London Revisited

So here I am, on a cloudy Monday, seated on an old wooden bench facing the Thames. I feel different things- excited, exhilarated, nervous, scared, happy. I am all of these now.

This is my second time in London. I came here last year, but as a tourist. This time, I am a student. And what a difference it makes! My last visit to London was experienced through the camera lens. Like any other tourist, I walked around constantly capturing anything and everything I saw. Old buildings, the iconic black taxis, the bright red telephone booths..even lamp posts! I did what a tourist in London is supposed to do- go to the millennium bridge, see the national gallery, walk through Hyde park, take pictures in front of the Big Ben and London eye. And of course wait in a crowd of hundreds to take blurry pictures of the change of guard at the Buckingham palace. I did all those things and I really enjoyed it too.
But this time, I'm FEELING London. I can feel the fast pulse of the city, I can see its colourful diversity, I can smell ambition around me. A lot of things which I didn't notice in my first visit are revealing themselves to me now.

Today morning I walked out with plans of buying some stuff for my room and then changed my mind and decided to just walk around. I didn't have any place in mind so I just..walked. If certain streets seemed interesting then I explored them. I got into random buildings, did a lot of people watching. Followed some around when I wasn't sure where I was going. Heard interesting snippets of bankers contemplating on whether to eat couscous or not…
At one point I was caught in an oncoming rush of people in suits. Smart bankers and investors in greys and blacks and blues. Women, ready to take on the world, rushing to their offices in their nikes and Adidas with the heels stuffed into their bags. Steaming coffee from Costa in one hand and sandwich in the other, they marched on to the face the gloomy Monday. And I came back to my cozy room.

I think I like this city. Maybe because I blend in here. I can be one of the many walking around, without explaining why.

I

Fiery,
I swam across bloody oceans
seeking that elusive shore
where dreams run free
and I am just me.
Where gentle curves and rough edges
do not determine fate
Where sacred bodies do not contain imprisoned minds.
I prayed for footprints that do not trample,
Eyes which do not degrade.
Hands outstretched, I waited for
winds which carry freedom
and my ears strained for
laughter that didn’t stifle hidden pain.
But all in vain because
Masks slipped as they
snatched the books and confiscated my pen.
Then they laughed and said
‘This, dear girl, is not your place’
So now you find me,
plucked out of the womb, or buried under the sand,
In unhappy unions with bruises as bands.
Soul shattered, body battered,
I walk over the flames of a thousand burning suns,
With nothing to show but battle scars and
faded dreams in empty eyes,
looking for that place where

I am. 

A Nightmare

Sometimes you pray that dreams don’t come true. As I did today. I am usually a good-dreamer (?) and wake up mostly feeling positive. This afternoon’s nap however was the most disturbing one for me and I woke up in a cold sweat. It took me a while to realize that it wasn’t real and I was safe.

What did I dream about? Child Sexual Abuse.

I wasn’t there in this nightmare. It was someone I didn’t know I knew. It was a young friendly girl who loves to talk. She laughs with abandon and is carefree. And the world exploits that.

I watch in horror as she is molested, again and again, till she loses herself. And this is done by people she knows and trusts A friend’s parent here, a teacher there….till she doesn’t know whom to trust. Life for her becomes an endless loop, each cycle bringing more pain. I was stuck in that horrible dream- watching her breaking and tearing and screaming for help. And, like in all nightmares, I was confined. I opened my mouth to tell her I am coming but no words escaped. Muted, I watched as she shattered. And then, like grains of sand, she slipped away from their hands and was lost into the wind, never to come back.

Losing her was the un-becoming of me. Why did I let it happen? Why couldn’t I say anything- not one word? But dreams aren’t democratic and you don’t get to choose what you can see, or do.
UNICEF estimates that more than 200 million (including 73 million boys) have been exploited worldwide by the age of 18. That is more than the population of Greece, Italy, France and the UK combined together. And this was statistics taken 10 years ago, now the numbers must have gone through the roof. Not only are they sexually assaulted by people they love but also degraded by institutions through forced involvement in child prostitution and pornography.

The more I read about how sick certain sections of the society has become the more grateful I am for the life I’ve been blessed with. I had a very happy and sheltered childhood. People around me gave me nothing but love, care and security. I didn’t have my innocence brutally shattered before me. I believed in good and I trusted people. But for millions,that’s not the case when they watch their childhood being brutally slaughtered in front of their eyes. We are manufacturing broken people who have unlearned how to trust.
Unfortunately, this isn't just a bad nightmare- this is reality. And we need to stop being mute spectators. It’s high time we move beyond the age old ‘good touch- bad touch’ lessons. Kids deserve to know more in order to protect themselves. If there is anything we need to be paranoid about, it is this. Our children, our brothers and sisters might be victims and we don’t even know it. Imagine the plight of their little minds when they can’t even comprehend what’s happening to them. They might be broken inside and yet blaming themselves for what is happening to them.


We need to do everything in our power to keep them safe, to protect them from the perversion out there and the rest- we leave to God. What more can we do?  

Aromas from Home

I grew up in a Nomadic family. Well, almost. Having a parent work in the armed forces meant living out of the boxes throughout our childhood. My memories are like a huge geographical collage; a few snaps from West Bengal, some from Maharashtra, tit bits from Karnataka- you get the picture. In all these trips and stays my siblings and I subconsciously internalized a lot of what we saw, and felt. And, as I recently found out, even what we smelt.

This constant association of memories with smells has always fascinated me since then. Until I found out the psychological answer for it- we were wired to have this smell directory within us. Thus a walk down a park in a distant country, surrounded by jasmine flowers will always remind you of days spent in the aunt’s garden with cousin sisters giggling over silly crushes, the salty air at seashores will always make you smile at the memory of a family beach trip 10+ years ago. Smells hold on to you. They enter your clothes, seep into forgotten corners of your being and then cling onto you forever. Embedded memories.
Sometimes they surprise us by springing up out of nowhere. Shopping in the supermarket and going through the detergent aisle always reminds of the new terms at school. Armed with news books and stationary, and smartly dressed in starched whites, smelling of Surf detergent (daag acche hain!), we would head off to school. I have realized since that our lives have a smell- timeline of their own where different fragrances chronicle your experiences as you journey through life.

Some of the lasting scents which I still hold on to are- the strong scent of the Old Spice aftershave which my father used to use generously every morning, the sweet-tangy smell  in the air when my mother made pickles and squashes out of home-grown mangoes which now belong to summers long gone,  masala chai on a rainy day,the smell of old yellowed books in our personal library which remind me of watching ‘The Mummy Returns’ for some weird reason…

There are more of these conspiring scents which grab hold of me at the most unexpected of times and take me down the nostalgia lane. For example, the scent of ink takes me back to high school days and sleepless nights spent perfecting my chemistry record book. New clothes bring to mind Eid day in all its celebration and revelry. One memory leads to another and I often end up reminiscing about Eid as a carefree child. Growing up in a Muslim household, aromas originating from the kitchen- were, and are- a central aspect of our daily lives. Hailing from Malabar, my mother is quite the cook. On Eid day she would cook up a storm for the entire defence colony we lived in. Our table would be laden with delicious chicken biriyani, deep friend meat cutlets cooked to perfection and the sweet payasam (rice pudding) to finish it all off. I remember waking up on Eid to the smell of caramelized onions courting the spicy masala from the chicken sizzling on the stove and then mingling with the sweet milky fragrance of payasam. My brothers and I would tip-toe to the kitchen to steal a few treats and have the refreshing smell of coriander and mint (being vigorously chopped by our maid to use as garnish in the dishes) wash over us.




Eid afternoons are a medley of sights, sounds and smells to this day, no matter where we go. More so when it is with the family, my grandma’s house for instance. Those few Eids we spent at her place are always accompanied with memories of great smells. Spices, sweets, melting ghee, lemon tea always brewing on the stove, the henna from the day before adorning our hands- smells on Eid day were a heightened sensation especially  when accompanied by the festive glee of children about to receive gifts from the elders. Naughty kids that we were, we spent Eid more outside the house than inside. Playing carefully in our new clothes, we made sure no adults caught hold of us. My grandmother’s yard was another symphony of smells- fragrances so calming you could lose yourself to it. As kids we would run from the fig tree to the guava tree in her garden, fighting for the last fruit and when the sun set and we ran back inside- bruised and muddy, our hands always smelt of sweet wood. Then we would we whisked into the bathroom and ordered to scrub ourselves with Dettol. Ah Dettol! Companion to all worried mothers, and enemy no.1 to bruised children- Dettol was a constant presence in all our houses. The strong astringent makes me think of a time when we were reckless being, my siblings and I, jumping from one sofa to the other, scaling cupboards like mountains, swinging from trees to land on our heads and arms and elbows. Each bruise was fervently rubbed with this stinging liquid [and obviously preceded by a smack on the head and lengthy ‘I told you so’ speech by our mother] as we kept a brave face and willed away tears. Whenever I smell Dettol-in hospitals or at a relative’s house- I am taken back to the days of cycling races and bruised knees.


Fragrances form an essential part of my life. I hold them close to me and cherish them. For me each scent signifies change and growth. They take me to times long gone and sometimes propel me to days yet to come. Scents take over when pictures can’t take you any further. Whatever it be, when things get rough or I get low, I just need to smell something-the right thing. A whiff of some hot chocolate, the familiar smell of my room or just the scent of my best friend when she hugs me- and I realize how blessed I am. 


This post is a new entry for AmbiPur 'Smelly to Smiley' contest on IndiBlogger. More details can be found at: http://www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia

Enough Now

'Enough now',
said his innocent eyes,
'Hand me down grenades
which explode mid way
and bullets which shoot inwards
have scarred
and re-scarred.
And now blood runs freely
in this land of the golden dunes and the glistening Nile '

'They watch freedom bleed us dry 
and say,
Blue and red interweave to
paint your city free.
But when the cries of my mother echo
from the square,
over my sister, clutching her broken doll:
tangled limbs,
out of socket, eyes blank,
I am not so sure anymore.'

'But now bullets spoke
what text books never taught, and
I’ve learnt my lesson-
freedom isn’t free.
It stole my dreams and sold it
to monsters under my bed.
I've traded and I've lost,
So enough now.
Before the smokes settles down
and the world forgets my face,

put me out of this pain.'

Photograph by Mossab el-Shamy, AFP/Getty Images,
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2013/08/pictures/130815-cairo-egypt-deaths-protesters/#/egypt-deadly-crackdown-protesters-kills-cairo-bleeding_70397_600x450.jpg

Some thoughts

A lot has been going through my head. So much that I am unable to figure out where one thought ends and the other begins. The only way I can get them to appear even slightly coherent is if I try to write it down.So here’s me typing each and every word that comes into my mind. I do not want to think ahead about what I am writing. i want it to be a catharsis; complete. I do not want to stop to correct any errors or typos, because this is just my thoughts flowing out, so it is bound to stumble and change directions.. .Any stream would do that, and so will this.

Why did I want to write? Because I was feeling a little low. My ramadan hasn’t been going the way I planned it to, and now that there’s only 10 days left I am filled with this intense regret and inexplicable grief at what I’ve allowed to take place. I let myself slack, I let myself slow down, I let myself procrastinate. All when I knew this might be the last time I get to witness this blessed month. I feel hypocritical. Am I portraying one image and living another life? I don’t want that to happen because Allah says that hypocrites are the worst of the people. So I find myself coming back, again and again, to the same question- “who am I doing it for?” Do my actions and intentions overlap? Did I do this to please Allah or to feed my ego?

And frankly, it is terrifying.

The last 10 days of Ramadan, the most blessed days one can experience, have come upon us and I am here thinking am I even in right frame. Did I even start the car in the first place, before embarking on this spiritual journey?
It is quite depressing and writing about it makes me feel even worse. But I am doing it anyway because there might be others like me who feel they haven’t done enough (Or anything, actually ). This post is to pull me, and you out, of this rut. Yes, we are stuck. And yes it’s horrible. But do we just sit around and mope about it? No.

1/3rd of Ramadan is still with us. And, all praise be to Allah, it’s still not too late.

Allah is the most merciful. He forgives and he loves to forgive! So this is the chance to shake off the dust that we managed to bury our soul under and polish our Eeman. Let’s be proactive and not let a single precious second escape without it being used to wipe away our sins or earn us more reward.
The gates of heaven are open and beckoning us. It’s waiting for us to make that one du’a, to shed that one tear of repentance, to give that one note in charity.  Are we ready to go back to Allah? I am. In shaa Allah.

So my du’a for the next 10 days-
Allahumma innaka ‘afuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa’fu ‘annee
( “O Allah You are The One Who pardons greatly, and loves to pardon, so pardon me.”)

A Muslim's perspective on God

I have shied away from writing anything in detail about spirituality or religion for a long time now. Faith is something intensely personal, and rightly so. But in this globalized era what's personal has become political. And as one can see from the news, the geopolitics of faith have become more important than the principles of it. Which is quite sad.

So this post is my effort to introduce you to God, from a Muslim perspective. I am not here to proselytize. My only intention is to shed all pretenses and barriers around me and just tell you what God means to me and what place religion occupies in a Muslim's life. I hope you will benefit from this post and will be encouraged to do your own research on this religion. 

At the core of the Islamic faith is the principle of Tawheed, which translates into Oneness of God. God is One. He has no parents, no wife, no husband and no children. Among His attributes is that He is like nothing else we know of. He is not needy like humans are. This is best surmised in Chapter 112 of Qur'an- Surah Ikhlas (The Sincerity):

Say, "He is Allah , [who is] One,
Allah , the Eternal Refuge.
He neither begets nor is born,
Nor is there to Him any equivalent."

This chapter makes it explicit that God, the creator, is different from us humans, His creations. God doesn't have any weaknesses, we do. Thus, we believers don't attribute any image or idol to him because He is beyond this worldly realm and what we procure from our imagination can never ever come close to portraying Him in all His majesty. 

The word Islam means 'Submission to God' and a follower of Islam is a Muslim i.e One who submits himself completely to God. This is what makes Islam a way of life. For a Muslim, the sole purpose of life is to worship and please God almighty. Thus, everything we do in our day to day lives is informed by that love for God. So a Muslim strives on a daily basis to rise above the distractions of the material world (dunya) to worship the Owner of the world(s). 

To make it easier for us to understand HOW to achieve this spiritual state, God sent Prophets to different societies, in different times, with the same message- There is no God worthy of worship except The God. Some of these prophets- as mentioned in the Qur'an- were- Adam, Noah, Moses, Jesus, Jacob, Joseph, Abraham (May peace be upon all of them) and the seal of all Prophets- Prophet Muhammed (Peace and Blessings be upon him).

Each prophet was sent to a particular society and Muhammad (Peace and Blessings be upon him) was sent to the entire mankind. Some of these prophets were sent scriptures, such as Torah, Bible and the Qur'an. Qur'an is considered as the final revelation and is also defined as the 'Criterion' - it is a guide to distinguish right from wrong. In simple terms, it's the user manual for human beings, released by the manufacturer Himself! 

Some people are under the impression that Islam is a religion of do's and don'ts as can often be seen from the Halal-Haram battles on the internet. Islam is so much more than a ritualistic religion. From its follower it requires firstly a complete internal submission followed by a physical one. Faith is a state of mind too, so in the Qur'an Allah asks the believers to have Taqwa i.e. God- consciousness. We are asked to be aware of God and his ultimate power. We are asked to be mindful of the fact that with all its temptations, trials and tribulations, this life is temporary- a test whose results will be out in the afterlife. And it is this very consciousness that makes a Muslim mindful of what he does and does not do. It is his effort to make sure that he doesn't in any way displease God. So he refers to the Qur'an and the Sunnah (the life and etiquette of the Prophet Muhammed) to ensure that he is on the right track. 

The problem occurs when some Muslims lose focus of the bigger picture and occupy themselves with the technicalities and the nitty-gritty of the Halal/ Haram. This takes up so much of their energy and time that in the end they completely lose sight of why those things were required of them in the first place. 
Islam is a religion of action. It's not enough if it's "all there in the heart", we have to translate our intentions into actions too. A demonstration of this is the 5 pillars of Islam. 
They are- 
1)Shahadah-Testimony that there is no God worthy of worship but the God (Allah) and Muhammad (Peace and Blessings be upon him) is the last messenger.
2) Salah - 5 daily prayers spread throughout the day for men, women, children- young and old- alike. 
3) Sawm- Fasting in the month of Ramadan from dawn to dusk.
4) Zakat- Annual charity. This is a pre-calculated portion of your annual salary and assets and is given to the poor and needy of the neighborhood. 
5) Hajj -pilgrimage to Makkah. This is required of all those who can financially and physically afford to make the trip from their homelands to Makkah.

Apart from these the believer is given certain guidelines to live by. Some of them are- Internal and external modesty, generosity with money and time, humility in the demeanour, kindness to those around. Islam is a social religion too. A healthy community is viewed as a pre-requisite for harmonious living. Thus, our neighbours have rights upon us. The poor and oppressed of the society have rights upon us. Even the environment has rights upon us. Charity is given utmost importance in the Qur'an. A believer is asked to give charity from what he loves. He is encouraged to ensure that destitute of the society are looked after. We will be held accountable on the Day of Judgement if our neighbour goes to bed without food while we sleep on full stomachs. 

Islam is also a just religion. This might comes as a shocker for those who follow the middle eastern news. But the sad thing is, none of the countries in the Modern world are completely Islamic. They have made a mockery of the 'Shariah' by being extremely prejudiced against woman and those of other races. However, Islam asks male believers and female believers to respect and honour each other and condemns racism in the strongest possible terms. In front of God, what matters is the piety and depth of belief of the person and not whether he/she is black, white or brown. 

The Qur'an emphasises this in the following verse- 
" O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives. Whether one is rich or poor, Allah is more worthy of both. So follow not [personal] inclination, lest you not be just. And if you distort [your testimony] or refuse [to give it], then indeed Allah is ever, with what you do, Acquainted." ( 4:135)

This fairness and sense of justice is also reinforced in the Prophet Muhammad's last sermon, before his death, where he said: 
" O’ Ye people! Allah says, O’ people We created you from one male and one female and made you into tribes and nations, so as to be known to one another. Verily in the sight of Allah, the most honoured amongst you is the one who is most God-fearing. There is no superiority for an Arab over a non-Arab and for a non-Arab over an Arab, nor for the white over the black nor for the black over the white except in God-consciousness."

There are obviously some rulings which may appear confusing to non- Muslims. It's understandable but it doesn't mean you make your own assumptions about what it "could mean". You have to put it in the context of the time and place of revelation and how it relates to the present day. If you wish to understand more about Islam, I advise you to read a translation of the Qur'an in whichever language you are most comfortable in. 

And talk to your Muslim friends too! We may not have all the answers all the time, but we will help you look for it (and in the process learn ourselves too). 
This post has stretched out more than I wanted it to and I still can't do justice to it. I hope this was an informative read for you and would love it if you have any feedback or questions. If I don't the answer to any question, I am going to say just that- 'I don't know' ! I am extremely lacking in terms of Islamic knowledge, but I'll try my best to point you to authentic sources from where you can clarify your doubts.

I pray to God that he blesses us with that which is true and pure. And I pray he blesses our lives with peace and contentment.