AmberWritings – Amber Hasan

Amber Writings, Children, Desi, Family, Lifestyle, parenting, Psychology, Thoughts

How You Would Regret The Use Of Technology

August 28, 2017 No Comments

I also came across the video doing rounds on social media where a little girl is seen frustrated and upset and crying while her mother tries to teach her

I read the comments across different channels and saw people’s reaction. Some made me laugh, others made me bang my head, some made me want to bang other’s heads.

Perhaps it was just a reflection of our selves. A mere reflection; as a person, as a woman, as a mother. Just that some times we do not want to face our self. Perhaps the picture is not so great to look at.

With all honesty, it also gave me a chance to stop and reflect on myself, within. Where do I stand as a mother?

I wanted to just talk about the emotions in that short clip of few seconds.

First and foremost, our children are no more children for us, just circus monkeys. They smile, we pull out our ‘smart’ phones, they cry we start recording, they run to us to show us what they built, we choreograph the excitement, they tell us the neighbour’s kid hit them, we look for the perfect frame to match the emotion. We are slowly and gradually training our brain to just look at every thing, every person, every emotion and every aspect of our life through that small hole. We are teaching our minds to forget the fine art of remembering people without any picture. We are producing little actors who know what kind of performance will get them more likes and more comments.

We are also teaching them how vulnerable their emotions are. That we can record anything they do, say or want and put it for the whole world to watch and comment. Privacy is a thing of old times. My times. Guess I am too old now too. *Chuckles*

The rest are all details. I can write pages upon pages on the anxiety and distress that that child must be going through every day or about the mother who in that entire clip of about a minute and few seconds, did not try to console the child or show any affection or about the uncles of the child who later showed up to provide the background on why the child was treated the way she was and that how is that so justified.

But I would just stop right here, and imagine that 3 year old Haya, after about 15 years, a critical stage in her life, when she might see this video some where, and read the comments and then who knows.

I do not want my children to grow up and watch themselves being ridiculed just to satisfy their caregiver’s entertainment nerve-Do you?

Note: I could’ve easily added the entire video clip but then the purpose of writing the above is to highlight the issue, not spread it more. Hence I only preferred an image just for a reference.

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Desi, Family, Lifestyle, Thoughts

More Digital, Less Human

May 11, 2017 No Comments

I just watched Denial and I must say what a brilliant watch. Some movies just bring out true emotions from deep within, and this is one such piece.

I have fond memories of my Naani (maternal grandmother) cooking Mutton qorma (mutton curry cooked in traditional spices), matar pulaao (rice with peas), a certain brown coloured sooji halwa (semolina sweetmeat) with lots of raisins and a heap of yogurt on top of it. Then my Naana (maternal grandfather) would bring sweetmeats and fresh fruits, and Naani would bring out all the food and stuff on to the jaa-e-namaz (prayer mat). Naana would light an incense stick and will pray and blow on all this food. And we would patiently wait for all this to finish in our new clothes, so we would get to eat it while some would be sent to the neighbours. This to them was Arfa which was celebrated a night before Shab e Baraat or Mid Shabaan.

Then I saw my mother doing the same in my home. It was until about some years back, when one day my youngest brother walked in and told my mother it is not right to do this. Ammi did not understand the reason or logic behind, but she could not say no to her dearest son and thus stopped doing it. When I read about it and in detail, I too found it to be more a traditional ritual than a religious practice. But that is my opinion, my thoughts and my belief. You or anyone does NOT have to agree to it.

Let me get back to watching Denial. Great movie, strong plot and most of all an emotional debate. Although I wonder what kind of people might want to go against the facts and deny a historic event that changed the course of modern history around the world.

My phone kept ringing its typical Whatsapp synonymous tin tin tin, which I as usual ignored. Thanks to the high tech world of smart phone apps, people who hardly know me or are mere acquaintance now have the privilege to call me in the wee hours of the day, their day or to text me endlessly, without giving the slightest thought to the idea that I might be sleeping, or busy in work or just do not wish to talk.

Anyway, when I did checked those texts, on all the different groups, and individual chats, I had about 40 apology letters to sign. Or see. Or to just ignore. Random people who I might have known just by a couple references in between, just hit a forward all button, without going through the content of the message and there it goes.

I mean I am all for the digital and technological stuff. As a matter of fact, I belong to the generation who took the leap from paper Eid cards to digital greeting messages. But you(All who sent those texts to me or to anyone else perhaps) seriously think just sending forwarded messages makes someone forgive you like that? Lets assume, for a minute, that I was actually upset; why would you wait to say sorry and ask for forgiveness? Some forwarded messages I got today and last night even had the names of the actual senders.

Words are very important. Very important. Use them wisely. Do not make your words so worthless that when you actually want to talk, you find no one. I do not mean to undermine any true effort, any one actually made. I am just trying to draw a line between empty worthless forwarded junk and real words with feelings. Bombarding random people with apology letters would not help, actually reaching out to those you hurt would! But then did I not delete her number since she been bitchy-Right? Right!

Finally a quote of my choice from Denial “Freedom of speech means you can say whatever you want. What you can’t do is lie and expect not to be held accountable for it.”

Amber Writings, Children, Family, Lifestyle, parenting, Thoughts

Let Them Bloom!

January 9, 2016 No Comments

I wake up every morning, turn the alarm off, the next thing in my hands is my phone: I do the same with the alarm, then check Messages(If any), then Twitter for news, then Whatsapp for messages from family and then Facebook for updates. After and when I am done with all this, then only I move. And I hate this!

Okay its alright to stay current and updated with the news, but what on earth am I supposed to do with what someone thousands of miles away from me is eating and feeling while eating. I mean first thing in the morning?

Past couple days, I’d been down and anxious; so much going on and then one morning when I was reading some news on Twitter, number 3 woke up and saw me busy on my iPhone and came close, and held my face and turned it towards him and said ‘ Band Mamma’ (Turn it off Mamma) It happened two consecutive mornings and what did I do? I signed out of all the social media apps on my phone.

There are people in my life, for who Facebook and Whatsapp comes first in their priority list, even before myself. But then I am me!

I have friends and families who have got separate tablets and iPads for their kids, as young as 2. I go for grocery and I see every passing stroller with a kid busy swiping the screen of their smart device. At traffic lights, I see cars and vans, with Dora or Caillou playing on the little television screens. Hospitals, doctor’s offices, shopping malls-9 out of 10 kids I see have some sort of device in their hands, regardless of their age. I mean what is wrong with us?

I remember growing up with only a 5 minute cartoon slot on the national television which was the only screen entertainment for us, that too in a hallway, that was always flooded with Dadi, phuphoos and cousins.

Then things progressed and we started having a 25 minute cartoon, evening 7pm. And that was it. And I am not talking about centuries ago.

Ammi used to pull keep knocking our bedroom doors, if any of us would lock it. We used to have dinner together. We used to talk. We had books to read, newspapers, magazines, puzzles.

And now I get guests, the young guns, that prefer to pull their hoodies on and sit in a corner playing, reading, listening, simply doing something with their smart device, and not socializing with the not-so-smart people in the room.

Personally I feel it is more the parent’s own short comings then anything else. I am not being judgemental; I am just saying what I observe.

Mothers are too busy so it really sounds like a good idea to have a silent baby-sitter with colours and music and pictures playing and keeping the kids entertained. Plus there is a lot of peer pressure. ‘That cousin” have it so I should also have it usually works wonders.

It some how addresses our own underlying, deep rooted complexes as a child-We try to give our children all that we could not get as a kid, without understanding that there was a reason we did not get something, and it was not money (only).

I have a household of three screaming, excited, ultra active human beings. I write and I sew and I bake and I craft and I watch news, dramas and movies; plus the every day household chores. I wash the same dish 15 times a day, because my baby likes to play with the freshly washed one, so I keep redound the same stuff over and over again. I have no help at all and yes I am bragging here. The only screen time my school going children get is 30 minutes, max 45. My baby is not a fan of screens at all. Yes there are times, when the screen time stretches beyond an hour, but that is rare, and extremely uncommon. They have no access to iPad unless they need to do some homework, which is timed and strict. They do not use any computers for any game, activity. I get them books, crosswords from the weekly flyers and newspapers. I asked for my family to send a Ludo so I can play with them.

And when they do nothing, they hover and make me want to run away.

Yes it drives me crazy and some times, it all just gets too much to handle. I am under slept, over tired, over stressed, but I am not ready to trade my children’s innocence for a 6 hour sleep. They eventually will be tech savvy and will have less time to communicate or interact with human beings in person. I just try to keep it this way, the natural way, for however long I can manage.

Number 1 was just promised by her father yesterday that if she finishes her Quran by a certain time she gets an iPad. And to my happiness, she responded “Remember no iPads” So I know children never develop complexes unless we try to shove it into them. Cell phones for now I have promised them when they’d be at least 16.

So my point: Please be sensible when deciding on handing over all this garbage aka technology, gift wrapped as tablets, pods and smart phones to these beautiful, super intelligent children when all they need is our attention and some encouragement. I argue and confront and fight about it with those I love. I know it is hard and I am not some kind of anti Illuminati or anti tech freak. I’m guilty of binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix when I am sad and I hog up on pop and sugar when I am depressed or I give up everything and not eat for days and survive on Chai as my to go med, friend, shoulder to cry-on. I just also admitted my horrible routine of social media when I just anxiously and insanely keep checking Facebook okay. I do. I am not a perfect mom, neither a perfect woman. I have my fair share of flaws. In fact I am more flawed than most. But this stuff is poison. It hurts those bright eyes, it damages those Einstein brains, it isolates those giggling personalities, it bars them friendly gestures and public etiquettes. It produces jay walkers who walk without the knowledge of their surroundings, engrossed in whatever device, and eventually usually get struck.

I wish I could’ve been born another time. Too old perhaps and hence nag!

Amber Writings, Children, Desi, Family, Karachi, parenting, Thoughts

Same old me, same old

November 26, 2015 No Comments

I wish there was a place in this world, a place bigger than Harrods or Harvey Nichols or Saks Fifth Avenue. A place where, things were available based on their worth, not the price attributed to it. A place where people could exchange emotions, I would have given my self in exchange of one last glimpse

If only though, if only wishes were horses, beggars like myself would fly high.

Its not what I would have or could have done, its just that every year this day comes, and though there is hardly a day when I do not think about her or when number 1 not have a question about her, perhaps the same questions repeatedly every day, I still feel like a five year old, in search of a warm embrace, looking for that precious smile, waiting to be held and be loved.

Every year, its like the same cycle. I start getting these weird dreams, and then I recall that at this time one or two or three or now four years back, this happened. It is like someone is dragging me to the electric chair, to be executed, and every year, a part of me dies within.

Its not philosophy, its not tragedy, its just the reality. That she is gone, that I was not with her. That I could not kiss her good bye. That she kept calling my name. That she kept waiting for me. Was all this actually worth it?

I remember my sister always used to ask me to go out at night on weekends, and Ammi would always tag along “How can I let you girls out, alone this late?” And when we would reach a jam lacked Hyder’s, she would say “Oh I don’t feel like having anything” And then later she’d be like “I’m kinda thirsty and will have a sip or two” And we both would fight with her that why you do not order something for your self. And I know deep in her heart, she was trying to save money that were so uselessly spending on “unhealthy, garbage stuff”- Mothers:)

When other girls talk about their mothers, I look at them with envy. When someone posts their status on Facebook to wish happy birthday to their mother, I just get numb. When I see women holding their grand children, my heart sinks. I have been trying to find her in every person I see, meet or talk to. I call every elderly woman Ammi, and yet this vacuum inside never fills. The gap just keeps increasing.

Its just like a hole, the size of California, being drilled in my heart, every day, every year.

And although her prayers for me have been answered and I have an angel right by my side, I still can’t deny that she took away a part of me with her. I am not complete any more. Can never be!

November 27th 2015

Baking, Canada, Children, Desi, DIY, Eid, Food, Lifestyle, Pakistan, Recipes

Present-Surprise Sugar Cookies

July 29, 2015 No Comments

Since birth I have a little issue, a teeny tiny bug that always reined me towards the paths less travelled. I always found different things better. The price tag(read obstacles, hardships) was not the matter, never was. It was always the worth of that different thing for me that made me steer into that direction, regardless of the opposing forces.

Okay enough bragging Amber…

This Ramadan had been a very very busy one, thanks to my 18 month old little labbittt who has this unending, never tiring, not to mention unnerving energy to keep the chores coming in for me. I still managed to do doe crafts and test my skills.

Every year for Eid I try to offer my cake-shop customers something new, something unique, something different. It works for me both ways. One that my customers are happy to find goodies that are otherwise rare or entirely unavailable at other places. Second, I make extra batches and keep them for family and friends so they enjoy a different treat every time. And above all, I get to hear “My mom is the bestest baker with the bestest idea” and trust me nothing beats that!

So while I was on my mission to explore, create or remake something different, I sought help from Google Mamoo(Mom’s brother) As always Mamoo Jan did not disappoint me and brought me a horde of different images and recipes. But I was still looking for something different, yet easy because my baby-yes that says it all.

I had time constraint, plus the energy constraint as the hot summer fasts were about 17-18 hours long and for a person like me who misses about 70% of the sehris, it was a difficult task when mixed with other chores.

And then I struck gold. While I was going through the same colourfully designed cookies that are hours of back breaking labor and delicate crafting, I came across this amazing love-at-first-sight treasure box kind of cookies. The ones that are sure to spark excitement as they slide those little basked lids and smiles when they actually reach those candies tucked inside! Its a win!

You know Eid for Muslims is like Christmas for Christians. Damn I sound such mommy-like.Well, living in a foreign land, it sometimes gets really difficult for parents like myself to keep our children focused. They see all these glamorous and sparkling festivals like Easter and Halloween and Christmas-thanks to the Corporate cycle though. And we tell them, we celebrate Eid. Okay what is Eid Mamma? Oh that boring day back home where you spend the entire Chaand raat either getting Mehndi(Henna) done or just having fun on the streets, and then you offer Salah in the morning and then hit the sack for the entire day. Then wake up in the evening and go see some relatives or eat out etc?

Nay!!

We got to make sure that our Eid here is as sparkly and shiny as our neighbours Christmas or Halloween is. To tell them little minds that ours is a beautiful religion and it gives us all the more chance to celebrate all the beautiful festivals just like any other religion.

So we here, thousands of kilometres away from our roots, try to make every possible effort to make their faith strong and their identity positive, while still maintaining their innocence and happiness. Since I always tell them that Eid is like our Christmas, hence the presence of all the shiny wrapped presents and if not then something that is close. Which is why the thought of these baked beauties just made my day!

I replaced Skittles from the original recipe with jelly beans. I also had the chance of a life time to research Twizzlers. And boy am I happy. The Pull n’ Peel Cherry flavoured Twizzlers are to only OU Kosher, but are also approved as vegan edible candy.

I got small braided baskets from Dollarama and lined those with gold coloured paper. I placed the cookies inside and left it uncovered so when the baskets were handed over, the kids were actually jumping to explore whats wrapped inside the treasure boxes. Unfortunately I could not get proper pictures of the finished baskets but just this random one from my iPhone that I took to send to hubby and even that I forgot to send to him.

Recipe adopted with thanks from Erica’s Sweet Tooth

[yumprint-recipe id=’1′]

Family, Food, Lifestyle, Pakistan

Because tea is love

May 14, 2015 1 Comment

Ammi(mother) used to say “The color of the perfect tea is golden; just like the color of the skin of almond. Any thing else is not tea!”

I can’t say how many other teachings of her I follow, but this one, I kept in the first shelf of my cabinet of her memories. And perhaps its more of a trigger for me, just like a blessing from her, that I seek refuge in.

I grew up in a typical Pakistani house hold. My mother just loved to cook for us: the best biryani I’ve had till date, the best trifles and not to forget the qeema that I still wish I could learn to cook like her.

The only thing that remained exclusive to and for her was that cup of tea!

We used to order special kind of tea leaves from some shop in the old Karachi city. And no other person, not even our maid was allowed to touch her tea. Twice a day, of which the evening one was her favorite, she would herself, put water in the pot, let it boil, then add tea leaves, sugar, and cover and let it brew for few minutes. Then she’d heat the milk separately, and pour the tea in the cup, add milk, stir and sit in the corner and sip and enjoy her little magic potion.

And yes- we, as children, were not allowed to have tea. So until about 9th or 10th grade, tea was not much of a thing for me.

As I grew up, I learnt how to cook. I am a foodie myself, so didn’t take much of an effort. Yet for some reason, I could not get the tea right. By this time, I was also occasionally honored to make tea for Ammi. Too strong, too light, too meh. So after every attempt, I would tell myself not to try it again.

My college days were where I actually started liking tea. When preparing for exams, studying late night, I would ask her to make me tea and she would gladly make two, and bring to me, at which time, both of us would kind of have a break and sit and sip together.

That was the time when I used to think one can’t fall asleep after having a cup of tea. My mamoo(maternal uncle) would always have tea right before hitting the sack and I would think how on earth? Of course now I only laugh at the thought of this thought as now my day ends with a hot cuppa tea, just flipping channels in my corner of the house.

It wasn’t really until I started working that I started having tea. There were meetings, workshops, seminars and being a Pakistani tradition, tea was always part of these.

When I’d come back from work, or on a weekend, some times my sister would make tea, and I still remember Ammi saying “It does not taste like tea-its tastes like dirty socks!”

Good old days….

Dubai was when and where I actually discovered or say rediscovered my love for tea. I would watch people enjoying this weird mixture of water, sugar and flavored evaporated milk, with a hint of tea leaves in the name of tea. Nightmare!

I even witnessed one part water, three parts of milk and sugar, with a teabag floating somewhere in that liquid, being called tea.

Tastes can vary and every one has the right to enjoy what ever they like. But calling alien mixtures tea is injustice and for the love of tea I just can not bear it.

I know there are so many different variations of tea even in that one part of the world from where I come- some like tea with milk/cream, some just black, some with no sugar while some with sugar and some like my brother too much sugar or say tea in sugar. Then there is this famous Pathan ki chai which is usually found in a small shabby roadside cafe, very strong and brewed for hours. And as so many go by the trend only, so the Masala chai is also ‘IN’ these days, wherein a lot of different spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, cloves etc are added to the tea.

401695_10151183783710475_1396143403_n — Image Courtesy: @FurSid

But like someone once told me in Colombo, Sri Lanka, until you brew the fragrant tea leaves in water and let it stand few minutes, how can you call it tea?

My household, the first utensil I bought was a proper steam kettle. it makes that sound like a steam engine when ready, and its shiny and I love it just like a little girl loves her doll!

Most likely it is because of my mother’s love for tea, or because the man in my life also loves tea and so it is double the bond or may be it is just my own liking.

Of course its not the same every where I go, so when out I prefer coffee because my tea tantrums are not tolerable for and by most. Even when sick or bed ridden, the only thing I do not and would not compromise for is my cup of tea.

And I believe so I say “The color of the perfect tea is golden; just like the color of the skin of almond. Any thing else is not tea!”

Thoughts

Once Again

November 26, 2014 No Comments

Its around this time, every year, when I get into this strange kind of mood- Highly sensitive and equally numb…. Just words and visuals echoing in my ears and flashing in my eyes….

Been three years now, and it is as if my biological clock is programmed to work that way…. I may not remember the dates, I may not remember the day or time, yet at this specific moment, every year, the same demons resurface… Depression, anger, regrets, pain and so much more…. And it is because of these things that I realize it is Nov 26th today- The day I last spoke to my most beloved mother; in anger, assuming she had no time to wish me a day before for my wedding anniversary. I threw a tantrum and hung up the phone on her, thinking she would call back, which she never did, because the angels from heaven never gave her the chance to.

The next thing I remember is the call from my sister asking if I spoke to Ammi (mother). And then a never ending series of events, that just lead to the one incident,which left a hole in my heart, the size of Jupiter, and the characteristics of Sun– centre, burning, hurting, painful.

She was my mentor, my guide, my teacher, my fashion designer, my critique, my guard, the best cook in the world(That now I am called by mine), my best friend to the extent that I never had any best friend, never needed one in her presence. My first love and I was her pride-her blue eyed baby. My siblings would complain that even the love you have for the rest of us is not equal to the love you have for Amber alone. Lucky me! Her love for me was so deep and profound that she never even discussed her 3 year long battle with Adenocarcinoma and the effects of it on her beautiful, short life of just 51 years, as she knew it would worry me.

She cared enough to make sure I keep getting the same love by sending me her replica in the form of a special angel.

No words I say or write can ever put the pain in words. Thinking of her still makes me feel like a child in need of a warm hug from her mother!

Needless to say her absence makes even the happiest of moments, the saddest.

May she rest in peace in the best gardens of Jannah(Heaven)- Aameen

On her 3^rd death anniversary….

Thoughts

In the land of Gibberish

May 9, 2014 1 Comment

God created angels…. This universe, the galaxy, the sun, the planets, the moons, stars… He then moved on to creating this world, the mountains, the oceans , the rivers, the animals, the birds…. All the objects, all the creations worshipped and praised God but still something was missing…. And then Man was created…. He was given the key of this world and was sent here… What was so different between the Man and the rest of God’s creation? One little thing that made Man different from all the rest was that Man could communicate….

Still that was not enough…. So God sent messengers and Prophets….. And just to reflect on the need of communication, he sent with them books that are gates to knowledge and to almost everything that was and is part of this universe.

Suppose you are a layman, whose first language is English and for some reason, by some chance, for work, pleasure, for studies, you land in a remote Chinese village, and you need a spoon and unfortunately there’s not even a single person who knows the E of English-What are you going to do? Wait a minute; you can just show them a picture of a spoon and they’d understand because communication is not, is not just limited to words. Its a universal phenomenon!

We are always communicating-Words being the least significant of all of it. What we see or what others see in us is a visual form of communication, just like the spoon in China. And at times its only a touch, a warm hug, a newborn’s first cry that says it all. Watching “Breaking Bad” and just when Walter is about to jump off the cliff, there is a break and we see a series of commercials- That is communication at its best, advertising, touching all our visual, audio, kinaesthetic modalities in one rhythm. In a nutshell, communication is a product of our thoughts, actions and feelings working together.

How the person or object at the receiving end conceives or perceives our stimuli is relative. When a child cries out loud asking for another candy, in his mind he is trying to communicate his right to have the best available thing in the whole word, while the mother, in her own mind, denying that right, is doing a favor by not compromising over her child’s well being. A husband, miles away from home, abruptly ends the conversation with a good night text, in his mind he is showing his anger, while for the wife he is trying to deny her of her right to argue and ask. When a student slams the door, he is actually embarrassed of being picked so randomly of a bunch of mischievous pupils, while the teacher can not see the most brilliant student wasting his intelligence.

Its all communication; and its all relative and its all that we do-whether its vague or clear, whether its loud or not, whether it is active or passive, through words, actions, signs, through I love yous and I miss yous, through touches, hugs and kisses, through tears and laughters, through colours, fragrances, numbers; through attitudes, behaviours and through silence.

And what happens when there is no communication? Nothing, just a vaccum…. Because ONLY dead people do not communicate!

Karachi, Pakistan, Thoughts, World

TO IMPOSE OR TO ABSORB?

April 29, 2013 5 Comments

I’ve been trying to stay focused, but certain things are determined at the time of our birth, in our genes and being bound is certainly not in mine. Have always been a rebel by nature; curiosity killing the heck out of me, so while certain things remain my forte(Or so I like to think) I still want to poke my nose or my leg in to everything that comes my way!

So coming back, visiting a relative over the weekend, I came across an interesting debate, that I couldn’t resist to write about. My aunt very excitedly told me about her son’s admission in the Islamic school for the coming session. And while I congratulated her, over the tea, her husband very frankly expressed his side of the things. which eventually turned into an argument, and by the end of the conversation, there were practically two groups in the room; the uncle and myself, and everybody else.

Living life abroad, in the western world is a really tough one I tell you. Add to it raising kids and you are sitting on a pile of dynamite- one wrong click and poof- All will be smoke and ash.

An irony that most of the Pakistani families overseas face is looking for an identity. Interestingly, no other community faces the same situation like ours. Being the emotional ones that we are, we always look back and hardly let go.Life is like a boomerang for most. Destination number one for vacations is Pakistan. So many WHAT IFS and BUTS haunt them. Live here but never adopt life in here. Hardly eat out, social life equals to none, and the scariest of all-how to teach your family what is faith?

Still I look around myself and find people stressing on the memorization of Quranic verses, saying Bismillah (Start in the name of God) before meal and Alhamdulillah (Thank God) at the end. But its confusing for me to see these same people never teaching empathy, care, flexibility and the importance of sharing. These very same people shout, scream and even hit some one if they don’t find things their way. Who to blame?

Born and raised in Karachi-the city of lights, in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, I was never forced to do anything I wouldn’t want to. As the first child of the family, and then the first from the maternal side, I always enjoyed undivided love and attention. I was sent to the newly wed daughter-in-law of our neighbor at the tender age of three, She taught me Quran and also almost all the other arts & skills that people now term as old-fashioned. Sewing, stitching, crafting, crocheting and what not. By the time I was seven and a half, not only I had finished reading the Quran, but was also a pro in all these things. The school that I attended had compulsory periods for prayers, and Quran was taught as a subject in all grades with tafseer and tajweed. So yes my knowledge of the religion was a bit more than my peers (Bragging much?)

And while I was getting to know my religion, I also participated in every other thing that came my way-science projects, school theatre, debates, quiz, drawing, painting, playing squash at the provincial level-the list is long. And yes, all the while balancing religion with ever thing else. That is how my mother raised me. Though exceptions were there, but I generally saw and observed moderate behaviors. Almost all of my childhood and the teen years were denim-clad and as a typical Pakistani girl I was always judged more for my appearance and less for what I am as a person.Yet I never saw, even for once, the fear in the eyes of my parents-one that I, very often see in the eyes of expats or immigrants living outside Pakistan.

I reached college and still I would roam around freely with the confidence and trust of my parents. I started my professional life, traveled all over the world, attended workshops, seminars; taught people, shopped, sung, dined and laughed. I had my own fair share of fancy manicures, expensive watches, branded accessories and no one raised a brow (Well they did, but not questioning my faith)

I studied in USA, spent some time in London, stayed in Dubai and then moved to Canada. And that’s when my life changed. I felt I moved closer to religion, wanted to learn more, know more. Guess it was part of the process where I was trying to find and keep my own identity in people of all races, all colors. But being religious in no way stops me from shopping or laughing or having fun. Does it?

Now if I indulge in something fancy, I am labeled spendthrift; I start humming a favorite lyric and I am being informed of my weak Iman. I buy a favorite style at Zara and people start telling me my life is a waste!

Hypocrisy thy word I’d use for such attitude. Till some time back, I would get scared with all the thoughts of ending up in hell. Then I researched. It was surprising to see people paying more attention to rituals then the actual spirit of religion. I meet families wearing hijabs and then back biting someone at the same time. I see kids, who know the prayer for stepping out of the house but can’t stand the sight of some other kid watching any other cartoon channel then what they would want to watch-thus lacking tolerance. Its not that all this happens only in Canada or Western countries for that matter, or in Pakistanis. Its just that back home we live amongst people who look like us, talk, like us and probably think like us-well not all of them but in general. Like I mentioned earlier, its more of an identity struggle that people try to adopt ways to look different or be different. Still it’s a personal choice and any individual at any time is free to adopt what suits them. But my point is does only looking like ’something’ or ’someone’ makes us that? Or should our acts, our behavior, our attitude reflect it? Should it not all be absorbed rather than being imposed?

I might be labeled ignorant, but I thank God for not being a hypocrite. As a kid I was taught my values and deep in my heart and my mind, I knew I could do anything but to cross the line and it’s the trust that don’t let people astray. Its not about the fear of being burned in hell but the thought of not being friend with God-There is a huge difference between the two!

Patience and tolerance, empathy and love of God is what should be preached, not only to kids but to the grown ups too. Enlighten them, educate them, and then let them decide what they want out of their life. Who would want their kids to show them their Hijab-covered heads at home and do things in the school backyard later that I don’t want to mention here or even think about. Pressure is never the solution. Not that I am a super-woman who knows everything, but yes, this is something I have observed, researched and learnt. I still am learning, every new day, every new hour.

Someone very dear & wise once told me something which I have kept in my treasure box. Quote “Give’em Roots. Then give them Wings”

The roots of being tolerant, being patient, being empathetic, being believers-being human. They will grow their own wings. Is that wrong??

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