Mariam

It just hit me, heart-hammeringly an hour ago. I won't see my best friend soon. My dissertation supervisor told me so, in her gentle yet firm way. I am an adult. I should have known. Somehow, we always seem to have dreams that she is fulfilling. I don't mind that. I mind that I'm not sharing everything happening here with her. When we share things, they become phenomenal. Most of my successes, the one's I'm really proud of, were a result of our shared efforts.

I was supposed to write her a letter before 17th December. I couldn't, It would have made both of us cry and it was a happy occassion, living dreams.

Having a best friend means:

someone saying what you were going to before you do

someone stopping you from doing something before you do it, and then laughing at you for not listening to them afterward

having someone your mum trusts you with almost as much as herself

having someone make you things to eat when you're hungry and you realising only once you see it that that was exactly what you wanted to eat

having someone to paint ceilings with

haing someone to phone or sms or mxit or g talk or misscall or pitch up at their house at any time, to talk about anything and never be stupid

having someone to talk through the night with, even of they fall asleep some times and catch up on the conversation a little later

having someone to know when you REALLY mean something and trust you do, even if its just words

having someone who your family wishes was a husband because she makes you so happy and your phonebills so crazy and your time at home so sporadic

having someone who will forgive you for anything, even if she says i told you so a trillion times afterwards

having someone that you dont give a damn how many times she says i told you so, coz it's one of the things you love about her

having someone who teaches you that Love takes time and once it comes does never ever ever leave even through the most extreme forms of separation

having someone with whom it hurts to send sms's to when all you want is to see just a glimpse of their eyes so you know they're ok

having someone you can ask to keep a burden, like walking out of a 3 hour year exam after 15 minutes and three lines of essay, for a little while so you can go and write your next exam

having someone you NEVER get tired of spending time with (this really is something very very important)

having someone who's silences you have to read carefully and slowly

having someone who has been part of all the parts of yourself that you're really proud of

having someone who you know is going to come back

having Someone

* Disclaimer: This is very subjective and is based on one case study, the one that matters most

** Another disclaimer: It sounds like I'm incredibly dependent on her. I am, I admit it. This should probably change, I'll think about it.

Not in My Ummah's Name

In the midst of all this chaos, I read a book about another war. Or layers of wars. A story written by a man who writes as if he has felt what it is like to be a woman. And I feel the outrage of remembering being in tenth grade and asking our Usuludeen teacher, of whom I have much respect, is there an Islamic country on the earth? And he shook his head, with his blue eyes looking at us solemnly and said, "The Taliban in Afghanistan come closest". At the time, though, we all had some inexplicable respect for them. Did we not know? Were there no media reports before 9/11? And after 9/11 the way everyone wore Bin Laden t shirts. As if one wrong justified another. We should have stood up then, as Muslims, not allowed Muslims to oppress other Muslims in the name of our Faith. Like some Jews do now.

Our wantan, is now known as the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan.
These are the laws that we will enforce and you will obey:

• * All citizens must pray five times a day. If it is prayer time and you are caught doing something other, you will be beaten.
• * All men will grow their beards. The correct length is at least one clenched fist below the chin. If you do not abide by this, you will be beaten.

• * All boys will wear turbans. Boys in grade one through six will wear black turbans, higher grades will wear white. All boys will wear Islamic clothes. Shirt collars will be buttoned.
• * Singing is forbidden.
• * Dancing is forbidden.
• * Playing cards, playing chess, gambling, and kite flying are forbidden.
• * Writing books, watching films, and painting pictures are forbidden.
• * If you keep parakeets, you will be beaten. Your birds will be killed.
• * If you steal, your hand will be cut off at the wrist. If you steal again, your foot will be cut off.
• * If you are not Muslim, do not worship where you can be seen by Muslims. If you do, you will be beaten and imprisoned. If you are caught trying to convert a Muslim to your faith, you will be executed.

Attention women:

• * You will stay inside your homes at all times. It is not proper for women to wander aimlessly about the streets. If you go outside, you must be accompanied by a mahram, a male relative. If you are caught alone on the street, you will be beaten and sent home.
• * You will not, under any circumstance, show your face. You will cover with burqa when outside. If you do not, you will be severely beaten.
• * Cosmetics are forbidden.
• * Jewelry is forbidden.
• * You will not wear charming clothes.
• * You will not speak unless spoken to.
• * You will not make eye contact with men.
• * You will not laugh in public. If you do, you will be beaten.
• * You will not paint your nails, if you do, you will lose a finger.
• * Girls are forbidden from attending school. All schools for girls will be closed immediately.
• * Women are forbidden from working.
• * If you are found guilty of adultery, you will be stoned to death.

Listen. Listen well. Obey. Allah-u-akbar.

Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns (Great Britain: Bloomsbury, 2007), 245-246.

My Hafidh (Protection)

Peter Pan never forgets Never-Never land

Harry Potter can't unfeel his scar

So I am forever Yours

You made me Chosen, and let me think

I Chose. You gave me devotion when I

foolishly imagined I was Devoted

As if i was in control, as if I had the power

to oscillate my childhood on your nurturing axis

to feel the beauty of pre-dawn purpose

and the virtue of something Greater than myself.

Alone

There were times when i shied away from this Gift

And had uncapitalised i's and frivolous you's

No more. From today

I Sing You to Me

the story without words

an insatiable flame erupts. burning libraries and mosques and art galleries and churches and movie theatres and government archives and buidlings. blackness. tearing out the pages of history. to that first light of protoplasm. to living without being human. to skin without hair. the story of jannah (heaven). where prayer is movement, nakedness is all, instinct not thought and love not care. to be not to am. to only have ur body, not ur mind, the first few moments of existence and ecstasy. before the pain of blood in our veins and pulling in our muscles. no need for names, or assumptions, or ideologies, or favours, or chivalry, or airs, or politeness. just. when everything was nothing. i feel close to death now.

Things that go "bump!" in daylight

Frucksh, metal and gritting teeth
Jerk, no, let me go,
Pluck some paint off your heart
Scratch some skin off my bonnet
A blinding impact, and then
The anger and the guilt,
for braking my trajectory
I'm going somewhere, yes,
I'm going somewhere
And stopping has cost too much already