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

How You Would Regret The Use Of Technology

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

Entitlement continues….

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While at work today, I was busy putting my things away, when something or say someone, caught my attention.

A young girl, probably in her tween, sweaty and tired walked in with a woman who she was calling her mom. The woman had a high pitched voice and I could hear her continuously telling her daughter to stop doing what she was doing. The girl had tears flowing down her cheeks, and looked helpless. I naturally felt bad for the child and said to my self what a mean, evil mother and awwww the poor child.

In my utmost curiosity and my intent to may be help the poor child out of the weird scenario she was in, I approached them and offered help. 

Well not help, help, but I offered assistance while trying to figure the situation out. As the mother spoke to me and explained to me her reason for the visit, I was all ears to the conversation between the two in between. And did I hear them well or what. As I watched them leave, I wondered how would I have reacted in such a situation. 

Okay cut the crap. The mother picked the daughter up from her summer camp and had to run some errands. As the child was hungry, the mother got her some fast food from McDonalds that was on her way. Her biggest crime however was that she did not make a U turn and did not go out of her way to go to the better McDonalds who makes burgers just the way the child wants. Hence the girl, that little girl was not happy how her burger tasted and had constantly been shouting and yelling at her mother on how selfish and mean a woman she is. 

Just for the heck of conversation and to help lighten up, I asked the mother about the child’s age. She responded 13, the child screamed “I am 13” and the mother replied “Yes that is what I said”. The child screamed even louder “No you said 14!!!”

And I asked my own self what time we are living in. 

As a child, and I am not sure if I have ever mentioned this earlier. But as a child I used to get only 15 minutes of cartoon a day, that too if I finished my homework on time, and properly. The food was never of choice but of my mother’s. And so were the clothes. “I do not  want this” and “I do not like this” were unfamiliar words. I never had the liberty to raise questions about food, clothes, friends etc. And most of all, it did not damage me or my life. It did not ruin me as many might think or say or assume. It helped me be a better, smarter person. It helped me be thankful for everything I had. It helped me love and respect my parents. It helped me value little things and moments in life. It helped me to have less and still be happy and feel content. And it helped me to never regret being raised like that!

And then the face of that girl flashed in my mind again. The sense of entitlement over a burger not good enough. A child who could not handle disappointment. A child who had to be bribed with a chocolate so she could shut up for the rest of the time while the mother spoke to me. A child who was all about me, me and me and constantly wanted more and more, completely ignoring the fact that she is disrespecting her mother, disrespecting all efforts that woman might be making to keep her little girl happy.  

I want to use this opportunity and ask you: What is your stance on that? What causes this? Is this even bad or am I over reacting?

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Thoughts

In the land of Gibberish

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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.

Effective-Communication

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!

 

 

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Karachi, Pakistan, Thoughts, World

TO IMPOSE OR TO ABSORB?

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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?

IDENTITY-MIND-MAP

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??

Image courtesy: http://mslangleysyear11englishclass.wikispaces.com/Identity+%26+Belonging

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