8/31/2005

Molvi Saab Escapades: Inspired by Dream34

If you’re a Muslim desi (South Asian) chances are you’ve been paired with a molvi saab (preacher man/ Quran instructor) in your childhood. Now, it would be unfair to generalize about this 'entity' since there are some extremely humble souls who do it for free and for the sake of passing along the Word of God (i.e. the woman who eventually taught me to read the Quran).

But then there is the population that take on this job simply because they can’t do anything else. For them it’s all about the pay, a meal, and the occasional nap. Somewhere in between their snoozing they manage to impart a thappar (slap) and if you’re really lucky an occasional lesson in their thickest local accent possible. (It’s not ‘swaad zwad’ but ‘saad and daud!’ as we’re reminded by our Arab connections). Of course, some blame goes to us as well, for erm.. resisting authority.

I’ve lost count of how many molvi saab I had but here are some of my favorite:

1. This particular molvi saab liked food. He liked it a lot. So as soon as he entered the living room, he would place his order. While the food was warmed up, we were allowed the extra 10 minutes to climb our favorite Mango Tree. Once the food was ready, we would cover our legs with towels (his solution for our summer shorts) (I was 6) and sit with him while he masticated his bones and burped in our face. The one who got him a meat dish was excused from reading and instead sat their like a king pointing and laughing in our faces. We would read the same page everyday (because he never taught us anything) until two weeks later, when he was FIRED.

2. This one was a jolly old man who was actually very nice but for some reason he liked to sleep. He would dose off in every session which gave us the incentive to skip pages and eventually entire suras. His memory wasn’t all that well either so I guess he never figured out how we went from the second sipara to the twentieth sipara in two weeks. He too was FIRED.

3. Now this is my mother’s generation: (they were a lot worse). Their molvi saab was actually a decent blind man. My mother and her cousins would change their voices, pretending to be the housekeeper, telling him the kids were away. Then they would take his hand and help him cross the street. (so Sad)

I eventually found the right molvi saa(hiba), a woman actually. A woman of great strength and child-bearing skills. She had 10 kids (most of them Hafiz (knew Quran from memory)) and knew all of our tricks, since all 10 of her kids had potty mouths (I learned most of my curse words from them) and had tried every possible trick on her. She was clever enough to use incentives: allowing the first one finished with her lesson to play with her two bratty Siamese cats and sometimes in the backyard. She didn’t come to our house; we had to walk to her house, properly dressed and on time. She didn’t accept money or gifts. Instead, she found her tribe a social outlet with our company.

(I'd like to add Dream34's stories, once he sends them to me, cough)
haha. some things you ought to know about my molvi sahib

1) he had a mole on his forehead which is why i thought he was called molewee sahib
2) he would poke is pen on my forehead to make me look like him
3) he used to get mad at me for saying 'seen' instead of 'sheen' (since when could gujrati's tell tell the difference?)
4) he used to blow on his juice to make it colder
5) he rang our doorbell 15 times
6) he was known to dump first, teach later at others' house
7) he scolded people at the mosque for wearing 'sort sleeves sirts'
he got fired by my dadi.
9) he got deported from my country.
10) his lookalikes lurk every now and then at the butcher shops in toronto.

8/29/2005

and purge.

Having lost another year in this transitory world, i still find myself as 'clueless' as a two year old whose about to stick her fingers in an electric socket. When i was 19 (and quite full of myself) i thought by the time i was 24 i would be done with education and married with kids. While I’ve finished my degree on time i didn’t get married until last year and i certainly don’t planning on having kids until I can take care of a plant at least.

From as long as i can remember, i was a traveler. i knew i had to get from destination A to destination B because a) it was expected of me and b) because failure was not an option.

But what happens when all sorts of external pressure cease to exist?

Laziness, followed by boredom, with a healthy dose of self-pity, reminiscent of ingratitude towards a Higher Order. A false sense of comfort that’s heedless of things to come. We bitch and moan about life's trials day by day, but what if there were no trials --conflicts that let us exercise our "Humanity," and occasionally, “Spirituality?”

As we age, we spend more and more time minimizing conflict instead of attuning ourselves to the Wind of God, to Vicissitude of Time -- to Life itself. We’re taught from an early age, to stay unhappy until everything is in place; a contradiction that makes most people miserable for the duration of their stay here. (Earth, duh?)

Looking back at life, my proudest moments, are not of acquiring a piece of paper from a university, or of getting married to person I can truly respect, or even educating young boys in the fine art of ‘sissidom,” but of -- conflicts that have refined my understanding of the Higher Order. Conflicts that have taught me to appreciate every little moment of happiness, love, and calmness for they are Divine Gifts that in the scheme of life are really the most valuable possessions.

8/27/2005

The Black Knight

From now and then , I'll be posting (or is it plagiarising?) tid bits on abnormal Muslim Women. You know the type, the one who becomes a leader rather than a follower. a rare beast by todays standards.

Khawala Bint Al Azwar

The Arab Historian, Al Waqidi, tells us in his book “The conquering of Al Sham (greater Syria)” that: “In a battle that took place in Beit Lahia near Ajnadin, Khalid watched a knight, in black attire, with a big green shawl wrapped around his waist and covering his bust. That knight broke through the Roman ranks as an arrow. Khalid and the others followed him and joined battle, while the leader was wandering about the identity of the unknown knight.”

Rafe’ Bin Omeirah Al Taei was one of the fighters. He described how that knight scattered the enemy ranks, disappeared in their midst, reappeared after a while with blood dripping from his spear. He swerved again and repeated the deed fearlessly, several times. All the Moslem army was worried about him and praying for his safety. Rafe’ and others thought that he was Khalid, who won great fame for his bravery and genius military plans. But suddenly Khalid appeared with a number of knights. Rafe’ asked the leader: “ Who is that knight? By God, he has no regard for his safety!”


(Excerpt from Famous Women in Islam CD-Dr.Umar Faruq Abd-Allah)

The Black Knight seeks her brother

Khalid sees from afar a tall Muslim knight, dressed in black, his nose and mouth covered, with a green turban wrapped around his helmet.
The Black Knight cannot be overtaken. He fights alone. Khalid: He is a master of the arts of horsemanship, encirclement and enclosure; he charges the enemy 'as if he were fire.' Khalid: If only I knew who this knight is! By the oaths of Allah, he is a brave Faaris!
The Black Knight: A pillar of fire
Khalid and his soldiers fear for the black knight--but they cannot overtake him. The Roman legions are shaken before him; their retenues and mounted escorts are shattered and scattered in all directions.
The black knight disappears among the Romans and then reappears with his lance dripping with blood.
He exposes himself to certaing death, but comes out unharmed. He shows no care for himself. He lets parties of Roman knights follow him; then turns upon them and routs them.

The black knight discovered
Khalid's general Raafi' b 'Umairah sees the knight: it could only be Khalid b.al-Walid.
Then Khalid arrives: Who is the knight? Khalid: "By Allah, I am even more ignorant of him that you, but I am impressed by the excellent skills he has shown."O Assemblies of Muslim! Attack all of you together. Come to the aid of the Defender of God's faith.Still the Black Knight eludes them like a torch of fire [burning in the night] before them.

Khalid's resolve
Khalid: We will attack together and place our hopes in Allah that he bring us to your brother and set him free.
'Aamir b Tufail on Khalid's right and Khawlah in the lead before Khalid. The Muslims charge from behind.
The Byzantines found matters hard to bear, when they saw the black knight coming down upon them again with Khalid and his army. If all these people are like knight, we don't have a chance.

Khawlah's lament
Khawlah again veers to the right and the left, looking for her brother, Diraar. Huge victory at noon.
Khawlah searches for news, man by man. Nothing. She despairs. Her lament.
O MY MOTHER'S SON, IF ONLY I KNEW IN WHICH DESERT THEY HAVE THROWN YOUR BODY OR WHOSE SPEAR HEADS HAVE STABBED YOU OR WHOSE SWORD HAS KILLED YOU. O MY BROTHER, YOUR SISTER IS HERE AS YOUR SACRIFICE. IF ONLY I COULD SEE YOU '[AGAIN], I WOULD DELIVER YOU FROM YOUR ENEMIES' HANDS. IF ONLY I KNEW IF I WILL EVER SEE YOU AGAIN AFTER THIS DAY. SON OF MY MOTHER, YOU HAVE LEFT IN YOUR SISTER'S HEARD A HOT COAL AND ITS FLAME WILL NEVER BE QUENCHED. HAVE YOU JOINED OUR FATHER WHO WAS KILLED WITH THE PROPHET, S. IF SO, THEN PEACE BE UPON YOU, UNTIL THE LAST DAY'S MEETING.Khawalah cried. Khalid cried. All the Muslims cried.

The next day, Khalid, Khawlah, and the army attack the the Byzantines.
The first unit for him--throw down their arms and dismount and cry asylum.
Where is Diraar: "You mean the one who fights without armor. Who killed us by the dozens and then killed the Emperor's son."
Khalid forms a rescue party--Raafi' b 'Umairah and 100 of the best knights. [Hubban wa karaamah] Taken prisoner, sent with 100 knights to Constantinople by way of hims. When the news reaches Khawlah, her face lights up like a beacon of joy.
She puts on her armor, takes her weapons, mounts her war horse and goes to Khalid:
I BESEECH YOU BY THE PURE AND PURIFIED ONE, MUHAMMAD, THE LORD OF HUMANITY- - THAT YOU ALLOW ME TO GO WITH THESE WHOM YOU HAVE SENT FORTH. MAYBE I WILL BE OF SOME USE TO THEM.

Khalid to Raafi': You know her courage; take her with you. Raafi': "Hearing and obeying."
Khawlah rides behind the 100 knights but keeps a careful eye on her brother's tracks. She then calls out: They haven't come this far yet! Good tidings! The party has not reached here yet!Abush. Rescue. All 100 Romans killed; horses and armor taken; Dirar is safe and sound.

8/26/2005

The Road to Mecca

Excerpt taken from: The Road To Mecca.

One Day- it was in September 1926- Elsa and I found ourselves traveling in the Berlin subway. It was an upper-class compartment. My eye fell casually on a well-dressed man opposite me, apparently a well-to-do businessman, with a beautiful briefcase on his knees and a large diamond ring on his hands. I thought idly how well the portly figure of this man fitted into the picture of prosperity which one encountered everywhere in Central Europe in those days: A prosperity the more prominent as it had come after years of inflation… […] But when I looked at his face, I did not seem to be looking at a happy face. He appeared to be worried: and not merely worried but actually unhappy, with eyes staring vacantly ahead and the corners of his mouth drawn in as if in pain- but not in bodily pain. Not wanting to be rude, I turned my eyes away and saw next to him a lady of some elegance. She also had a strangely unhappy expression on her face…[…] And then

I began to look at all the other faces in the compartment- faces belonging without expression to well-dressed, well-fed people: and almost in every one of them I could discern an expression of hidden suffering, so hidden that owner of the face seemed to be quite unaware of it.
[…] The impression was so strong that I mention it to Elsa; and she too began to look around her … and she said: ‘You are right. They all look as though they were suffering the torments of hell… I wonder, do they know themselves what is going on in them?

When we returned home I happened to glance at my desk on which lay open a copy of the Quran…

You are obsessed by greed for more and more
Until you go down to your graves
Nay, but you will come to know!
Nay, but you will come to know!
Nay, if you but knew it with the knowledge of certainty,
You would indeed see the hell you are in.
In time, indeed, you shall see it with the eye of certainty:
And on that day you will be asked what you have done with the boon of you life.



For a moment i was speechless. I think the book shook in my hands [...] I knew now, beyond any doubt, that it was a GOd-inspiring book i was holding in my hand: for although it had been placed before man over thirteen centuries ago, it clearly anticipated something that could have been true only in this complicated, mechanized, phantom-ridden age of ours.

At all times people had known greed: but at no time before this had greed outgrown a mere eagerness to acquire things and become an obsession that blurred the sight of everything else; an irresistible craving to get, to do, to contrive more and more-more today than yesterday, and more tomorrow than today: a demon riding on the necks of men and whipping their hearts forward toward goals that tauntingly glitter in the distance but dissolve into contemptible nothingness as soon as they are reached, always holding out the promise of new goals ahead...

Muhammad Asad

Reading

Reading generates a mental representation, or gist, of the text, which serves as an evolving framework for understanding subsequent parts of the text. As we read further, we test this evolving meaning and monitor our understanding, paying attention to inconsistencies that arise as they interact with the text. We come to texts with purposes that guide our reading, taking a stance toward the text and responding to the ideas that take shape in the conversation between the text and the self.
Reading does not simply understand facts; rather it’s a complex process of problem solving in which the reader works to make sense of a text not just from the words and sentences on the page but also from the ideas, memories, and knowledge evoked by those words and sentences.
Reading is influenced by situational factors, among them the experiences readers have had with particular kinds of texts and reading for particular purposes. And just as so-called good or proficient readers do not necessarily read all texts with equal ease.

blah

And so it begins. For the past hr, I've been searching blog templates, figuring out how to add a counter, and a calender. havent gotten far. but who cares. at least ive manged to copy a pretty template.