predominantly Mediterranean and Asian cultures. The invitation from the lovely Cathy did not come much of a surprise to me. I had worked with Cathy in the Bankstown Pressure Cooks(BPC) event. Cathy now manages the Growing Communities Project at a very respectable NGO. Last month she invited me to present my views of my experience at the BPC with the staff of her organisation and at the same time asked me how I felt about doing a cooking demo on stage. Her argument was that, its a very unique form of food and not many people are aware of it. Also, the cook book with all the recipes from the BPC project will be launched the same day and it would be great to have one of the recipes deomostrated.

Now assisting in the background and acting as a Cultural Adviser with some share in the limelight as a judge is one thing, but actually doing a live cooking demo alongside some well known celebrity chefs is another. My heart fluttered for a while, but the strong patriotic spirit soon kicked in  to this wonderful opportunity to represent Pakistan in a positive manner  and I  accepted the honour.

Cathy was delighted. In an ensuing e-mail she wrote to me, "I've been liaising with the organisers of Bankstown Bites, they are very enthusiastic about you being on stage in your sari, preparing the Dahi Vade."

Now this is where I had to clarify, 'By the way, I won't be wearing a 'sari'... :) I will wear a Shalwar Kameez which is what I wore to the BPC sessions earlier. That is Pakistan's national dress. I know ppl often get confused with Indian and Pakistani culture and cuisine. The reason I agreed to become a Pakistani Cultural Adviser was to help dispel that misconception. I have nothing against India, but I would like to take this opportunity to promote the positive image of Pakistan. Not many people know about my country and they often mix it up with either India or the Muslim fanaticism in Afghanistan.."

I just thought I should clarify this so the organisers are also not under some misconception. Cathy was gracious enough to respond, " Thank you for letting me know the facts about the Shalwar Kameez - it's very important to me also, that we get the cultural nuances right."

This is just a case in point. Unfortunately, the only mention of Pakistan in the international media is related to unfortunate bomb attacks and most of the people actually think most of us are extreme fanatics who live in the 18th century...This is what saddens me most.

Yes, Our cricket team is popular too even though they have been constantly aced by the Aussies in recent matches... but that's a positive light too.

Australia has proven to be a country that absorbs different cultures and most of the people I have met are very helplful and friendly. Infact, its interesting to hear comments from Caucasian background  " I wish I had some ethnic background. I sound so boring.."

So on 31st of July, yours truly will try to win hearts of the general masses through the sumptuous preparation and sampling of the tasty Dahi baras.My dahi bara recipe has also been included in the Bankstown Pressure Cooks Cook book that will be launched the same day. So yes, it is an exciting day for me.

I get shivers of excitement as I think of it.

Will write more after the event. I am sure I will have lots to share then.


Cheers!