forever

if forever had to end now...would we be happy?

would we be the epitome of 'the invitation' and 'desiderata'

or would we live by experiences gone by, 

bitterness engulfing us?

or would be able to stand up to those around us,

for what we believe in,

forgiving those who hurt us,

moving on,

giving second chances,

yet respecting those around us, while respecting ourselves.

are both uniquely exclusive?

or mutually complimentary?

does this make us weak?

naked to being hurt?

or does it take us to the beginning?

leading by example,

from the most humble,

loving,

forgiving,

sincere,

devout individual,

who also...

endured hardship,

loss,

turmoil,

hunger,

defeat...

yet turned it all into something positive.

the choice

is

YOURS!

LOVE LIKE U'VE NEVER BEEN HURT

Trip to the Spa

During this week I went out for coffee with my friend Sadia. She’s recently expanded her previously small beauty salon into a very larnified spa. She got herself a posh house that she’s converted and equipped with all the latest gadgetry. The garden has these relaxation pools and water/sound therapy and there’s a room with light therapy and some other weird stuff that I don’t quite get, but maybe I’ll try out someday. Her clientele vary from the ultra modern chic executive to the bored housewife who wants to keep herself polished. Now I’ve heard about how women who go to the hairdresser offload as if they’re visiting a shrink but it was only when I heard all of Sadia’s stories that I believed it! The one that struck me most was about the niqabi woman whose husband drives her to the salon. Of course it’s expected that treatments will take a couple of hours and he agrees to fetch her after a while. She enters the salon and says she’d like an appointment for a manicure / pedicure, which doesn’t take more than half an hour and asks for the appointment to be after an hour; meanwhile she hops into the ladies room and exits with a different abaya on. Next thing you know she’s out the door and into another car with a different guy! There’s a lot that can happen in an hour away! Then she’s back again for the manicure and pedicure, a quick change and the dutiful husband is found waiting outside for her. Back home he says to her, “honey the trip to the spa really did wonders for you! You look amazing, glowing!” - unaware of the sexy romp that really made her cheeks glow!

A Bhopa woman of the Thar desert

(Picture found @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/54236819@N00/154047667/)

Reminisce

I remember...

The dingy daylight as I awoke,
The stench of the flowers as I passed by,
The shrill, horrid screams of the children as they laughed happily,
The ominous tune of the love song which played on the radio,
The sinister smiles of the people who passed by and
The hideous glow of the setting sun

on the day that you ripped open my chest and switched off my heart.

Lost Mystics

In response to some earlier comments on the post Just Peachy in which I quoted a couplet by Ghalib Mirza, some readers of this blog spoke about Rumi. I realise in the past couple of years there’s been a sudden rise in interest in Sufism and sufi poetry but to a large degree, the focus has been on Rumi, and while I absolutely love indulging in Rumi readings, I think we lose a lot when we fail to discover the other mystics who may have come before or after Rumi but since most of their works have not been mass-translated, they are often forgotten. So this is for the lost mystics! And I couldn’t resist in including a bit of Rumi in there too.



"It has long been known in this ancient abode that without bitterness, life can never become sweet. For nine long months the child must drink blood in its mother's womb; and how many tortures must the ruby endure, imprisoned in rock, before the sun finally illuminates its gorgeous hue!"

Moulana Nurruddin AbdurRahman Jami



O bird of the morning, learn love from the moth
Because it burnt, lost its life, and found no voice.
These pretenders are ignorantly in search of Him,
Because he who obtained knowledge has not returned.

Muslih'uddin Sa'di al-Shirazi



Don't speak of your suffering -- He is speaking.
Don't look for Him everywhere -- He's looking for you.
An ant's foot touches a leaf, He senses it;
A pebble shifts in a streambed, He knows it.
If there's a worm hidden deep in a rock,
He'll know its body, tinier than an atom,
The sound of its praise, its secret ecstasy --
All this He knows by divine knowing.
He has given the tiniest worm its food;
He has opened to you the Way of the Holy Ones.

Sana'i



Until you become an unbeliever in your own self,
you cannot become a believer in God.

Abu-Sa'id Ab'il-Khayr - 'Nobody, Son of Nobody'



O my Lord,the stars glitterand the eyes of men are closed.
Kings have locked their doorsand each lover is alone with his love.
Here, I am alone with you.

Rab’ia Al Addawiya



I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?
I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?
If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,
If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening
Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing –Now!

Hafez



"For your sake, I hurry over land and water:
For your sake, I cross the desert and split the mountain in two,
And turn my face from all things,
Until the time I reach the place
Where I am alone with You."

Al Hallaj




Miserable is a heart that has no beloved.
It is difficult to be without a friend or a beloved.
These few moments which you can never find again,
If you have a heart,
do not be without a beloved.

Nizami


In love, ask for madness,
A life abandoned and a mind lost,
Ask for dangerous adventures
In deserts filled with blood and fire!

Mevlana Jallaluddin Mohammed Rumi

Number 1 in the 5 Series

The memory of yesterday

The sound pierced the darkness, shattering the silence of the night. She woke, heart racing, head pounding. It was the fourth time this week. Sleep broken by her own shrieks. She groped around her bedside table with one hand, searching for the glass of water she had placed there before going to bed, and with the other, she reached for the pills. She didn't want the invasive light on, the blackness somehow felt calming. Sip by sip, her pulse normalised, all the while her eyes flickering from side to side, as she rummaged through the images in her mind. Nothing seemed to make sense, so many muddled pictures but the puzzle pieces weren't connecting. Shards from a life long forgotten. Semblances of the past. It seems wherever she goes, there's no escape.

Laying in the dark, but now far too pre-occupied to fall asleep again. Anisa sits and lets the event of the nightmare play over in her mind. Everything is confused, the reality of what happened distorted by time and dream. She thought she was over it by now, that after everything she had done, leaving that place and every one involved that she could move on. But it seems her mind had other intentions. Anisa sits up, and turns on the bedside lamp and pads barefoot to the bathroom. She splashes some cold water onto her face and stares at herself. Her eyes, rimmed red of the tears, the weariness showing clearly in the reflection. She knows now, that no matter how she ran, eventually the past catches up with you.

How did he know she was here? Maybe the whole 'urban legend' about, sperm cells fitted with micro-sized trackers was actually true. But how did he know she would fall pregnant from just one encounter? Her stomach lurched as she relived the most amazing sexual encounter of her life. It had occurred three months before, at the top of a cliff with the waves crashing violently below, as the sheets of falling rain left them drenched. The past three months has taught her two things; firstly, that when we 'mess' up, our parents are not as upset with us, as they are about the fact that the future which they envisaged for themselves regarding us, is no longer possible. Secondly, that when we love, we can do it only for our own sake, because the feelings of the one we love are as far beyond our control, as the ability of the US forces in Afghanistan to find Osama.

As if she called him to her side, there's a knock at the door, heart racing, she knows. She opens the door expectantly, and is not surprised to see him there. Self consciously she moves towards the window on the other side of the room, not understanding why she needs space between them. He grabs her waist, and kisses her in the nape of her neck. With that one touch, she knows that everything that's happened in the past pales into significance. And that is her last coherent thought as she the myriad of lights explode within her.

With her hopes high, she watches him expectantly, thinking he has finally come home, but the look in his eyes shows the steely willpower that she doesn't want to see. She looks at him and realizes that she is nothing more than a body to satisfy…

The loneliness that he feels, draws him like a magnet to her. Fleeting moments of physical intimacy are what keeps him coming back. But Anisa needs more than just that. The nightmares keep coming back, wrenching her from sleep like a baby being wrenched from a womb. In her moments of solitude, the encounters of the past 3 months, keep her warm, safe and loved. But the reality of seeing him there, the look in his eyes, makes her feel anything but safe. Has he found out the secret that she harbours within? Can he read her soul? Does he know that as he comes and goes...she too has moved on...juggling physical pleasure from him and intellectual stimulation from her husband. Has her past and present caught up with her? The front door opens...'Honey, I'm home'....

Fashion conscious solidarity

(Source unknown, Photo found online)


Having previously discussed my love of finding that people really do care about the world, allow me to narrate a tragic discovery on my part...

Walking around a few months ago, I was so impressed to see everyone in Palestinian scarves. WOW! The world had stood up and taken notice... or had they? Later that week as I walked into a fashion store it all fell in to place. There wasn't a sudden, mass consciousness on the Middle East crisis, the Khimaar had somehow been transformed into a high fashion item.

So as the season changes and the new high fashion rushes in and replaces the old. The Khimaar, which is a representation of the living dream of millions to return to their rightful homes, will be shoved into the back of the closet, along with skinny jeans and houndstooth jackets. And in the event that someone actually does wear their Khimaar in solidarity after the season has passed, it'll just look like they're old fashioned.

Surreptitious Yo- Yo

The longing grows
The craving swells
The yearning intensifies
Deceptive!
Charming fantasy
The desire grows
The numb feeling
Frozen!

The yo-yo goes up
Then plummets

Collapses like a deck of cards.
Alongside a broken soul
The core has fallen
The soul has died
The spirit has lost its sparkle
Still the sensations grow!

Genetic Job Interview

This has to go down as one of the worst first dates in history (first and last). NASTIEST SHIT!
One thing I’ve learnt is that people can be very deceptive over the phone. (If you awful in bed you great at phone sex). Conversation was OK and he was actually quite witty in a bizarre sort of way. Anyway, we organised a date- a Sunday afternoon, in a very very public place. He picks me up half an hour late, apologises with some lame ass excuse but the freak manages to find time to stop and buy the Sunday times (with the extra). The date’s going well until he asks: do you mind if I take the paper up? What the fuck!!!! Does it look like we married? Freak!!!!! I overlook- I’ve attended my best friends “stop being so fussy” boot camp so I force my self not to be so petty. Everything goes well until he starts the interview:
1. What is your surname? Seems like a natural question, until “well shame poor you, I guess you are not a Sayed…. if you marry me you can be one…. do you know what it means to be a Sayed?” WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!
2. You built very nice, not too thin; you will definitely bear me ten healthy children.
(Yes why am I still sitting down, purely for entertainment).
3. Did your grandparents die of cancer or heart disease? The bitch that I am, I answered, both, and added diabetes just for the hell of it. Oh how could I forget, I couldn’t resist adding- “I don’t really get to build any relationships with my family because they all keep dropping like flies”. This didn’t impress him, “shame our poor children”.
4. Mr Job interview: “I’m thinking of buying a new car”
Me: The one you driving is fine.
Mr Job interview: wow!!! You passed the test
Me: What test?
Mr Job interview: I was testing you, if you said yes I would never go out with you again.
Me: (thinking to my self – WANKER!!!!).
5. Would you live with your in laws?
My answer: NO! I love walking around the house naked in the mornings, don’t think your mum will be too impressed.
6. Will you work after you get married…. its not good for a girl to work after she is married. All strange horny men that you work with will keep hitting on you- (Yummy, I wana get married just to meet these so-called horny men at work).
7. Will you wear scarf after you married…. you know it’s the right thing to do. If you do not, the marriage falls apart and because you are marrying a Sayed, it is your duty!!
8. Will you cook for your husband…. this way you build a loving, caring relationship. He will respect you if he comes home and there is food on the table. This holds the family together, and you get a hundred million thousand gadillion sawwaab for it. (Was tempted to ask if he attended New Town Madressah?)
9. My mummy makes breakfast, lunch, and supper for me. (She calls to ask, MARO POIRO AAJHE HOO KHAVANOO?
10. How often will you visit your parents…. twice a week is overdoing it. You now live with your husband and this is your new life. Your mother will poison your mind. (ARE YOU FOR REAL?)
11. Will you want to go out with your friends once you get married? You have to learn to grow up and let go of ALL your friends. This is your new life now. Friends will hit on me. (Yea-right FREAK).
12. For our honeymoon I would like to go for Hajj. Imagine consummating my child there… the blessings. AAHHH!
13. Do you speak Gujarati? My mother takes offence if you talk to her in English and prays everyday that her son marries a girl that will teach her grandchildren the language.

At this point I throw my boot camp training out the window, send an SMS under the table to my best friend, SOS!!! She calls acting like my mum. “Where the hell are you, get home now”.
Fake ASS worried look on his face: PRICELESS!!!
Entertainment: PRICELESS!!!
Explaining to him why I will not go out on a second date with him: PRICELESS!!!