Category Archive

What do you and your loved ones taste like?

Share with me at other|matters.

Photos like this always make me say “subhanAllah.”

See more fabulous space shots at MSNBC, here.

Newsweek has an article on a new, abuse-themed coloring book for children being distributed by the Archdiocese of New York of the Roman Catholic Church.

I wrote about the brewing scandal of abuse in Muslim circles, whether by religious teachers or family/community members, awhile ago and this drives it home again. I hope we can all learn from both the horror of the abuse scandals that rocked the Catholic Church, hurt so many children, and alienated so many practitioners, as well as from the proactive way some dioceses are beginning to deal with the issue.

Just because someone wears religious garb - or is a family or friend - doesn’t mean that they should be allowed to be alone, unsupervised and unrestricted, with your child.

I have a friend who works for a Pakistani organization that makes storybooks for children on this issue - specifically on good/bad touches and protecting their bodies - in a culturally- and religiously-sensitive way.

It’s available in both English and Urdu and is appropriate for ages 4 and up. Drop me an e-mail if you’d like a copy and I’ll get in touch with her. I’ve read it to my niece and nephew who are over 4, and it made the subject non-threatening and easier to broach.

I’m running around dealing with the insurance company, which decided to deny my treatment again, just days before my second chemo infusion this Friday, so a meme seemed a nice break from the drama.

(Via Frida’s Notebook and Vanity Fair.)

Read the rest of this entry »

While I have a great deal of personal sympathy for the awful experiences Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Irshad Manji and Asra Nomani (female genital mutilation in the case of the former, and being exposed to intolerance, hatred and demands of unquestioning submission for them all), I find it difficult to understand what often seems like their deliberately fostered ignorance of Islam in its diverse history and heterogeneous present.

Of course, by mentioning them in the same sentence, I by no means imply that they embody the same degree of hostility to Islam. Ayaan is most certainly the most vituperative, Nomani is clueless but idealistic, and, recently, Manji seems to be attempting to gain a better understanding of it all.

Admittedly, there is quite a bit of “all” to get one’s head around. I’m still trying to do that after thirtysomething years on the planet.

I thought about deconstructing Ayaan after hearing her speak in SF earlier this year and again after the LA Times op-ed by Rushdie and Harris a few days ago but then thought - what’s the point of getting one’s knickers in a twist? Living beautifully is the best revenge after all.

Unless one is a brilliant lampooner, of course. In which case, head over to ‘Aqoul, which shows yet again that a little bit of Ayaan knowledge is a ridiculous thing.

I’ve been part of a medical research study for the past two years through which I’ve been able to get Rituximab infusions. Rituximab is a chemotherapy originally used for lymphoma cancer patients, and wipes out B-cells.

In an autoimmune condition like mine (Devic’s/neuromyelitis optica), one’s own cells begin attacking oneself instead of outside invaders or infections. The medical hypothesis for using Rituximab is that by wiping out the B-cells, the exacerbations (which take the form of spinal or optic nerve inflammation, resulting in varying degrees of paralysis or blindness) can be stopped.

Alhamdolillah I’ve been stable for the past two years on this treatment but now the study has ended and my B-cells are back, which means I could have another exacerbation at any time. The chemo is very expensive - around $30,000 a pop - so I’m dependent on my insurance approving the medication for my continued use and well-being.

Today we got the news that they’ve denied the request because it isn’t an FDA-approved drug for my condition.

Considering how rare Devic’s is, nothing is an approved treatment and they’ve chosen to ignore clear evidence that it has helped me. I went from seven exacerbations in 2005 alone to zero since I started the treatment two years ago. I’m not sure why the insurance agency would prefer to pay for repeated hospitalizations - which are far more expensive than chemo infusions - but there it is.

Given that it’s the last week of Ramadan, I’d like to request all of you to please remember me in your prayers. Insha-Allah, we’re going to appeal the decision and I hope they’ll reconsider.

I’m very stressed as my symptoms have been acting up for the past week, but I’m also praying for health because all healing, with or without medication, lies in God’s hands alone.

Thank you and jazak Allah khair!

“Please use your liberty to promote ours”

~ Aung San Suu Kyi, detained Burmese Nobel Peace Laureate

Like so many others around the world, I have found the Burmese monks’ protests to be incredibly inspiring and moving. Burmese bloggers have been providing on-the-ground reports and, tonight, the Asia Society and the Open Society Institute will be holding a forum on the situation.

You can tune in to live streaming through the Asia Society, here, starting at 6 pm EST/3 pm PST.

—
روشن کەيں بەار کے امکاں ەوۓ تو ەيں
گلشن ميں چاک چند گريباں ەوۓ تو ەيں

Somewhere the lights of spring have surely appeared
A few collars, in the garden, have surely shredded

ٹەري ەوي ەۓ شب کي سياەي وەيں، مگر
کچھ کچھ سحر کے رنگ پَر افشاں ەوۓ تو ەيں

The dark ink of night remains still, but
Some colors of dawn have surely appeared

ەے دشت اب بھي دشت، مگر خونِ پا سے فيض
سيراب چند خارِ مغيلاں ەوۓ تو ەيں

The desert is still a desert, but from your bleeding feet, Faiz
Their thirst, a few thorns have surely quenched

- August 1952, Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Hat tip to Chapati Mystery for this wonderful poem by Faiz and for posting the book recommendation “The Iron Road: A Stand for Truth and Democracy in Burma” and the Awaaz petition site. Please take a minute to sign if you can.

Tune in by radio or on-line at 1 pm PST to Fresh Air to hear historian Robert Satloff, author of the book “Among the Righteous: Lost Stories from the Holocaust’s Long Reach into Arab Lands.”

The book, now out in paperback, is about the Arabs who protected or aided Jews in North Africa where Nazi Germany, Vichy France and fascist Italy exported anti-Semitic policies during World War Two. Satloff is executive director of the Washington Institute for Near East Policy.

In other news, Israelity Bites reports that photojournalist Alexandra Boulet, who focused much of her work on Gaza (and, recently, Afghanistan), has passed away after spending 106 days in a coma caused by a brain aneurysm in June. Inna lillahey wa inna illeyhey rajioun - We belong to God and to God we return. May she rest in peace.

And the always insightful Velveteen Rabbi, pauses on the day after Sukkot. As we head into the last days of Ramadan, I found her words of lingering with God very relevant and lovely:

“I love the idea that after seven-times-seven-weeks of spiritual work, what God wants most is for us to linger just a little longer… and I’m unsettled and ultimately inspired by the notion that however holy our words may be (and Jewish tradition loves words, no doubt about that!), the silence — the ineffability — the pause in time — the blank parchment that contains them is even holier.”

[Photo credit: Alexandra Boulet]

While I will leave up T&B at its old blogger spot for now, I’ve decided to import the archives into this blog.

Everything below here is from T&B, while everything above is RD.

Truth & Beauty is going on hiatus.

I don’t know if I can articulate all the reasons why, but I find myself in need of a spiritual retreat.

I may return someday, insha-Allah.

Thank you to everyone who has read over the years, particularly when I was unwell. Your prayers and solidarity were truly part of my sustenance during that difficult time and I have come to deeply value our diverse, thoughtful and supportive Blogistan community.

I hope to continue posting Wednesday articles at United Press International and photos at Beauty in Creation

I leave you with a beautiful article by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf on the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings upon him, whose parting words were:

“Treat your women well, and do not oppress your servants, the prayer, the prayer, don’t be neglectful of the prayer. O God, my highest companion, O highest companion.”

May we all grow in love for him and the Lord of us all, ameen.

My deepest respect and blessings to you all. Please keep me in your prayers.

Thank you for your companionship on this journey.

Are there rules to attain happiness?

And if there were, could they be found on a $34 pewter paperweight?

5 Rules for Happiness

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

I came upon this very cute quiz designed by McPagal!

“If you scored over 50% you can be proud to say you’re officially Pakistani - whether your passport agrees or not! If not, then I’m afraid you’re a loser. Please go home.

How Pakistani are you? (first class number one!) was created by aunty of the pind (AKA Mcpagal!)”

—

So, how Pakistani are you?

(4/05/07: Dates corrected)

Thanks so much to everyone who has submitted an article for the upcoming Carnival of Islam in the West on Friday April 13th.

Just a reminder that the deadline is approaching (midnight GMT on Thursday April 12th) and I have received almost zero submissions from women bloggers.

Please join us in presenting a holistic view of the many voices and diversity of the Islamosphere by submitting an entry written from March 10th onwards, here.

Categories include:

* Religion and Worship
* Marriage and Family
* Education and Life
* Business and Careers
* News and Politics
* The State of the Ummah

Thank you and Jumah mubarik!

Insha-Allah I’ll be at the Zaytuna mawlid tonight and hope to see some of you there.

According to the BBC, Turkey has renovated a 1,100-year-old church in the east of the country, in what is seen as a gesture to improve ties with neighboring Armenia.

Yeah, so I love the old Star Wars series.

I’m cool like that

Vote for your favorite USPS Star Wars stamp, here!

After two years of conceptual planning United Muslims - a website designed to “aggregate the energy and talent of the global Muslim community and to actively put it to use in making the world a better place” - is up and running.

The site is launching simultaneously in the US, UK, and Canada, with more countries coming online soon.

Excerpt from the launch e-mail from founder Shahed Amanullah (of altmuslim.com and zabihah.com):

There are many things that we as Muslims can do to head off a “clash of civilizations”, but the most effective and dignified way, in my opinion, to “win the hearts and minds” of our fellow citizens is to show that we care about causes important to everyone, not just ourselves.

…I feel that our collective talent and energy is greatly underutilized in the defense of our community. I designed this site to tap into the collective creativity of the Muslim community.

When you create a volunteer profile on unitedmuslims.org, you will be actively matched to online and real-world projects based on your availability, geographic location, and activist/political preferences. Within minutes, you can be emailed about a project, take action online, and then move on with your day.

The site is also designed with an eye towards the 2008 US elections…It is my wish that in 2008, candidates for public office will start paying attention to our real clout, in terms of money and mobilized voters, instead of using us as political fodder.

You all have causes you care about. Perhaps you’re even trying to rally support around a time-sensitive issue. I encourage you to join unitedmuslims.org and create groups or projects that can be shared with others.

More than 200 students from the Syrian Golan Heights gathered in the village of Ein al-Tineh to greet their mothers on Mother’s Day. The students, who were offered free university education in Damascus, used loudspeakers to talk to their relatives on the other side of a buffer zone that divides the heights between Syrian- and Israeli-controlled areas.

From another friend:

Would you be willing to complete a short survey (10-15 mins) for a PhD student who is collecting her dissertation data? I have stamped packets and each one has an addressed, stamped envelope inside for you to return the survey.

In order to participate, you must be 18+ years old, born in the US or have lived in the US since before age 13, and be of Asian descent.

If you are interested, please email with your mailing address and I will put one in the mail to you. Also, if you know of any others who might be interested, please let me know how many forms you need and I will mail them to you.

This confidential study is really interesting and is examining biculturalism.

Contact: noreenzaman [at] yahoo dot com

The Pureland history books of the late 1980s started with the year 712, when Muhammad bin Qasim conquered Sindh, lingered on the 353-year long rule of the Mughals and then skipped merrily on to Quaid-e-Azam and the creation of Pakistan in 1947.

There really wasn’t much talk about Buddhist or Hindu civilizations or anything else that would mar the idea of a predestined Muslim homeland.

ATP makes a small attempt to reclaim all of the region’s history with a post on Pakistan’s Buddhist past and the Islamabad Bodhi tree.

I like the “three beautiful things” that bloggers are doing and may start that at some point but, for now, here’s one beautiful action that stood out for me.

Recently I’ve been dreading the fact that there’s a high chance that people around me, friends my own age, are going to be diagnosed with cancer. It’s morbid in some senses, but based on the rates of cancer in this country it’s also realistic.

So far, the people I hear about are on the periphery of my circles, a friend of a friend of a friend, the 35-year old with lung cancer, the 26-year old with alveolar soft part sarcoma, the 40-year old with a cancer so rare that only ten people in the US have ever been diagnosed with it.

It’s easy to become immobilized with fear, waiting for the sword to drop. What’s harder and infinitely more beautiful is to do something about it - to honor one’s body and to get out there to support others.

Which is why I was thrilled to see that Huda Kazi has committed to doing the Susan G. Komen for the Cure breast cancer walk in Chicago this year.

Please take a moment to support her in whatever way you can - through words, prayers, or a financial contribution to help her achieve her fund raising goal.

Because everybody knows somebody who’s been affected by breast cancer.

And because ‘giving back makes you pretty and smell good!’

Let me know if you do it too.

So Jet Blue decided to cancel over 200 of their flights today to the East Coast - including ours.

And then told us they couldn’t get us on a flight until Tuesday night - the day before we were supposed to return originally.

No other airlines have flights till Sunday night, and then they start at 800 bucks a pop - for a one way.

Crap.

Looks like we’ll have to stay in sunny TMBCE, see Obama in Oakland tomorrow, and reschedule our flight for May.

I’m leaving for Boston tonight for Basil’s niece Chloe’s first birthday!

We haven’t seen the little peanut since she was a few months old, so I’m excited. We’ll be back next Wednesday, and I hope to meet another very special blogger while out there too.

Considering that there’s a Nor’easter there today, I’m off to enjoy sunny TMBCE while I can.

Also, I’ll be hosting the next Carnival of Islam in the West on April 6th and would like to encourage everyone to participate to show the real diversity and depth of thought around Islam and Muslims online. (The current carnival can be found, here)

In fact, I’ve already begun receiving submissions, so thank you!

Categories include:

* Religion and Worship
* Marriage and Family
* Education and Life
* Business and Careers
* News and Politics
* The State of the Ummah

Articles should be submitted by midnight GMT on April 5th, here.

Jum’ah mubarik!

I don’t always get around to posting a daily photo but here’s one that caught my eye today.

At Texas A&M University in Laredo, Samantha Mabel Garza dances flamenco under a nearly full moon to mark the opening of a Smithsonian exhibit on Latino achievement.

“Impossible Dream” by Palestinian artist Laila Shawa

(Hat tip: Jamila Lighthouse)

Revised:

Our dear Basil Jr. (above) who arrived in our home in August along with his caterpillar friend, is amazingly (given my brown thumb) not only still alive but thriving so lusciously that Basil Sr. recently moved him to a bigger, shiny-blue pot.

Yay, I didn’t kill him - yet!

There is something beautiful about a plant that stays alive in spite of me. I love smelling his fragrance every time I step into the kitchen and, yes, I do talk to him too. Usually to beg him not to die.

Talking to your plants makes you reluctant to eat them however. Perhaps farmers feel this way about their cows too.

I usually wait for one of the leaves to start withering a bit before plucking it because then it’s more like giving Jr a haircut than amputating a limb.

Today, I plucked a leaf for my tomato soup. Tasting its sweetness, I relished our symbiotic relationship. As I have nurtured Jr, so now he nourishes me. (Though, I guess he doesn’t have much choice in the matter.)

Once, after staying at Axx’s house on holiday, we got him a little tree as a thank-you present. He wasn’t terribly interested in it - until he found out it was a lime tree. Then he, the urbane Sikh boy from Patiala living in Haight-Ashbury, whooped with excitement - “It’s not just a plant, yaar - now it’s AGRICULTURE!”

Centuries of Punjabi farmers’ blood running through his and my veins - dwarf lime trees, sweet basil plants and all kinds of other miniature, urban agriculture get us really excited.

Though it probably makes our strong, paratha-eating, fields-working ancestors groan in their graves to see just how much the blood has thinned out.

Momo’s very young brother-in-law just passed away after a difficult battle with cancer. Please take a moment to say a prayer for him, as well as for his wife, six year-old daughter and 13-month old son.

We belong to God, and to Him is our return - God rest his soul in peace, amen.

(He was only six months older than me. None of us knows how much time we’ve been given.)

Today:

Blogger finally let me migrate T&B over to their new layout with tags and password-protected posts.

After a year of searching for the perfect pair I bought brown suede Geox sneakers so that I can be stylish and fit. Ridiculous as it sounds, I have a pair of clunky white sneakers that I refuse to wear and thus have been doing all my walking in two-inch boots which is wreaking havoc with my back.

Before you write me off as totally image-conscious and shallow though, the white sneakers were bought while I was hospitalized as the only shoes that could fit my foot brace, so I’m reluctant to wear them now that I’m doing better.

My house is littered with foot braces, a walker, a cane, shower chair - all sorts of senior-devices that I no longer need to use but fear to get rid of because one day I might.

I had resolved to go for a walk in my new shoes today but it’s gray enough to make me want to stay indoors next to R2 (our little electric heater, named after R2D2, whom he resembles). Yes, we hardy TMBCEites recoil in horror if the fog rolls in, if the temperature drops below 60, and, when it rains, massive traffic jams result.

We must seem like such weather wusses to the Northeasterners.

In sad news, there was a suicide bombing at the Marriott Hotel in Islamabad today.

Baz and I had our wedding reception there and have attended countless weddings, exhibitions and dinners there. It distresses me that my family lives with this heightened sense of insecurity - that my nieces and nephew are growing up to think that barbed wire, high walls, fear, bomb checks and suicide bombers are normal parts of life.

All Things Pakistan highlights a petition to nominate Abdul Sattar Edhi for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Nobel nominations close February 1st so please sign soon. You don’t have to be Pakistani to nominate him, you merely have to support his amazing work.

Edhi and his wife Bilquis are amazing humanitarians devoted to helping people regardless of caste or creed. In a country where the government regularly fails its people, the Edhis have served others since 1951.

Pakistanis are cynics when it comes to leaders, because we’ve seen too many rape the country and plunder its coffers for personal gain. But Edhi and Bilquis are two individuals who prove us wrong every day.

Along with hospitals and ambulance services, the Edhi Foundation has set up clinics, maternity homes, mental asylums, homes for the physically handicapped, blood banks, orphanages, adoption centers, mortuaries, shelters for runaway children and battered women, schools, nursing courses and soup kitchens. And, in front of every Edhi centre is a carriage in which women can place their babies, secure in the knowledge that the Foundation will care for and provide them with a free education.

During the October 2005 earthquake, the Edhi Foundation was on the frontlines with its medical services before most government or relief agencies even arrived. The Foundation has the largest volunteer ambulance service in the world and has never taken any government or religious organization’s grants because of the strings attached.

On a personal level, I’m looking into adoption in a couple of years through the Edhi Foundation and while doing research into it on my last trip to Pakistan I was impressed with the detailed care they put into each and every child’s placement with extensive family interviews pre- and post-adoption.

In a world where it’s easy to be cynical or to imagine that little hope exists, Abdul Sattar and Bilqees Edhi provide that hope for millions every day.

And in a world that often seems to want to think the very worst of Muslims, they embody the very best. In the hadith “None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself,” the brotherhood referenced is that of humanity and the Edhis certainly live up to that humanitarian ideal.

Please take a minute to nominate him for the Nobel Prize and to spread the word via your blog or circle of family and friends.

Thank you.

The thought-provoking and scintillating Umm Ali Hijazi of This Here Garden and The Muslim Street fame is, sadly, leaving Blogistan.

She’ll be sorely missed - go give her some love!

I love crafty sisters like Robyn, Sister Scorpion, Shaz and Farhana.

After going through a sewing fad and  giving up in impatience at my stubbornly crooked seams, and then a knitting obsession which ended when I kept somehow creating woollen mobius strips, I’m now trying my hand at making cards so am besotted with all things paper related.

Farhana organized a secret cupcake swap with 16 participants in which we had to send a minimum of two cupcake-related items (of which at least one had to be handmade) to our partner.

I’m amazed by what some of the very gifted participants have made; you can see a few photos in Farhana’s Flickr set.

The contents of my package are photographed below and set to be mailed today - I hope my partner likes everything!

(Click to enlarge)

Clockwise from upper left corner:

- “Crazy about Cupcakes” bakebook
- Handmade cupcake card for cupcake partner
- Blank handmade cupcake card
- Toffee-scented candle
- Buttercream frosting-scented hand creme
- Handmade bookmark for bakebook
- Handmade “Baked with Love for Blank in X’s Kitchen” cupcake tags
- Cupcake T-shirt

Our poet this week is Purelandi Faiz Ahmed Faiz.

I’ve chosen three of his poems and a biography below. The evocative power and beauty of Urdu are difficult to translate, but Agha Shahid Ali and Naomi Lazard do a good job.

When Autumn Came

(Translated by Naomi Lazard)

This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.

The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.

Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.

Blackout

(Translated by Naomi Lazard)

India-Pakistan War: 1965

Since our lights were extinguished
I have been searching for a way to see;
my eyes are lost, God knows where.

You who know me, tell me who I am,
who is a friend, and who an enemy.
A murderous river has been unleashed
into my veins; hatred beats in it.

Be patient; a flash of lightning will come
from another horizon like the white hand
of Moses with my eyes, my lost diamonds.

Before You Came

(Translated by Agha Shahid Ali)

Before you came,
things were as they should be:
the sky was the dead-end of sight,
the road was just a road, wine merely wine.

Now everything is like my heart,
a color at the edge of blood:
the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns,
the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,
the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,
and the black when you cover the earth
with the coal of dead fires.

And the sky, the road, the glass of wine?
The sky is a shirt wet with tears,
the road a vein about to break,
and the glass of wine a mirror in which
the sky, the road, the world keep changing.

Don’t leave now that you’re here—
Stay. So the world may become like itself again:
so the sky may be the sky,
the road a road,
and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine.

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Faiz Ahmed Faiz was born on February 13, 1911, in Sialkot, India, which is now part of Pakistan. He had a privileged childhood as the son of wealthy landowners Sultan Fatima and Sultan Muhammad Khan, who passed away in 1913, shortly after his birth. His father was a prominent lawyer and a member of an elite literary circle which included Allama Iqbal, the national poet of Pakistan.

In 1916, Faiz entered Moulvi Ibrahim Sialkoti, a famous regional school, and was later admitted to the Skotch Mission High School where he studied Urdu, Persian, and Arabic. He received a Bachelor’s degree in Arabic, followed by a Master’s degree in English, from the Government College in Lahore in 1932, and later received a second Master’s degree in Arabic from the Oriental College in Lahore.After graduating in 1935, Faiz began a teaching career at M.A.O. College in Amritsar and then at Hailey College of Commerce in Lahore.

Faiz’s early poems had been conventional, light-hearted treatises on love and beauty, but while in Lahore he began to expand into politics, community, and the thematic interconnectedness he felt was fundamental in both life and poetry. It was also during this period that he married Alys George, a British expatriate and convert to Islam, with whom he had two daughters. In 1942, he left teaching to join the British Indian Army, for which he received a British Empire Medal for his service during World War II. After the partition of India in 1947, Faiz resigned from the army and became the editor of The Pakistan Times, a socialist English-language newspaper.

On March 9, 1951, Faiz was arrested with a group of army officers under the Safety Act, and charged with the failed coup attempt that became known as the Rawalpindi Conspiracy Case. He was sentenced to death and spent four years in prison before being released. Two of his poetry collections, Dast-e Saba and Zindan Namah, focus on life in prison, which he considered an opportunity to see the world in a new way. While living in Pakistan after his release, Faiz was appointed to the National Council of the Arts by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s government, and his poems, which had previously been translated into Russian, earned him the Lenin Peace Prize in 1963.

In 1964, Faiz settled in Karachi and was appointed principal of Abdullah Haroon College, while also working as an editor and writer for several distinguished magazines and newspapers. He worked in an honorary capacity for the Department of Information during the 1965 war between India and Pakistan, and wrote stark poems of outrage over the bloodshed between Pakistan, India, and what later became Bangladesh. However, when Bhutto was overthrown by Zia Ul-Haq, Faiz was forced into exile in Beirut, Lebanon. There he edited the magazine Lotus, and continued to write poems in Urdu. He remained in exile until 1982. He died in Lahore in 1984, shortly after receiving a nomination for the Nobel Prize.

Throughout his tumultuous life, Faiz continually wrote and published, becoming the best-selling modern Urdu poet in both India and Pakistan. While his work is written in fairly strict diction, his poems maintain a casual, conversational tone, creating tension between the elite and the common, somewhat in the tradition of Ghalib, the reknowned 19th century Urdu poet. Faiz is especially celebrated for his poems in traditional Urdu forms, such as the ghazal, and his remarkable ability to expand the conventional thematic expectations to include political and social issues.

A Selected Bibliography

Naqsh-e faryadi (1943)
Dast-e saba (1952)
Zindan namad (1956)
Mizan (1964)
Dest-i tah-yi sang(1965)
Harf harf (1965)
Sar-e vadi-ye sina (1971)
Mat¯a`-i lauh o qalam (1973)
Rat di rat (1975)
Intikh¯ab-i Pay¯am-i Mashriq : manz¯um Urd¯u tarjumah (1977)
Sham-e shahri-yaran (197
Mere dil, mere musafir (1980)
Nuskha-Hai-Wafa (1984)

Poetry in Translation

Poems (1962) trans. by V.G. Kiernan
Poems by Faiz (1971) trans. V.G. Kiernan
The True Subject: Selected Poems of Faiz Ahmed Faiz (198 trans. Naomi Lazard
The Unicorn and the Dancing Girl (198 trans by Daud Kamal, ed. by Khalid Hasan
The Rebel’s Silhouette (1991) trans. Agha Shahid Ali
The Rebel’s Silhouette: Selected Poems (1995) rev. ed. trans. Agha Shahid Ali

Is it just me or is there an increasing number of articles on the environment in the mainstream media?

One of the most shocking pieces I read recently was that all commercial fish and seafood species could collapse by 2048.

In 41 years, in our lifetime.

The Chron’s column  Finding My Religion interviews Dr. J Matthew Sleeth on the alliance between scientists and evangelicals to save the earth and in other breaking news the CEOs of ten corporations urge President Bush to back climate protection. We need more such “unlikely” alliances and I hope that more Muslim leaders and communities are also beginning to focus on this vital issue.

In spite of the bad news, most scientists also say that if we take action now we can start seeing the situation turn around as soon as three to five years from now in many cases.

Test your ecological footprint and look into ways to reduce it. My footprint is at about 13, compared to the average American’s 24 - but if everyone lived like me, it would still take 2.9 planet Earths for us all to survive. I still have a lot of work to do.

If you fly, drive or heat your home you can also look into carbon off-setting.

Eating more local produce and less meat are other simple ways to diminish your environmental impact.

I’d love to hear what everyone else is doing too!

(Photo from Abdul Muneer)

In Suckers Suckers Everywhere… Baz highlighted the San Francisco Chronicle’s recent series about Americans being hoodwinked by bottled water companies.

Botted water is  big business, literally blue gold. Americans spent an estimated $11 billion last year drinking 8.3 billion gallons of bottled water, and the global market is estimated to be around $100 billion.

That’s a lot of fuel and pollution costs and plastic landfill waste for something that is, in most cases, essentially bottled tap water with better PR (the beverage industry spent about $60 million in advertisements in the US alone in 2005).

At a local level, communities with fresh water springs who lease out their water resources to companies are given pennies on the gallon in return and depeleted and possibly polluted resources at the end of the term.

The World Bank believes that the wars of the 21st century will be fought over access to water resources and in many hot spots (Palestine/Israel, Pakistan/India) these are already major issues that can be exploited by companies looking to make a buck. And, with some of the more expensive brands selling for as much as $11 per gallon, there’s a lot of money to be made.

(To put it in perspective, “a gallon of regular unleaded gas was selling nationwide Thursday for an average $2.20, according to AAA.”)

If your tap water is heavily chlorinated invest in a carbon-block filter to get rid of the chlorine (regular filters will only get rid of the taste of chlorine).

Then buy a thermos and fill it up with tap water before you go out - it’s better for the environment, contributes to geopolitical stability and it’s just as good for your body.

Highlights from The Chron and reading resources:

“This is an industry that takes a free liquid that falls from the sky and sells it for as much as four times what we pay for gas,” said Richard Wilk, a professor of anthropology at Indiana University who has studied the bottled-water business.

“There’s almost nowhere in America where the drinking water isn’t adequate,” he said. “Municipalities spend billions of dollars bringing clean, cheap water to people’s homes. But many of us would still rather buy it at a store.”

A 2003 study by the Environmental Protection Agency found that while 82 percent of Americans say they drink tap water, nearly three-quarters also buy bottled water. Twenty percent of Americans drink only bottled water.

People in their 30s or 40s, and those with higher educations levels, are more prone to drink bottled water than other segments of the population, the study found.

In San Francisco, city officials held a blind taste test near the Ferry Building. The 300 participants were offered samples of two popular bottled-water brands (Crystal Geyser and Aquafina) and local tap water.

Half said they preferred the tap water. Twenty-five percent picked bottled water. And 25 percent said they couldn’t tell the difference.

n early 2004, Coca-Cola launched its Dasani brand of bottled water in Britain. Dasani had already established itself as one of the most popular bottled waters in the United States.

Within weeks, however, Coke had a disaster in the making. The British press discovered that Dasani was nothing more than processed tap water and ran a series of indignant stories suggesting that consumers were being hoodwinked by the U.S. beverage giant.

Shortly afterward, a cancer-causing chemical — bromate — was discovered in Dasani bottles produced in Britain. The water was quickly withdrawn from store shelves and plans were canceled to market Dasani elsewhere in Europe, which to this day remains a Dasani-free zone.

The Chron series:

Spin the (water) bottle
How water bottlers tap into all sorts of sources
LA business tries to make Fiji Water a star “Yes, we’re the Mercedes of the market…The average consumer can’t afford a Mercedes but our product is an affordable luxury.” acknowledged John Cochran, president of Los Angeles-based Fiji Water.

Also read the International Forum on Globalization’s report, Blue Gold.

And if you haven’t seen it yet, watch “An Inconvenient Truth.” I really believe that
the environment is the biggest issue we need to focus on right now. The world will be economically and socially devastated by unchecked global warming simply because environmental impacts cross all borders of class, race, religion, and nationality.

We’re all in this together, folks.

I randomly came upon this site about the Woking mosque and mission, which “were the centre of Islam in England from 1913 to the mid-1960s.”

Fascinating history and photographs (click pics above to read the captions).

According to the website, it was closed partially due to anti-Ahmedi pressure by later Pakistani immigrants to England.

One of my fellow writers at United Press International , Marguerite Theophil, has written a beautiful article about mindfulness , which can imbue the most mundane household chore with beauty, and transform it into one of service to others and of connection to the world around us

Do read the article and leave a comment for her. And please keep her in your prayers, she has been ill for some time now.

Koonj wrote a wonderful article at Nisa’a called “Too Much Love” that started me thinking about love, how it grows and how it dies. And about how, sometimes, barriers foster intimacy and the physical distance between a couple speaks volumes not about their emotional distance but about how closely they are bonded.

Baz and I like to spoil each other but we’re not big on the “It’s X Day so you better get me something or I’ll sulk and feel unloved.” So usually it’s a surprise on a random day just because we think the other person rocks.

He rarely gives me jewelry (I prefer gadgets) but when he does it’s always the sweetest, most delicate pieces that are totally cool and wearable (unlike the wedding sets from my parents which I have yet to wear at all and so are sitting in a bank vault gathering dust and jacking up my annual zakat payment).

Today, before he left for a boys’ snowboarding weekend in Tahoe, he gave me the rings above, which are now coolly clasping my fingers in his absence.

Almost five years into our marriage (in August, God willing) I find that love has deepened into something stronger than touch. In the beginning it seemed like we had to be publicly demonstrative and with each other constantly or else our love might *pop* out of existence.

Now we can be across the room (or country, or world) from each other and still be tightly connected. I carry him with me, in my heart, wherever I go.

Over time I’ve come to really appreciate the privacy and intimacy of dropping a curtain between the world and ourselves to prioritize and develop our relationship. It’s a necessary barrier in many ways.

When it comes to marriage, not many people talk about the book to be read in the simple, subtle arch of a beloved’s brow, the song in my heart just because he exists, or the conversation the two of us have without speaking a word. Often he knows how I feel even before I do.

What appears to be a blank face to someone else is a painting full of significance to me because of our intimacy, knowledge that can only be gained through slow days and months and years of living with and loving somebody in good times and bad.

Purelandis are among the warmest, most hospitable people in the world but they’re not big on PDA. In the privacy of one’s home with intimates couples may be more physically affectionate, but it’s still far more restrained than one finds here, with few couples even holding hands in public.

My maternal grandparents lived in a village near Lahore and were amongst the most deeply in love couples I have ever known - and yet I almost never saw them touch. One of the few photographs that exists of the two of them together has them seated formally side by side in the photographer’s studio looking unsmilingly at the camera.

But, look closer at the almost-hidden detail that I love about this photo and about their love for each other: My grandfather’s pinkie rests lightly on my grandmother’s hand - almost unseen, almost unfelt - a love whisper, a heart-brush.

But that touch, barely a touch at all, roars their feelings to the world louder than many more overt relationships that I’ve seen. They spent fifty years living together and only a few years apart before they were rejoined in death.

I look back at our five years together, starting out on shore and in the shallows and then wading out toward the horizon, and I can feel the depth yawning reassuringly below my churning feet now, a reminder that so much of our ocean is yet to be explored.

Then I wonder whether fifty years of living and loving takes you to a place that’s beyond public touch, to a private place that can only be felt deep in your heart and soul, beyond any words at all.

—

“The way you make love is the way
God will be with you.”

- Rumi

(Photo credit: BBC)

It seems to be the destiny of truthtellers to be driven out or killed by their countrypeople.

In The Independent today, Robert Fisk calls assassinated Turkish-Armenian journalist and academic Hrant Dink “the 1,500,001st victim of the Armenian genocide.”

When will we learn to speak without guns?

—

See also Elizabeth’s memorial post with translations from his last article.

I’m feeling gratitudinally challenged these days.

Rabi’a al-Adawiya is one of the great Islamic mystics. I read one of her stories to my 5-year-old niece, which went something like this:

It is said that once a man had a very sharp headache, so he tied a brightly colored bandanna tightly around his head to mitigate the pain. When Rabia al-Adawiya saw him, she inquired into the cause for the bandanna, upon which he told her of his headache.

Rabia then asked if he often had headaches, and the man said no, he had enjoyed God’s blessing of absolute health for all his 30 years.

“So now that you are in pain, you announce it to the world by wearing a bright scarf on your head. Did you in the past 30 years ever wear as showy a token of your gratitude to Him for your good health?” she asked.

The man was struck by her words, and after that day he was known to the community as the one who never complained, no matter what hardship he faced.

The story probably made more of an impression on me than on my young niece. It made me reflect on my own reactions during those rare times when hurt or sorrow are my daily bread, and even more so on those innumerable golden days when all is right with my world.

We live in an age of entitlement and of unprecedented control over our lives and environment. So even when something small goes wrong, our first reaction is often one of impatience, complaint or wondering why God would do such a thing to us.

Hopefully this initial reaction blows over as perspective sets in. But what concerns me is that it has become accepted to complain incessantly, even when our lives are going well generally, which leaves us little spiritual reserve for when it is not.

A family friend of mine is one of the most devout people I know. When her 20-year-old daughter and infant grandson were killed in a car crash, she refused to say anything but (the extremely startling) “Alhamdolillah! (Thank God)” over and over again while weeping.

Why would she say such a thing?

Later, she explained, “Even as I knew He was taking away from me at that moment, I also knew that all of my life He had given to me freely. My thanks was for letting my daughter and grandson be in my life for as long as they were, and it was also a prayer to the Merciful One to grant them peace now that He had taken them back to Himself.”

Courage, patience and gratitude such as this woman’s do not suddenly appear overnight. She committed herself to developing those qualities daily so that when the challenge finally came, she was able to face it with her faith in God intact and, indeed, deepened.

Such people are awe-inspiring. They make me wonder: How often do I take a step back and look at my life as overflowing with constant and continuous divine blessings? When was the last time I was truly grateful? What showy token of gratitude to God do I wear today?

About a year and a half ago Umm Ali started a seven-day gratitude challenge for herself, which I decided to try too. The commitment? No complaining out loud or in our minds or hearts for seven days.

I made the intention to acknowledge my gratitude to God, to praise those around me, and to see life and people in the most positive of lights.

I started by reading an article by Imam Zaid Shakir on gratitude, by reflecting on all that I had to be grateful for, and by meditating on God’s characteristics as the Merciful, the Bountiful, the Loving and the Kind.

Some participants wrote about something they were grateful for each day, some shared goals of patience or forgiveness in their lives, and others kept their experiences private.

A few days into the challenge I was hospitalized with a spinal exacerbation. Surprisingly, though, being hospitalized and paralyzed didn’t derail me. Often it is when I am physically at my weakest that I feel closest to God.

It’s later, when I’m healthy, that the difficulties set in. And I’ve been generally well, physically, for over a year now.

But I’ve been spiraling downward spiritually since September. I’ve had these lows before and have come to expect them as part of a necessary cycle of soul-growth. But this is the longest I’ve gone without alleviation.

I’m stuck in a negative view of life, of feeling distant from God and of becoming quickly irritable at people — loved ones or strangers — and events around me.

Prayer and dhikr, which used to have such peace within them, are like dust to me now. I’m just going through the motions in the hope that my spiritual heart will start beating again soon.

Sometimes my tongue seems to have a mind of its own, a bitter one. I have such a different attitude now that the piece I wrote on gratitude last time is barely recognizable as my own.

I know that all of those things that I wrote are still true but I can’t feel them anymore.

I need the gratitude challenge again. Maybe by intentionally focusing on the light I can bring it back into the cave my world has become. Maybe the world really is as you decide you want it to be.

I know these seven days will be difficult. I failed immediately after making my intention and I know I’ll keep stumbling, but with practice and mindfulness I hope it will became a little easier. Never quite easy perhaps, but easier than before.

As in Judaism, the Islamic day starts in the evening. So tonight, the first of the seven, I am grateful for the chance to step back, take a deep breath, and refuse to listen to the poisonous thoughts that want to be born as words on my tongue, that want to hurt others around me, that are tearing down the peace I have built inside myself.

I am grateful for the ashes and emptiness inside, for it is only by knowing the emptiness that I can taste the sweetness of being filled again.

If one can be grateful for distance from God, then I am — because it makes me long for closeness to Him again. Being out in the cold makes me remember the warmth of His hearth and makes this bend in the road, this challenge, a little easier to bear.

Thank You for Your infinite blessings in my life, during the good times and the bad, when I can feel them and when I cannot, when I am aware and when I am heedless, for even when I am empty I know that I am beloved and held, perfectly, in the palm of Your hand.

Please help me through the next seven days, amen.

Thanks to Ali for telling me about Muslim Girl magazine.

Their debut issue includes interviews with the BBC’s Mishal Husain and the Lady Caliphs basketball team.

This is yet another opportunity for oldies like us to rub it into the young ‘uns about how “easy” it is for them now: “Arrey! Muslim magazines for women and girls, democratically-run MSAs and mosque Boards, equal prayer facilities, and female ISNA presidents?!

In MY day we were surrounded by hairy dictatorial Unclejis, prayed in dungeons, weren’t allowed to vote and we had to walk ten miles to Islamic Sunday school in the snow - uphill both ways!”

If you’re a Muslim girl, they’re looking for submissions, ideas and nominations from you!

Also:

Listen to NPR’s Terry Gross interview “Little House on the Prairie” creator Zarqa Nawaz.

Check out Muslim Streets’ latest interview “Femperialism” with two other cool Muslim chicas, Mohja Kahf and Itrath Syed.

Click on this link to read about Feminism’s Black Origins. (Hat tip: Sister Scorpion)

And, speaking of Muslim women’s ‘zines, I have an article on aqiqahs in this quarter’s Azizah! (And no, unfortunately I had no editorial discretion over the title “Oh, Baby!” - urk!)

Maryam has written a heart-breaking and beautiful poem for her sister.

Please remember her sister and her family in your prayers.

Sulu Design

I’m always intrigued by people who translate their surroundings into art and poetry.

Robyn directed me to these lovely and affordable handmade earrings by Susan Lutjen of Sulu Design, sold at Etsy.com. (She also ships free!)

If you’re as interested as me in the inspiration behind the designs (e.g., graffiti, seagulls and steel, or concrete buildings against a grey sky transformed into delicate earrings, literally), take a peek at her blog entries entitled “Original Intent.”

My favorite is the teal and brown Parking Lot Horseshoe Earrings inspired by the “colors and forms found on the wall of a car service parking lot in Astoria, Queens.”

She also custom designs earrings and can duplicate some of her sold-out designs. That’s how I snagged the pair above that were listed as sold out - sweet!

(I also love that Etsy has handmade paper and homemade beauty products available - let’s just say that I’m exploring.)

Hurrah for amazing, creative women!

Pakistani-American poet Bushra Rehman (left) will be holding a non-fiction workshop “Two Truths and A Lie” in San Francisco starting January 22nd:

Two Truths and a Lie: Writing Creative Non-Fiction
a 10-week writing workshop with Bushra Rehman

All ten sessions meet Mondays, 7 - 9pm, at KSW’s space180, 180 Capp Street, @17th Street, San Francisco. The workshop will not meet on Monday, February 19th, 2007.

This event is supported by Poets & Writers, Inc., through a grant it has received from the Hearst Foundation.

Please note: all multi-session KSW workshops include a public reading and chapbook publication following the final workshop session, coordinated and scheduled by KSW with the workshop participants.

Class Description:
Writing from life can be a tricky business. There are people to protect, faulty memories of events, and the pitfalls of self-censorship and self-aggrandizement. This is where creative non-fiction comes in. It’s a form of writing that is drawn from real life, but employs techniques of poetry and fiction. Permission is given to veer from the facts, to change names and the order of happenings, to start with a true story and end it the way it should have ended. Creative non-fiction recognizes that our lives are too rich not to write about, but that our imaginations are too strong to ignore.

In this class, we will write by drawing on memory, family myth, and the truth and lies of our lives. We will cover literary techniques such as character, dialogue, setting and story arc, as well as performance. We as a collective will give ourselves permission not only to share o