Glimpses of Dubai through my iPhone (Instagram)

Dubai Marina

Mamzar Beach

A view of the Burj ul Arab, the 7 star hotel

Burj Khalifa!

Pool @ the Address Hotel, Dubai

Mom, you’re the number one for me. (Video will make you cry. Honest.)

PLEASE watch this! The video will make you cry and you’ll see why I’m so crazy about this song. Seriously, watch it. It’s a great song! Maher Zain! Go, buddy!

 

And when you’re done, pls watch me trying to sing the same. Short clip, yeah, it’s not so great and everything, but who cares, lol!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs8U7pWYfYo

 

Hope you enjoyed the videos. I am still not studying. Any tips?

Oatmeal Cookies. You devil.

They’re yummy, they’re healthy (well, kinda), they take as little as 10 minutes to prepare, and the kids love them! And they’re perfect for school snack boxes and they will be ‘allowed’ (don’t ask, my kids can’t take anything remotely resembling junk food)! So why don’t I make them more often?

Crumbly, melt in the mouth, aromatic…

Top 5 reasons why I don’t bake oatmeal cookies more often.

1. Time. Who has the time? Between school runs, homework sessions where I basically pull at my hair, and studies (my own), can I actually find time to do (unnecessary) recreational baking? Yeah, maybe once in a while. But I’d much rather get dinner ready, know what I mean?

2. I end up eating a few… not a great idea! When you have a jar of fresh, warm, home-baked cookies on the premises, it gets just that bit harder to resist.

3. Lazy? When I finally get some time, I don’t want to go in the kitchen. I could read, write or simply play with the girls.

4. I don’t have any more cinnamon powder. Ha! Yeah, this is easily rectifiable, but until I grind some cinnamon (I’m not crazy about the store-bought variety) I have a perfect excuse!

5. I have to study! Currently I am doing the following:

S- Sleeping

T- Talking

U- Unlimited texting

D- Daydreaming

Y- Yawning.

I gotta get the act together. Right after I finish this blog post. Er.

PS: My point and shoot canon with a big lens (Powershot sx30is, the very baby which has taken all pics on this blog) is not great with indoor light. I’d love a Canon EOS DSLR for such days. Someday…

PPS: If you want to bake them, this recipe is nice, but I don’t follow it exactly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4_X2qwLpqk

Dubai: the lesser known side

I’m sure you’ve heard about the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building, and seen the pics in the Burj Series on my blog.

And you saw the architecture at Souk Madinat Jumeirah as well.

Heck, I even brought you the beaches!

It’s now time to see some greenery! Enjoy!

Yes, some of these are edited and stuff, but a photographer is an artist. It’s a mixture of composition, perspective and feeling. Hope you liked the photos. Do let me know what you think.

-Mehmudah

The girls and I

That special energy…

Life is governed by a strange unidentifiable spiritual energy. The kind that keeps you going. Something that’s in your heart and soul, keeps you energetic, smiling, motivated, cheerful, ALIVE.

Gives you something to wake up for everyday. Keeps you interested. Do you have that in your life? Do you consciously ensure that you are in that state of mind when you feel truly alive and grateful?

I’m usually a very cheerful person. I’m a go-getter, I’m a fast learner and an earnest trier, but what’s true is that I’ve had my share of turning into a cynic. But not any more. I admire positivity and want to be someone who sees the glass half full. Yet lately I’ve been feeling so stripped of that zing (if you like), that spiritual energy that keeps me going.

Tell me what you think. Does this force exist, even? Is it essential? Is it a part of you? Do you even care?

Forgotten

There is life after Facebook

Originally written for Gulf News “Off the Cuff”: http://gulfnews.com/opinions/columnists/there-is-life-after-facebook-1.1179484

Dear Facebook,

You asked what’s on my mind. Well, there is a lot that we need to talk about. It’s been about three years since I logged into my account. When I quit Facebook, family and friends were not pleased. They thought I was being antisocial, and such a spoilsport! However, I bowed out of the online social party as gracefully as I could.

At first it seemed like there was nothing left in life. I missed checking the ‘likes’, friend requests and friends’ updates every few minutes. Life felt … empty. But when the initial feeling of being cut off from the world was conquered I realised I had so much more time, and I was so productive!

I didn’t have to log on to Facebook every few minutes, and I didn’t need to know what other people were up to. I was suddenly getting some actual work done! It was possible.

A life without an over-reliance on Facebook was possible. Life could go on without needing to know how much weight so-and-so in New York had gained post-baby, or without knowing how magnificent a party had been, or without knowing what someone else’s children were up to.

Without getting a number of ‘likes’ on my oh-so-witty and well-thought-out status updates, and without getting a bunch of compliments on my latest pictures, as much as I would have liked to deny it, life really could go on.

And quite smoothly too.

Life after you, Facebook, had an odd satisfaction to it, a secure feeling that the world did not know what I was up to. There were people who totally ridiculed my idea of not using you, Facebook but I was more in touch with my real friends than ever before.

Those who wanted to find me landed on my blog, and we became even better friends than before. I became accessible and available to a selected few, who knew how to reach me, and who knew that my email messages to them were not broadcast conversations over status updates and pictures, and were real chats.

Slowly, Facebook, I forgot about you. I had a life that did not need to be lived online. I had family and friends in person, and admittedly on whatsapp and email. And I wouldn’t even have written to you today if a colleague hadn’t asked for my Facebook ID. When I tell people I’m not on Facebook, they generally have two reactions.

One group thinks I am a totally antisocial person. The second group thinks I am an eccentric woman who probably has an interesting story to tell about why I quit you.

Well, Facebook, the truth couldn’t be farther away. I’m just a normal human being who decided to quit you because I was growing addicted to you.

When I told my colleague I wasn’t on you, she insisted that it was good to have a Facebook account, and that one can stay in touch with one’s friends. Yes, Facebook, I miss that.

I also miss being able to share my articles to a great number of people in a single click, and I miss sharing thought-provoking quotes and the like. To my colleague I mumbled something along the lines of “Yeah, Facebook’s really cool that way,” and wondered if I would ever join you again.

Join you again? Is that even possible, or likely? Well, anything is possible. Maybe I could join you and keep myself hidden with the privacy settings you thankfully worked out and add a total of say, 15-20 people?

Wouldn’t I look like a completely unpopular moron if I didn’t have at least 200 ‘friends’? And then if I didn’t share any of my own pictures, I would definitely look like a snoopy observer of others’ pictures. And Facebook, is it not all about letting others know how wonderful and awesome I am, and what an exciting life I live?

To be honest though, I’m nothing spectacular. I’m just an average person with an average life, but all my friends on Facebook look like they have the most amazing lives in the world.

Look at me. I sound like I am in a ‘Facebook frenzy’ already. Perhaps I’ll wait a little more before I can join you again. In the meantime, I’ll work on living a real life away from the carefully crafted perfection of the internet.

Mom, do you love me?

“Mommy, I think you don’t love me,” she says, knowing little that she’s tearing me apart. I kneel down and look into her eyes.

“Now why wouldn’t I love such a beautiful little girl like you?” I ask her, with a little smile.

“Because I beat up my sister when she took my hair clips,” she responds glumly.

“Oh, that. Sweetie, I… I don’t like the beating up part. Remember, gentle hands? But I love you. I love you very much. Like so much,” I gesture with my arms wide open. She does not look convinced.

I pull her close. I sit her down in my lap. I tickle her neck. She refuses to laugh. Little girls are not little. They are grown individuals and with them you really have to watch what you say. I know, I should have realized it earlier.

“Right. Now…. Sweetheart? I’m sorry. I was mean. But sometimes mommies have to be a little mean. I’d like to be friends again,” I say earnestly.

She looks at my face, as though weighing the sincerity of my apology. I hold my breath and hope things work out. Getting out of this will not be easy.

“How about the butterfly hair clips? Maybe I could get you new pink ones…” I say, throwing in a fresh, perhaps more acceptable bargain. She appears disinterested.

Suddenly, her eyes light up. “Mom? Do you love me?” she asks.

I think I’m going to cry. “Oh of course. I love you darling. I love you very much,” I say. I try to hug her but she resists. I tell her to think about what I’ve been saying and if she feels like talking to me again, I’d be happy to be friends again.

She walks away and in my mind’s eye. I see myself, a little child standing in front of Mom, asking her if she loves me. Mom tells me I ask her that way too often, but obliges with a big hug. There’s no prizes for guessing where my little one inherited her “Mom, do you love me” sequence!

In a little while I hear someone cry. I walk outside the room to find that she has scraped her knee while trying to ride her toy car, and boy, it’s hurting. I provide the necessary hug, the comfort and suddenly she’s back in my arms without resistance, demanding that I give the bad toy car a full talking to. The heartache forgotten, the tears falling from her eyes are strangely healing.

Soon her little scrape is taken care of and she’s back on her toy car. She stops for a moment, and walks back towards me. She looks into my eyes. “Mom, do you love me?”

“What do you think?” I quip.

“I think you love me SO much,” she says opening her arms out wide. I smile at her. No words necessary.

Do not despair of the mercy of Allah.

 

 

This ayah is one of the most beautiful in the Quran. May Allah envelop us in His mercy. Amen.