Somebody help me!

I have exactly 12 hours left till I leave for the airport inshAllah. Obviously, I’m really happy and excited. But my excitement is dampened by the fact that I have to submit TWO FINAL research papers before I leave.

I mean, they were supposed to be handed in on 20th and 22nd, I think. But since I am leaving InshAllah, I’m told to give it earlier. I mean, think about it. Is it fair? Since I’m going for Hajj, I should be excused. It’s only fair. Haina?

ONLY 11 HOURS LEFT TILL I LEAVE!! ONE WHOLE RESEARCH PAPER LEFT! A RESEARCH PAPER WHICH IS WORTH 50% OF THE ENTIRE GRADE OF THAT COURSE!!!! HELP!! SOMEBODY DO IT FOR ME!!

DA VINCE CODE, THE HOAX, IS STILL LEFT! HELP!!!!

I MEAN, I’LL BE GONE AND THE SUBMISSION DATE WILL PASS. AND I WON’T BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING. WHAT DO I DO, WHAT DO I DO??

SOMEBODY DO IT FOR ME!

PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*wails and pulls at hair*

Why?

I have no idea why I opened this window and started writing. I mean, there are plenty of things which I know I can write about, which can prove to be very amusing, interesting and thought-provoking for you. But right now, I’m not in the mood to discuss any of those things. Maybe later.

Umm…I’m not sure what I should write right now. I’m not really in an inspired mood right now so don’t wanna write about religion really. But I guess I should. I have been witnessing so many weird things and meeting so many weird people, it’s really remarkable.

There’s this guy at my university. Excellent writer, MashAllah. I’m seriously a huge fan of his writing. I mean, coming from a guy studying at BNU, wouldn’t you fall for this line, “I paid for the drink, and I paid for drinking it.” I know it doesn’t sound like much here but I really like his writing.

But then, there he goes around writing this story about him screwing Satan. Literally.

Then, when I go ask him why in the world he submitted such a story for our final AOS exam, he starts telling me a bit about himself. “I was once very much into Satanism.”

Apparently, he used to listen to death metal (am i right in saying that’s the one which has elements of satan worship in it?), was deeply interested in cults and God-knows-what-else. Al-Hamdulillah, something happened and he came to his senses.

And here I am, thinking about that guy ever since I have talked to him. I mean, why is it that so much of the youth today is so disillusioned, disheartened by Allah (Naoozobillah!) and attracted towards atheism or worse, “Satanism?”

I mean, is it because people are so impatient that once they ask something from Allah and He doesn’t grant it, they lose all faith and trust in Him? Or is it because, Al-Hamdulillah, I have seen a relatively simple life so I don’t know what circumstances lead to a person rejecting/doubting the religion he was born in?

Obviously, I’m not judging him here, nor will I ever do it, InshAllah. I’m really, really happy that he is back on the straight path, MashAllah, and I pray he remains so forever InshAllah.

Ironically, he was the only guy of my university who actually came up and said he wanted to write duas in my diary which I’m taking with me for Hajj inshAllah. And MashAllah, his duas are one of the best, sweetest and most religion-based duas of all duas that came from BNU-ite friends.

But I just can’t stop wondering what had happened to actually make him do all that?

I mean, when I was talking to him, I was thinking, go on, keep talking, tell me about your life so that I can know how and why you moved away from Deen and into something so different. Keep talking.

But I neither got a chance to talk to him for long, nor, I’m sure, he would have told me as it was the first time we were ever talking.

All this breaks my heart. It’s just sad.

I mean, it’s not only H I’m talking about here, my friend Z, was just telling me about some friend of hers who wishes for death constantly. He wonders why suicide is haram. Why Allah never listens to his prayers.

I mean, what is this all about? Why does this happen? Is it because Allah put them in some test and they failed and now He is punishing them; or maybe because they are cowards; or maybe just because they may actually be right when they say Allah has abandoned them?

Like I’ve already said, I’m in a weird mood right now, certainly not the one in which I should write about religion. But then I thought, it’s not like I’m afraid of being doubtful about my religion ever, InshAllah, so I should write about it in any mood. I guess.

May Allah forgive me if I have said something I shouldn’t have. But seriously, all this breaks my heart. So many people; young people my age, apparently happy ‘cool’ people, good-looking people, sweet people, even my friends; so many people around me are so unhappy with their life, with their religion, with their Allah. I mean, why? I think, I’m one of you. I’m just like you. We have all loved and lost. We have all had our ups and downs. We have all prayed to Allah and sometimes have not gotten what we prayed for. But then why is it that Al-Hamdulillah, I’m happy and you’re not? I’m contented, you’re regretful? I look back at my past, and despite some major mistakes, I can still manage to smile…a huge smile, MashAllah. And you…you don’t even wanna turn back and look.

Basically, I guess I’m trying to say here that sometimes I feel guilty. Guilty of my happiness, contentment, guilty why Allah loves me so much, guilty why Allah has blessed me with the greatest blessing of all: loving Him and placing my trust on Him completely and thus being happy with what He provides.

I guess I just feel guilty why I’m  happy and they are not.

Basically, my question is just this:

Why?

FRAUD! Poliicee!!

Quite some time back, I read Dan Brown’s “The Da Vinci Code.” I fell in love with it!! I thought there was so much detailed information in it that I read it a second time and loved it more. For a course at college, “Communication Skills,” we were supposed to do a research paper on “The Da Vinci Code.”

Call me ignorant, if you wish, but i just found out…

Dan Brown is such a fraud!! Allahu Akbar!!

99% of his ‘facts’ are all lies!! Imagine!!

^{Every SINGLE  thing is all B.S!!}

^{IM SO MADDD!!! *grrrrrrrrrr*}

No Satory Watory!

N those who you who are expecting I’ll put the story on my blog here, JUST FORGET IT!

It’s not a typical STM story so I feel very self-conscious. Hehe…That’s why I don’t think I’ll put it here…

BUT  if some of the people who will be bestowed with the honor to read it, give it good reviews, I  just might post it…So keep your fingers crossed!

Secondly, its 27 pages long, double spaced!! Thats a hell lot!! You people will probably not even read such a long story! :’(

But who cares!! I’M FLYINGGGGG!! WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Dance time!

*bhangra*

                      *bhangra*

                                                   *bhangra*

                                                                     Ballay ballay ballay!!

                                   AHAAAAAA!!!

Rejoice, O World, ‘coz my story is finally complete!!

Sung-dil!

Well…I’m free right now so might as well update…I had this idea for the post for a long time but just didn’t wanna sit down and write. Enough of writing on my hands these days! *grrrrrr*

Some time back, this cousin of mine, A, discovered this video titled “Qabr ka Azaab.” It was about this ‘modern’ guy who is Sin incarnate. As in, he is the reflection of most of the people around us these days.

He is rude to his father, mean to most people, wastes time with his friends playing cards and such, doesn’t offer his Salahs, turns up the volume of music, or at least ignores it, when the Adhaan is being called out.

Well, the guy dies. The movie shows Malakul Maut coming to take him. And then the entire process that takes place from death till he reaches his grave…how angels in all black come to receive him and remind him of all he has done in life, how the spirit is watching his family and friends crying over his dead body, he apolgizes to his father but obviously he can’t hear him; he is basically repenting and wishing for more time so that he could go back and work on his Naam-ae-Aamaal (however u spell it.) Well, then they show his Aamaal as a dog sitting on top of his dead body as they are taking him to the graveyard. Finally, the angels reveal to him a Grave which is an illustration of the raging fires of Hell.

As it turns out, all this is a dream and he IS getting a chance to mend his ways. He does, too. Tauba tun Nasoo…

Well, I liked the movie. I was a bit sceptical about men posing as angels though, and about the fact that the Aamaal are seen as dogs by the spirits, but I thought that the basic message was good so all’s good.

Turns out A has sleepless nights because of it. Her mother started crying after she saw it. A distributed it far and wide. People were very scared of it. Many claim to actually imagine those black angels calling out their names every time they try committing sins.

It was a bit thought-provoking for me. That’s it.

Whenever I heard A telling me the reactions of the people, I would get worried. As in, I would think, What the hell is wrong with me? Why doesn’t it move me to tears? Is Allah unhappy with me? That is why, I’m becoming stone-hearted and such things do not make me fear. Allah rehem!!

Well, soon after that, I met another cousin of mine. A younger cousin. A sweet little kid. Very religious and God-fearing, MashAllah. Well, she came upto me, all excited, “Sana Apa, you have got to see this thing. This video! It’s amazing!”

She took me to see that video on her computer. It was that nasheed from Ahmed Bukhatir called ‘Last Breath’ based on some footballer who died during a match. Just like that. One moment, he is coming in with a smile on his face, second, poof! He falls down on the ground and dies within seconds.

Its a simple nasheed, with simple lyrics.

But that nasheed started haunting me. Not in a bad nagging way. But in a good way. I would keep humming the tune, singing the few words I knew then. It kept haunting me.

Today, I finally made the effort of searching online and finding the video.

Today when I was, as usual, delaying my Isha prayer, I suddenly found myself humming some words of that nasheed…”Come on, my brothers, let us pray. Decide which now, do not delay.”

Needless to say, it left me shaken.

Gracious and kind as I am, I’m providing you with a link here so that you can go check the video out yourself. If it affects you, too, and you do something nice, it will, InshAllah, be sadqa jaria for me! Ah-haaa!!

http://islamic-download.com/pc/video/inspirational/last_breath.html

Somebody save me!! *sob sob*

Oh man, oh man!! This thing is devouring me live! It’s eating me up, it’s sucking out my marrow! LOL! I’M NOT KIDDING! It’s haunting me. Very soon it will overpower me and I will become a disembodied spirit or something…

*uwan uwan* You know how I have this final Art of Storytelling story to finish?? Well, it just ain’t. I work on it and I work on it and I still work on it but it just ain’t finishing! I mean I thought writing was fun. But this thing is killing me, man! It just won’t finish!

I know I’m whining and I hardly ever whine about writing…but still!!! I tel you, it just won’t FINISH!

*Sigggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

PEEEP PEEPPP!!

I’m sitting here, writing post after post after post. I know there is finally so much college work that I have to do, so many assignments to do, so many research papers to hand in. I still have to read that detailed book of Anis Daud Matthews, discussing all there is to discuss about Hajj. I still have to start thinking about what to take with me for Hajj. I still have to read the The Satanic Verses of that poor soul who I pity with all my heart, that Salman Rushdie guy. I still have to think of a good conclusion for my final Art of Storytelling story. (I still have to take a bath.)

There’s so much to do and all I can think about right now, at this late hour, is how much I miss you, P. I think about how long would it be till we are together again. About how much more time till I can see you in front of me again. And hug you. And hold you.

I fantasize what glorious fun we would have if I came to London to meet you and spend my days with you alone. Every time any body reminds me of something I did on my last trip to England, or any of the fun places I visited, I sit back and think what fabulous fun we would have if we went to those places together or if we did all that together.

I have so much to think about but all I can think about is that what would happen if you ever felt ke “wo junoon nahi raha?” As in you look at me and you don’t feel the same, you touch me, I don’t feel the same, I hold you, you don’t feel anything at all. What would I do then?

Did you know that when you were leaving, and I saw you going inside wherever people go while we watch from outside at the airport, that I was desperately looking for one last sight? One last view? I still remember the way you were dressed. The striped fawn and white shirt Sum gave, the brownish pants, your hair tied up in a ponytail.

I was looking for you, wondering, hoping, praying, if I could see you for one last time before you left. And then I chid myself, “Don’t ask for such a thing! Allah might accept the prayer and make it your very last sight!”

So I tried to shut myself up as my eyes looked around wildly for a glimpse. I didn’t get it.

But I was happy. Comforted. At the thought that Allah did not want it to be my last glimpse. 

As usual, it’s late in the night. I have to wake up early and go to college tomorrow. But all I can do is think about how much I miss you, P. How wonderful it would be when, soon, InshAllah, we would be together again…

Naice!

I just looked at all the posts I posted today! I just realized I’m cooler than I think. In fact, I’m cooler than most of the people I know. Certainly cooler than the Blogging Cousins and The Blogger Who Sits in Amreeka Doing Absolutely Nothing And Still Doesn’t Update.

I post regularly and my posts are long and detailed!

I really do rock!

*pats herself on back*

Strange Happenings in De Park…

A few days ago, I finally decided to submit to my mother’s wishes and take up “walking” as a form of excercise.

(Those of you, who don’t know I’m fat, just die!)

Well, there’s this park near my house. It’s a small one, with a few swings here and there and two three broken benches in some corners. There are usually a lot of people there. Kids having fun, bigger boys playing football, still bigger boys out to “poondi” the poor girls and women alike who come to walk.

This time i saw this BIGGEST boy in the park, looking at the BIGGEST girl in the park.

(No, I’m not short of other adjectives, I just like the imagery!)

Well, if you don’t know already, the biggest girl is me, ofcourse. (Well, there’s this another Aunty, very…ahem…who comes to walk and eats Kurkure Chips while walking… No, I’m not making fun of her. I’m just tellingg…If I could, I would have done the same! Yum yum!)

Ok, so there I was, trying to walk as fast as I could. (If I had actually forced myself to move my *** away from the darn computer, I might as well should walk fast enough and make my Mom happy.) Well, it is usually that my Bhabi and I go together. The poor thing would probably start floating on air some time soon, but I need a companion.

As luck would have it, my Bhabhi fell ill the day before yesterday. The sweetheart agreed to go with me to the park, but after a few rounds, she started feeling ill so I told her to sit down. She went towards the swings to have a chat with the little ones there. I continued my vigorous walk.

As I was walking I noticed this newcomer in the park. He was a huge guy,well-dressed, a black woolen cap covering his huge head. (I sooo don’t wanna do any geebat or even make fun of him, but that’s the way he was. I hope Allah forgives me for the mere description.) Well, Al-Hamdulillah, now I am a old, old woman clad in a huge  chaadar covering me from head to toe. And to top it all off, I wear glasses too.

So when I thought this gorill* (shut up, Esh Tee!!) was looking in my direction a good number of times, I told myself that I’m just being a self-obssessed loser, trying to be as ‘cool’ as I once used to be. When I was used to turning a few heads. (No, I’m not self-obssessed! It’s the truth! Hehe.)

So I just shut my thoughts out and kept walking. Walking, walking, walking. I’m so happy the weather these days is  lovely or else I would have hated these walks. As it is, I really enjoy them because I love the cold caressing my hot red cheeks. (Yes, the slightest bit of excercise makes an apple outta me!)

So there I am, walking, and I keep thinking, “Is it my imagination or does this guy seem to pop up near my walking path a lot too much?”

 I still tell myself to shut up and get thin.

Suddenly, I see him stand near the most isolated corner of the park. (It’s not really isolated, the whole park can be seen from there, and the whole park can see that place, but still…there weren’t any people near it.) I think, O God, I don’t want him to approach me. So what do I do? I take out my cellular phone, which technically shouldn’t be called a cell because it sucks so much, and I pretend to talk to my ‘husband.’

“Jee? Jee, may aa rahee hoon. I’m on my way, honey. Don’t worry. I’m just coming. The children done with their homework?”

Apparently, the huge guy did not understand English. Or maybe, he was too busy thinking up a line to listen to what I was saying in my fake call.

Anyway, this round, the fake call saved me. I’m thinking of what next to do when I cross him. I plan.

The moment I know he can see me clearly enough, I start reading duas and stuff in my mouth. Moving my mouth very clearly, very noticeably. Get the message, boy. I’m married, have kids and to top it off, I’m also a fundo, conservo Maulvayan!

Well, apparently this time round he wasn’t going to be tricked. The moment I crossed him, I heard this voice:

“Esscuse me?”

Now, I am a loser, no matter how hard I try to deny the fact. I NEVER know how to react when a boy tries to talk to me. Should I just slap him for being audacious enough to just talk to me? Or should I walk past without listening to what he wants to say?

I mostly choose the worst option.

“Yes?” (in the most horrid, dryest voice I could manage. Oh, ya! My nose was in the air too, signalling violence.)

“Jee, FRAINDSHIP kerein gi aap mere se…”

I did not even let the poor guy complete his well-rehearsed line.

I burst into laughter right there in front of him!

I was like, “Nahii…”

My tone was mocking.

I walked past him without a word. I’m assuming the poor boy got embarassed because after that round, I saw walking outside the park.

I kept laughing inwardly till I reached the place where my Bhabhi was sitting. I told her the story and she said, ” Sanaaaa…what a dumb response! Please be politer. The poor guy is a human, after all. You should have politely asked him,’aap fraandship kerein gay mere mangaytar ke saath?’”

We didn’t stop laughing even when we had reached back home.

In my defense, I think I’ll say that laughing in his face at the idea of “fraandship” with him  was a pretty good response too.

No?