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.

UAE children need more outdoor play

This was originally written for Gulf News “The Views”

http://gulfnews.com/opinions/columnists/uae-children-need-more-outdoor-play-1.1162568

(Image by Gulf News)

The small park near my house is filled with children, laughing, playing and running around. It is a beautiful sight — there’s a game of hide-and-seek going on in the play area, children are taking turns on the push swing and some others are finding their way up the challenging climbing frames. Adults supervise and encourage their young ones and as I observe them, I see a small child run to his mother to show a freshly acquired bruise. The mother offers a little kiss and some sympathy and the child runs away once more with the wind rushing through his hair. A steady breeze is blowing and the sky is filled with clouds. The weather is pleasant and the playground is bustling with activity. But as the sweltering summer months approach, one wonders if the children will still get as much of a chance to play outdoors. Research suggests that children in the UAE do not get adequate outdoor play time.

A first-of-its-kind research in the UAE, the Fun City Children’s Play Index (carried out by Landmark Leisure) is based on a survey conducted between July and September 2012. The data was collected from 400 mothers from different nationalities with children in the age group of 2-12 years residing in different emirates of the UAE. It was determined that on an average week day, children in the UAE spend less than an hour engaging in outdoor activity. This time increases to 1.5 hours during the weekend. Close to a quarter (26 per cent) of the children in the UAE spend an average of three hours a day on an activity involving interaction with technology: TV, video games, internet games. One in five (20 per cent) children spends more than four hours on an average watching TV each day.

Along with the conventional toys, every child has at least one Xbox, PS3 or some hand-held video game in their toy box, thus increasing the need to spend more time indoors. The study also shows 58 per cent of children spend their time playing indoor games as compared to 29 per cent who spend their play time outdoors, while 12 per cent also engage in learning or playing an outdoor sport.

Child development experts believe that for the desired physical development, a child must engage in outdoor play for at least one hour a day. Furthermore, experts suggest that the outdoors are the ideal place for children to be themselves, to explore, to experiment, to move and make the most of the opportunities offered in a less-restricted manner. Chances for developing social skills with peers are also ample, as is space, for running around, cycling, roller-blading and for simply breathing in fresh air.

Dr Stuart Brown, founder and president of the National Institute for Play in the US and the author of Play, How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination and Invigorates the Soul”, writes that there is a direct connection between play deficiencies and some frightening public health and social trends: Tragic statistics for obesity, (a growing problem in the UAE), 4.5 million children diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), an increase in childhood depression and classroom behavioural problems involving violence and an inability to interact well with peers. Physical activity is known to lessen the symptoms of mild attention deficit disorder and is associated with much lower incidences of childhood obesity. Active kids are also more facile intellectually and perform better academically in the long term.

Dr Sandra Willis, co-owner and director of Inspire Children’s Nursery in Dubai believes that weather conditions in the UAE are not the main reason behind the lower index of outdoor play and that the weather is not as harsh as it is made out to be. “We are lucky to have eight months of suitable weather, providing children ample opportunities of outdoor play,” she says. She does, however, feel that one of the main reasons why children do not get enough chances to play outdoors is lack of community parks and spaces. Besides, she feels that an expat community is forever fluid and social relationships amongst children can sometimes suffer because of that. As parents and educators, we need to foster and encourage outdoor play, she says.

Asma Maladwala, co-owner and founder at the same nursery, believes that the best way to help children get more time outdoors is for the parents to join them, encourage them and play with them. “Go to the beach with your children, splash around and make a sand castle,” she says. Maladwala also speaks about how a child and parent playing together can bond in a beautiful way. She explains: “A child playing outside may not necessarily convey his or her fears and feelings, yet the parents can understand their child so much better by just playing with them.”

She certainly has a point. For, with a place that offers so much sunshine, we are definitely in a better position to help our children explore the outdoors, rather than, say, someone living in a place where it is bitterly cold, dark and gloomy 24 hours a day!

Toddlers on the iPad – a good idea?

(Image via foodfamilyfinds.com)

Originally written for Gulf News 
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/columnists/toddlers-on-the-ipad-a-good-idea-1.1153921

It can change colour and design at the feather touch of a little finger. It can make almost any sound at all, far more than a favourite toy can. It can turn into a TV, a gaming device or an easel to unleash your creativity on, as and when you like. The iPad, with all its versions, is an amazing piece of technology.

Children, all around the world have been swept away into the digital iWorld, and as we watch our contended young ones poring over their tablet PC’s we wonder if screen time is as bad for children as it’s made out to be. After all, what more could a knackered parent want after a long and tiring day? The iPad is a baby-sitter, a friend and an interactive toy, all at once, and keeps a child happy, engaged and busy for long periods of time. But the question is: Are we hampering the development of our children if we let them engage with such devices at very young ages?

A quick search on the Apps Store for “apps for children” comes up with 15,155 results, and many of these apps are free, some state that they are educational and a large number of them are aimed at babies, and even claim to refine language and fine motor skills. Research from the American Academy of Paediatrics (AAP), however, suggests that video screen time (TV’s and other screens used in the same way) provides no educational benefits for children under age 2 and leaves less room for activities that do, like interacting with other people and playing. Inactivity associated with TV and computer watching is connected with developmental and health issues. There are also psychological concerns related to depression, disengagement, poor social skills, and damage to a child’s ability to empathise. As one looks into child development study, traditional research and theory seem to confirm the findings scientists have made in recent times. Jean Piaget, an influential 20th century Swiss psychologist, has explained the learning process of babies and toddlers in this way: From the moment of birth onward, information comes into the brain through firsthand experiences with things, people and senses.

On a tablet, however, everything feels the same. A child’s earliest experiences are a very important part of their learning — for instance they discover the difference between rough and smooth, distinguish between light and heavy, and hot and cold, all through their hands. To us, these may seem like trivial achievements, but for a child, these encounters are exciting, and open up a world of discovery and learning. Tangible toys can allow them the opportunity to explore and learn through their own senses. We take all of those rich experiences away when we let our children become passive receivers of stimuli in front a slick, glossy screen.

Research from AAP has also cited concerns about language delays and disrupted sleep in children who are exposed to a lot of screen time. A child busy on an iPad will give up excellent opportunities for developing her social skills, for real time conversations with adults and peers and for physical exercise. Brofenbrenner, the well-known Russian-American psychologist spoke about how important it is for babies and carers to engage with each other. A mother smiles and clicks her tongue, the baby does the same. The mother gives a little kiss, the baby tries to imitate. This ‘ping-pong’, (as Brofenbrenner called it), lays the foundation for later conversation. With children spending more and more hours in the virtual world, chances for such exchange and bonding are lessened.

For a slightly older child, however, the iPad when used in moderation and with intelligence can actually help with learning. A recent study funded by the Department of Education in the US showed that the PBS Kids iPhone app “Martha Speaks” boosted 3-to-7-year-olds’ vocabularies by as much as 31 per cent over the course of two weeks. Besides, mentally stimulating games and puzzles are known to sharpen the mind. We live in a day and age when our children learn how to unlock a touchscreen device faster than they learn how to pick up a pencil. The iPad is here to stay, and will invariably make a place in the hands and hearts of most children who will come across the beautiful device.

It is not uncommon to find toddlers who will do just about anything to retain an iPad or a smartphone — but there are strategies for coping with such behaviour. Experts suggest that rules and limits must be clearly defined to the child so that they know what is expected of them. Adults must remain consistent and be firm yet calm in order to help a child respect and follow rules. And children learn a great deal by observing us too which is why I will sign off — before my little one comments that I have been staring at a screen for too long!

Why setting goals can sometimes pull you down

Originally written for Gulf News “Off the Cuff”  
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/columnists/why-setting-goals-can-sometimes-pull-you-down-1.1128090

(Was published in the paper on Friday the fourth)

 

(image via source for illustrative purposes only)

 

The anticipation has ended, the parties have finished, and the fireworks have fizzled out too. The year 2013 is finally here, and some of my more ambitious friends have talked about their goals and resolutions for the year. As for me, I have spoken little about what my own goals are. That’s because I don’t have any. Perhaps you would like to know why.

The goals one sets out for oneself imply the obvious: The person hasn’t got to where they would like to be in life. Goals exist because they would like to do better, because they would like to achieve something more. Let me give an example for the sake of clarity. Joe works as a manager in a company, and dreams of becoming the CEO one day. In fact, he imagines his life would be perfect if he would only achieve that position. After years of toil, Joe finally becomes CEO — only to realise that he would rather be an entrepreneur. That becomes the new goal. Surely, when he is an entrepreneur, he might hope for something else, or better returns. It goes on, doesn’t it? Suffice it to say that no matter what we do, we’re never satisfied with our lives, our weight, who we are, and how much we make.

That begs the question — is it worthwhile to have a goal at all? I realise that goals are eked out so we can spur ourselves on, so we can keep aiming higher, but an over-reliance on them can sometimes be trying. Our self-image and our thought processes can get too dependent on them. A woman who is above what might be her ‘perfect’ weight constantly frets about it, and starts a diet at the drop of a hat to achieve her goal. She constantly compares herself unfavourably to magazine models and/or her counterparts and ends up feeling miserable. This takes her happiness away; this takes her satisfaction with her persona away. The goal interferes with everything. In the same way, someone who is too psyched about getting ‘the big promotion’ forgets to enjoy his current job.

Sometimes we set goals that are too lofty, and instead of using them to our advantage as mere guidelines, we end up obsessing about them, and belittle our current achievements. We forget to be thankful for what we have, and even as we set our sights on the summit of the mountain, we forget to appreciate the colourful rainbows and the beautiful scenery along the way.

One might ask a valid question: how would you achieve more in life if you don’t have goals? How can you be in a better place tomorrow if you don’t plan today? I am a firm believer that if we enjoy our lives, live them to the fullest, and are glad that we exist, things will begin to look up. If I am in a happy place, and am able to do my best, success will in fact find me. If we live our lives by some simple but important truths as a matter of principle, our goals become reality even before we realise it.

Consider a writer who wants to write a book. Every day she/he slaves away at the computer, producing little valuable output. One day, inspiration suddenly strikes, and within a few weeks or months, before she/he even knows it, a full manuscript exists. That is because the writer was enjoying what she/he were doing, rather than focusing on a goal of writing a certain number of words in a day. They probably wrote far more than the initial goal, and through the night too!

To each his own — setting goals may or may not work for you. Some people (like this writer) tend to get more stressed by them, whilst others find that setting goals unleashes their productive energy. Ironically enough though, as I sign off, I think I might have finally found myself a new year resolution: to be content.

With who I am, with what I do, to wake up every morning satisfied with myself and my life, and to go to bed every night thinking that the day gone by was perfect in its own special, imperfect way. To understand that even though I stumbled and made mistakes, I learnt something new and became a better person for it.

 

PS: Do you believe in setting goals? Please share your opinion in the comments!

Morning madness: traffic, lane jumpers and hugs

Originally written for Gulf News “Off the Cuff”  http://gulfnews.com/opinions/columnists/morning-madness-traffic-lane-jumpers-and-hugs-1.1118397

(Late upload, sorry guys)

If only the roads were this quiet in the morning!

There is something special about a crisp winter morning, when one simply breathes in the fresh, cool air, rests for a moment, and feels truly alive. Alas, I hardly ever get a chance to watch the sun rise on beautiful, foggy mornings because mornings at my place are pure madness.

Let me explain.

It all begins with the persistently annoying ring of my phone that wakes me up, reminding me that there are only so many hours when one can retreat into one’s own quiet world. Then I try to wake up two little girls who have decided their mother is an unreasonable person who always makes the wrong request at the wrong time.

Even more taxing, however, is getting them to eat breakfast. Then the packed lunches I painstakingly prepared the day before go into their snack bags, and then somehow, we get dressed. Amid the morning frenzy, the tea sometimes spills, someone gets the wrong shoes on, the girls forget their water bottles, and we occasionally get late. When I finally find myself on the road, I feel relaxed, because the sea of traffic is oddly reassuring. It’s almost as though it’s telling me, “look you’ve at least left home!”

As I snail along in the traffic to get to work, patiently waiting for my turn to take my exit, out of nowhere, a car zooms to my left and the driver puts the indicator on. This is no polite request to turn; it is actually a rude comment along the lines of, “My time is more precious than yours. There’s no way I’m going to wait in this long queue of cars. You better move it, so I can jump this lane!”

Such drivers get me seething. The better half is an eternally ‘nice guy’ who will ignore these people and advises me to do the same, but I usually honk loudly, and yet I find them quite determined to carry on. The indicator stays, and I glare at them, hoping they realise how exasperating it is, when someone whizzes ahead of you in the morning traffic, when every minute is precious, and the difference between ‘on time’ and ‘late’ is a mere five minutes. I inch close to the next car in the line, to deny the lane-jumper any space to destroy the queue.

Then when I get on to the main road, I hover slightly above the speed limit (fast enough but wouldn’t get me a speeding fine). If I go even a little slower, as I sometimes do, the people behind me come too close to my car, as if to say “Look, if you can’t keep up, just move, okay?” and I glide away into the next lane, and let them pass me by disdainfully with a roar of speed.

As the morning law would have it, I get stuck behind a very slow school bus, or a senior driver who is well and truly out there to enjoy the morning, and tips the ash off his cigarette out the window in a very leisurely way. When I change lanes yet again, I do the disagreeable task of nestling myself between two other hunks of metal, neither of which are welcoming. I raise a hand in thanks to the other drivers. They do not look remotely pleased and probably think to themselves “Whatever!”

Then I pass my good friend Salik, not once, but twice, who these days, seems to have an insatiable appetite and nibbles away perennially on our balance. I get to work in one piece, thankfully, but the adventure begins again when I leave a little after noon, and it’s time to do the afternoon school runs!

As I buckle up, play my favourite tracks, and speed along Sheikh Zayed Road, I look forward to picking up two young ladies whose warm hugs and welcoming smiles make everything seem right, crazy as it sometimes gets.

Some things never change … not even with time

Originally written for Gulf News “Off the Cuff”: 
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/columnists/some-things-never-change-not-even-with-time-1.1114270

I’ve always loved Dad’s eyes. He has these deep grey eyes, which somehow give an impression of being ringed with violet when light falls upon them. I sit on the floor beside him and put my head on his knee.

It looks as though nothing has changed and little time has elapsed since those chilly winter mornings when I would stand by the front door in my brown uniform, greeting Dad before I left for school. He would walk over to me from his arm chair and his morning paper and would take my little hands in his big warm ones and comment on how cold they were. Then he would cuddle them and give not just my hands, but also my heart some much-needed warmth.

Lately though, Dad has not been keeping well. It is perhaps loneliness or perhaps the troublesome knees that just seem to be a part and parcel of old age. His face is lined, yet calm, and his silver white hair is cropped short. His legs are stretched out on an ottoman and he is leaning into his arm chair. I’m visiting him back home because I’ve been missing him a lot and it seems like ages since the children and I spent any time with him.

Our lives in Dubai have become like mechanical clockworks, where we compulsively follow timetables, meet deadlines and plop thoroughly exhausted in bed to refresh ourselves for the strenuous day that will follow. I hardly get a chance to ask Dad how is doing, to enquire about his day and to let him know how much I miss him. I am grateful for the moments I am getting to sit by his side, enjoying his company.

However, the conversation we are having is nothing like I had planned. Dad is in fact asking me how everything is with me, whether the opportunity I was hoping for worked out and so on. Soon I am talking animatedly and Dad is nodding interestedly and saying a few appropriate words here and there. A profound feeling of deja vu puts me in thought.

I marvel inwardly at that special sense of security and comfort that one can experience exclusively with one’s parents. Here is somebody who genuinely cares about what I am up to — who has all the time in the world to listen to everything I have to share, a person who has nothing in it for himself, but is full of selfless consideration and concern just for me. I do not mean to say that other relationships in our lives are not wonderful or that all our friends are insincere. I am stating the obvious: The tender love and care a mother or a father can give their child — regardless of the age of the child or parent, is simply unparalleled.

I continue to talk and Dad listens, engrossed. The conversation (or should I say monologue) takes a turn and I can’t help but discuss everything that has been troubling me lately. I chide myself silently — Dad is unwell and the last thing I should be doing is give him more stress by dumping my personal issues on him. Yet, the affection and the concern in his eyes spur me on. He gently runs a hand through my hair and offers no explanations and no solutions and most importantly, he refuses to judge me.

“Sweetheart, I’ll pray for you. I’m sure you’ll come out of this phase and look back at it as a bad dream. I promise,” Dad says softly. Suddenly a deep feeling of calm descends upon me. I feel emotionally uplifted, as though empowered with an internal strength to tackle head-on this thing called life — assured in the knowledge that Dad’s blessings form a sort of invisible umbrella of peace over my head. My hands feel cold and clammy with all that flushed talking. Dad takes them into his warm ones and a tear slides quietly down my cheek. I’ll always be his little girl with cold hands.

Stuck in a desert, pursuing that perfect shot

Originally written for Gulf News Off the Cuff: 
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/offthecuff/stuck-in-a-desert-pursuing-that-perfect-shot-1.1094966

My eyes scanned the skies somewhat anxiously. It was going to be sundown soon and if I didn’t locate the entrance to the lovely little man-made lake on my right, I would miss the opportunity to get photographs of the stunning sunset along the water.

Now why would someone create such a beautiful lake and gate it up from all sides? Surely there must be an entrance, I thought to myself. I felt like Sherlock Holmes on a hunt as I manoeuvred the car into a long, deserted lane. The children asked if I knew where I was going. “Of course,” I replied smugly, as though nothing could be more obvious. The winding lane carried us further and further inside and suddenly all there was in front was a dead end.

“Mom, I think you should turn back now,” my older one advised sensibly. Just as I was about to turn the car back, I spotted something. In the distance, I could make out the water dazzling spectacularly in the late-afternoon sun. What a pretty sight. We were only a few yards away from the entrance, surely. This was no time to heed the warnings of a little child. Being the photography enthusiast that I am, I thought that the perfect captures I would get of the departing sun, setting the rippling waters alight would be every bit worth my trouble.

The road ended where the desert started, but as I noticed car tracks in the gravel, I gathered that the sand was probably hard enough to go through even though our car wasn’t a four-wheel drive. As soon as I ventured into the lonely desert, the car began to wobble strangely. I realised the sand wasn’t quite as firm as it had appeared and that the misleading tracks were probably left by four-wheel drives. So I decided to exit the area. But a wrong turn here and little too much speed there and — bam! We were stuck in the desert, with no car or person in sight and sundown approaching fast.

“Mom, are we going to be okay? Can you call Baba?” the children asked.

“Yes, of course we’re going to be okay,” I said, perspiring heavily and feeling quite apprehensive myself. I wondered if I should call the better half and tell him I was stuck in a remote place where there wasn’t a soul — because I drove into soft sand whilst pursuing the perfect photograph. And then I would tell him: “Oh by the way, I don’t know what this place is called, although I’m quite certain we’re near Emirates Road.” I put off the call for a bit and decided to see what could be done.

I gingerly stepped out of the car and with all my might tried to remove some of the sand that the front wheels were engulfed in. Then I tried to drive away. Alas, we only got stuck deeper into the sand. I finally made the call to my husband and hoped he would somehow find us with the minimal directions I gave him. I graciously decided to overlook his rampant overuse of the word “crazy”.

In the meantime, the girls and I walked on to the road to look for help. A little further away, the door of a villa was left ajar and a family was enjoying tea on the porch. I related what had happened, and the kind people invited us inside and offered us a drink.

After waiting for the better part of an hour, help finally came. A big white four-wheel drive belonging to the family towed us out of our abyss in the desert and a deep sense of relief washed over me. Right then I heard the faint call of a nearby mosque signalling that the sun had set.

Before I conclude it seems worthwhile to mention that this incident happened a few weeks back. The day before yesterday, I decided to take the girls to a park we had never explored fully before. And would you believe what we found there? An entrance that took you to a very familiar man-made lake. I did get the sunset shots over the lake after all!

Sharing is indeed caring — lessons for a lifetime

Not the place we visited, but nearby. Photo by me

Originally written for Gulf News (Off the Cuff) 
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/offthecuff/sharing-indeed-is-caring-lessons-for-a-lifetime-1.1080123

Growing up in the 1990’s, in the vibrant city of Karachi, I had a very rich childhood. My knowledge was diverse and there was a wealth of experiences to engage an inquiring little mind. We learnt to cooperate with family and extended family, we learnt to grow plants in the garden, we learnt that government offices were the best places to get duped and we learnt that there was really no alternative to hard work.

Karachi itself was proof that if you worked hard, you could make it big. Stories of bun-kebab vendors who ended up opening their own fast-food joints were examples the common Pakistani could relate to. We even learnt different languages and cultures from the hired help. But most importantly, my upbringing in the city was responsible for kindling the spirit of humanity within me.

Let me explain. A short trip to the grocery store in Karachi would typically include a driver, who saved every penny for his family back home in the village; a car that was either old, or if it was new, you feared it could get snatched at gun-point. On the way, you spotted rickshaw wallahs [rickshaw pullers], perhaps donkey carts and maybe even ostentatiously decorated buses and most certainly, beggars. Little boys and girls, no higher than my waist, clothed in tatters, would knock at your window and gesture to you that they haven’t eaten. You pulled down the window and found that the person in front had no shoes at all. You hand them a little bit of spare change and they pray for your well-being — they talk about everything from oodles of money, to passing exams to finding jobs and even marriage!

In case you were going to buy fruit, the experience would include haggling and an unbelievable amount of flies. When you finally returned home, you remembered that sharing was caring and that if you bought the season’s special fruit, the servants, the neighbours and maybe even relatives should be given some as a token of gratitude.

I remember those times fondly. There was no way one could live inside one’s own bubble of success, no matter how well one was doing. There were poor relatives to take care of, entire communities of disenfranchised people longing for food and clean water and one felt a pressing need to make a difference in the world by one’s mere existence. As children, we would feel compelled to give up our savings and allowances for children who couldn’t even think about going to school. In comparison, my children in Dubai live what can only be described as a life that is too perfect and too sheltered. It obviously is a fortunate life and while I am happy for the children, I know they are missing out on some things.

They have never seen suffering, they don’t know how it is when peoples’ huts get washed away by the monsoons, they have no idea about the lives of those thousands of children scattered on the roads of Pakistan, begging their way through the endless stream of cars. The most hardship they have come across in Dubai is that of the blue-collar construction workers, whom they are always willing to donate to. So when we went to Karachi this time, I took them to visit Sher Pao Basti — a slum area located not far from my Dad’s place.

Eager hands grabbed whatever treats we had to offer (food, old toys and clothes) and when my girls asked why one child wasn’t even wearing an underwear, I tried to impart an essential lesson that I hoped would shape their personalities. As we went back home from the grimy slum in our big car, I knew one thing. Whether or not my children had acquired some important lessons, I personally, had learnt to be thankful for my blessings again. The genuine joy and gratefulness in the eyes of a little girl as we handed her an old discarded toy was impossible to forget.

 

PS: Apologies for neglecting the blog. Will be posting new pictures soon, stay tuned! Will try and catch up on as many blogs as possible.

Thanks for reading!

 

 

The Spirit of Ramadan

 

A collage of some images in my gallery

Published today in Gulf News: 
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/offthecuff/the-spirit-of-ramadan-1.1058147

I can’t believe that we are halfway through Ramadan. Before the month of fasting began, I have to admit that I was a bit worried — what with the searing heat of Dubai and no food or drink for 15 hours! Then Ramadan began, and I was surprised when things began to feel relatively comfortable after the first few days.

As time passes it gets easier to ignore that big bottle of cold water every time you open the fridge, and it becomes less agonising to feed your little ones, who insist on eating chilled mangoes every few hours.

One thing, however, still remains difficult. Fasting was prescribed on us so that we may become better people, so that we become God-fearing individuals who improve upon their personalities in an important and spiritual way. Yes, our tummies are supposed to get a break too — but most of us tend to over-compensate at iftar when we come face to face with deep-fried golden brown samosas and their co-conspirators. However, the part about achieving a better spiritual state is the most challenging.

We abstain from giving in to our physical desires yet our hearts are just as burdened with ill-feeling as they were before. We still remember that high-school grudge, the friend who wronged or embarrassed us and the co-worker who always takes all the credit in front of the boss.

Dealing with envy

We all but seethe at the mention of certain specimens of mankind and yes — we eye yet others with that very debilitating thing called envy. Our hearts are still mired deep in resentment and we hold on to the mistakes of others and vow never to forgive them or forget what they did to us. We act as vitriol for own ill-feeling, and whether or not we consume food hardly matters.

When we introspect, we refuse to forgive our own selves too. Our hearts are hard, not just for the world but for our own selves. The bitterness overwhelms any positivity that the holy month brings — simply because we have become too accustomed to living life with a lot of unnecessary baggage.

As this month draws towards its end I hope to shed all that excess baggage, once and for all. I am not only referring to the excesses that reside peacefully around the waistline (someone hide the samosas at iftar!) but also to all the negativity that has all but become a part of me.

I want to let go of all those unpleasant memories that I subconsciously kindle inside my heart. It is to let go of that burning feeling of revenge I get every time I think of certain things — to forget about what so-and-so said behind my back or how I felt when such-and-such thing happened. Clean slate. I mean it.

In many ways this month is a celebration for Muslims around the world because the Quran was first revealed in this month. And what better way to celebrate than bring about a significant and much-needed positive change within my own mental make-up?

I already feel a lot lighter, and this has nothing to do with the bathroom scales which, it has to be said, remain as obstinate as ever.

Of aims and aspirations

Note: This was originally written for Gulf News: 
http://gulfnews.com/opinions/offthecuff/of-aims-and-aspirations-1.1043054

Of aims and aspirations

A relaxing cloud of daydreams surrounded me and my head was nestled in a cozy nook between my arms. “Sit up straight!” a sharp voice penetrated my comfortable reverie. “Err, what?” I said drowsily as I opened my eyes and looked up. I straightened my pleated brown uniform and ran a hand through my braided hair and tucked a stray strand behind my ear.

“So, would you like to tell us why sleep overcame you, young lady?” said the teacher.

I blushed profusely as I heard snickers around the class. I usually liked sitting alone in the last row; it was a convenient place if you wanted to take things a little easy and retreat in your shell. Not today though, when the teacher had given me such a wake-up call.

“Sorry Sir,” I said with a sheepish grin, revealing unsightly metal braces that inhabited my mouth when I was 16. Why, oh why could I not have come up with a witty response? From the corner of my eye, I could see the others were enjoying this. I certainly wasn’t.

“Well, in the future, would you kindly pay attention?” I nodded and tried to catch up with the lesson, except that this wasn’t one. Everyone in the class was asked what their aims were, what career path they would choose and what profession they were most likely to adopt. I too began contemplating it. What would I be? A teacher? No, because I wouldn’t want to make people’s lives miserable, I thought with a pointed look at the gentleman pacing the room. A doctor? Would I be able to give people shots? No, that was out of the question. Accounts? Would someone please get me a sick-bag? An engineer? Too much maths. In this way I cancelled out all the options that appeared suitable. And before I could make up mind, it was my turn to tell the class my preferred profession.

Honesty is usually a good thing, but too much of it can get you in trouble. I stood up nervously and took a deep breath and said: “I don’t think I’d really be good at anything.” The class erupted into laughter. In the midst of bright, upcoming genetic biologists, scientists, lawyers, pilots, doctors, chartered accountants, teachers and cricketers, here was someone who wouldn’t fit in anywhere.

“Really?” An evil smile (or so it felt at that time) spread slowly across the teacher’s lips and I thought to myself, “Here we go again.”

“Why?” he asked.

Desperately, I wondered: “Please God, why couldn’t I have said something intelligent and exciting like astronaut and buzzed back off into dream world?”

With about 25 pairs of expectant, amused eyes looking up at me, I prayed for the bell to ring. Nothing, not a sound emanated from the speakers. I cleared my throat and began to talk.

“Well, I don’t know. Sometimes I think about becoming a doctor, but I know there’s no way I could give people shots, or dissect human bodies. I’d make a horrible pilot or astronaut and I’m not sure if there’s anything I like except writing. But there’s one thing that I’m certain about,” I spoke confidently now, after all I had nothing left to lose.

“I know I’ll be a good person. When I grow up, I want to touch hearts and I want to change lives.” I said with a flush.

Now where on earth had that come from? The giggles changed into silence and the teacher looked taken aback. I didn’t blame him — I was surprised myself.

He nodded and I sat down, wiping my sweaty palms on my brown uniform.

About a decade later, I’m starting to realise what a lofty aim it was and that it was easier said than done. The struggle to achieve it continues.