I like getting older. I don’t like the effects on the body so much (lol) but I do like the poise, the pause and the … dare I say — wisdom that seems to come with it. I like the being happy in my own skin (even if it sags) and I like the feeling of being enough. Worthy, if you will.
I have always come across as a go getter, the first person who would raise their hand, the first person to volunteer— that kind of thing. What no one ever saw was that I have always been deeply afraid of doing things wrong. OF FAILING. Of not meeting my own impossibly high standards. Of looking dumb. Of being talked about in hushed whispers. Of being … gasp! Hated! Mocked.
As my life purpose gets more and more defined in my head, as the passion gets stronger and the longing gets more intense I’m realizing something very important. The sight of a bigger goal pales this fear that’s always followed me. I can finally see without wearing the fear-colored spectacles.
I’m learning to not judge myself so harshly. I’m more willing to experiment. More willing to take risks. For the first time in my life, I’m taking risks and I’m winning and I’m failing sometimes and I still like me. To me, this is a big deal. As long as my priorities are correctly aligned and as long as I’ve made an honest effort towards what truly matters to me I feel good. Good and enough. Alhamdulillah.
I made the following video to buck up myself and others who’ve not had the greatest day because failing at something only means you now know better. It does NOT make you a failure. It just shows you are living a full life full of risks, experiments and experiences.
Here’s saying an official goodbye to the fear of failure. Thanks buddy, but I’m done now.
I blow away a layer of dust from an old diary and cautiously open it. There’s my name in bubble writing on the first page and as I flip the pages, the life of a 12 year-old girl opens up in front of me. Entries are sporadic at best, but whatever I read is full of emotion. There are some pages with the date written on the top left and only a half-sentence. I wonder why I wrote nothing more that day.
There’s hardly any text that clearly describes what I’m feeling/going through at that point, it’s mostly wrapped up in verse. And yeah, there’s a ton of doodles. Two and a half decades later, my diaries look eerily similar. A ton of poetry and a ton of doodling and no real text that starts with Dear Diary. I never wrote to my diary. I always wrote to Him who I thought would read my diary.
I’m not overly surprised to find that I can still be childlike and vulnerable (I still relate very well to my 12 yo self) but I’m also impressed by how hard I tried to use big words and sound really smart. Haha. Sometimes the difficult words are impossibly pretentious and the sentence structure could use a bit of help in places. But what really strikes me is that the idea has remained largely the same.
When in trouble, write.
Which is why this quote from Robin Sharma really hit me. In his book ‘The Everyday Hero Manifesto’ Sharma writes about the 40 things he wishes he’d known at 40. Here’s a picture. All 40 of them are great but when I read number 26 I did a double take.
Oh my God yes. I’ve been journal-praying ever since I started writing. I just didn’t realize it.
I always thought putting pen to paper somehow made everything better, but I wasn’t sure why it worked so incredibly well, every single time. Yes, writing about something strips it of any drama and you can consolidate what happened in a very organized way and you can analyze, break it down, explore different angles (perfect for those who need to think things through to make sense of them). So it definitely helps that way. But it also helps because as RS put it: ITS A PRAYER!
A part of me wants to say duuuuhhhh to myself. All those diaries — even the ones I got rid of (yes I got rid of quite a few because those memories I did not want to keep), I was speaking to Allah and telling Him everything. So empowering. So liberating.
I’m noticing a gradual change in my diary entries over the years. Instead of addressing Allah indirectly, now many entries begin with Dear Allah. It’s probably become one of my favorite ways to make dua, and to praise Allah. And every prayer is heard. Thank you Robin, I couldn’t agree more.
So, to anyone who stopped by to read this — please write to Allah. He reads the letters every time. Even when you think what you wrote is rubbish and no one cares. He does.
If you don’t know who Fawad Khan is you live under a big, giant rock. The man is a heartthrob, a superstar and women go weak in the knees thinking about him. He’s one of our most popular exports to India and if you have ever watched a Pakistani drama you know the hype a drama called Humsafar created. Fawad Khan played the leading man and oozed charm and irresistibility.
I didn’t watch most of Humsafar — almost a decade after it was released I did catch some episodes to see what all the fuss was about. I’m not going to comment on whether the typical evil-saas miskeen-bahu drama and the dim witted-useless-hero-who-doesn’t-trust-his-wife plot was anything to write home about but I did understand the fan following that Khan commands. I guess you could say he’s a big deal (understatement) and he has an unmistakable aura.
No, I didn’t start writing this blog to discuss Khan’s looks or talent (he’s obviously gifted, duh). I happened to watch a recent interview of him in which he said some questionable things. Before I go on I should add that Fawad Khan did an Indian movie called ‘Kapoor and Sons’ back in 2016 in which he played a homosexual man. Wikipedia outlines the plot very clearly, and it’s disturbing. I think to myself — Bollywood needed a guy to play a gay man and they choose a Pakistani Muslim man with a huge fan following and he agrees to do it? Why, though? When the movie was released and I came to know about Fawad Khan’s role I was pretty disappointed. The interview he gave recently made things clear.
During the said interview, Khan states that one shouldn’t be preachy when making film or drama and that his job is basically a 9-5 and he’s just putting food on the table. He doesn’t think too much about legacy and he doesn’t think his work will change the world. So the project choices he makes, as long as he makes good money and connections out of it, he’ll do them if he can. Entertainment is entertainment and should be taken as such. Period. Disclaimer: I’m not quoting him exactly but this was the overall message.
Sorry Fawad Khan, but I have a huge problem with that. The entertainment industry is precisely what changes the world. First, in a subtle way by normalizing what we thought was wrong and then by openly endorsing it. If there is one thing that shaped my thinking as a child and even as an adult it was stories, whether they be told by my amazing father on the dining table, or in the form of books or on screen. I got a lot of my rights and wrongs from books and TV. (Gladly, we had some quality books and some quality movies and tv shows growing up). Storytelling is an extremely powerful medium that shapes lives, personalities, dreams, everything!
If an actor/entertainer in today’s day and age (and that too of Khan’s caliber and reach) can say that his work doesn’t really make a difference, he’s either extremely naive or just another rat in the race. Seriously, what’s the motivation? Money? Power? Fame? If he doesn’t think about his legacy, that doesn’t mean he isn’t leaving one. Just so he could make the right connections on the other side of the border, he plays a homosexual man? Isn’t that a type of preaching too?
Aren’t you in effect transmitting a message to the public — hey look, this guy was homosexual, but very cool, smart and successful and came out of the closet and his family accepted him (eventually). So here’s what I think. Every single thing we put out there be it the form of film, drama, music, social media posts or anything on the world wide web we are peddling some kind of an ideology, leaving an idelible effect on the consumers of our content. As users and consumers of this technology we have to be extra careful because all of us are creating ‘footprints on the sands of time’ (you see what I did there lol) and we better make sure they’re worthwhile.
Think about the Egyptian civilization. How did we learn about them? Their art opened up the ancient world for us. Artists are dangerous people. They shape thinking, they dictate the norms we follow and they end up becoming role models and their work stays around forever. Those who think ‘entertainment is entertainment’ would do well to remember that a 5 inch screen selling entertainment is where our children (and ourselves) learn everything. I’m appalled at the lack of sense of responsibility Khan casually portrayed in the interview. If all entertainers thought like him, we would hardly ever get to see any meaningful work! What made me even more disgusted were the comments swooning over him — pretty gag-worthy.
Someone reading this blog might think why I suddenly brought up a 2016 movie but with how fast and how aggressively the LGBTQ agenda is being mainstreamed (especially in Pakistan) one must connect the dots. There were efforts happening way before the 2018 bill was passed to help the LGBTQ cause. It isn’t mere coincidence that this stuff is happening — every cog in the wheel has played its part. Now, if you openly speak up against the LGBTQ agenda, you may be labelled a homophobe. This didn’t happen overnight. It’s almost as though quoting the Quran or the hadith against the ‘pride’ is insensitive. It’s not. Just because the media endorses LGBTQ+ it doesn’t make it right. One must read and research and ensure there is clarity.
The entertainment industry isn’t going away anywhere and we need to find (and create) better role models and stars than those who will peddle just about any ideology for some fame, connections and fortune. Remember when Ronaldo pushed the coke aside and chose water and how coke suffered huge losses? Influencers have a huge role to play and saying their work doesn’t make a difference is, well, baloney.
In some ways this is is a first. I’ve never been as old as I am right now (obvious consequences of surviving another birthday) and I’ve never put up on the blog what I’m about to right now.
*nervous laughter*
Only a select few family members and friends know that I attempt to write Urdu poetry every now and then. It’s tricky and I’m still learning to write it and it’s taking a lot of courage for me to finally put it up here. It’s a very important part of me, flaws and all. As most readers are aware I regularly write poetry and pieces in English (some poetry has even been shared here), but Urdu is a deeper language and it has a humble, endearing soulfulness that I can’t seem to find in English.
You might wonder why I don’t share my Urdu poetry more…
Some of it is rubbish and sometimes I say the stuff I don’t want anyone to read. I write letters in Urdu poetry too. For the very first time on this blog let me share something I wrote this morning. It needs editing and tons of improvement. But here goes anyway.
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
کروں باتیں بیاں اس کی دلوں میں گھر کر جاؤں میں
تمنا ہے کہ گھر پہ اس کے جلد جاؤں میں
کہوں لبیک اور کعبے کا چکر لگاؤں میں
منظر ہو وہ ایسا جس کی مجھ کو تلاش ہے
ملے اوقات سے زیادہ یاری اس کی پاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
رب کی رحمتوں سے ٹوٹے دلوں کو مناؤں میں
نہ ہوں پھر تلخیاں اس ڈھنگ سے رشتے نبھاؤں میں
ہو ایسا صبر کہ رب خود ہی مجھ پر مسکرا اٹھے
توکل از خلیل اللہ دل میں سجاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
جھکتے سر میں ایسا کیف و سرور پاؤں میں
کہ اٹھے سر تو منزل کو رو برو پاؤں میں
کہ اس کے قرب کا کانٹا لگا ہو دل میں میرے یوں
کہ سفرِ زندگی بے خوف و خدشہ کرتی جاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
لفظوں کے سہارے بات کو اپنی بتاؤں میں
لکن احساس کو حرفوں کے اندر بن نا پاؤں میں
رس ٹپکے جو نینوں سے مکمل بات ہو جاۓ
دل ہی دل میں قصے سب اس کو سناؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
شورِ زندگی سے جس پہر الجھ جاؤں میں
ان رنگینیوں سے روشنی سے تھک سی جاؤں میں
مری تنہائی ہو اور یاد اس کی مہک اٹھے
مرا سر یوں جھکے کہ اس کو پھر نا اٹھاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
ہیں کچھ راز کی باتیں کہ جن کو کہ نا پاؤں میں
اور وہ راز ہی کیا جو کہ کر بتلاؤں میں
ہے وہ عشق کی منزل کہ سائل چلتا رہتا ہے
ہے اک کائنات ایسی کہ جس میں ڈوب جاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
جن دوریوں مجبوریوں نے مجھ کو گھیرا ہے
میرے سجدوں کی لذت کیا خیالوں کا بسیرا ہے
خدایا سمت بدلے اور ترے ساۓ میں آؤں میں
بہت ہے فاصلہ جس کو تہ کر کہ آؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
ہے میرا دل یہ میری روح حبِ جاہ سے میلی
جو تیرا نام لکھا ہے پھر سے روشنی پھیلی
مجھے رستہ دکھاؤ تم مجھے اپنا بناؤ تم
کہ قلبِ مطمئن دنیا میں جیتے جی پاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
جو تیری راہ سے بھٹکا ٹھکانہ اس کا دوزخ ہے
دن اس کا پریشاں ہے راتیں اس کی بوجھل ہیں
ملاقاتیں وہ خلوت کی نصیبوں سے ہی ملتی ہیں
دوں کچھ طول باتوں کو غمِ دل سناؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
جو ڈھونڈو تم اگر رب کو موتی پیار کے بانٹو تم
نہ کینہ دل میں تم رکھو دلوں کو چین بخشو تم
کسی کا درد اپنا ایک دن کر کے تو دیکھو تم
خدا جو اجر دے اس کو بیاں کر نا پاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
جمی تیری نگاہیں عبد پر تو کس کی کی پوجا
منزل شہرتِ دنیا تیری کیا تو نے یہ سوچا
نیت صاف ہو تو منزلیں یوں پاس آتی ہیں
اسی کو جان کر اپنا خلوصِ دل دکھاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
جو لغزشیں خطائیں ہیں وہی تو معاف ہے کرتا
جو مانو تم اگر غلطی بھرم اللہ ہے رکھتا
یہ سودا ہے کہ گھاٹے کا یہاں پر شبہ نہیں
تجارت ہے یہ اک ایسی خود کو سکھاؤں میں
کچھ ایسا کر کہ جاؤں میں رب راضی کر جاؤں میں
کروں باتیں بیاں اس کی دلوں میں گھر کر جاؤں میں
Ramadan – my favorite time of the year. The month associated with some of my most beautiful memories. There are some key moments in life which make you feel like you have taken a few steps towards the ultimate goal of self-actualization and for me those golden moments have, more often than not, been found in the blessed nights of this month. Ramadan and I go a long way. If it weren’t for the Ramadans in my life, things would have been very, very different. There are too many memories, too much history (and umm.. Too Much Information) that I could talk about, but suffice to say this has been a very special month for me historically. But as of now, I’m … Anti-Ramadaning.
If you don’t know what Anti-Ramadaning means, I don’t blame you. A couple of days ago, even I didn’t know what it meant, but now that I have coined this term, I can explain. It is an umbrella term that includes many things such as (but not limited to):
the frustration of not being able to fast
glancing enviously at the hubby, kids and friends who can fast
not fulfilling quran, nawafil, dua and tahajjud goals like you’d planned
watching TV (documentaries, cat videos and even serials) when you can do zikr
twiddling thumbs
So basically, I have started this Ramadan feeling very – unfulfilled. I have always associated Ramadan with a deep feeling of fulfilment and contentment but this time, I feel like I don’t ‘belong’. Like everyone has a happy secret that they’re sharing and I can’t be a part of it.
For the uninitiated, my little one is only about 4 months old and I happen to be her primary source of nutrition. I miss fasting. Last year when Ramadan came around, I was pregnant and pretty sick so fasting was completely out of the question. The year before that, I had broken my foot and while I could still fast, I couldn’t stand or walk much and standing in prayer was difficult if not impossible. So was cooking for the family.
This is the third year running when Ramadan does not feel like usual. As I snack on almonds and ignore the urge to watch ‘just a little bit’ of the Grenada Sherlock Holmes series while my kids complain about how hungry they are and repeatedly ask how many more hours there are to iftar, I’m a wee bit – annoyed. So, I think to myself – what if I do fast? What’s the worst that could happen? An image of a fussy and disturbed baby that doesn’t seem to calm down enters my mind, and me at the edge of my wits, wondering how to handle the situation. Perhaps fasting is really not an option, I concur. Reciting extra quran, praying my fard with ihsaan, extra nawafil and charity is definitely doable. Except I’m Anti-Ramadaning, remember?
It’s like a silent rebellion, like the teenager in me (which never seems to go away completely by the way) is saying “Yeah, whatever” (the shrug of the shoulders while you’re at it) and that (un)happy comfortable place of “I AM like that. Go figure.”
True, the devils have been chained in the month of Ramadan, but I don’t seem to require their services – I seem to be great at this stuff myself. Is it rebellion? Is it because I’m lazy? Is it because I have a small baby and that can scatter-brain you a little bit sometimes? Or is it just that I’m not as spiritual/nice/____ (fill in the blank) as I’d hoped to be? Could it be the fact that I feel like what good is my small little ibadah, when people fast, pray in the mosque and basically do things I do in a year in a single night? The fard prayer I muster up sleepily because the baby didn’t sleep well at night and I don’t feel that awesome spiritual “Ramadan feeling” while people cry buckets during salah? Really, what is up with me?
The writer types (and the reader types – more specifically, my blog reader types) would know that I overthink and analyze things to death in order to make sense of them. I chop the sausage (the sausage being my problem) in my head to tiny little cubes, each symmetrically perfect and equal. And then I chop them some more and examine them from every side and wonder how the light reflects on them on a certain angle. Yeah, I overthink stuff. So as I analyze why this Ramadan I haven’t been my best and why I’m coining terms like Anti-Ramadaning of course I would have to blog about it and you my dear reader, just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I were you, I’d leave now.
Obviously, I haven’t thought this through. I haven’t yet touched upon the fact that Ramadan is between me and Allah and my Rabb is far more Merciful than I can ever imagine. Perhaps my frustration at not being able to fast translates into rewards that I know nothing about and perhaps the spirituality and closeness that I crave is elusive for now, but just around the corner. It’s almost like the invitation is open and all I need is the courage to accept myself, and know that I will be accepted too, no matter how broken I am. Perhaps the five fard salahs I manage with some level of mindfulness are far more important than I can understand. Perhaps my longing will become my salvation.
Let me just make it clear – I’m not planning to read the entire tafseer this Ramadan or even close — but I do really hope and pray for His closeness, His forgiveness and the one missing element – IHSAN. I want to do this right. I want to pull myself out whatever this Anti-Ramadaning is and collect, coin by coin, my treasure which will serve me in this life as well as the akhirah. It hasn’t been perfect but I’m willing to try again. I’m going to try again, and I know Allah acknowledges every step we take towards Him.
Abu Dharr (RA) reported that the Prophet SAWS said that Allah swt says: Whoever draws close to Me by the length of a hand, I will draw close to him by the length of an arm. Whoever draws close to Me the by length of an arm, I will draw close to him by the length of a fathom. Whoever comes to Me walking, I will come to him running. Whoever meets Me with enough sins to fill the earth, not associating any partners with Me, I will meet him with as much forgiveness.”
Tired, frustrated, annoyed with myself I might be oh Allah but I am taking that first step. Please hold me tight for it feels like I might falter. And time is running out.
دبئی میں پہلا لاک ڈاؤن مارچ ۲۰۲۰ میں لگا تھا۔ کووڈ نے رفتہ رفتہ دنیا کو اپنی لپیٹ میں لے لیا اور پچھلے ڈیڑھ سال میں کبھی خوف، کبھی مایوسی، کبھی زوم میٹنگز، کبھی ویکسین سے پیدا ہونے والی امید، کبھی خاموش مولز اور کبھی گھر پر گھٹ کر بیٹھنے سے تنگ لوگوں کا شاپنگ سینٹرز اور پارکس میں ہجوم ۔۔۔ سب ہی کچھ کورونا وائرس نے ہمیں دکھا دیا۔ گو کہ کووڈ کے بعد کی زندگی نہایت مختلف ہے اور کل کیا ہو گا یہ کوئی نہیں جانتا۔
اک وقت آیا تھا یوں معلوم ہوتا تھا کہ سائنسی ایجادات اور ویکسین اس وباء سے ہماری جان بخشی کرا دینگے لیکن کورونا نے خود پر اک نیا روپ چڑھا لیا۔ یہ اب ڈیلٹا کی شکل میں دنیا پر نۓ جوش سے حملہ آور ہے۔ دنیا بھر میں کووڈ کے کیسز میں اضافہ ہو رہا ہے اور بہت سے ممالک ایک بار پھر لاک ڈاؤن نافذ کر رہے ہیں۔
میں چہرے سے اپنا ماسک تھوڑا سا سرکاتی ہوں اور اک لمبی سانس لیتی ہوں۔ اسپتال میں سوشل ڈسٹنسنگ تو بس نام کی ہے، میں خود سے کہتی ہوں اور کووڈ ویکسین لگوانے والوں کی لمبی قطار میں بیٹھ جاتی ہوں۔ اے خدا دنیا کتنی بدل چکی ہے۔ حج تو حج لگتا ہی نہیں اور جانے کب پاکستان کی فلائٹیں کھلیں گی۔ جانے کب دنیا پھر سے سیف ہو گی، کیا زندگی پھر کبھی نارمل ہو گی؟ کون کب اس بیماری کی زد میں آ کر دنیا چھوڑ جاۓ گا، کون اس بیماری سے جنگ میں بظاہر تو جیت چکا ہے لیکن اندر سے بدن کھوکھلا ہو چکا ہے اور آخر کون جانتا ہے کہ ویکسین کے سائڈ افکٹ کچھ سال بعد کیا ہوںگے؟ اور ان جانے والوں کا کیا جو کچھ زیادہ ہی جلدی کوچ کر گۓ اور ٹوٹے دل اور ادھوری زندگیاں چھوڑ گۓ؟
انہیں خیالوں نے مجھے گھیرا ہوا ہے کہ یکایک میری نظر ایک ضعیف آدمی کی جانب پڑتی ہے۔ میری طرح یہ صاحب بھی ویکسین کی قطار میں بیٹھ کر انتظار کر رہے ہیں لیکن اپنی کرسی پر بیٹھ کر یہ نماز پڑھ رہے ہیں۔ ان کا چہرہ یوں تو نہایت تھکا ہوا ہے ہے اور اس پر کافی جھریاں بھی ہیں لیکن ان کی شکل پر اک عجیب سا سکون دکھائی دیتا ہے جیسے واقعی کوئی خوف یا غم انہیں کبھی لاحق نا ہوا ہو۔
سچ ہی تو ہے ۔۔ کووڈ نے جہاں بہت کچھ بدل دیا ہے وہاں ابھی بھی بہت سارا کچھ بالکل ویسا ہی ہے۔ اللہ کے سامنے سجدہ ریز ہونے کی لذت اب بھی وہی ہے اور روزہ رکھ کر افطار میں پانی پینا بھی ویسا ہی ہے۔ ساحلِ سمندر پر چلتی ٹھنڈی ہوا اور گرمیوں کی بارش کی وہ چہرے پر گرتی پہلی بوندیں بھی ویسی ہی ہیں۔ کعبے کا تقدس اور مدینے کا سکون اب بھی ویسا ہے۔
رات کے آخری پہر میں بیدار ہو کر رب تعالی کے آگے اقرارِ جرم کر کے اس پر آہ و زاری کرنا اب بھی ویسا ہی ہے۔ معصوم بچوں کی مسکراہٹ اور ان کے ننھے ہاتھوں کا گردن پر لپٹ جانا بھی تو ویسا ہے۔ رشتوں میں لغزشیں اور معافی تلافی اور محبت تو اب بھی ہے۔ کسی دوست سے بات کر کے دل کا کھل اٹھنا بھی تو ویسا ہی ہے اور کسی کے لۓ چپکے سے دعا مانگ کر ان کی آواز میں تازگی سننا بھی تو ویسا ہی ہے۔ اپنی کوئی پسندیدہ شے بغیر کسی کو بتاۓ، بغیر خود سے تذکرہ کۓ اللہ کی خاطر قربان کر دینا بھی ممکن ہے۔ اللہ کا نام لے کر اس کا مزہ چند لمحوں تک لیتے رہنا اور قرآن کی تلاوت حقیقتاً ربیعِ قلب بن جانا اور پھر اس کا قلب میں اتر جانا تو اب بھی ممکن ہے۔
خدا سے باتیں کرنا، میرا اس ذکر کرنے پر اس کا مجھے یاد کرنا اور اس سے ایک دن ملنے کی آس رکھنا بھی تو ویسا ہی ہے نا۔ درود شریف کی چاشنی بھی تو اسی طرح روح میں گھلتی ہے اور نامِ محمد (صلی اللہ علیہ وسلم) تو اب بھی دنیا بھر میں رحمت کا پیغام ہے۔ اور تو اور ۔ موت سے ملنا بھی عین اسی وقت پر ہوگا جس وقت پر لوح و قلم میں لکھا ہے اور اسی طرح ہو گا اور اسی حال میں ہو گا۔ یہ جو چند لمحے مل گۓ ہیں یہاں پر کیوں نا انہیں شکرگذاری اور عشق کی ان راہوں پر چلتے ہوۓ گزاروں جہاں ناکامی ممکن ہی نہیں؟
ہاں۔ کووڈ بہت کچھ بدل چکا ہے مگر جو چیزیں سچ مچ اہم ہیں وہ تو اب بھی میسر ہیں۔ کیا یہ موقع الحمدللّٰہ
کہنے کا نہیں؟ فبای الا ربکما تکذبان
اے دل! اے کاش کہ تو فائدہ اٹھا لے قبل اس سے کہ دیر ہو جاۓ۔۔۔
تو تم اپنے پروردگار کی کون کونے نعمت کو جھٹلاؤ گے؟
I recently came across the book “The How of Happiness” in which the author Sonja Lyubomirsky presents scientific arguments and research on how to get and remain happier. A number of different studies quoted in the book show that our personal circumstances only account for about 10% of our happiness.
Yes, that means that the coveted job we’re after, that perfect partner or even winning the lottery would in essence make us only about 10% happier in the grand scheme of things. So where does happiness lie? According to Lyubomirsky 50% depends on our genes but that still leaves another 40% and that, she argues, depends on what we do and what we think. That aligns with my belief too — that happiness lies deep within and that our actions and thoughts make a huge difference in how happy we are. While she doesn’t give research on how humour helps with happiness, I personally feel laughter has a lot to do with how we feel.
I’m not sure how and when I began being known as the ‘class clown’ — but somehow the title has stuck and for a good few years now. I have a strong urge to break the monotony of lectures (or boring work meetings) and provide some kind of comic relief, much to the dismay of my professors/well-meaning colleagues, who by the end of the year have usually given up on me. They say what goes around comes around and sometimes, in my sessions as a trainer, I come across students that say and do the same (inappropriate) things that I would do as a student/trainee. In spite of myself I can’t help laughing and secretly applauding their guts.
It was quite early on in life that I realised that I loved laughing, and that I had an equally wonderful time making others laugh. I longed to be able to write material that gave people some kind of mirth, some kind of joy. I’ve been extremely lucky with mentors, editors and opportunities and over the years humour has become one of the genres I experiment with.
I always thought this part of me was just a silly side of me — unimportant — not really essential to who I was. It took the steam off from days that felt like pressure cookers but surely, it did not matter, or really make any kind of difference, right? The analytical, logical side, the hidden nerd that loved reading and studying, the woman of principle, the listener who wanted to be compassionate — that’s who I really was, right?
I’m starting to realise that the advice given to friends under a pile of self-deprecating jokes was particularly well received and I felt more like myself when I was laughing or trying to make others laugh. The literature that made people smile was read far more than the most serious, analytical piece I could write and the dark, satirical humour I wrote on my personal issues helped me perhaps a tad bit more than the sob-fests (which by the way I also write). Equally telling is how I would naturally gravitate towards a chuckle-inducing PG Wodehouse book than say, a serious war novel.
So, what’s the point of this whole piece? Let me just say that when life happens — being the comic is actually my relief. Yes, there are times when laughter just doesn’t cut it and sadness and tears are necessary for a complete human experience. When I hit rock bottom and I’m done processing the pain I’m feeling, the easiest way to get back up is to laugh once more.
As long as humour is in good taste and doesn’t violate the more important principles of empathy and compassion (towards self or others), for me it truly is a way out. When I’m able to crack a joke about a seemingly hopeless situation it isn’t just a silly, unimportant side of me. It’s that quintessential part of me that finds joy in the bleakest of moments and can (hopefully) spread it too.
Sharing some pictures that I’ve taken and edited recently.
Surah Kahf – wa rabbukal ghafoor zur Rahmah That door. Loved it. Old photo, new editing. Rumi quote. Enough said. Maybe it’s time to get the camera out again…
Can you multitask? Most people I know do some sort of multitasking in their lives. Indeed, we live in a day and age where are constantly busy (not necessarily productive) and multitasking seems like the obvious way to save our time.
The super mom should whip up a perfect soufflé at the same time as she is teaching her children math, and oh, she must have been answering work emails the entire time too — all the while looking gorgeous with not a hair out of place. The mere thought of this appalls me. I’d be giant mess if I tried any of that.
There’s a certain pleasure in being in the moment. For me, I don’t really know another way. When I’m in the kitchen, and I’m enjoying how therapeutically my butter and sugar get whisked together and how lovely my eggs look when I add them to the mixture, I can barely think of anything else.
I open my phone with the sole purpose of finishing my audiobook, but I’m just caught up in WhatsApp groups and messages, and before I know it, I’m browsing my LinkedIn and someone shared a post about this amazing little school in Africa … you get the picture
– Mehmudah Rehman
Focus gives me mental clarity and the task at hand ceases to become just a mundane chore, it transforms into an experience. Instead of feeling tired, I feel genuinely happy and refreshed, flushed with a sense of accomplishment.
I like doing things one by one, fully engaged and aware, almost meditative. I like to find the joy in whatever I am doing, get lost in it, learn from it and appreciate why I did it.
Bombarded by a million distractions
For a person like me who thrives in this kind of concentration, being bombarded by a million distractions affects my mental well-being. I am now realising that someone like me must learn to manage their own peace of mind and practice mindfulness very consciously, or suffer having it taken away gleefully by the myriad distractions we constantly face.
Let me give you a typical scenario. I open my phone with the sole purpose of finishing my audiobook, but I’m just caught up in WhatsApp groups and messages, and before I know it, I’m browsing my LinkedIn and someone shared a post about this amazing little school in Africa … you get the picture.
The biggest culprit for me is probably email, which because it is of a professional nature, feels somewhat urgent, although in reality most of the email we receive is neither urgent nor important (taking a leaf from Stephen Covey’s 7 Habits).
There’s that email saying that an invoice hasn’t been cleared and that one asking me for the lesson plans, and because I hyperventilate if I have too many pending tasks, I feel obliged to reply straight away. My audiobook sits waiting patiently and my mind zooms from one app to the other.
Deep sense of joy and pleasure
The above obviously is not ideal and I am working towards bringing more mindfulness and focus into my life, because when done with intent and clarity, anything we do brings about a deep sense of joy and pleasure.
For me, it is just about eliminating distractions and knowing when to postpone things and when not to open a certain app. Similarly when I am sitting, playing or talking with the girls, or reading a book to my little one, it completely destroys the experience for them if I look over their shoulders into my phone.
And when we do have that focus, we tend to do well in whatever we are doing. That obviously, is the beginning of excellence, which when becomes a habit, leads one to greatness.
Being present in the moment and doing a task efficiently the first time also saves a good deal of time. As I gradually move towards healthier habits and a more conscious usage of the 24 hours allotted to me in a single day, I am realising that paradigm shifts are brought about by just implementing small doable habits on a daily basis.
And because multitasking was never my thing anyway, let me start with eliminating distractions, being fully aware of what I’m doing and doing things like they make sense to me, one at a time.
If there was one thing that I disliked (abhorred, more like) as a child, it was homework. All day long at school, starting from 8 in the morning, they would make us toil and learn.
During the gruelling day, breaks were few and far in between and sports were extremely limited as well. Once home, all I wanted to do was have fun. I wanted to run around, play hide and seek, go swimming, play cricket and sometimes even climb trees and of course annoy my sisters.
My biggest problem was homework. I somehow got through school — sometimes grumbling and sometimes pretending to be sick or sleeping, but sadly, little seems to have changed even after I am a grown up and am expected to bring up intelligent, homework-loving, conscientious children.
I’ve now had a glimpse of what homeschooling might be like and believe it or not — it’s growing on me. The attention my little one gets from me, me learning to be patient and kinder, my child feeling a real sense of achievement and me being there to watch and enjoy that with her — I wonder why I wasted so much time
– Mehmudah Rehman
Our once a week homework in Year 1 for my little one at the start of this Academic Year was treated with displeasure (bordering on contempt).
I would look at the task online, do a little gag when my child wasn’t looking and then clear my throat and in true Julie Andrews (the impeccable Fraulein Maria) style, I would smile brightly and say, “Right, shall we get cracking on this then?”
The next few minutes would be a mix of hard work and utter denial. Hard work because I am after all a qualified teacher (so in theory, I should be really good at this stuff) and denial — of the fact that I might be quite good at teaching other people’s children but have little patience when it comes to my own.
Two pages of squiggly handwriting
I would plead and bribe and encourage and one or two pages of squiggly handwriting (with a coloured drawing to boot!) would be done and I would forget all about homework and its evils until the next 6 days.
The week would pass in a blur of my own assignments, lectures and classes, school runs and chores. Then corona happened and our lives turned upside down.
Suddenly, the once a week homework turned into 10 or more ‘tasks’ that I had to do everyday with my 5 year old on See-saw, the app whose notifications would pop up on my phone and make me recoil and cover my face with my hands. “No! Not another homework! I firmly refuse to watch any more videos on phonics!” I would say to myself.
Every morning a ping on my phone would signal the avalanche of assignments. I can be a very able and accomplished procrastinator, so I decided to hold off the homework for as long as I could.
Excuses ran out I acted like the indignant and perpetually busy mother on my WhatsApp groups (Why am I paying the school when I am expected to teach?) and of course since I was doing some work from home the excuse of the working mom seemed just fine, too. Until, of course, realisation kicked in and my excuses ran out.
What the past few months have taught me about my daughter and myself has been invaluable. I’ve learnt that the responsibility of bringing up my child and making sure she has all the knowledge and skills she needs has always been mine and no one else’s.
Yes, her teachers and school can give the parents a helping hand, but we can’t ‘outsource’ childcare and forget about it. The fact that fractions scare her has always been my problem, but I just didn’t have the time (or the realisation) to actually understand why the problem exists and help her out.
I’ve now had a glimpse of what homeschooling might be like and believe it or not — it’s growing on me. The attention my little one gets from me, me learning to be patient and kinder, my child feeling a real sense of achievement and me being there to watch and enjoy that with her — I wonder why I wasted so much time.
I would be lying if I said I truly enjoy homework, but it isn’t all bad. I’m aware of where my child stands now — what she enjoys, what she dislikes and what she might need help with. Now, if you will excuse me, we’ve got some skip counting to practice.
Footprints on the Sands of Time 