For every Star, there’s a shine :)

thanks liyana, for being my shine

(ahahaha)

DTS! (jAk br. Hasnain!)

May Allah reward and bless br. Hasnain in this dunya and the next for motivating ’DTS’ alllll the way from Cairo. We’re getting things going and still keeping our Friday brunch (which is now… Wed/Thursday) duas, lol

Littlebopeep is permantently paused, … alhamdullilah.

but you can find beneficial stuff on our blog bi’ithnillah!

dreamteamsisters.wordpress.com

What doesn’t Sharukh do?

So i wrote on facebook:

I really want to know what Sharukh is worth. He does loads of BIG movies, promos for shows, and pitches for commercials… i wonder if he has his own cologne?

I asked bc he’s everywhere. In less than 2 minutes, i saw him in a commercial, in a promo for Don and on who wants to be a millionaire (india). I asked about cologne as a joke. But 14 minutes later… the truth was revealed:  Tiger Eyes!

http://myrealparfum.blogspot.com/2007/09/shah-rukh-khan.html

bahahahahah! What the heck? I’m afraid to ask if he has his own clothing line.

Wow. May Allah guide us to the righteous path and use our rizq for good. Ameen.

A waft of warm air

These notes are becoming more about me and India, than me and Grandpa… but everything has a path i guess.

Because India was so hot, we rarely travelled in the day. Many on my memories are wrapped in the dark.

One night, returning home from somewhere, we crossed a little bridge between a park that led to end of our neighborhood. And this waft of warm air hit me. It was deep, thick, and disgusting. I asked one of the older ppl around me what that was and they replied, a dead person- being burned. Casually they walked past the home as fumes and smog rose from the back. I remember I was glued to the window, thinking at that time that they were burning the body inside their home bc the window was filled with so much light.

Rainer Maria Rilke :: Live The Questions Now !

courtesy of Sally <3

If you trust in Nature,
in the small Things that hardly anyone sees
and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasurable;
if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply,
as someone who serves,
to win the confidence of what seems poor:
then everything will become easier for you,
more coherent and somehow more reconciling,
not in your conscious mind perhaps,
which stays behind, astonished,
but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge.
Be patient towards all that is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions themselves
like locked rooms and like books
that are written in a very foreign tongue.
Don’t search for the answers,
which could not be given to you now,
because you would not be able to live them.
And the point is, to live everything.
Live the questions now.
Perhaps then, someday far in the future,
you will gradually, without even noticing it,
live your way into the answer.
Perhaps you do carry within you
the possibility of creating and forming,
as an especially blessed and pure way of living;
train yourself for that -
but take whatever comes,
with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will,
out of some need of your innermost self,
then take it upon yourself,
and don’t hate anything.
~Rainer Maria Rilke

Better than Disney

Bismillah wal hamdullillah.

This post doesn’t have much to do with Grandpa, rahimullah, but in general about India.

I don’t remember things in order. India is a vivid mesh of images and memories. There was always noise in the streets, except for late late at night. Across our apartment building was a mini mart shop, that sold the best chips (the package had a lime green m&m on the cover). Behind the store, lived the owners of the shop. Behind that was a makeshift movie theatre, and somenights, we’d lay on the balcony and listen to movies.

One night, we heard live music playing from outside. We ran onto the balcony (and by we… it was only me and Khala Manija who was around 11 at the time) and saw a wide glow bobbing towards us from up the street. Not sure what it was, we stretched over the third level balcony. I swear, it was better than Disney.

An entire parade passed through our narrow street. There was a colorful large elephant with people leading in front and following from behind. It was really fantastic. Lights in the dark night, the loud buzz of speech and music, the evening heat, the wild excitement … awesome!

that’s india for me. i’m sure my eyes were buggin out!

Meeting the Man.

Bismillah.

I was 6 in the US and he was in his 60s in India. As the plane took off, mom tore her piece of gum in half for me. I curled up with my new plush kitten that Mama Jawaid bought me from the airport’s market and welcomed the idea of a new friendship. My first trip ever was marked by the awesome desi food only found on PIA. and I didn’t mind the flight one bit. Me and Mom, that marked the first journey around the world together.

I don’t remember anything else. Until we arrived to Grandpas 3rd floor flat. It was at night, and the air was damp. The light in their flat came from the back left corner of the room. It didn’t buzz, but was a dim yellow. We walked in, and there was nothing. Just a floor with mats. And he was standing about 15 feet away at the hall entrance (while my grandma lingered in the background somewhere). I can only remember what was infront of me. I held someone’s hand (Mama Zakir or Khala Lailuma who arrived a few weeks before us from the US). Wearing a white top, Mom, bent down to reach Grandpa’s feet, and he lifted her by her shoulders to see her face. I remember the tears smeared on her face. She hadn’t see her parents in a little less than 10 years. The parents who cared for her, who sent her money when times got tough, and the man who gave her a rug to sell to make ends meat in Pakistan.

I was told to walk towards him, and I can’t remember if we shook hands. But he was embossed in my memory as the Man, that was worth traveling for, leaving first grade for, and leaving dad, Saba and Nida for. I don’t think I was concerned about leaving my brothers, lol.

But there he was, and is, in the front right corner of my memory. Standing in the warmth of India, reuniting with his children who were scattered and torn apart by the Russian-Afghan War.

On death.

I have never been able to write confidently. Except for the topic of death. I don’t know why. I can only think that it is because the emotions of loss and wanting are so innate, that it’s easy to channel. (and for many poets exaggerate). For me, i think it might be because of different life experiences. Not only on the passing of a person, but even an event. The loss of promise. The parting of friends. The end of an appointed time. And death really is the only promise that holds true.
& I think this is something that I do: after the digestion of emotions, i write a piece of some sort on that person. Bobo has a poem- the turn out and reaction of that poem was to my surprise. I didn’t think it could effect so many people, including friends who didn’t know her.
For our sister from MD, i wrote the reflection, Sparkling White.
I was able to write ‘Dolores’, alhamdullilah, one my best pieces of work I think.
And now, i’ll write on my grandfather. I pray Allah has mercy all our brothers and sisters lost.

Thoughts on Obama’s Election from a Professional …

Salam wa rahmatullah

Alhamdullilah, I wrote this 2 weeks after the election, but didn’t post it, lol! You’ll see why when you read it (all 2 ppl who keep up w/ my blog- jzks btw!).

So…  2 weeks past the election, my genius brother who purposefully failed the TJ test so he could do mediocre work and who also scored a super high # on his SATs, maashaAllah lol, had another brainy moment. He has fully digested how Obama’s Campaign successfully won the presidential race.  His theory has been brewing for quite the many years, and it’s manifestion was revealed on Election Night.

Obama won bc of 3 Letters.

N. W. A.

yes, that’s right. NWA- Ni**az w/ Attitude!  (i can’t write the n* word!)

anyhoo…

Forget the works of Fredrick Douglas, or even MLK Jr. No, all of the Presidential Elect’s hard work, the efforts by his campaign to take high road, make him appeal to the pop media, the likability of Michelle Obama, Oprah’s endorsement which helped sway middle class White women … not that important. 

The white “majority” vote, those who didn’t care for color, who really wanted change, and the means to hope for a better future, was propelled some 2 decades ago by the efforts of the brothas from Compton- Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, EasyE and Dj Yella.

They (Amin states) “brought black angst into the public, which was adopted by white suburban teens as their own personal teen angst. Through their affiliation and connection, they were able to identify with the struggles of the “opposite” race, and break down stereotypes. Those teens are now in their 30s… 40s… voters.”

NWA, he states, obviously “stands on the shoulder of giants.” But none the less, Amin still believes that they, along w/ Micheal Jackson and Micheal Jordan (pop icons who’s music and franchise broke down more walls than … [insert any other productive African American Activist] , helped pave the way for cooperation and respect, leading to:

Obama ‘08.

 word.

and he might just be right

http://theroot.com/views/hollywood-s-leading-man?GT1=38002

The Chicken Police

This is absolutely too cute maashaAllah!