Ishq ko Husn ke andaaz sikha loon to chaloon

2006-04-10T15:22:00.000-04:00

My three passions in life

Islam, India and Urdu

My first passion is my faith in God. That is what drives me to do anything in my life. Islam also connects me to my homeland, where I first learnt to wear my identity as a Muslim in a sea of Hindus...and be proud of it. Hyderabad is also the place where if you were Muslim, you were also identified as a speaker of Urdu. It is a language that bridges my Islam with my 'watan', Hyderabad. Be it my Dakkani hyderabadi 'hao-nakko'or Umme Habiba and her hamds and naats, be it the most melodious of patriotic songs like 'Saare jahan se acha', Bollywood lyrics that we hum, or Nusrath Fateh Ali Khan's qawwali 'Ya Husain, ya Husain' Urdu is the glue that brings my culture, my religion and my traditions all together.

Apart from trying to figure out what my graduate studies program should be if I were to incorporate these three subjects, I hope to learn more about them.

To learn urdu, I decided to start reading novels. They were my first step in trying to increase my vocabulary. Razia Batt is a good novelist, although there is a lot more 'romance novel' jargon in there. I'm also exploring new media. Zahir bhai gave me the opportunity to exercise my urdu brain cells last week and do an Urdu podcast for Qunoot. We might be doing more of these with different topics so let me know what you'd like to see. More urdu, more culture, more philosophy, more comedy...

2006-03-30T10:13:00.000-05:00

Parinday ki faryaad

By Allama Iqbal
Translated by Ayesha Kaljuvee

Aata hai yaad mujhko guzaraa huaa zamaanaa
Memories of days gone by come back to me
Vo baaG kii bahaare.n vo sab ka chah-chahaanaa
That garden in spring, all that chitter chatter

Aazaadiyaa.N kahaa.N vo ab apane gho.Nsale kii
That freedom of my nest
Apanii Khushii se aanaa apanii Khushii se jaanaa
That coming and going as one pleased

Lagatii ho choT dil par, aataa hai yaad jis dam
It hurts my heart when i so recall
Shabanam ke aa.Nsuuo.n par kaliyo.n kaa muskuraanaa
The petals glowing with those tears of dew

Vo pyaarii pyaarii surat, vo kaamiinii sii muurat
That lovely face, that peaceful abode
Aabaad jis ke dam se thaa meraa aashiyaanaa
By which my whole world was alive

The picture above is of my ancestral home in Hyderabad, India. Kehkashan (The Milky Way). That was the name of this house, where my mother first stepped into when she got married, and from where I was bid farewell as I started my new life with my husband.

Those trees and plants, my grandfather lovingly nurtured, with an admonition of 'Patte nahin todhna' to anyone of us who would pluck leaves in our mischief-laden childhoods.
Those were the innocent days, as Allama Iqbal in this poem refers to. Enjoy.

2006-03-29T12:48:00.000-05:00

The Anthropology of Immigration

You'd think such a topic couldn't possibly be funny. Here's a family that just celebrated 30 years in this country.

Dear everyone.

So ammi wants me to send a message to us all to remind us of our ROOTS.

Apparently, yesterday, 30 years ago, ammi left a strange land (embarked from Bombay) with three very small children and 3 very large stainless steel suitcases and 2 handbags from HKH dukkan that would not pass current TSA regulations. She was 85 pounds. Khizer bhai was 9 months. Junaid bhai figured out western toilets solo at age 3.5 at Heathrow. And salman bhai held his breath the whole trip.

Greeting her at O’hare airport was Murtaza husain, trying to impress his family with a new fashioned wig. I don’t think Khizer bhai recognized him.

March 26-28, 1976.

Oh, Khizer. You guys, crack me up!

2006-03-29T11:29:00.000-05:00

Finally, a much-awaited discussion, brought to you by the Qunoot Foundation.

Join us on Saturday, April 1, for an enlightening discussion on Karbala, Imam Husayn, Azadari and more. Program items include:

Guest speaker Dr. Tariq al-Jamil, Assistant Professor of Religion/Islamic Studies at North Carolina State University;
A presentation on "Women in Islam: A Shi'a Perspective" by Fatema Abdul Rasul and Farah Mahesri; and
A premiere screening of the film "Ten Days" by Nadeem Kazmi.

Details are as follows:

What: "Beyond Tears: Examining the Remembrance of Imam Husayn"
When: Saturday, April 1, 2006
Time: 1:00-6:45 PM

Where: Hamilton Crowne Plaza Hotel, 1001 14th St NW, Washington, DC; located near the McPherson Sq Metro station
Attendance fee: Regular - $25; Student - $15 (with valid student ID)
Registration will be available in advance and on-site. Seating is limited and registration will be capped. Please RSVP at rsvp@qunoot.org.

More details will be forthcoming, make sure to sign up for the Qunoot mailing list on our home page or check back here soon.

2006-03-28T11:39:00.000-05:00

2006-03-27T22:20:00.000-05:00

My brother sent me this link that takes us on a journey through Persian and Indo-Muslim literature on the subject of Husain bin Ali (grandson of the Muhammad). It's beautiful how the concept of this one sacrifice has evolved to mean so many things, to contain so much within it. How we embed the understanding of this event and this person (I can't get the exact translation of 'hasti') into our lives is the true test of our ability to filter our rituals from our spirituals.

But enough on the commentary...read on. I have extracted excerpts that I found fascinating.

"Sacrifices are a means for reaching higher and loftier stages of life; to give away parts of one's fortune, or to sacrifice members of one's family enhances one's religious standing; the Biblical and Qur'anic story of Abraham who so deeply trusted in God that he, without questioning, was willing to sacrifice his only son, points to the importance of such sacrifice. Iqbal was certainly right when he combined, in a well known poem in Bal-i Jibril (1936), the sacrifice of Ismail and the martyrdom of Husayn, both of which make up the beginning and the end of the story of the Ka'ba...Iqbal saw the history of the Ka'ba defined by the two sacrifices, that of Ismail at the beginning, and that of Husayn b. 'Ali in the end (Bal-i Jibril).

"It is from Husayn, says Iqbal, that we have learned the mysteries of the Qur'an, and when the glory of Syria and Baghdad and the marvels of Granada may be forgotten, yet, the strings of the instrument of the Muslims still resound with Husayn's melody, and faith remains fresh thanks to his call to prayer.

"Husayn thus incorporates all the ideals which a true Muslim should possess, as Iqbal draws his picture: bravery and manliness, and, more than anything else, the dedication to the acknowledgement of God's absolute Unity; not in the sense of becoming united with Him in fana as the Sufi poets had sung, but, rather, as the herald who by his shahada, by his martyrdom, is not only a shahid, a martyr, but at the same time a witness, a shahid, for the unity of God, and thus the model for all generations of Muslims." - Annemarie Schimmel, Harvard University

2006-03-27T10:30:00.000-05:00

When a person places the proper value on freedom, there is nothing under the sun that he will not do to acquire that freedom. Whenever you hear a man saying he wants freedom, but in the next breath he is going to tell you what he won't do to get it, or what he doesn't believe in doing in order to get it, he doesn't believe in freedom. A man who believes in freedom will do anything under the sun to acquire . . . or preserve his freedom.

Malcolm X

2006-02-14T13:50:00.001-05:00

Exactly a week earlier around this time I was enjoying a bright sunshiny day headed towards Vienna on the Orange line. Ah, the sun glinting through the windows of the Metro train, warming the little plastic card in the palm of my hand. It was a small, white card with my picture on it, more commonly known in the rest of the world as America's Almighty Green Card. I had it, all in the palm of my hand, and about to give it up.

Yes, last Monday, I officially became a US citizen. And the saga continues. Except, the same experiences that I had in this country for the past four and a half years were now being viewed through the lens of belonging to this country. Everything that it represents, all the emotions that the declaration of independance evokes, all the ideals that the founding fathers stood for, and all loyalty that the pledge of allegiance calls for.

But then I turned around and there were cartoons everywhere. Would I now have to take a stand against the infidels, the Great Satan, the West, the Kafirs. What was my religion asking of me? What was now my duty to America? Was the hatred of the west that was coming our way, also directed at me? What should my reaction be? I wasn't now caught between the two sides, the east and the west, the way I was when I had the green card. Now, I was the West.

And right around that time, the organization where I work, the Muslim Public Affairs Council attended the Conservative Poltical Action Conference here in Washington, DC. It was a 3,500-4000 attendees conference where we had a booth to educate the masses about Muslims and our work. There was participation from across the nation: college republicans, libertarians, islamophobes, evangelical christians, center-right, right-wing neo-cons, the whole gamut.

Speakers included Ann Coulter, Dick Cheney, John Bolton, Tom DeLay, Bob Novak, and last but not the least Dr. Ergun Caner

You can imagine that there were quite a number of opportunities to dispel sterotypes, correct misconceptions and even educate about Muslims and Islam, as found domestically and internationally.

I had quite an educational experience myself. My first button that was handed to me as I entered the exhibit hall said "Ex-Gay is OK". I thought, hmmm.

Realizing that we were one of three Muslim organizations at the conference, I summoned hope. This would be one interesting weekend.

Ann Coulter called Muslims 'ragheads', Dr. Caner revelled in disinformation and hate-speech (but then again, he comes from a Muslim background, so its credible), and some just told us to leave CPAC as Islam and America don't go together. Afterall, we did 9-11. Who can argue that?

But there were those who were very open-minded about Muslims. They wanted to know more about Islam, had maybe never met one in the flesh and were quite inquisitive and not-so-trusting of the media. Then there were those that just wouldn't trust Muslims as far as they could throw them.

I met quakers, libertarians, ACLU'ers, gays, ex-gays, the Emersons, the Spencers, the free republicans, Americas for Condi people, the right-wing media (even got interviewed by the National Rifle Association News agency), anti-hate crime law people, college republicans, defense contractors, and numerous other conservative groups.

One person comes by and says, " If you really espouse American values, would you, young lady, be able to climb the minaret of a mosque in this country and give the call to prayers? If not, you Muslims still don't have the equality that we as Americans believe exists between the genders."

Even those that recognized that we are legitimate American Muslims trying to work for domestic policy, had questions. Why can't you explain to the Muslims abroad (of the riots-against-cartoons kind) that America is all about democracy, freedom of speech and all the good principles and values that our founding fathers built this country on? That can't be why they hate us. Why aren't you helping stop these riots? Talk to your fellow Muslims. Muhammad (AS) obviously ddin't teach this!

Another interesting experience was when I went to a nearby empty hall to pray Asr. I go into ruku and a security guy comes by. "Excuse me, ma'am. I know that you are praying and can't stop, but the vice president is coming through this room to get to the banquet where he is speaking. He is coming with his secret service men and I would advise you to leave the hall before they do."

Another one to add to 'the crazy places we pray'. Subhan Allah!

2006-02-14T13:17:00.000-05:00

So, I googled my own name today. C'mon people, own it up. You all do it. It's exciting to see if there is anything out there about us that we DIDN'T know about. So I found a Xanga blog of an acquaintance who had come to our place for New year's eve. The Islamic one. We arranged dinner on the thaal. It was a good traditional meal. I felt the equivalent of thanksgiving...stuffed and satisfied. Shukran lillah. Read on about the event, 'Pehli raat' in Urdu and I think there might even be some pictures of my kitchen and living room awash in the colors and aromas of the modest 21 course meal. I have taken the liberty to post parts of the blog for those of you interested. Thank you, Mishou.

Islamic New Year - "Is this too National Geographic for You?"

As I'm sure you all know, this weekend was the Lunar New Year. It was also the beginning of the Islamic month Muharram (leaving aside calander conflicts, which I'm not even going into). I don't think Sunnis really do anything, and for most Shia this is a time of mourning because it marks the martrydom of Husayn bin Ali at the Battle of Karbala (undoubtedly we'll be seeing the pics of the ritual flagellations in Iran and Iraq in all the papers this week). All this aside, Farah is Bohri and celebrates the New Year with a large feast on the basis that the new year happened before Husayn was beheaded.

So, this logically leads to massive cooking and feasting at Farah's friends, Zuleqa and Khazeer's (spelling?) place. Zuleqa has a thaal which is like a large metal plate/table which everyone eats off of communally (see a movie of Scott and Khazeer carrying the thaal). There were 8 of us there, with a whooping total of 21 dishes (both good luck numbers, so yay!). Anyway, it was great fun, Zuleqa provided a tutorial on eating rice and daal off the thaal with one's fingers. It's really fun! I think I like this method better than chopsticks

Fatema, Zuleqa, and Farah Preparing the thaal...

and the finished product!

2006-02-14T10:42:00.000-05:00

MaiN khwab ban ke tere shabistaN meiN aa-uNga

Dressed as a dream, I’ll slip into your bedroom

Chupke se, khwabgah ke parde utha-uNga

Silently, I’ll lift your bedroom’s curtains

Dast-e-saba ki tarha, tujhe guguda-uNga

Like the hand of gentle breeze, I’ll tickle you

Aur tere pa-e-naz pe, sajde luTa-uNgab

And I’ll lavish your feet with bows and worship

MaiN khwab ban ke tere shabistaN meiN aa-uNga

Dressed as a dream, I’ll slip into your bedroom

QurbaN kar-uNga gul-e-nobahar, meiN

I’ll offer fresh roses of an early spring

Lal-o-gohar maNga-uNga, behr-e-nishar, meiN

I’ll order pearls and jewels as tokens of my love

Pehna-uNga gale meiN, sitroN ke har, meiN

I’ll adorn you neck with a band of stars

Bistar pe tere, khuld ki kaliyaN bichhauNga

I’ll spread your bed with rose petals

MaiN khwab ban ke tere shabistaN meiN aa-uNga

Dressed as a dream, I’ll slip into your bedroom

With love in the air, and lonely branches once again embraced by snow, I would like to leave you with a few lines of poetry by Akhtar Shirani. A few sher on passion, love and the desire to meet your beloved. Thank you Asghar Vasanwala, whoever you are, and wherever you may be, busy emailing everyone.

2006-02-14T10:21:00.000-05:00

Blogging is becoming an obsession for me, just as many have predicted. Every thing I do, whatever life throws at me, whenever I am down, I feel like blogging. But here's the catch. I feel like blogging, but never actually do. It seems that the effort of writing a sad blog is effort wasted. You will be happy later. Something will happen to reinforce in you that God is on your side, He is listening to you. And life is good.

Happy Valentine's day to you all, my dear readers...(that's all two of you!). And thanks for the kind words. I was quite pleasantly surprised today to see numbers other than the usual 0 comment. This just shows how infrequently I go to my own blog.

2006-01-20T18:21:00.000-05:00

So, I'm not even going the 'why-I-didn't-blog-for-a-month' route. There are 5 big stories behind that one.

Least of all, was the story that led to the realization that no how hard I try, I don't get it. I don't get the hypocrisy, the facades, the lack of honesty, the beating-about-the-bushes and the hedging.

How many times in my life do I have to learn this lesson? Honesty and good intentions are a bad combination. You try helping friends in conflict, slaps you back in the face. You try confronting someone with the truth, another slap. You decide you've had enough, you honestly try to defend yourself, slap! It takes a hard heart to understand when honesty is not the best policy. It might be a good thing, I think, to be able to use the truth at your discretion. But something in me ejects that thought out like a heimlich ejects a piece of food trying to go down your air pipe. It won't do. It just won't.

If this is growing up, man, I've got lots to learn...and digest. Maybe it's not a piece of food that's going to kill me but rather an airpipe that might be butting in to make my breathing easier. This growing up is hard business.

2005-12-11T10:26:00.000-05:00

Coming to America

27th July, 2001. O'Hare Airport. The day I arrived in the United States of America. What I didn't realize in the beginning was that with all that I had heard of the problems of America, the one fact that would balance it would be the emphasis American education places on 'critical thinking'.

As my collegues put it, every concept, theory, speech, lecture, book, action plan, business proposal, debate, article needs to 'show me the analysis'. That one point changes the way you think. You have to question the status quo. You have to question the establishment. And people have to understand that questioning things does NOT mean opposing them.

Allama Muhammad Iqbal in his poem 'Jawaab-e-Shikwa' very beautifully presents God's perspective on man's inability to utilize the reasoning and critical thinking that He has given him. It is this reasoning mind that will lead man to God, through faith and knowledge. The one that is successful, to him will be given this world and the Hereafter.

Hum to maa'il ba-karam hain koi saa'il hi nahin
Raah dikhlaain kise rehr-o-manzil hi nahin

Tarbiyat aam to hai, jauhar-e-qaabil hi nahin
Jis se taa'meer ho Aadam ki woh gul hi nahin

Koi qaabil ho to hum shaan-e-ka'ii dete hain
Dhoondne waale ko duniya bhi na'ii dete hain

2005-12-06T22:58:00.000-05:00

Here is a quote that made my heart skip a beat as I read it.

Kisses are like tears, the only real ones are the ones you can't hold back. ~Author Unknown

2005-12-06T20:01:00.000-05:00

Finger-printing for the DHS

After over four years in the US I still feel uneasy getting fingerprinted to become a citizen of the United States. Growing up in India, the patriotism was so ingrained in us, at school as well as at home. Our teachers had a very nationalistic patriotism to the country that was instilled in us. Our homes taught us the cultural patriotism of India. It wasn't so much the allegiance to the flag as it was to the traditions and values of India. It is that intangible sense of propriety and principles that I try to hold onto as though this American citizenship may somehow loosen my grip on these values just like my people in India always warned America would.

It is not as though I might suddenly lose all inhibitions and become a morally deficient, corrupt individual. I fear for the small things that are eroded, slowly but surely in America, for want of a society that reinforces those small details even to strangers.

'To each his own' doesn't apply in India. Everything that one does can become another's business. There is definitely a sense of living in a larger family in India. This can be a boon or a bane for someone living in such a monolithic society. On the one hand, it begets a restraint in the society towards perceived ill while gently prodding towards the betterment of the community. On the other hand, it has the force of the monolith to restrain any change. So, sometimes these societies can be slow to adapt to a changing world.

America embraces diversity in all its spheres; in it's culture, tradition, morals, politics, religion and all walks of life. There is a need to not conform to any particular group or ideology. This type of mentality definitely pushes one to pursue a better, more independant form of self-portrayal, but sees in its wake an erosion of previously acquired ideas of societal behaviour. A heritage, a mode of living can be lost in this need to find one's place in a culturally diverse milieu of communities that is America.

The small delicacies that I am concerned about may be laughed at in our present circumstances as Muslim Indians in America, what with Homeland Security breathing down our neck. Guilty of being brown and Muslim while speaking a top security language. We have civil rights violations raining on us like cats and dogs (literally) and it doesn't help that we wear so much gold on our person that we always beep at the security checkpoints. We are struggling in our civil rights movement to gain traction with the established communities in America, struggling to hold on to the bare essential rights that we came with in the first place. After all, we never landed on the shores of this nation as 'the weary, poor, wretched masses' that were prosecuted in their home country. Well, poor, maybe. Economic benefits were the biggest attraction.

Hence, the societal life of 'back home' still holds so much appeal to the immigrants amongst us. As for the first generation in our communities such ties to 'back home' hold less and less appeal. And if they do, they are on an 'I am from a diverse culture and that's cool coz' it makes me 'different' from others' mind-frame.

It may look like I'm trying to shortchange the first generationers the right to claim their culture as their own. No, for the most part they get it right. But lacking a community that pushes them toward that culture there is more required from within them to live by the principles and norms that once governed their parents. Environment then plays a more subtle part in shaping the individual's moral concepts and sense of propriety.

Even as I talk about the abstract, I feel the need for examples. The erosion that occurs is sometimes so subtle as to allow a vice to pass off as a virtue. It's not even that severe.

Dialogue with parents. What is the limit to our candidness when we debate, discuss or argue a matter with our parents? What did our culture show us, what do our parents teach us? What about the religion? The whole 'Uff' situation as long been surpassed. Where do we draw the line?

Modesty in public. It has been discussed far too much already, but a minute point I'd like to bring up is the way a girl should sit in public. Indian breeding teach us there is a modest way. What constitutes modesty in how you sit (on a chair or on the ground) is a function of what you wear. Jeans/pants would limit your scope of movement. But that is one example of where I see that the society was handicapped in providing our kids with that censure of mannerisms when they wear pants. Societal pressure molds the individual almost like a finishing school. Pants were never a frowned-upon article of clothing by the majority of people here as it was in India. So, you'll see the difference in the way a recent immigrant will wear jeans (uncomfortable and always pulling the shirt lower) versus the ease with which a first gen. will wear it.

I don't know where our future generations are headed and if the erosion of past cultures will pave the way for better, challenging yet more rewarding cultures and values but I sure hope that that is the case. Atleast I know that in my heart as I embrace the independant, risk-taking, status-quo-questioning, critically thinking and baggage-shedding America, I would also like to hold on to the more culturally attuned, God-consciousness-inducing Indian values to keep me balanced. I'd like to take your leave with this quote:

"Be neither a conformist or a rebel, for they are really the same thing. Find your own path, and stay on it." ~Paul Vixie

2005-11-06T10:36:00.000-05:00

There is something about the Hyderabadi Biryani that affirms our traditions and sparks our pride in being a Hyderabadi, no matter where you live, what you do and no matter how old you are.

I've been making Biryani since I was 20. And today, I have travelled with all of my biryani spices from Washington, DC to Los Angeles to cook for a friend. As I marinate the chicken once again with the spices that have been used by my dadijan, I feel my connection with her and all of my relatives renewed. Like you renew your connection to God in Ramzan.

So, the yogurt is in, the red chilli, cilantro, fried onions and shah-zeera are in. Dadi would insist that a spoon will not get you the right flavor. 'Use your hands, beta'. That's the way to go marinating.

And then it was time to add the zaafraan (saffron). Dada just comes to mind. He was very particular about the zaafraan. He would himself come into the kitchen to dole out the right amount. 'Aur padta bibi....'

As I sit here in LA at a friend's house, I think of the long way our biryani has come. From the heart of Hyderabad to downtown LA. Ooooh, and it still smells the same! Delicious...

Kachi Akhni ki biryani is the way to go. Subhan-Allah!

2005-11-02T16:28:00.000-05:00

That was quite a hiatus from blogging. But then again, it was Ramzan. The Niqaab Series is in the works, just not ready to be published on the web yet. But then again it's almost Eid. And my post is definitely going to be about the beauty I found in celebrating Ramzan in Makkah. It's all I can think about.
Every time I walk into a Muslim retaurant, and they have their satellite channels with taraweeh from Makkah on their TV screens,
Every time I talk to my siblings here and they say 'we miss Shuraim's Quranic recitation', or 'we can't get the same let's-make-the-most-of-these-holy-days feeling here',
Every time I go to sleep and dream that I am doing tawaaf while shaikh Sudais is reciting the witr Dua and everyone has come to a standstill because their hands are raised and tears are spilling down their cheeks,
Every time I go to a mosque and have to go into the basement to pray because there isn't any room in the main musalla area,

I think of Masjid-al-Haraam, fi Makkah-til-Mukarramah

Not a TV screen, but the Kaaba, your Qibla in front of you. Your dua, your prayer, your taraweeh straight from the epicenter.
Not Sudais on you ipod, but breathing the quran as you walk into the Masjid, into the marbled sehan, or in the stores outside, or in the restaurant, or in the Mall.
Not a dream - its the Ummah wahidah, as witnessed at Laila-tul-Qadr. All through the night, tawaaf, taraweeh, tahajjud, nawaafil, sa'ee, interspliced with trips to the ZamZam well for Wudu, can't get enough of that. Millions praying with you, for you and for every Muslim in the world. May Allah bless this Ummah, as he has blessed the Prophet and his family.

And as this Ramzan comes to a close, I would like to wish everyone 'Kullu sana wa anta Tayyeb, Eid Sayeed wa antum bi khair.'

May Allah give everyone a chance to pray in His House. Envelop us in Your Mercy, O'Lord. Cover our sins, Hide our faults, Grant us pardon.
Bi Rahmatika Ya Ar-hamar-Rahimeen!

2005-10-19T16:38:00.000-04:00

What is the niqaab? What does it mean to a Muslim woman? Is it compulsory? If so, what is the role of the niqaab as it relates to the every day life of a muslim woman? If it is not compulsory, what is it?
What is a Muslim woman's societal obligation? Does a niqaab hinder a woman's societal obligation?
These are some of the questions I seek to answer in my next series of blogs on this topic.

2005-10-15T18:41:00.000-04:00

Memories of a Wedding in June

Monsoons do come in June

As does the handsome groom

The mehndi had not yet dried

To match the sweet gulab jamun

2005-10-15T18:16:00.000-04:00

Oh, the mango season...mmmm!

Some common food items prepared with mangoes (raw and ripe).

Raw mango
Aab-shola...literally meaning 'flaming water'
Mango achaar - pickle

Ripe mango
Aam ka rass - mango pulp, typically for breakfast
Mango salsa and here's a recipe for it:

Mango and Papaya Salsa

2 tablespoons jalapeno, seeded, very finely minced
1/4 cup red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and finely minced
1/4 cup green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and finely minced
1/2 cup poblano chile, stemmed, seeded, and finely minced
1/2 cup mango, peeled, small dice
1 cup papaya, peeled, seeded, small dice
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons cilantro leaves, finely minced

Combine ingredients-mix well.
Cover and chill for 1-48 hours.
Serve slightly chilled or at room temperature.
Serve with grilled chicken or shrimp.

2005-10-15T17:44:00.000-04:00

From Maidaan-e-Arafat to Jeddah International Airport...we've come quite a long way in our modes of transportation .

2005-10-03T10:10:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I was in Los Angeles, CA on business, and come Sunday we donned our Sunday best and visited the 'All Saints Church' for their interfaith mass. It was even more special this Sunday because of 'God's October Surprise'.

"- The sacred Muslim lunar month of Ramadan and the sacred Jewish lunar month of Tishrei, which includes the High Holy Days, both begin October 3-4;
- October 4 is the Saint’s Day of St. Francis of Assisi;
- October 2 is Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday;
- October 2 is also Worldwide (Protestant) Communion Sunday.
- October 4 to 12 are for Hindus Navarathri (nine nights of spiritual struggle), followed on October 13 by Vijayadashami, the tenth day of spiritual victory.
- And for Buddhists, Vassa (rainy season of spiritual reflection) ends on Oct. 18 with the full moon day, Pavarana. " -

It was a beautiful prayer. The Father there has been fasting the whole month of Ramadan for the past 3 years and will do so this year too. We had Quran recitation and a Jewish prayer after the sermon. Packed quite a punch. We take our Friday sermons so lightly and for granted most of the time that we don't pay attention to the weekly tuning-up of our faith. To believing in the implicit goodness of being from a community of 'the faithful'. Of having a God to believe in, to rely on, to have as a friend, as the best support in all times.
I had chills from being in the church and listening to all the same messages but from different mouths...The Quranic recitation, the Christian sermon, the song in Hebrew accompanied by the soft strains of the guitar. The choir does affect the spiritual mood no doubt. How can you not love a hymn/hamd on God set to the melody of a soft punjabi folk song? They had that too. It was about the connection with God in a House of God that was not a mosque. More powerful than most of our trips to our local masjid. I definitely recommend this spiritual detour once in a while for a stronger tune-up of our faith in God and in ourselves as a vibrant force called humanity.

2005-09-13T12:18:00.000-04:00

Bait-Allah

Here is a small poem I wrote when I first reached the Haram.

It was the culmination of all my Dua's
To be back, in black, in front of Black,

The stone, the cube, the Sukoon
And God, His House, my junoon

The feelings, it brought back
I remembered them all
What surprised me in details
Was the touch of marble
At the soul of my feet...

For it represented the purity of mind,
of hearts
and spirit
Of the ambience that surrounds me
And my friend, Allah.

O Allah,
Cleanse my soul
Keep it light and bright
Like the shining marble
Enveloped by Your Might

2005-09-13T11:31:00.000-04:00

Saudi Anecdotes

Umm-al-Qura and the land of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques has definitely seem some progress in terms of their citizens becoming more receptive to a vocal and participating female population. It was a pleasant surprise to see the menfolk paying attention when a woman voices her concern over an issue. Or let's say you are in the Masjid-al-Haram, and you need help, the mutawwa/sheikh will actually listen to you.

I had an interesting Amina Wudud experience on Saudi Airlines as I flew into Jeddah's King Abdul Aziz International Airport. It was Maghrib time and men had just finished their prayer in the small Musalla area while the ladies waited their turn. But instead of making room for us next they were about to start with their Isha prayer as we stood khaza-ing our namaaz. I went up to them straight into the musalla...demanding to pray maghrib first. To my surprise they moved aside. None of that, 'Women can bray in their seats, seester'! Impressive. Shows you how low my standards really are, when it comes to Saudi men and their disregard for women, doesn't it? They are not 'courteous' yet, but atleast willing to listen to the female voice (without covering their ears lest they be contaminated by lustful thoughts at the mere sound).

Another place where I felt that women were being taken notice of and their needs met was at the Kingdom Center, Riyadh. This is a multi-storey mall in the heart of downtown Riyadh. First of all, the mall is strictly prhibited to single men. They are not even allowed inside the building and there stands a guard making sure there aren't any young chaps loitering around, smoking and eyeing abaya-clad women. Families and women are welcome. But if a boy decides, he wishes to roam freely after entering the premise with his parents, enter, security guards "We would like you to blease refrain from leaving your barents side." Needless to say, my 20-yr old brother was not happy.
What intrigued me was the forbidden 4th floor. Forbidden to men, that is. It was called 'Ladies Kingdom'. Had a separate elevator that took you to the 'promised land', where you could roam free, without your nikaab, or abaya and do all the girly things you've been wanting to do since you saw teenagers do just that on American television channels. Boy o' boy, what will they think of next?!?

Then there was my mid-night drive down the national highway on the way to Makkah from Dammam. The desert sky was bright with a million stars, I could see nothing but the stars and the cat eyes on the highway. Everyone in my car was asleep, my mom, my sister and my dad. Baba was in the passenger seat...(now that's a first!). So, I sped along, my debut driving experience in Saudi Arabia, illegal as it were in the 'country that oppresses its women by not giving them a driving license'. I hummed my favorite of phrases, 'Labbaik allahumma labbaik', meaning 'Here I come, O' Lord, here I come', seeing it fit the situation most perfectly. Having never driven myself anywhere before in this country, I felt like this time "I" was the one bringing myself to Him, in the Land of Makkah. The phrase is used by pilgrims when they are on their way to Makkah, as was I. And oh what a beautiful feeling it was!

2005-09-02T13:10:00.000-04:00

When people move to America from their home country,
they or their relatives and friends fear that they may
change, adopt the western lifestyle or forget their
culture and heritage. Well, I made sure that in the
past four years I did none of the above. But returning
from my summer trip to India, I realized that I had
changed in America. Until you have a measuring
standard you never know, right? And this trip was just
the insight I needed to understand that. Making sure
my urdu and english accents remained constant was
definitely not the standard I was looking for.

People have summers that shape them. Well, I s’pose I
have summers that tune me up. Showed me all the roads
that I accidentally took that could've led me down the
wrong path. One small step out of line, and you could
very well have changed your trajectory. As a child,
roaming the haram, I used to think that being so close
to the ka’aba gave me a surety that I was praying
directly to the qibla. If I were anywhere else on
earth, a degree of difference in the angle and I could
have missed the ka’aba by a few thousand miles. It was
a silly childish thought, but that’s kind of how I
feel about being on sirat-e-mustaqeem. It’s a slippery
slope, this America of ours.

I realized how much of my heritage, tradition and
culture of being Indian was lost here in the pita
roti/tin gulabjamun/gardening lota/scarf and jeans
life of the US. I am not saying that these are bad
things, they just are variations on that same theme
that have somehow lost that unique quality that I hold
dear.

The essence of India.
That tarbiyat that was ingrained in me since birth.
The art of conversation my mother has,
the grace of hospitality my khalajan has,
the strength of principles that my nanajan had,
the elegance of character my nanijan espoused,
the importance of time my father embodies,
the virtue of patience,
the benefit of doubt,
the second chances,
the respect due to elders not for their age difference
but for their wisdom and experience,
the beauty in zikr,
the belief in oneself,
the ability to dream big,
the hope in my mother’s eyes, never fading...as they
urge me to understand all that my family and my
ancestors sought to teach me, the morals, the
promises, the values, these are the core philosophies
that I want to live by. This is the stuff I want to,
no, need to sharpen into focus, never lose sight of,
share, cherish and deepen my understanding of.

Inshallah, this tune-up will last until I return once
again to the land of the Deccan. Until then, I have
only two words: Sitaphal Zindabad!

PS:
sirat-e-mustaqeem=the straight path
tarbiyat=brought-up
sitaphal=custard apple

2005-09-02T12:20:00.000-04:00

And thus I landed in Saudi Arabia. After a 4-year separation from my beloved marble tiles, I was back in the vicinity of the Ka'aba. It was pure bliss. I hadn't forgotten anything about this place...how could I? My whole life had been filled with memories of it. Even so, when the cool marble tiles touched my feet, I felt a tingling. There were infinite things in this world that I took for granted. And this feeling was one of them. How I had missed Makkah. My sanctuary. Everyone's sanctuary. The awe that fills me as I stand with my hand on the black cloth of the Hateem (Hujra-e-Ismail), and look up at the black and gold embroidery. Beautiful.

Here is a shair ka khayal, a poet's reflection on the attraction of the Ka'aba.

You can find this on www.naatsharif.com
Here's the direct link http://naatsharif.com/html/naatkhawan.php?kid=18&navid=7
It's the third one.

Ishq ku husn ke andaaz sikha loon to chaloon
Manzar-e-Ka'aba nigaahon mein basa loon to chaloon

Apne Mehboob-e-Haqeeqi ko manaa loon to chaloon
Apni bigdee hui baat bana loon to chaloon

Kheenchta hai abhi qadmon ko Mutaaf-e-Ka'aba
Pyaas talvon ki abhi aur bujha loon to chaloon

Kar loon ek baar zara phir se tawaaf-e-ka'aba
Rooh ko raqs ke andaz sikha loon to chaloon

Dar-e-Ka'aba se phir ek baar lipat kar ro loon
Aur kuch ashq nadaamat ke baha loon to chaloon

Choon loon badh ke phir ek baar ghilaaf-e-Ka'aba
Tashnagi honton ki kuch aur bujha loon to chaloon

2005-08-26T14:23:00.000-04:00

Ahh...the mobile lounge...brings back many childhood memories. They fascinated me as a kid. A bus that goes up and down. Genius.
As luck would have it, I was to sit next to saudi woman who spoke fluent english, was a Phd in chemistry and working on a research project at U of MD. Talk about breaking stereotypes!
Following that encounter, I was seated on the plane beside a parsi/bohra couple. Divine Syedna connection, I know. The lady had a perfect Bombay British English accent (brought to mind Mirwat apa). It's amazing this melding of cultures that is most apparent when we travel. Imagine my surprise when she turned outto be a Saudi airlines attendant returning with her family for a free trip to the US. Truly multi-culti. As if I needed a divine sign to welcome me to Saudi, my ipod starts to play ' Kaun shehre-Makkah mein, subha subha aaya hai'. God was happy.

2005-08-25T13:15:00.000-04:00

9:00 pm 27th May 2005,
Riyadh International Airport

Jetlag is a four-letter word. It's true. After a seventeen-hour NY-JED flight, a scratchy throat and stiff legs, that's my conclusion.
It all started with Naseha's June wedding plans. India beckoned me....as did Saudi Arabia. I decided Laban and mango ice-cream will have to learn to live together...atleast in my 2005 summer travel itinerary.
A March reservation, May cancellation followed by a 24-hr prior confirmation pushed me into a crazy packing frenzy followed by a slower than a centipede airport shuttle that decided today was the day to get lost in the boondocks of Loudoun county as we made our way to Dulles International. Promising myself that I would sue everyone who ventured in my way enroute to Jubail Industrial city, I got to the airport. This trip was already getting on my nerves. Everyone I met seemed to have a hidden agenda...make sure you screw up Zuleqa's plans for this summer. My irresponsible travel agent, the slow shuttle driver, the potential standbys waiting to usurp my seat should I be even a minute late, and all the ostentatious saudis in their fake leather jackets and Eddie Bauer suits were all making me wish I wasn't a Muggle and could teleport myself wherever I wished. But alas, we are only human, and travels are meant to make you a hardy scout. Right, baba?