Tribute to Dadabus galore

To know someone’s sitting by forever,
And they lose their patience never,
To know they love you, but might not show it,
Understand, though we might not know it,
To know there’s a silent hero among us,
Though without all that popularity fuss,
A miracle from the heavens in the sky,
Even in misery, the streams of life never dry,
To know someone who’s had an individual past,
And a personality which in history shall last,
To know amidst us sits someone grand,
Who knows how to take a strong stand,
To know all this and to know that he,
Is our Dadabu and shall always be,
A miracle from the heavens in the sky,

A spirit which shall never die.

Because my Dadabu truly is one in a million 🙂 I gave this poem to him, and his mixed emotions were adorable since he isn’t very expressive emotionally, something I get from him.

Meow Tales

Something’s not right,
I say as my cat fiddles with her food,
Don’t you think so too?
She meows, clearly not in the mood.
I pat her head and keep talking,
Of how the world has declined,
Of how we need to really move on,
But I suppose this talk doesn’t appeal to her kind.
Frustrated, I sit by her side,
Hey, listen kitty, there’s a problem,
That food? It’s all gone,

She looks up, her eyes full of glum.

Hidden religion

If I thought living in Pakistan and trying to blend in the socially conscious sphere of people was difficult, I have to close my eyes and think again. Because if you went to a central Asian Muslim state in our North, compared to Pakistan living would be as oppressive as slavery. Only in different ways.
Let’s start off with the book our life’s supposed to revolve around – the Quran. The true, Arabic version of the Quran is unavailable and only official translation can be kept. One cannot teach one’s children the beautiful language of Arabic either.
A parent or a teacher is not allowed to instruct his/her child religiously, and this ban is strictly checked. Before the age of 18, one cannot ask one’s child, “Come pray in the mosque with me”; instead the child must make his own decision about praying publicly when he turns 18. Eid prayer, though, is observed.
No sort of religious literature is to be kept, imported or allowed through the airport terminals. If found, it will be confiscated and even the bearer may be arrested.
If someone wants to travel abroad, the visa must first be approved by the government and then by the country which is to be travelled to. The Government wants to keep everything under control.
Until the recent past, full – sleeved summer shirts for women were unavailable throughout, so women who wanted to cover themselves had to make do with their winter clothes even in the heat. For, if the government forbids something to be sold, you will definitely not find that thing again. Not until the government allows its production and sale again.
Once, a hotel manager was accused of having a prayer mat in his hotel. Though he constantly insisted that he did not own the item and it belonged to a paying guest, and that this item was already registered in lost & found list periodically submitted to government authorities, he was still arrested.
No sort of religious programs are broadcasted, and people have surprisingly grown used to living in this dishonest ignorance. They are not aware of their religious duties; their namaz is just an exercise, as something they have seen others do. They are void of the knowledge that they are expected to do greater things than work, play and eat, but somehow they are silent. In this virtual oppression, they live a black and white life.

I thank Allah that I live in a country where I have the freedom to choose to follow my religion. May He help our affected brothers and sisters, for surely this short account of mine can still never bring us to feel what emptiness they must dwell in.

Divinely done

I have heard of a distant place,
Somewhere far away,
But somewhere to go to,
Every blessed day!
It’s not hard to get to,
And certainly not unreachable!
Go on ask what this is,
Am I capable?
Indeed, bow down your head,
And touch the ground,
Push aside this worldly worry,
Don’t be earth bound!
For it’s a magical land
Where magic is divine,
It holds every secret,

Beckons, “Be mine!”

Mama! Look at the sky!

It was around eight in the evening, as we waited for my father and brother to come home from Isha so we could leave for my grandfather’s house, that I heard the most tremendous noise. It sounded sinister to my ears, and with panic rushing through my blood, I quickly walked to the back door to see what was going on outside. My mother was calm, she assured it wasn’t anything, but living in situations as today, my mind raced away and wreaked all sorts of havoc and disaster. I opened the door and ran outside in my socks, and looked up at the sky to see if there were any signs of an anomaly. Circling around the garden, I saw to my relief that all was actually calm and everything was at peace. The crickets were on with their noise, the stars were shining above, TVs played from our neighbours’ houses, the streetlights shone onto the dark road. Nothing was out of order.
Until I heard the noise again. It was like a blast, but a furtive blast, a quick rapid blast succeeded by many more. It suddenly dawned on me what the cause of it was.
“Fireworks! It’s fireworks!’’ I called to my mum inside, who also came out to see what I was jumping about for.
“It is indeed!” She sighed as she saw the different colours from behind a massive tree. I tried to get around the tree but to no avail, I eventually ran into the house and burst through the front door onto the road, where the spectacle seemed even more beautiful now that it was clearer. I sighed. It was so pretty.
Soon, my mum and my sister followed, and we stood gazing at the fireworks in the middle of the road. We were joined by an elderly couple who silently pointed out the various colours to each other. The fireworks danced in the sky, going about in different directions, pursuing different paths and then dying out slowly after the climax of their short, but bright lives. They were so splendidly adorable, only because they lighted up the sky for a couple of minutes and let us sink into that daze that it spreads around, happy with the celebratory shrieks it made. The chill crept into my feet, but I stood my ground, it’s not often when you get to see fireworks outside your very house.
I don’t exactly know why we enjoy them so much, but whenever they decide to show up, I know what I’m going to do.

Leave it all and run towards the beauty.