Saturday, March 31, 2012

The Upcoming LiveDeen Event


I have never ever in my life seen or imagined this kind of a response to this kind of an event in Karachi, Pakistan: Take a look!

 Have you ever seen something like this?

No! This is not a Lawn Exhibition! This isn't a fashion show or a concert. This is an Islamic lecture-shop (combo of lecture and workshop) to be held tomorrow Insha Allah! I so pray and hope the turbulent peace of the city remains in existence tomorrow Ameen.

When this lecture was announced, I tried to convince my whole family and Alhamdulillah, they all are coming tomorrow to this event ! *so happy keh buss nahi*. It's amazing and wonderful when one's family is all on one plane :), Alhamdulillah. Attending these kinds of workshops is something that becomes more enjoyable when your family is involved (equally!) and then you can all sit down and discuss the stuff you heard. Awesome, I tell you. May Allah Grant us families whose wavelengths match with us and may that wavelength match to the wavelength set by Allah Subhanahu wa Ta'ala. Ameen.

So 9.30 am tomorrow it is folks. And this makes it a weekend of workshops. Why? *broad grin*. Because I attended another one today. Not physically, because the situation in Karachi was terrible - all shops closed and especially the volatile area where I live in, the situation was really bad. Hence, I attended the workshop online.

It was conducted by Shaikh Kamaluddin and the audience comprised ladies only. The scholar was talking about the intellectual history of Islam, and the title of the workshop was "The Islamic Scholarly Tradition." There is so much to learn out there :(. I found out so much today, I can't tell you. If Zaynab Academy gives me permission to reproduce the notes online, I'd like to share them with the world, they were so useful. Most importantly, these are things we don't even know much about. Things like:

1. How the process of ijtehaad is done. With a live example!
2. How the scholars have approached 'ilm' (learning) about the deen.
3. How do we select, from the abundance of knowledge available, and the correct approach towards contradictory opinions of renowned scholars.
4. Why do scholarly differences exist in the first place?
5. Do we have the right to interpret Hadith the way we want? Or we should follow the muhaditheen? (this is one contemporary issue, that surely needs a lot of research before we can arrive at a final answer).

And more!

It was enlightening. Only, that the electricity went out for two hours (we have so far celebrated 4 earth hours! *dark scowl*) and I missed the workshop in between. But insha Allah, I can get hold of the notes and recordings and fill the gaps which occurred today.

May Allah Grant us the taufeeq to study the deen, and get ilm of both worlds, Ameen!

PS: Muhaditheen = scholars of Hadith

Friday, March 30, 2012

Herculean Day


Suddenly feeling the urge to spill the day out of my system brought me running to the blog. Not exactly running *grin*, more like staggering. After all, it was a herculean day. Btw, I've heard of herculean tasks, not days. But today can be described in no other terms.

Err, I'm sure people have tougher days *scolds her self-involved-self*, but seriously, I was tested today.

Anyway, the day began at Fajr. I could hardly get up. No surprise though. I was up till nearly 3 last night, reading my eyes out (and that too, a really creepy novel). May Allah Enable me to give up allll lahw-o-la'abs in my life, Ameen!

After Fajr, staggered back to bed, and slept till erm, 9? Was woken up by a phone call. Boy, did I pick up the phone with over-sleepy hope or what.

So anyway, the next thing I knew, there were voices of 'Uunii Kaalaaa' as the door of my bedroom was thrown open, and my bhanju wanju ran inside the room, and obviously (lol) tried to wake me up. I don't think I appreciate 'Kaala' all that much. So I'm trying make him un-learn the whole Khala concept. And just make him stick with Uni Aala. I love the combo! :)

Acha, a hasty breakfast later (during which Chotu was up to his best tricks --> read, total mayhem), I horsed around the house, played 'pakram-pakraai' and with 'pay-doh' (play dough) and made 'pur pur baloon' (purple balloon) out of it. :P

The heat was incredible today :(. So we decided to get Chotu a kiddie pool. Man, was he excited by the whole concept or what :D. So me and sis the priss set out, and after a very eventful trip (which also involved buying his school bag and bottle --> yes, the lil 2.5 year old starts pre-school on Monday IA), we came back home. I opened the kiddie pool box, and out came a heavily-folded rubbery contraption.

I realized two things at the same time.

1. We gotta inflate the pool.
2. We got no pump in the house.

The third realization weighed heavy on my chest [pun so intended, and you'll understand why in a second].
3. I got a pair of lungs.

:S. So off I began...puffing and blowing, and watching with utter dismay the huge rubbery thing still flapping around. The wisps of air my poor lungs were pumping into it apparently, weren't enough. Chotu was getting mad with impatience. I think I did a solid half hour of pure blowing. I can become a professional balloon-blower, I realized :D.

This is the final result of my puffing and blowing :). The pool was a huge success. Bhanju was elated, and didn't want to come out of it even after more than an hour!

He had a ball of a time MA.

After that, in the afternoon, I just couldn't take a nap [though I thought I sorely needed one]. Unable to stand tossing and turning, I got up and left the house. To this Quran class, held nearby :). Masha Allah. Was a wonderful experience. My tired brain was enjoying the lecture so much, I almost didn't notice that my 1.5 hour promise was up (I had left the house after promising Mom I'll be back in 1.5 hours).

Then, had to go drop back sis the priss. This was done and the long journey was enjoyable but yeah, I was slowly running out of battery.

When we came home, we found out that a very close relative has been hospitalized, and we had to go see her. Guess who was the driver :p. Another looong journey. But before that :p, had to cook and Chotpo was very generous, as she made food and stuff for the person we were visiting in the hospital. After all that cooking, we left the house again, and went to the hospital.

Came back, a while back. [err, light is about to go, so I'll just publish this].

A poem to round off the post then?

As the rift between us grows
I try to smile more
And not let it show

As the future looms closer
I laugh a little louder
And not let it show

As my words become useless
My brain becomes hopeless
I try not to confess

For if I did confess
The rift would grow more
And cause more hearts
To distance themselves

Copyright Uni_Really_Stupidoony_2012

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Insomnia Inspired

As the night stretches its arms
I stare in the blinding darkness

There is no respite
There is no escape
The truth is right there
Something, I just have to face

YouTube can prove
A temporary distraction
At the end of the day
There is no escape

The wind howls through the night
The sound scary and sad
I think back to my life
The life I just had

Not a care in the world
Not a worry on my shoulders
Now suddenly thrown in disarray
Among unknowns rocks and boulders

I wish things had been different
Maybe I could have been grateful
But wishing now is of no real use
The journey starts, all ready, all fateful.

Copyright Uni Insomniacoony 2012

Friday, March 23, 2012

Glaring Truths


I guess if one is already on an emotional roller-coaster, then the following story (which I'm about to post iA) will only be a glad excuse to let the tears fall. Faster.

Read on to know the story of a Muslim sister who lost her husband. This is followed by a nasheed, which is just as sad. Don't we all wish to obtain this kind of love in this life and the next one too? *kinda wistful*
''Muslim widow shares her story''
Sister Sara has experienced what many have gone through and many more will too. Here's her story...
The 'janaziyah' (Muslim funeral) is over now. Everyone is coming over and giving me their condolences. They just buried my husband in the best way, and so many people turned out for his funeral. They all said the 'salat' and 'dua' (prayers) for him. I saw some of them brushing away tears too. I tried not to show it but I was not the only one crying, Al Hamdulillah (Praise be to God).

So many sisters came over and brought food. Friends dropped off more food. Relatives insisted I eat something (the last thing I want to do right now - is eat).

Everyone is looking at me with sad eyes, telling me, "It's going to be O.K. He's in a better place now. Inna lilahi wa inna elayhi rajioon (From Allah we came and to Allah is our return)".

My husband was ill for just a short time, and the last part of his life he suffered quite a bit. He lost over 100 pounds and looked as if he were almost dead. The hospital had him drugged up so much - he didn't seem to recognize me or any of our children, much less our grand kids. I was so worried he might not say 'shahadah' - but he did whisper it. I heard him, "Laa elaha illallah, Muhammadar rasulullah" (There is none to worship except God and Muhammad is His messenger).

I prayed to Allah to make it easy for him and to take him in the best way - as the true Muslim I know him to be.

When he passed, I was right there with him. I was saying shahadah to him over and over and he started to move his lips. And then somehow knew it was happening and then all of a sudden I heard the sound of the machine, you know - when the straight line goes across the screen and it makes a screaming sound....

Anyway, I just stared at him. I couldn't cry anymore. I tried, but the tears were all gone and I just sat there like a rock. I couldn't move, I couldn't say anything. Just stared. 
Yaa Allah! Why can't I cry?

He was smiling! I am not joking. I could see his face finally at peace and he really looked, well you know, peaceful. His mouth was turned up at the corners just like the first time I met him and he told my father he wanted to marry me. Oh, that was so long ago and yet, it seems like only last week.

But now, he's gone. What do I do?

I guess if a sister's husband dies unexpectedly or in an accident, all of a sudden, it is different for her. Sure, that makes sense. She didn't have time to think it over and try to prepare herself. I did. I even talked it over with the imam and some of the people of knowledge I trust. They assured me of the way to deal with the whole entire situation. That is what I want to share with other sisters.

O sister, if you haven't thought about it - do it now. None of us knows how long we have to live. Our imam quoted from the Quran telling us, "kullu nafsin tha-ikatul maout" (every soul shall taste death). And none of us knows where, when or how they will die.

I thought I was pretty much prepared for what would happen after (name deleted) passed away. But little could I know what was in store for me.

Al Hamdulillah (Thanks to Allah)! My husband had written out a Will and had signed by two witnesses. This would make things much easier for me and for our children. Everyone would be treated fairly according to Islamic Law. I would not have to worry about the house, or financial matters too much. That was a big blessing. Al Hamdulillah (Thanks to Allah).

But there were many other things (he) took care of and I never even thought about it before. The car, repairs, bills, errands and even taking out the trash (what day is it again?). I just hadn't thought about all of this before. But lucky for me, at least - while he was in the last days I did have a chance to start doing some of those things and sort of getting myself prepared. Still, there was a lot more than I was really ready for.

After the funeral, my family and a few friends would call or drop by, but they soon grew tired of me just talking about him (my husband). They would tell me to think about moving on with my life and look forward to new things.

Fridays are the hardest. My husband always went to Jummah (Friday sermon and prayers for Muslims) and then he come home, flashing that famous smile and ask me, "Where ya wanna go honey? Name it! Any place you like princess. What are you hungry for today?" No question about it - "Italian Gardens Restaurant" - My number one favorite. He didn't really like it. I know that. But he would suggest it as though it was the first thing on his mind.
"Let's go Italian. We can have BIZZA and BEEBZEE" he would say, making fun of the way our Arabic speaking brothers pronouce the words "pizza" and "pepsi" with "Bs" instead of "Ps". I refused to laugh at his dumb jokes -- Oh, if I could only hear him tell one of them now... or just see that smile again...

I did try to go back there a few months after he passed away. But it just wasn't the same. I went in and for the first time, I could really feel the people staring at me. All of a sudden my hijab made me so different. I didn't feel like that when my husband was with me there. He just made everything alright, you know?
 I sat there staring at the menu, munching on the breadsticks, feeling everyone looking at me and all of a sudden I just wanted to get out of there. This wasn't my place anymore. I didn't belong here. What was I doing?

Oh, yeah, and Friday night - That was our night! We used to sit together watching videos (G rated of course) and eating his favorite - Popcorn!
Oh how he loved to eat his popcorn. He could never get enough. Buttered – carmel – plain – salted – it didn't matter to him, as long as there was a lot of it. I guess I grew to love it because he did. But now - well, it just isn't the same anymore.

After spending a few weeks alone in the house, I decide to call up a sister I haven't seen in a long time. "Hi! Sister, salam alaykum (peace be unto you), how is everything? ... Me? I'm fine... what? Oh.. well, thank you for saying that.. I am sure he would be pleased with your nice prayers for him... But, you know, I was going to ask you.. ahh, could I... I mean, would you mind... is it OK if I just drop by and we... What? Oh sure. I understand. Yeah. Of course... No... no problem.. OK.. Well, I'll just call you later.. or you call me.. right? Sure... Salam alaykum.. (peace be unto you).

Well, that was awkward enough. Why didn't she invite me over? How come she just cut me off? Did she really have to take the kids out to the mall just that moment. What is the matter with me? Why am I so suspicious? Hmmm, get a grip on it girl. She has her life to live.

I just flopped down in my husband’s old chair. He loved that old chair. It had belonged to his dad. I always thought I would never sit in it, after his dad passed away. But now it just didn’t matter any more. Actually, it made me recall how he would sit there for hours and hours, talking on the phone about Islam to people or typing away at his computer in those chatrooms.

My husband used to go online all the time and talk with people. He even asked me to talk to the new sisters and help them out. But I was too shy and besides, what do I know about Islam? I feel insecure talking about Islam in today’s world. Maybe I should leave all this to the experts. You know.

Sitting there, I start thinking back.. my husband and I used to go places, visit his friends and take trips to see my family and his from time to time. But now things were different. I still got a few phone calls. A sister wants to know if I have the recipe for some India dish I made a long time ago. Muslim brother is asking if I was OK and if I needed anything. But I just couldn't ask, you know?

My husband and I were never rich, we didn’t have a lot. But Allah always gave us enough to eat and pay our bills and for that, we were always thankful, Al Hamdulillah.

I started remembering those days when my husband would be gone, traveling around with brothers visiting the Muslim families, going to mosques and helping raise funds for children to be able to go to school and get proper educations. He would come back with stories all about this community and this group and that group, and how Muslims really needed to put aside their differences and work together for the common good of our community. He mentioned several times, about the need of caring for our sisters, those who were new to Islam and those who were divorced – or widowed (like me)…

I tried to visit our local mosque, but the sisters there just didn’t seem to have time for my stories about my husband and what we used to do. I guess I am boring now. Maybe I was always boring. I don’t know.

About the only thing anyone talked to me was to ask me if I was going to move in with my kids. But they are grown and have their own kids. Besides one lives half way around the world, and the other one has enough problems without me hanging around.

I did meet some other widows. They said they experienced even worse than me. In some mosques the sisters told me, they were actually told to just stay out. It’s almost like a private club for married sisters or young sisters looking to get married. Not a place for widows without family. Especially not for converts to Islam, like me – who they fear, might be looking for a husband.

A couple of sisters offered to call me between taking care of kids, doing laundry, making sandwiches and running errands for their husbands. The thought was there, I know they have good intentions. But they don’t call.

And being all alone sometimes is OK, but is not good for extending periods of time. At least not for a gal that who had a house full of love and laughter (and some tears too) for 20 or 30 years and all of sudden, it’s empty. You just don’t go from full speed ahead to zero without a strange feeling inside.

Then of course, there is plenty of advise too. “Why not join a health club?” “You could get another husband. We’ll look around for you. I think there is a brother who needs someone to help take care of his kids and his mom while he is working. You want me to make some calls?” (NO. I don’t)

“Well, you know – LIFE GOES ON.” “Get involved in activities outside the home. Meet new people. You have to move on.”

You know what? I suddenly find myself looking forward to just going home and sitting in my husband’s chair. That is my safe place. I don’t want to go anywhere. Just me and Garfield.

Well, I guess I do need to get cat food for Garfield (my Siamese cat). And I wouldn’t mind some tuna fish salad right about now.

Maybe my family is right. I need to get out. Go somewhere. Not too far. Just go down to the mall. Maybe look at shoes (who doesn’t need a new pair of shoes and maybe a purse to go with them?). Yeah.. good idea.

So, OK – I go to the mall. I walk in, first thing I hear the music (I can’t stand mall music). Then I only walk a few more steps and then I smell it – the smell of fresh buttered popcorn.. Oh no. I can’t do this. I have to go back now – NOW.

I'm driving back home from the mall, I see blinking lights of a cop car right behind me. He wants me to pull over. I know I am going to get ticket. No left turn signal light, license plates expired and then he sees my inspection sticker is expired. Oh just great! Just what I need.

As the policeman came up to my window, I started to panic. "Yaa Allah! I think he is looking at my hijab (Muslim women's scarf) and he hates Islam or something"

I have my driver's license, insurance and car registration ready to hand him. He looks at my license (my picture even has my hijab in it).

He's looking at me, "Why hasn't this car been kept up with inspections and license plates?"

I say something like, "My husband used to do all this and.." I start to cry. I don’t want to. I have to look away and try to be calm. But it just hit me all of a sudden. I just now realize how alone I really am and now nobody here to help me.

The policeman looks at my driver's license and then he asks me, "What was your husband's name?"

I told him.

He looked kind of strange for a moment and then he asked me, "Did he wear a small white cap all the time and had a white beard and a real big smile?"

"Yes, he did" I said slowly. (How did this policeman know about my husband? Was I in some kind of trouble now?)

A smile stretched across his face, then he looked at me again and said, "Your husband was a very kind man. I knew him. He used to come by the donut shop over on Route 1 some time ago. He helped me clean up the mess when I spilled my coffee all over."

Oh yes, that was just like my husband. He never met a stranger and he was every ready to help anybody.

"So then we got to talking about life, and what our purpose is here on earth. You know what? I had never really thought about it before. But what he said made a lot of sense. Several times after that, when I would see him, he would give me a pamphlet or a small booklet about things Muslims believe. I always took time to read and think about what he was saying."

"His talks with me are still in my mind today. The way he would just simply say something about the Quran or Muhammad's teachings - it struck me - this man really knows what he believes and why he believes it. I wish I had his confidence in my faith."

"You know he even called me 'brother' and said we are all 'brothers and sisters' in humanity because we all come from Adam. Ever since I feel like we really are all one people. I like calling people my 'brother' or 'sister'. Is it OK to call you my 'sister'?

Well I was probably old enough to be his mother, but - sure - why not?

"Sister, there was one thing he told me about and he was going to get one for me. But I didn't see him again. That was back sometime last year. He said he would give me a translation of the Karein (Quran)." 
- I corrected him, "QUR-AN" He moved his mouth as if saying Quran without any sound.

You know, I could almost see my husband while this man was talking about him. He was always giving dawah (explaining Islam) everywhere we went. He never minded answering questions and explaining things in simple ways to people. I have seen his stand there and talk for as long as someone would listen. He enjoyed sharing his faith with others and they seemed to enjoy it too.

Suddenly I realized the policeman was asking me about the Quran. Oh my! I don't know how to give dawah. I can't talk about all this with him. What do I say?

Then he made it easy for me, "Sister, could I ask you to help me locate a copy of the Quran?"

"Sure, no problem" I said.

Where was I going to get a Quran to give him? My husband always took care of those things, not me. Oh dear. Why did I give my promise to this policeman to give him something I didn't have? What was I to do?

Then he glanced at a sticker on the inside of the car door. "Sister, did you know your car has not been service for over 30,000 miles?"

"Ahhh, no. But I'll take care of it, inshallah (God Willing)". I hoped this was not another type of violation.

He continued as though he didn't hear me, "If you don't mind, I would like to take care of this, if you let me. Kind of help out my old friend's car. Is it OK?"

OK? I guess. Sure. Why not? OK. Yeah. That would be great. Anything you say.

He pulled out his cell phone and made a quick call. Then he smiled and said, "It's all taken care of. My brother's gas station is just down the block and he says if we bring it in now, he can have you out in about 30 minutes. How does that sound?"

Well, it sounds fine. But how much is all of this going to cost? I guess I should be glad he is not going to give me any tickets. But still, I only have a little cash on me and I hate to use my card for anything like this. Still, he is being nice and he wants to know about Islam, even asked for a Quran - Yeah, sure. Let's go to his brother's place and see what it will cost, I guess...

It was just down the street and his brother really did come right out and give my car immediate attention. He began with a full inspection, replaced a burned out tail-light, check the emissions (what are emissions anyway?). He changed the oil, filters, fan belts and even put air in all the tires. The he started writing up the bill.

Oh boy. Here we go. I knew it was coming. But I guess I just have to start taking care of things like this.

The man at the gas station gave the bill to the policeman, who just smiled and stuck it in his pocket. He turned around and came toward me, and asked me if there was anything else I would like for the car...

Huh? What's going on here?

"Don't worry about it, my sister. This is for your husband. I know he would have done it for my wife."

I tried not to cry. Really, he was right - my husband would do anything for people. But now the tears were burning in my eyes and I had to look down quickly. This was just too much. Here I thought this man was drumming up business for his brother and all along he was trying to help me. This was just like when my husband was still alive. People were always doing things for us without even us asking.

The officer wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was a phone number and address.

"Sister, here is my phone number if you need anything. If anyone bothers you or if you have any problems or you just need to talk to someone, my wife Mary and I are both ready to do anything you ask. And if you get a chance or find someone who could help me find a Quran (he said it correctly this time) I would really appreciate a chance to learn more about the religion of you and your husband. I really do believe there is only One God, and from what I can see in you and your husband, I would sure like to learn more about the prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

A few days later, I found that piece of paper in my purse and thought about calling. But what would I say? I didn't have a Quran to give him and I didn't even know his wife, except her name is Mary. What am I going to do if his wife answers? "Hi, you don't know me, but your husband just fixed my car and told me to call?"
NO WAY. I am not that stupid. I put the phone number down by the phone and dropped down in my husband’s old chair.

OK, what do I do now?

Should I try to phone some of my husband’s old friends who used to go with him for dawah?
Maybe go to the Halal book store and look for a Quran to give to this man? But what would his wife think?
And then how about the chatroom where my husband used to help out? But what would I do there?

I thought about joining up and doing some things on But again, what am I really qualified to do?

I did visit the website for sisters that my husband used to recommend for women:
There is so much to read and see. They have videos, audios and even a question/answer forum that helped me a lot.

Here is what I figured out – I feel it takes as long as it takes before you even get to a point of feeling normal – whatever that means – again. I don’t think you ever get over a great loss – but you somehow re-invent yourself as you go along.

Don’t let anyone rush you. Things will get better. But in your own time frame. Keep up your salat (prayers), keep making dua (supplications) and remember to call the kids once in a while (don’t make them crazy with calls every few hours). Take some pictures of the cat (get a cat), and email them to your kids.

Be sure to listen to Quran every morning and every night. This is one of the best things anyone can do, anywhere.

And be sure to watch some videos with Baba Ali, Abdur Raheem Green and Yusuf Estes. Those guys really make you think. O yeah, and listen to Zain Bhikha’s latest nasheeds. That always helps me. Don’t you love “Allah Knows” when Zaid sings it? This really makes me feel like Allah is taking care of the whole thing.

Can I add a small word of advice from someone who has been there and done that?

Dear sister in Islam, make the most out of what you have while you still have it. You might think you don’t need that old guy, maybe even think you could get by a lot better without him. But it’s just not true. You will come to know – O yeah, real fast – just how much you meant to each other and how badly you need to hear him call you with his latest idea or to complain about something, just one more time. But now it’s too late. He’s gone.

One last little piece of advice I want to add here. There is a rumor that it takes you a year to get over a death. Where does this nonsense come from? I have no idea. But it is not true.

Actually, the fact is, I don’t want to “get over” him. I just want to be next to him again, just one more time. I'll even laugh at his dumb jokes - I promise.

I know - I’ll have to wait. Wait until the Next Life. And maybe, just maybe with Allah’s Mercy, and His forgiveness, we’ll be reunited, together again – in Allah’s Paradise.

Oh Allah, forgive me for not taking better care of that old guy. I miss him. Take good care of him, please Allah, until I can be with him again...

I really do miss him...
Article taken from
May Allah reunite them in Paradise 

One and why!

A highly interesting and inspiring lecture, especially useful for 'intellectuals' of today. There are so many people right now who have questions about faith and their imaan is in danger of getting destroyed. The new ideas and arguments are too much for the traditional Islamic education which they have obtained and this has led them towards the path of 'scientific evidence' and nothing much beyond that.

A highly recommended lecture!

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The Bus Driver

One fine day, a bus driver went to the bus station, started his bus, and drove off along the route. No problems for the first few stops – a few people got on, a few got off and things went generally well.

At the next stop, however, a big hulk of a guy got on, six foot eight, built like a wrestler, arms hanging down to the ground. He glared at the driver and said, “Big John doesn’t pay!” and sat down at the back.

Did I mention that the driver was five foot three, thin, and basically meek? Well, he was. Naturally, he didn’t argue with Big John, but he wasn’t happy about it. The next day the same thing happened – Big John got on again, made a show of refusing to pay, and sat down. And the next day, and the next.

This grated on the bus driver, who started losing sleep over the way Big John was taking advantage of him. Finally he could stand it no longer and so he signed up for body building courses, karate, judo, and all that good stuff.

By the end of the summer, he had become quite strong; what’s more, he felt really good about himself.
So on the next Monday, when Big John once again got on the bus and said, “Big John doesn’t pay!” The driver stood up, glared back at the passenger and screamed, “And why not???!!!”
With a surprised look on his face, Big John replied, “ Because Big John has a bus pass.”
The moral of this incident/story is quite self evident. However, it is a lesson that many of us seem to overlook and disregard in the many activities and chores of our life.
We learn from this incident that a person should not be hasty in making assumptions and judging a situation or an individual from what seems to be the apparent.
It is essential that a Muslim assumes the best of his fellow being and gives him the benefit of the doubt. If possible, one should allow the fellow being to explain himself as to clear any doubts one may have.
Our Nabi صلى الله عليه و صلم has stated that being hasty is from Shaytaan whilst steady composure is from Allah سبحانه و تعالى.
In the same manner ‘Ulamaa have stated that if there is a single reason for doubt in a matter relating to a person then that doubt should have an effect on the decision that is made.

In conclusion, one should take all factors into consideration and avoid hastiness in judging an individual. Instead, one should try to make the matter clear as to avoid placing false accusations on anyone.


Sunday, March 18, 2012



Forgive me for the randomness, the rants and *searching for another r*, the really-idiotic post.

The day started pretty great, but went downhill since. Worst, I can't even admit to myself...WHY (forget about admitting to others). Isn't it sad, when you hide from truths so badly that you can't even bring yourself to admit them? Isn't it just plain-as-day idiotic?

The match didn't help matters. Thank the Lord I didn't watch it. I didn't spare time for it. But since I had the live scores open and was checking the score sporadically, it didn't do much for my general depression.

I should be droopy right now. But... sleep somehow has gone! Gone to sleep. *chortle*.

I have learned some lessons in life [lol].

1. Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Translation: Don't tell all your secrets to one human. It might not prove to be fruitful in the long run. [or even short].

2. Don't try to outsmart your Mom.

3. Try not to sneak away with some chocolate and then have people laugh at you later.

4. Don't think society is going to change miraculously and do as you wish and care for your feelings.

5. Try not to equate people's expectations with your high ambitions in life.

6. Scowling usually doesn't help.

7. Don't bend over backwards for people. Your back might not be supported, and this may prove to be a er, back-breaking experience *another chortle*

8. Try not to be so sad about other people's 'delusions'  - if they choose to think God as a 'delusion', it's none of your damn heart's business.

9. Find some healthy past-times in life. YouTube is not healthy.

10.  Free your mind with insane thoughts by going a bit insane with kids and all. Tickling lil kids and hearing them guffaw is a good idea.

11. At the end of 'it all', loyalties will lie where they always lie. At the end of 'it all', you're still YOU, and you're still alone.

So long folks.

I think I'm just being a sour hen because somebody asked about my 'dieting' in public (and all eyes turned to me). It doesn't help that those eyes (kind of) showed skepticism. It also does not help when I know how hard a life I'm having (not to mention my stomach, which has to bear boiled egg or that vile thing called Oatibix every morning).

I also think I'm just being an ultra sour hen (like a hen which has swallowed a basket of lemons), because nobody seems to react positively to my doctoral aims. I get this 'look' which says plainly...

1. YOU?


3. You think you're actually going to do it?

4. Yeah right!

4 arrows in one blow, people.

So long!

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Loooong time!


Yes, it's been a looong time since I wrote (really wrote) on this blog. Somehow, the affinity I once used to have for blogging has dwindled. I don't quite know the reason. It's weird to experience weird stuff and not think, "I have GOT to blog about this one!"

But I can't say I don't miss it.

Anyway, it never took me so long to think about writing a post, and then think more (lol) while writing one! Ever. It's weird, I tell you.

Enough about me.

Bhanju's antics have been growing by the day, and so is his vocab. There were times when his talk wouldn't make any sense. But now, the talk is so LOUD, and so DEMANDING, and so INSISTENT, that one cannot help BUT UNDERSTAND what this child is trying to say.

One thing I have learned by observing him, which I'd like to pass on to others who have not had the parental journey yet. Your kid is your Big Brother :p. S/he is ALWAYS watching you. Once, my sister was saying something to her husband. The kiddo was asleep. She said something on the lines of "Please, this has to be done, please!"

And there was an audible 'peeez' heard from below. Startled, she looked down and saw that the kiddo was still fast asleep, but had mumbled out the word :s.

Point is, the kids are always watching. So if you want them to turn out to be a person you like, BE the person you like. Unless you're the person you want your kid to be, the kid will never ever turn out that way.

Hope we succeed in the tarbiyah of our kids, and may they be the source of sadaqah-e-jariya for us in the Hereafter. Ameeen!

PS: One of my best friends is getting married in May :D:D. Congrats to her. And the fun thing is that I've never met her !! [online friend], and the best part is that I just might attend her wedding to be held in KP insha Allah. Not bad huh? :D