About a month ago I dreamt that I was on a journey with someone – a man; someone I’m somewhat familiar with in real life. We had stopped somewhere en route, and were using the computer room.

Swinging round in my swivel chair, I came to face to face with a young boy, maybe six years old or so. I said “hi”, in the kind of gentle way that you would with a small child… but for some unknown reason, he responded by launching into an unannounced bear hug! It felt like the type of sincere embrace that a child would give if they were scared, lonely, and needed reassurance.

I didn’t know the boy at all, but I was so moved by this simple gesture, by his implicit trust in me, that I couldn’t let go. As his chest lay upon mine, I felt my heart beat so strongly – almost painfully. I suspected that someone had abandoned him there, and that he had latched onto me like a lost puppy, hoping that I would love him. The whole experience evoked such a powerful maternal instinct in me; I just knew in my bones that I was meant to protect him.

I turned to my travel companion (whilst still engaged in the bear hug), who was sat on a nearby terminal. And as soon as I did, I saw a little girl do the exact same thing to him! I knew – as one usually ‘knows’ in dreams – that the little girl was the little boy’s sister. They had both been abandoned.

We carried the children to our car – a large, black 4 x 4. I was so sad. I wanted to take them with us. I wanted to make them mine, and never let them be alone again. In the background, I listened to my companion share his opinions on how unfortunate the whole situation was… but I could tell without asking that he was unwilling to take the children. He was being the sensible man; I, the emotional woman – though I reluctantly understood his perspective, and didn’t argue. I remember the solemn look on my face, and how I secretly hoped that it would be enough to make him change his mind.

Well, it seemed to have worked! Because as the dream advanced to the next ‘scene’, it was several years in the future. The travel companion and I were now married (I assume we weren’t before), and the children were ours.

There was more to the dream, which has now been forgotten, and so I assume it was less significant. The strangest part, however, happened after I awoke. I made the opening takbir for Fajr salat. I went to place my hands on my chest, and subhanallah, I felt the same strong, painful, feeling of empathy in my heart, as I did during my embrace with the little, lost child.

As I prayed, I wept. All for the love of my dream boy.

First off, I had a ‘mad’ craving for summit sweet after dinner – but horror of horrors: no decent chocolate in the house. What to do? I suddenly came up with the idea that I would make raw cookie dough. Them US peeps seem to be crazy about the stuff, and actually buy it in packs ready-to-eat, so I thought it must be worth a go – especially as I have all the ingredients in the house from last week.

Top Chef Google found me an egg-less, choc chip recipe. However, I didn’t have any choc chips, so I added chocolate sprinkles (insert laugh here), and a generous pouring of hundreds and thousands, for added crunch factor. It looked okay, and tasted okay, but after a few nibbles I realized that I was not going to be able to eat much more. I actually felt a little nauseous later on (don’t tell mum that; she warned me eating raw dough would be a bad idea).

So after that failed kitchen experiment (results: Americans are weird), I then decided to go all out, and just bake some darn cookies! I added some self-raising flour and a couple of egg yolks, rolled it out, cut some shapes, and shoved the lot in the oven for 10 minutes, et voila: biccies that didn’t taste all that bad, masha’Allah.

My parents were pleased, alhamdulillah, (and no doubt surprised that I pulled it off without making a big fuss). But I, being my own worst enemy, found them a tad too sweet. So, to finish off the whole American tribute, I prepared myself a plate of cookies, with a side of milk – finally, a US treat that agrees with me!

Final Recipe (makes approx. 25 cookies, 7 cm diameter):

2/3 mug of plain flour
2/3 mug of self-raising flour
1/4 mug unsalted butter, melted
1/2 mug granulated white sugar
1 tsp of vanilla essence (alcohol-free)
2 medium egg yolks
1.5 tbsp milk (part of original cookie dough recipe, but it didn’t seem to harm the end results)
an undetermined amount of chocolate sprinkles + ‘hundreds & thousands’

Instructions: Mix ingredients in a bowl, leave the dough to set in the fridge for a few minutes, roll it out (3-5mm thick), make whatever shapes you please, bake in 200oC oven for just under 10 minutes (depending on how brown you like them), leave to cool, then eat!

]]> http://imuslim.tv/2009/09/29/impromptu-american-cookies/feed/ 3 http://imuslim.tv/2009/09/28/a-safe-space/ http://imuslim.tv/2009/09/28/a-safe-space/#comments Mon, 28 Sep 2009 13:34:06 +0000 iMuslim http://imuslim.tv/2009/09/28/a-safe-space/ I’ve noticed that I refrain from commenting on several blogs, even my regular reads, because I don’t deem them ‘safe’. I don’t mean that I fear being tagged by intelligence services (I don’t think I’m controversial enough for that; though Allah knows best), rather, I just don’t feel comfortable speaking up, for one reason or another.

I wonder, do people feel the same on my little corner of the web? I don’t think I have enough readers to warrant attention from Islamophobes and general nasties. But there are many other reasons to be timid.

Which sites to you feel safe on and why? Do you do anything special to welcome and reassure your readers?

Speaking of fear, last night I had a mini-panic attack that took me a while to overcome. I was already emotionally vulnerable as I had been suffering minor illness for several hours.

I was lying in bed, desperately trying to sleep away the discomfort, when I heard two loud screams, one male and one female, accompanied by thumps, like people rushing out of bed and running about the house. I would have sworn this was all taking place next door, and the first, immediate thought that came to my head was “fire”.

I, myself, ran out of bed to my window, looking for smoke or the tell-tale “orange glow”, but alhamdulillah, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. (FYI, I live in terraced housing which is why the thought of fire scared me even more.)

But even with no outward signs of danger, the panic had already set in, and I couldn’t hold my emotions in any longer. I switched on the landing light, and selfishly fumbled my way down the stairs, without the aid of my specs, to my parents’ bedroom. Thankfully they were both awake as they had heard the same noise. Like a small child, I latched onto my mother in baby bear fashion, expressing both my paranoid fear and physical weakness in a series of incomprehensible whines. She reassured me in her usual manner, as only a mother can. Allahu Akbar, may Allah preserve her, and make me a good daughter, ameen.

As I am not usually prone to such panic attacks, the whole experience was an eye-opener. The lack of self-control; the inability to protect one’s self, one’s family or belongings. When I eventually returned to my room, I still had trouble sleeping as I wondered about what I would do in the actual event of a fire, Allah forbid. What items would I grab? Would I have time to dress? What would I really miss if all my ‘stuff’ was burnt to a crisp? I decided my MacBook & my large-print Qur’an (please don’t think me pious; I’ve simply grown accustomed to it).

It’s clear that being an only child, I can get away with being ‘babied’, even at my age. I couldn’t help but wonder this morning, having finally 99% recovered, how a future spouse would deal with me? Would I even be comforted in the same way, him being a man? I know most women miss their mothers when undergoing physical hardship, such as illness, childbirth, or the normal stresses of life. Even my own mother misses my naani (her mother), and she passed away around 40 years ago. May she rest in peace, encompassed by the mercy of Allah, ameen.

I’m not sure of the point of sharing all of this. It was only a few moments from my life, that seem insignificant when compared to the tragedies I awoke to in the headlines today (flooding of Manilla, droughts in Iraq, etc).

All I know is that sometimes, blogging helps me to reflect upon my own weaknesses, and blessings – which is a blessing in itself. Your reading makes me feel less alone, and maybe you feel less alone too, knowing that there is someone else out there who is ‘not quite normal’, behind closed doors…

Praise God for all things.

Even so, today was only my first time experiencing ‘Eid in the Square’.

I did have a good time; but I attribute that more to the gorgeous weather, and the wonderful company I was blessed with.

The event itself was ‘alhamdulillah’: a good effort, but I’m not sure that I will return next year. Though I did like the fact that there were plenty of non-Muslims walking about, checking the stalls, and generally mingling in.

I guess it’s good for us to be seen enjoying ourselves, with our families and loved ones, i.e., Muslims can haz fun!

Click here to view the rest of the photos from Eid in the Square 2009

Anyway, one thing you’ll hopefully notice from the pics below is that I actually took a decent camera with me this time, and did not rely on the crummy camera in my phone (which is good, as I still use the same handset as I did back in 2007!). Please click on each image to see the full-size copy. [Flickr archive]

Don

Straighten the Rows: the men line up for the prayer.

Imam gives the Khutbah: Not the most effective design for a partition. ;)

Higher Daddy!: A father pushes his child on the swings during the khutbah.

The brothers sit and listen to the imam.

While the kids quietly play! The advantage of holding prayers in a playground. :)

Playground Springs: I have no idea why they have these little fountains and showers in the kiddies

Curious Child: All the kids were fascinated by the sprinklers... though I

So there you have it: another Eid in the park; another step closer to establishing a personal Eid tradition, insha’Allah.

Where did you pray today?

“Bear in mind that the present life is just a game, a diversion, an attraction, a cause of boasting among you, of rivalry in wealth and children.” Qur’an 57:20

I don’t think I ever really appreciated the sense of rivalry that Allah mentions in the above verse (and elsewhere in the Qur’an), until very, very recently. I’m talking, the last two months or so. It sort of crept up over me, maybe because nearly every singleton in my life has suddenly gotten married, with other newly weds having babies, that I feel somewhat left behind in the personal life department.

A few years ago, I was on a quest to get married – but it was more like an adventure; one that I shared with friends and cousins. Alhamdulillah, one by one, my travelling companions left for the next stage of their journey, and we waved them off happily, so secure in our knowledge that we, too, would be moving ahead very soon.

Returning to the present, it seems that I am one of the few passengers left behind in the waiting room, wondering why my train is running so late. Shouldn’t it have been here by now? Did I miss it? Maybe I read the timetable wrong?

And worst of all, I’ve become one of them. You know… the ‘older’ unmarried women, that the younger unmarried women use to make themselves feel better: “Oh, at least I’m not as old as so-n-so”. They become so shocked when they hear my marital status combined with my age. That is, until they realize the expression of disapproval at their tactlessness on my face, and try to cover it up with: “Oh, it’ll happen soon, insha’Allah”. Yes, thank you. I feel totally reassured now.

Anyway, believe it or not, I’m not complaining about my fate. And if I did, I wouldn’t be complaining to you. Rather, I wanted to share how one’s perspective on the Qur’an changes with new life experiences. Now I actually feel the sting of rivalry in my heart from time to time. But the verse above reminds me of the bigger picture: it’s only a game, Mehzabeen. So be a good sport, and play it well.

Anyway, I don’t have much to say about it all. Partly because I was asked to film it, so I was too busy paying attention to my camera, to soak in much of anything. I can tell you that it was a very mature, rational discussion, masha’Allah; there wasn’t really any kind of ‘debate’ as such, as all the speakers pretty much agreed with one another (even though the panel consisted of Muslims and a non-Muslim, men and women – “Yey!” for social harmony).

However, one tidbit that made a lasting impression, was offered by the entertaining, yet informative, Imam Shahnawaz Haque (Psychotherapist, Teacher and Khatib), in response to an audience member asking why all the attention was being placed on the deficiencies of men – what about women’s deficiencies?

The imam reminded us not to play the ‘blame game’, but instead to take responsibility for our own actions; to look inward and improve ourselves before complaining about the faults of our spouse. To illustrate this, he referred to the following Qur’anic stories:

28 Behold! thy Lord said to the angels: “I am about to create man, from sounding clay from mud moulded into shape;
29 “When I have fashioned him (in due proportion) and breathed into him of My spirit, fall ye down in obeisance unto him.”
30 So the angels prostrated themselves, all of them together:
31 Not so Iblis: he refused to be among those who prostrated themselves.
32 ((Allah)) said: “O Iblis! what is your reason for not being among those who prostrated themselves?”
33 (Iblis) said: “I am not one to prostrate myself to man, whom Thou didst create from sounding clay, from mud moulded into shape.”
34 ((Allah)) said: “Then get thee out from here; for thou art rejected, accursed.
35 “And the curse shall be on thee till the day of Judgment.”
36 (Iblis) said: “O my Lord! give me then respite till the Day the (dead) are raised.”
37 ((Allah)) said: “Respite is granted thee
38 “Till the Day of the Time appointed.”
39 (Iblis) said: “O my Lord! because Thou hast put me in the wrong, I will make (wrong) fair-seeming to them on the earth, and I will put them all in the wrong,-
40 “Except Thy servants among them, sincere and purified (by Thy Grace).”

Surah 15: Al Hijr

19 “O Adam! dwell thou and thy wife in the Garden, and enjoy (its good things) as ye wish: but approach not this tree, or ye run into harm and transgression.”
20 Then began Satan to whisper suggestions to them, bringing openly before their minds all their shame that was hidden from them (before): he said: “Your Lord only forbade you this tree, lest ye should become angels or such beings as live for ever.”
21 And he swore to them both, that he was their sincere adviser.
22 So by deceit he brought about their fall: when they tasted of the tree, their shame became manifest to them, and they began to sew together the leaves of the garden over their bodies. And their Lord called unto them: “Did I not forbid you that tree, and tell you that Satan was an avowed enemy unto you?”
23 They said: “Our Lord! We have wronged our own souls: If thou forgive us not and bestow not upon us Thy Mercy, we shall certainly be lost.”

Surah 7: Al-Araf

Pay attention to the words in bold, as here lies a key difference between Iblis, the accursed, and our blessed ancestors, Adam and Eve (peace be upon them both): when Iblis messed up, he – out of sheer arrogance and ingratitude – blamed Allah, subhanahu wa ta’ala, for his own disobedience – and only a moment after Allah granted his request for respite! However, when Adam and Eve realized the error of their ways, they immediately took responsibility for their own incorrect action, and humbly begged Allah for forgiveness.

So, whose footsteps are we going to follow? The one who has been cursed until the Day of Resurrection, or those whom Allah forgave, and raised in status, to be the best of creation?

—

I had never heard this explanation before, and it really brightened my day to have such well-known ayaat presented to me in a refreshingly new light. I pray that the lesson therein remains with me always… Ameen!

I’ll be extracting the audio from the event’s footage, and sending it to the organizers soon, insha’Allah. I’ll let you know if/when they decide to publish it.

]]> http://imuslim.tv/2009/07/10/dont-play-shaytaans-blame-game/feed/ 10 http://imuslim.tv/2009/06/01/enjoying-the-english-countryside/ http://imuslim.tv/2009/06/01/enjoying-the-english-countryside/#comments Mon, 01 Jun 2009 22:06:53 +0000 iMuslim http://imuslim.tv/?p=2040 I spent the weekend in Blackburn, which is about 300-odd miles north of London. I was there for my cousin’s wedding, on my father’s side, but ended up being person-napped by my cousins on my mother’s side for a outdoor birthday party at a picnic site in the country. As you can tell, I have a lot of family ‘up North’.

The weather was gorgeous, masha’Allah… just perfect for a BBQ.

After lunch, we took a leisurely walk in the woods and fields surrounding the picnic area.

These were the shoes I was wearing during our little Nature walk… not good for wading through patches of mud. Alhamdulillah, I survived, unscathed.

A nice shot I managed to capture from the car on the way home. Click here to see a larger version.

My parents and I used to travel to Blackburn at least once a year, back when we were living in Leicester. However, moving to London added another 150 miles to the car journey. That, together with my studies, meant that in the last ten years we’ve only bothered to drive up there for two important family occasions: deaths & marriages.

Upon leaving the wedding house yesterday evening, we exchanged the usual pleasantries with our hosts, not-so-subtly acknowledging the fact that only another wedding would likely reunite us in the near future.

“Insha’Allah, it’ll be your turn next, Mehzabeen!”, my aunty chirped in Gujarati, as I put on my shoes. Luckily I was looking down at the time, so she didn’t notice the eyes rolling in my head.

Oh well. At least they’ll be the ones making the six hundred mile round-trip next time, if she’s correct.

iMuslim proceeds to kiss her mum on the cheek, and notices a flowery scent.

Me: “You smell of talcum powder…”

Mum: “Whaaat?!”

Me: “I said: ‘You smell of talcum powder’…”

Mum: “Ohhh… I heard something else…”

Me: “What?”

Mum: “I thought you said, I smelled of cow ka powder.”

Me: {guffaws}

Mum: “I was thinking: ‘Cow ka powder is milk!’”

Mother and daughter erupt into giggles. Dad looks on in confusion.

And thus a new parent-child in-joke is born.