childhood – 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.

SaveSave

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.”

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!”

Uncategorized

Down the memory lane….

April 27, 2012 No Comments

Happy Home High School

For past couple of days, for some reason I keep thinking about my school-and my school mates. Perhaps the reason is my memories of Ammi, of which the best are always of childhood and childhood is more about school than anything else.

Till this day I am still at my peak in the afternoons because my entire schooling, at least from grade three was in afternoon. After making a huge hue and cry at Mama Parsi for few months, Ami had no option but to switch my school. The first 4 kids we met at the school are still my friends-Aalia, Fahad, Adil and Ambreen. What a time that was. Aalia’s mother for a long time used to pick and drop us to and from the school, and while waiting for her we used to play ”Dheelay” on the hilly roadside of my school on Shaheed e Millat road.

Where to start?? Mrs. Hameed’s firangi Urdu in her Burmese accent; Mrs Sarkari’s ruthless cane, Ms. Mahjabeen’s ever so gorgeous smile ( And the tap of her beautiful long nails on the board during class, which were then a fantasy for a nail biter like me)and Ms. Najma’s computer classes. Those golden and silver stars on our notebooks, the craze of Ninja turtles and God-knows-what sticker books on which we would spend our pocket money, looking for red badaams first in the abundant foliage of the tree and then in the secret corner where all the peons used to secretly hide it, the heavenly chilled mini pepsi for which a rupee each has been contributed, the tastiest potato dishes for lunch, comprising of aaloo parathas, aalo tahaari, aaloo bhujiya, fries and what not, the never ending poetry of Ghalib and Meer by Mr. Sultan, the punishments by Ms. Brenda for coming late after lunch…. My oh my!!!

The old sabzi mandi was almost on the route to my school, so for few years that Ami used to pick us up, we would get to eat fresh pomegranates, peaches and oranges as she would go grocery shopping on her way.

One of the very best things about my school is that religion has been a part of the regular curriculum. We studied Quran with Tafseer from grade five and because of the little bug of extra curricular activities; I also had the chance of getting quite a few lessons of Tajweed. Offering Zuhr and Asar prayers were like regular subjects, not-negotiable, unavoidable, sun or rain!!

My friends, or say class mates….Hmmmmm lets start in the order of appearances or introduction: Ambreen, Aalia, Fahad, Adil, Zulekha, Amira, Anila…..Grade Four-Zara, Grade Five- Ameerah, Javeria, Asif, Ahtesham,Saqib, Afshan, . Grade Six- Nuzhat & Seema, Grade Seven-Batool, Grade Eight- Tanveer, Nasir, Ammar, Shunail, Mustafa and Rahiba the great!!!! Plus many more. These were the ones which were there till the last class, or say the last session of that particular year.

Some friendships lasted even after school and till now. Some couldn’t make it!! May be I lacked the element of friendship or may be they didn’t have the zarf and didn’t deserve it-

And then many many years later, I started getting my friends back-thanks to Facebook!!! Aalia, Ambreen, Javeria, Nuzhat, Tanweer, Fahad, Mustafa, Adil, Ahtesham, my teachers Ms. Mahjabeen and Ms. Brenda!!!

I am still looking for the lost ones- I plan to go and visit my school though it changed only the next year after I left it as this time when I went to collect some documents, I only saw few dating couples, no basket ball match, and no badaams!!

But this time around, I am sure it will be the one of the most sacred places for me- the place that taught me what I am and why I am…. For me it will always be the first place, where I made and kept friendships!!!