Archive for the 'writings' Category
An Ode to Love
So last year I wrote a special blog on love (or lack thereof really!) so I thought I’d continue the tradition this Valentine’s Day. 
This time something a little more positive.
The other day I took out a book on poetry from the library and unfortunately I wasn’t able to read it all. I picked it up, put it in my bag to return and just started reading a few pages. The book happened to flip back to the last pages which contained letters from 1845 onward. After reading the first one I couldn’t seem to stop reading!
They were excerpts from letters written between Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett and contained, as has been said, the most romantic literary exchange ever written in history.
Some background: Elizabeth was born in England in 1806 the eldest of 12 children. She started writing poetry when she was 8. By 20 she had written her first epic poem. Her mother died when she was 22 and the family’s estate was sold when her father’s Jamaican investments went south. She was always very ill and begged to go to the seaside with her favorite brother for her health. Unfortunately her brother drowned in a boating accident there. She returned heartbroken. She was an invalid and stayed mostly to her rooms for years writing poetry. In 1844, when she was in her thirties, she published ‘Poems’ and in it she mentioned a fellow poet, Robert Browning.
In January 1845, Robert Browning wrote his first letter to Elizabeth Barrett to express his great admiration for her poetry. It would be the first of almost 600 letters exchanged by the two almost every day over a period of 20-months until their marriage in September 1846.
Browning’s first letter begins: “I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett…so into me has it gone, and part of me has it become, this great living poetry of yours. ”
The following day Barrett replies: “I thank you, dear Mr. Browning, from the bottom of my heart. Such a letter from such a hand! You draw me on with your kindness.”
Elizabeth Barrett was six years older than Browning. Both were published and known poets at the time their correspondence began. In an era of great reserve, it is remarkable to read through these letters and observe that in a relatively brief period the letters from both evolve from professional kindness to friendship, from affection to devotion, and then passion.
When you read the letters the emotions, feelings and life just jump off the page. I found Robert Browning to be more the romantic, writing often of his love and devotion, indeed from the very first letter! Elizabeth continually wrote about her doubts to his wanting to marry an invalid like her and described sad events of her life. They often discussed literature and poetry and never failed to invoke God’s blessings on the other.
One year after their correspondence began, Robert wrote to Elizabeth: “I _do_ love you, plainly, surely, more than ever, more than any day in my life before. It is your secret, the why, the how; the experience is mine. What are you doing to me?–in the heart’s heart.
Rest–dearest–bless you–”
And Elizabeth replied:
“And you love me _more_, you say?–Shall I thank you or God? Both,–indeed–and there is no possible return from me to either of you! I thank you as the unworthy may … and as we all thank God. How shall I ever prove what my heart is to you? How will you ever see it as I feel it? I ask myself in vain.“
Their letters grew in intensity in the months leading up to their marriage on September 12, 1846. Her father did not approve of any of his children marrying and disinherited them if they did, so they decided to elope to Italy. They married in secret a week prior to their departure. Her father never spoke to her again.
Barrett achieved fame earlier than Browning and her works were more widely read throughout the years of their marriage. Elizabeth Barrett was living the life of a recluse in her father’s home for the five years prior to her relationship with Robert Browning. She was uncertain in their early years together that his love for her was as deep as he claimed it to be. In her “Sonnets from the Portuguese” she famously wrote of her devotion for Robert, words that live on today as some of the most moving ever expressed about the “depth and breath of love”.
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
The two lovers stayed in Italy. Elizabeth’s brothers and father never forgave her for marrying without his permission. They had one child together, Robert Barrett Browning, nicknamed ‘Peni’, born in 1849. The cause of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s death is unknown. She died in Robert’s arms less than fifteen years after their marriage, on June 29, 1861. Browning died in 1889 and in his “Life in a Love:” wrote these words for his Elizabeth:
“Escape me? Never – Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both…”
I can’t but read these letters and be extremely touched by such an absolute love; written forever in pen and proofed by history. It’s stunning in its intensity. How much he loved her, and how much she loved him. Living in this world I can’t help but become cynical about love. I see married couples and often it’s an exchange of goods and services, it’s societal or cultural or expected. I don’t think I’ve ever been witness to such extreme selfless love.
How does one fall in love with another person based upon their words, knowing they are older, an invalid, not beautiful, knowing the family opposition, knowing what the world thinks, leaving everything and everyone. A love that would have existed without even meeting, without even marriage. What did he love then? Her spirit, her soul??! That amount of feeling and caring and…love. How do people find that?? I wish I could have found something even close to that in my life. Perhaps it only comes once in an age like all these great one’s we know of, Romeo & Juliet, Shireen & Farhad or only by extraordinary people like Muhammad (s) & Khadija (ra).
I don’t know. I just found it quite remarkable in its beauty.
Happy Eid al-Hubb everyone! 
P.S to husbands – Throughout his courtship he constantly sent her flowers 
♥
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Jan
25
As you may (or may not) know, I try to post something every Friday. Just to spread things out a bit and in case I run out of things to say there’s always some backup for a bit! Now, I often have people that disagree with my posts, which I have no problem with (when it’s done in a rational appropriate manner). My problem would be when you make the disagreement personal (why do you think you know me, mr./ms. person on the internet?) or you ARE someone who knows me and write hostile things here on the blog (a person’s blog is definitely an appropriate place to attack them <./sarcasm>). Uhhhh? Can we say mental health issues. So basically I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. My website/blog/facebook whatever is not a democracy. You can’t write whatever you want here. It doesn’t belong to you. I run it the way I see as beneficial to everyone and myself. And if you don’t like it sorry, you are free to go elsewhere.
I know this sounds mean, but you see, I will be responsible for my actions on the Day of J. and I don’t want to be responsible for yours. If I see something wrong, inappropriate or not beneficial I will censor/delete/not approve it. I honestly can’t understand why someone wouldn’t and I’m sure if you thought about it, and you were in my place, you would agree as well.
So… long rant about my personal defects in the “guise of Naseeha”… delete. (delete “friendship” too) Inappropriate post about my personal life… not approved. Arguments and links that are pro-terrorism… banned. Anti-Islamic missionary post… delete. Reply on how Muslim girls in the west are all sl*ts… not approved. Detailed opinion of why everyone should take off hijab and why u think it’s not fard… not approved. Posts calling other Muslims Kafir… banned. etc etc. You get the picture.
So I’m just putting this out there. I know there are some Islamic sites out there where anything and everything is allowed. From inappropriateness, to outright attacks on people and I must add outright filth. Their philosophy is that ‘the cream will rise to the top’ and that these things will be weeded out by positive/negative peer pressure. Good luck with that. It does make for an active forum, but it also gives rise to clear Dhulm. Who will be responsible for it in the end? The poster? The others who participate? The moderator? The website owner? I’m going to say all of the above.
And I’m going to say that is what happens when there is no leadership, no clear vision, no values. Yes, a person in charge may make mistakes. They may err on the side of caution or liberality. They may not always be “fair” in your own subjective opinion. You may even be “right”, but your right may not be greater than the beneficial whole. Do you see what I’m saying? But without leadership and yes even censorship, things quickly dissolve into chaos, and as I mentioned wrong is put on a platform equal to right. And that’s something I’m not going to be responsible for.
Again, there are appropriate ways to dissent, disagree or even interact with someone you don’t like that I can totally be fine with. Learn them. Ok sorry to bring up this ugly underbelly of website business. But it needed to be said. If you have any questions on this, please let me know. Thank u, come again.
Dec
4
I’m a big fan of sci-fi films, shows and literature. I love reading about fantastic futures, utopian or apocalyptic, about things like time-travel and scientific conundrums. In many movies there seems to be a point where the story changes, decisions are made, or fate intervenes. There’s a sliding subway door and the person’s life is completely different depending on whether they go through it or miss it. Data notices that there’s three buttons on the commander’s shirt and that snaps them out of the endless time loop that ended with the destruction of the Enterprise every time. It’s that moment the butterfly is stepped on in the past and everything in the future changes because of it.
Right now I know my life isn’t at the place where it’s supposed to be. It’s like it’s gone off the rails somewhere and is in this strange place. I have tried to think back over my life to figure out where I made the mistake. What could I have changed? Where is that one decision I made that if I could go back and change it, everything would be different. Then the following series of reactions would change the end result. But I’ve tried and tried and I can’t find one.
Every decision I’ve made, every step, path or choice, I can’t think how I could have changed it. Yes, I’ve made the wrong decisions, made mistakes I regret, hurt people along the way, not been up to par religion wise and in so many ways, but I can’t find that moment where I could have changed what I did and made a different decision. They were all made in the circumstances of that time and were the best decisions I could have made at the time, mistakes and all. I could not have changed them.
It’s like, thinking back, there’s this inevitable wave of life that has pushed me this far, to this point. Perhaps it is Qadr. It’s brought me to here. Even if I don’t like here, at least I have solace in knowing I couldn’t have done anything differently to get to any place else.
Real life, unfortunately, isn’t as cool as sci-fi. But I do wish there was a reset button where I could start all over again from the beginning! And maybe this time fate or Qadr would be kind enough to bring me in a different direction.
Nov
21
Signs you’re getting old(er)…
1.- you remember when Salahs were ringtone free
2. – all kids under 10 call you Auntie/Uncle
3. – you’re not a Twilight fan
4. – you own clothes that went out of style and then came back into style!
5. – everyone at the Mosque prefaces your name with “Sister” or “Brother”
6. – you remember how married ppl were b4 they were married/had kids!
7. – 80s/90s music makes you nostalgic
8. – you’re not in touch with any of your high school friends
9. – you’re addicted to chai/coffee
and
10. – you need to sleep more than 5 hours a night
and
the ultimate sign…
11. – little kids won’t accept your friendship requests on facebook!
yes very sad… on a brighter note…happy birthday to my little sister who is now… the above too
Aug
22
Praise be to Allah for giving us the blessing of Islam. Praise be to Allah for allowing us to experience one more Ramadan. One more chance for Repentance. One more chance for Forgiveness. Welcome O Guest! Welcome Old friend! I have missed you. Welcome…
This first day of Ramadan (or rather I should say ‘first night’ since the Islamic calendar starts in the evening ) began hot and humid, as have been the days previously. I’ve been hanging out in my sister’s old room, the only one up here that has A/C! until I’m too tired or it’s cooled down a bit at night to go back to mine. So this morning it was hot and sticky as usual and I headed to Jum’ah in a town nearby. As I left it was quite sunny. As soon as I got on the highway and started driving, I saw these dark black clouds straight ahead of me. The air cooled and dimmed and the drops started to fall. By the time I arrived it was raining proper.
Summer rain here in upstate NY is different than rain I’ve experienced elsewhere. It’s like an almost light drizzle, sheets of straight rain that keep on coming and seem endless. And then inexplicably it just dries up, the clouds part and the sun pops out. So I had to park a million miles away as usual and hitched up my long grey maxi dress and headed towards the basement of the university armory where we usually have our Jumahs. The rain feels good and light and while most of the Jumah goers seemed a little damp they looked happy to be there. As soon as I walked in I noticed three rows of women which is usually our full capacity and it was still 10 minutes to go before Khutbah time! 
I found a spot and waited. After the Adhan, the Shaikh started the Khutbah. Unfortunately the speakers weren’t working! Luckily, a brother came who knew what he was doing and fixed them up a bit. The Khutbah was mostly about making this fasting more of an inner spiritual exercise against the Nafs, than an outward one about food. In Ramadan, we should just let it all go, to the extent where we might even have some rights, like if someone did some injustice to us, we should tell them “inni saa’im” and let it go. We should forgive, even those things done against us, and internalize our fasting.
I thought about that then and am thinking about it now. I really do want to let go of all the hurt feelings and mistakes of the past. It’s hard for me to forget when someone’s hurt my feelings though. I wish I could be a non-sensitive person where things didn’t bother me as much. Like the close friend of mine while growing up who never invited me to her Nikah, or the time I was supposed to have lunch with someone and she never showed up, or the bro who proposed while insulting me a la Mr. Collins style (what a story that one is!) Why do I keep so many of all these petty things with me? I mean who cares right. We’re all marching on this journey, on this Caravan to Eternity and all these grudges and remembrances of injustices of the past are just weighing me down and keeping me behind. Can’t I throw them off the side and leave them behind me? Can’t I forgive and forget? Can’t I meet people with a smiling face with no thought to the past? Is it enough to forgive and not forget, or must we forget, because if we still remember, have we really forgiven? Forgetting without forgiving seems like a workable method, but yet I must forgive to earn Allah’s Forgiveness.
While in these thoughts and listening, the Khutbah progressed and we could hear the storm’s mayhem outside. Thunder and lighting and huge booms that seemed like it hit right next to the armory. The lights flickered once or twice but Alhamdulllah held. The Khutbah was over and walking towards the entrance I saw tons of people just lingering and then noticed in front of them: a sheet of rain. No wonder no one was moving! I headed to the front and thought…well they do it in Bollywood movies right? So I walked right out into the rain with nothing and casually strolled to my car; the cool water sliding down my face and arms. It actually felt nice and cleansing. As if while we were inside the world raged and stormed and when we came out the straight, endless rain was making sure we were purified.
As soon as I got in my car the rain stopped! (Of course! 
) I headed home and got ready for the evening’s Taraweeh prayer. This year our Ramadan miracle came early and everyone (just about) in the world and all our local Mosques were starting fast on the same day.
The Mosque I decided to go to in the evening is the one closest to my house – the inner city Masjid. Now you might ask why I go there, as have others before you! Growing up we were pretty much middle class but when most other families started moving to the suburbs, for some reason we never did. We still live in the city per se but more in the uptown area. I don’t know why, but this Mosque feels like my roots, like as if I was someone who lived in the ghetto and made it big and was trying to come back. It just feels like this is where the real Muslims are, where the revolution starts, on the ground where things are happening. This is the Mosque the Prophet (s) would have come to teach in. The people here (not to insult them) are probably among the poorest and most oppressed. They have the most problems. Among them are many sick people with things like diabetes and broken knees and various illnesses. There are women struggling with many kids, those trying to learn English, recent immigrants, converts, African Americans, Sudanis, Somalis, Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, families of Muslim men who are in jail. They may not have grand Arabic skills or a famous Shaikh or marble walls or sparkling chandeliers but they are the real thing.
There’s things I’ve seen here and people I’ve met that I never would have anywhere else. I once met a woman who was a member of Malcolm X’s original Mosque and she told us in her own words how Malcolm was, the people she met and stories from those days. I met an Afghani woman once who just had triplets! I met a woman who fell down her stairs and broke her back. She came every day to Taraweeh with her back in a brace! I met a sister who is 89 and has a Southern accent, she has gout and takes the bus from the nursing home to come to the Mosque for Iftars every day. She brings crafts for the kids to do like making Ramadan cards. I met a sprightly elderly Sudani lady who lives around the corner and comes for EVERY Jama’ prayer in the Masjid. She knows her Pakistani neighbors so well she’s even learnt some Urdu from them. One time I heard her speak to them and was so stunned, she winked at me and told me she knew how to speak my ‘Hindustani’ too! Yes, even the Hafiz that leads the prayers here is amazing. He is also blind.
Now you just can’t get that anywhere and I’ve been to Mosques around the world and can testify. It may be the best kept secret that an Iftar at an inner city American Masjid is as interesting as walking into a cafe in Casablanca in the 30s. Just as mysterious, with many shady characters, each one with their own story, you never know who you’ll meet or what you’ll experience. And don’t worry there’s no guy with a patch and a parrot on his shoulder either! 
You may have to watch your purse a little more closely, but these are the people Allah will save. The uncle with the Jaguar or the doctor who hurries outside when their beeper goes off at the other Mosques, hmm all good of course. I’ll still go to other Mosques, but raising my hands for the Witr Dua with the wife of the custodian of the Mosque on one side and the young daughter of a Muslim prisoner (unjustly) on the other, I feel like if it is somewhere, it is here Allah would answer my prayers.
