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.

I now present my – I mean, my blog's – birthday wish list. And if you think birthday presents are too much of an innovation, then consider it an ‘Īd al-Aḍḥa wish list instead:

• a Nintendo Wii, with Wii Fit/Active/Sports/whatever makes me sweat and get fit enough in the privacy of my own home, to eventually allow me to return to the kickboxing classes that I so dearly miss.
• a compact DSLR
• a decent haircut (blonde curls are a real possibility – an in-joke for my FB sisters)
• a Maths tutor
• a big ol' punch bag, like I saw on TV last night. Awesomeness!
• Really good chocolate. I mean, so good that I don't care that it makes me fat, because it's that amazing. Cadburys and Thorntons do not fit in that category at present. Maybe Hotel Chocolat?
• a trustworthy builder to knock down the wall that currently separates our two living rooms, so that the middle room can finally have some natural light, and not be so depressing a place to sit in – especially during the Winter.
• a jacuzzi
• someone that makes me feel less 'bleurghy'
• a good, non-trivial, real life, face-to-face conversation, that doesn't involve discussion of the weather (unless it's related to a debate on climate change), or the stupidity of lecture timetables.

List to be updated as and when I – I mean, my blog – decides.

Btw, the above wish list is clearly pure self-indulgence. There are many things that I – and my blog – wish for, that are less selfish, and more altruistic. I am very blessed with what I already have, alhamdulillah, and don't feel at all lacking in respect to material goodness. I just felt like writing a 'me, me, me' post today. :)

What's on your (or your blog's) wish list?

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 Allāh preserve her, and make me a good daughter, āmīn.

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, Allāh 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 Allāh, āmīn.

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.

“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 Allāh 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, inshā’Allāh”. 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.

Mehzabeen wonders why the Star Trek Voyager crew (or even DS9 – though I'm not really a fan of that spin-off) never got their own 'motion picture'?

I am not sure why I posted it, because, truly, I don't expect anyone on my FB or Twitter, or even my Googable blog, to answer it… unless they want to point out how much of a geek I am for thinking about such things, which is so freakin' cliché, that I'd be forced to throw a virtual chappal at them for not having the imagination to come up with something wittier. I mean, c'mon!

Anyway, it got me thinking about the last time I actually had a friend whom I could share this gloriously abnormal side of me with, as there is no-one in my life right now. For some reason, girls generally aren't into SciFi, never mind Muslim girls.

To be honest, I think the last time was in secondary school; not even undergrad. Sure, I hung around with student folk who had similar interests, but I wouldn't class them as “friends”. Just people in my extended social circle. (No, I wasn't part of the university SciFi soc).

I don't even have hope for a future husband-type to have a similarly nerdy streak in him; people are just so BLAH. Or, if they're not boring, they're already married – most likely to women who don't appreciate that quirky side. Gah!

Honestly, am I just a one-off here?

Is there anybody else out there?

Hello -oh -oh -oh…? [echo dissipates into the darkness]

Sigh.

Ack… Okay.

I am going back to uni.

Yes, you may now spew out your beverage in shock and disgust, having learnt that I, Mehzabeen, existing holder of three degrees, will be returning to university later this year to attain yet another qualification.

But before you choke on the few drops of liquid that remain in your throat, please let me explain my decision!

A few weeks back, I posted a message asking for some career advice from anyone working in the field of Bioinformatics. For those of you who don't know, Bioinformatics is the “application of information technology to the field of molecular biology” (thank you Wikipedia). Māshā’Allāh, I already have plenty of experience in molecular biology thanks to my PhD – but I don't have the computing skills to get a job as a Bioinformatician.

That's where the degree I applied for comes in. It's a one year Masters course designed to give students the necessary training in programming, statistics and genetics they'd need to get hired. And apparently, I am not the only PhD graduate to apply for it, which makes me feel a lot better.

Believe me, going back to uni is the last thing I wanted to do, but in this regard, it's kind of inescapable.

However, I couldn't afford the tuition fees (approx. £4K), and no way was I going to ask my father for the money. That's why accepting a place on the course was conditional on the adminstration granting me a scholarship – which they now have, alhamdulillah.

So, why Bioinformatics?

Any of you who knows me well, knows that I have a penchant for all things computery (at least, on the software side of things). In fact, I clearly remember back in my undergrad days, lying on my bed, mulling over my decision to study Biology, thinking: “If I hadn't done this, I would have gone into computing”. At that point, I believed it was an 'either/or' situation. Even up till very recently, I thought the only way I could continue with a research career in Biology, was to return to the lab as a stressed out postdoc.

Thankfully, I was dead wrong. In recent years, thanks to the establishment of various genome sequencing projects and expression profiling techniques, there has been tremendous growth of opportunity in the informatics sector. There is a great demand for scientists with the required interdisciplinary skills to analyse the mountains of data being churned out by such research projects; I discover at least two new Bioinformatic positions in my feed reader every day. My hope is to get in on some of that action, inshā’Allāh.

I also envisage many advantages from a personal point of view. Being that the research I'll be doing is mainly computer based, theoretically, I could do much of it from home, making it way more family-friendly than working as a lab-based scientist. Plus, there are global employment opportunities.

Best of all, if Bioinformatics is indeed what I think it to be, it'll mean that I get to do what I love, in a way that I'd love to do it. Extreme job satisfaction ahoy, inshā’Allāh.

At the end of the day, I know it's just a job, and I don't wish to be distracted from the main purpose in life, to worship Allāh. However, I do believe that if I am not going to be a scholar of Islam, then this is the next best way to use whatever intelligence and skill the Creator has given me, in His service:

Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet said, “There is no disease that Allāh has created, except that He also has created its treatment.” [Bukhari]

That's why I went into research; to discover cures for medical ills. I knew I would never be MD material, so I chose Biology instead. However, I have it on good authority that medical research is actually harder than practising medicine on patients. So maybe it wasn't such a cop out, eh?

Anyway, confession complete. Be gentle with me please!

Every June, the alumni association of my school holds a reunion dinner. This year, special invites were sent out to my class – the class of '99 – to celebrate our 10 year anniversary.

I knew straight away that I would not be attending. For one, it's in Leicester; for two, the ticket cost £30; and for three, there will be alcohol a plenty, which, on the grounds of both religion, and personal comfort, precluded my attendance.

Still, I couldn't keep my mind off the gathering.

In school, I was your average nerd: 'four eyes', train tracks on my teeth, overweight, hair always neatly braided, A-grades in every subject – except Phys Ed, naturally. Thank God, I was never really bullied; rather, incessantly teased, and the victim of more than one practical joke.

Therefore, ever since leaving school, I have dreamt about returning to a future reunion, as a smart, successful – and yes, gorgeous – individual, who didn't let her geekish tendencies hold her back in any way (if anything, they would help to mould me into said “smart, successful, gorgeous individual”). The typical 'ugly duckling turns swan' teen fantasy.

What I didn't expect, however, was that midway between graduation and reunion, I would undergo a complete moral and spiritual makeover; a personal revival that has altered every previous misguided notion of what makes someone a success, and truly beautiful. Now, the idea of attending a reunion to simply show off how great I have it, would be anathema to the principles that I hold dear.

Besides, I imagine the entire dinner would be such a superficial experience, especially as I detest small talk. Further, I have made contact with many of my past school mates via Facebook. If I really wanted to catch up with them in person, I would have done so by now, especially as several also live and work in London.

Saying all that, I'd still like to meet up with a few people from my past; especially my teachers. Thank them for their hard work, guidance, and inspiration. I'd also like to walk around the old school grounds, as they were quite beautiful, and are home to some great memories.

Anyway, until I marry Noah Wyle, my original reunion fantasy would be incomplete. Really, without him, it wouldn't even be worth the bus fare. Ten years, fifty years: some dreams will never die (even though we do become more realistic about how unattainable they are with every passing year).

:)

Plus, I want a longer term record of what I said, because it's the kind of advice that will bite me in the bee-hind one day, if I ever forget it – this post will hopefully serve like a post-it note, for when I will inevitably need the same 'talking to'.

—

The status message:

Why non-Muslims make better friends than Muslims: More open-minded, less drama, respecting your religion, not offended by you because your more religious, less likely to be jealous or complain or constantly be evaluating everything you do. Preserve your deen- even if it means favoring the company of disbelievers.

My response (that covered three comments, due to the word limit):

First, I believe you have to define what you mean by “friend”, when you make such a blanket statement.

The definition you seem to allude to is the 'sitcom' friend: the one you can hang out with, maybe share some laughs with, and kill some time with in between lectures.

In Islam, however, a true friend is one who frequently reminds you of Allāh, and is not afraid to enjoin the good and forbid the evil whilst sharing your company. Ultimately, anyone who prevents you from displeasing Allāh – even with the harshest of manners – is your BEST FRIEND. And inshā’Allāh, you'll thank them for it in Jannah.

Qur'an, Al-Maeda:

55 Your (real) friends are (no less than) Allāh, His Messenger, and the (fellowship of) believers,- those who establish regular prayers and regular charity, and they bow down humbly (in worship).

56 As to those who turn (for friendship) to Allāh, His Messenger, and the (fellowship of) believers,- it is the fellowship of Allāh that must certainly triumph.

57 O ye who believe! take not for friends and protectors those who take your religion for a mockery or sport,- whether among those who received the Scripture before you, or among those who reject Faith; but fear ye Allāh, if ye have faith (indeed).

It's not to say one cannot share a bond with a non-Muslim; we all share in our humanity, and it is natural to find solace in that. But such blanket statements are not justified, simply because of your own personal experiences.

Further, it is arguable that your own bias towards (or perhaps, against) your Muslim brethren, is the cause of such negativity.

We have much higher expectations of our fellow Muslims, than we do of non-Muslims. For one, we think a Muslim should know better, having been blessed with the gift of guidance. Second, every Muslim is an ambassador of Islam, and by extension, all other Muslims: therefore, if they mess up, you feel it reflects badly on you.

That is why we are far more critical of Muslims than non-Muslims, why we give the latter way more slack, and why we feel we can tolerate their company more – because we don't see ourselves in non-Muslims, therefore there is less to hate.

End of thesis. :)